The snow is now a distant memory. The last bit to cling on was this random block of ice. The last part of the snowman. Snowman to Snow Bunny.
It’s been one of those weeks so far. A week off from school. In other years a week of trips to the Zoo and the Seaside. Maybe a wander in the Hills or Moors. Not this year. Not last year.
A week at home….
Which kinda makes it like every other week. Ok no school at home but it feels the same. Get up early and do my exercise. Make breakfast for Hawklad. Do housework. Do the wash. Change the bedding. Make food. Go out in the garden a few times. Fighting with the cable signal. Watch Disney Plus. Feel bad about not reading so squeeze in a chapter. Go to bed. Seemingly not doing much yet wondering where the days have gone.
Thankfully connecting with friends. Friends are able to break the Groundhog Hog sensation for a while. That is so important these strange days.
Don’t you just love WordPress. It’s a bit like Prunes. You know they are good for you. So many benefits but a monumental pain in the backside….
Blogging is really so good for me but WordPress is a monumental pain in the ….. It just feels like wading through treacle.
Will it just once allow me to format the post as I want it to look.
Will it just once have a truly user friendly editor.
Will it just once not keep trying mess up my photos so I have to constantly keep on reloading them.
Will it stop showing me that my blog looks fine when some users can’t see the photos or only see messed up formatting.
Will it stop messing up a post when I dare to try and include a music or video link.
Will it stop changing all my text into micro font if I accidentally delete a bit WP doesn’t want me to do.
Will it stop randomly deleting people from my following list and then not bothering to tell me.
Will it stop randomly deleting comments I post.
Will it stop randomly deciding to freeze the iPad app. In fact will it stop freezing my iPad – it’s the only app that has ever done that for me.
Will the help desk stop blaming Apple for the working of its App.
I like blogging. It helped me cope with loss. It helped me become a better parent. A better person. Made some great friends through it. Kept me connected with people during this period of isolation. So I guess I will keep taking my Prunes. The benefits are so worth it.
It’s like waiting for a bus. You wait ages and two come along at the same time. No posts about grief and then two arrive together.
It’s now four years since I lost my partner. Four years into the grief journey.
This morning I went to put the bin out onto the side of the road. When I looked down the street I noticed a ‘Sold Sign’ outside a house. It was outside the house of a couple I get on well with. Would often bump into them prior to the pandemic. Will be sad to see them leave. I know very few people in our small village now. The pandemic hasn’t helped but that’s the reality. Before the world changed for me in 2016 it was very much different. We knew many in the village. We would go to all the village events. Would visit people, people would visit us. Even when our son’s Aspergers stopped him going to village stuff, one parent would stay with him and the other could still go.
Then the world changed.
I didn’t want to venture out to these village do’s. I just wanted to build walls around myself. I lost touch with many. That was my bereavement. Not only did it rob me of my partner but it took many of my friends as well. That was partly my fault. The last thing I thought I wanted was company. It also didn’t feel right going out by myself. I had become programmed to being in a couple. Being single was something I had forgotten how to do. Most of my friends were now based on US being a couple. It must have been tough for those friends to adjust. To deal with someone grieving and now single. As a result over time many friends dropped off the radar. Increasing isolation. But at that time it was ok with me. It felt like how things should be. Me hiding behind the walls.
Then I began to change.
As my grief journey progressed suddenly those walls stopped being a useful self defence system. They became confines. Prison walls. Hemming me in. I came to realise just who much I missed company. Just maybe I had been wrong. When I was grieving and avoiding people, maybe that was when I needed company the most.
So now I’m trying to take those walls down. Sadly they go up easier than they come down. The pandemic doesn’t help. Being a single parent to a son with so many social fears certainly is restrictive. Also I’m nervous of social settings. But actually that’s not grief related, that’s going back to who I was when I was younger.
So here I am in 2020. Much further down the grief road now the question is can I bring those walls down.
Last nights Full Moon. Almost beyond my little camera phone but it had a go. One moon but so many looking up at it. So many you don’t know but some you do know. Looking at the moon together can shrink the miles.
That’s so important in these strange times. When travel is not happening. When meet ups have to be virtual. When the telephone starts to become your friend again (sometimes….).
The problem is that as essential as email, social media and the telephone are they are not perfect. Certainly not for me. They have a huge drawback. I can still feel a long way from the person I’m communicating with. Sometimes feels like I’m stood rather alone shouting (and hoping to be heard) across the county lines, country borders, across the waters. But for some reason looking up at the moon is different. The thought that others are maybe looking up at the very same moon feels like the miles are shrinking. As if I’m stood next to others, to you.
So the next time you look up at the moon just remember so many others are. Maybe even your friends and those you care for. It’s the greatest free get together. Something that even 2020 hasn’t found a way of stopping.
A good blogging friend was taking about finding a big spider in her garden. That friend is on a different continent. A place where you get spiders that are big, scary, poisonous and they even jump at you.
Did I ever tell you that I am not great with spiders.
So the prospect of scary spiders brings shivers down my spine. A movie comes to mind – Arachnophobia. Give me Jaws and Sharks anytime. Sharks need our love especially as Trump has decided to bully them as well now.
Scary spiders. No, no, no.
