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Accountant

I have a confession, a secret deep inside that haunts me. Something deeply embarrassing and just rather sad. Yes I’m an ACCOUNTANT. A pretty bad one, but still a BEAN COUNTER. I have no idea how I managed to first qualify and then subsequently fool several employers with financial skills that never really progressed much past counting the fingers on one hand, even that would need to be an estimate. I’m one of those FINANCIAL WIZARDS who as quickly as possible moves the conversation away from those problematic and eternally perplexing numbers.

But recently there is some mathematics that I can’t seem to move on from.

I don’t know why it popped into my mind suddenly, but it did and now it’s THERE….

Hawklad’s Mum who passed away in 2016 has now missed well over half of his life. She missed out on well over half of his childhood. I just find that thought so deeply sad and tragic. Definitely for Hawklad, I so wish no child had to ever go through that trauma. But also for his poor Mum, she has missed out on so much, so many experiences, so many years. Too many years, I do keep hearing a variant of that sad Clapton song in my head, would she even recognise him now.

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Cliff

Every passing storm takes a piece out of this cliff. ,

Thinking about it, that can feel like life sometimes.

It feels like that every passing storm takes a little piece out of me.

Feels like there has been a few of those passing storms since our world changed nearly 9 years ago.

Or maybe, just like that cliff, each storm just helps reshape me a little more……

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Small city

Some readers of the New York Times will appreciate the geography lesson that went along with a recent entertainment review. A review of the Gary Oldman play I mentioned in the last post. Helping its readers they described York as a ‘small city 210 miles north of London…’. Maybe they could have added ‘strangely that the USA’s largest city by population was in fact named after a Duke of this small English city and a small English city which was founded over 500 years prior to that former small New Amsterdam east coast of America trading post was ever dreamt of’. Or maybe they could have further added that it was ‘a small European city which was once the political centre of the Roman Empire’. Although at least one Glossy Las Vegas Hotel probably claims that distinction now as well’.

There might be some form on those type of heritage claims… Trump’s Special Envoy has recently compared the historic and stunningly beautiful Elysee Palace to Trumps Mar-a-Lago Florida Clubhouse.

There are no words 😂😂😂😂😂

But there is a real point here. Quite a few of us often assume that our little part of this beautiful planet is ‘the centre of the known universe’, and everyone will have heard of it. It doesn’t work like that. Life doesn’t work like that. Billions will have absolutely no idea about a provincial small city on an unremarkable island off the west coast of Europe.

Today I was driving towards that small provincial northern city while listening to a radio news item on GRIEF. One recently widowed woman talked about the struggles she was having with banks and large companies, how it was a nightmare to try to change things like joint accounts and pensions. I can so relate to that, even after nearly 9 years and countless communications, still we are receiving letters addressed to Hawklad’s Mum. The Widow added that she often felt like she was going crazy. Her world had crashed to a halt yet when she spoke to people at the banks and companies, it felt like it was business as usual for them. The world was