Hawklad loves to go to the zoo and handle spiders. The bigger and more deadly the better. The last trip I just about heard him say as he handled a Tarantula- ‘Isn’tshe lovely….’. It was difficult to hear him as I was stood 30 yards back, hiding behind a wall. That’s great parenting……
Fortunately for me I live in Yorkshire. The land that time forgot. We don’t really do scary animals. Those cows can look at you in a funny way. Ferrets can nip a bit (especially if they are in your trouser pockets). Don’t get in the way of a squirrel and his nuts. Those Scarborough Seagulls are hooligans when you have a bag of chips. Get on the wrong side of stick of rhubarb and it can very awkward.
But we don’t really do scary spiders or insects. A few small and timid spiders. This is as big as it gets. A Daddy-Long-Legs. The most delicate creatures going. We end up desperately trying not to hurt or damage them. Even I can get up close to them. That’s the kind of spider and insect I like. Friendly and most definitely not one that is going to eat me.
Beautiful, resilient and a bit of fight about them.
A flower than can melt the heart and then draw blood.
England has even had civil wars over a white and red rose.
I’ve always felt a strong link to roses. That’s not surprising since I come from the White Rose County. Yet the link is stronger than that.
The last present I gave to my partner was a rose. Since then that delicate white rose has been intrinsically linked with my grief journey.
We have another rose which is decades old and has come from my partners childhood home. So it’s a link with Hawklads past. Family members now gone.
I also often look at a rose and see symbols of life. Today I was looking at a rose and it made me think of friendship. Some of the rose buds seem to go on forever. If you are lucky in life you may find one of those friendships that do that, always special, always beautiful, everlasting. Yet you also see rose buds that fail to bloom. How many times have I had thought that I had found a great friendship yet for whatever reason things never seemed to take off. Then you come across those roses which burst into life, producing the most stunning flowers, yet within days they have died back and faded. Just like those friendships which seem like they will be the best ever and yet suddenly they end – wonderful but not ever lasting, so short lived. You just never know with roses and you just never know with friends.
Today it was friends but on another day I will see roses symbolising another part of my life. I’ve done it with grief, parenting and hope. What will the Rose show me tomorrow?
I’ve always felt like the black sheep in the family. The odd one out amongst my siblings. The youngest by a decade. My brother and sisters had partied together and flown the nest while I was still at school. The tallest. The only shy one. The only one with a stammer as a kid. The only one who went to college and university. The only one you got letters after his name (M.U.P.P.E.T). The only one who never got married (huge mistake). The only bereaved one. The only single parent. The only blogger. The only vegetarian. The only one who has given up alcohol. The only one who is gluten free. The only runner. The only climber. The only one learning a second language. The only one who has visited mums grave. The only Asperger Parent. The only Newcastle United supporter. The only one without a middle name. The only one whose first name doesn’t start with a P. The only one how formed a close link with a Quaker family. The only religious one.
I could go on. Hopefully you get the picture.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my brother and sisters. We are close. Close but we don’t see each other much. Mum was always the centre. The gravitational pull that kept the various differing orbits from spinning away. I will see one sister every few months. Another one maybe a couple of times a year. Brother and the other sister maybe once in several years. An occasional phone call or text maintain a link. But since mum left we are slowly spinning apart.
So yes I do feel a little bit like the odd one out. That’s where friends come in. They get me. They make me feel not different. They make me feel whole again. Thank you ❤️
I will leave the final words to my departed partner. We were spending a night in London before we caught the first train to France. Off on our first holiday together. That was back in 2000. We were in a quiet but very full pub in Kings Cross. After a large lager my partner asked about my dieting life choice. In a voice which echoed round the pub. “Are you the only VEGETABLE in your family…”
The fading embers of the day. Another wet one but at least we have been granted a few late moments of weather calm. An opportunity to sit outside with Hawklad. A new nickname for son all the way from Canada. He likes it.
“I like that. So much potential. Either a new Avenger or DC character. Maybe my name if I become a falconry. And definitely cooler than yours. Bagpuss. Really…”
For those unaware Bagpuss was a children’s TV character from yesteryear. A toy who was an exhibit in a magical shop. A shop that didn’t sell. The little girl shop owner would find things, repair them and put them in the shop window. When Bagpuss came to life the other items in the shop did as well. The intro to the show is engrained inmy childhood memories. After all these years I can still remember the monologue, word for word.
Bagpuss, dear Bagpuss
Old fat furry cat-puss
Wake up and look at this thing that I bring
Wake up, be bright
Be golden and light
Bagpuss, Oh hear what I sing
And Bagpuss was wide awake
And when Bagpuss wakes up all his friends wake up too
The mice on the mouse-organ woke up and stretched
Madeleine, the rag doll
Gabriel, the toad
And last of all, Professor Yaffle, who was a very distinguished old woodpecker
He climbed down off his bookend and went to see what it was that Emily had brought
So why was I named after this TV Toy Cat. A show that they only ever made 13 episodes. Maybe it was the Bagpuss toy that was in the Car. Maybe my goalkeeping prowess didn’t quite warrant full cat like status. Or maybe it was the shows description of the toy cat.
“an old, saggy cloth cat, baggy, and a bit loose at the seams”
Yes I can see the similarities. They become more apt everyday. But I guess that’s the sameformanyof us.
Sometimes you are filled with doubt. Sometimes you are beyond tired. Sometimes you feel pain. Sometimes you feel alone. Sometimes you are your own biggest critic. Sometimes you fear letting people down. Disappointing them. Patience is hard to find.
I feel like that about myself. I know you feel that way. We all can feel like that. But to the people who truly matter, you are a beacon. A shining light. Have faith and believe in yourself. Focus on all your many wonderful qualities, the smiles you bring to others and your limitless possibilities.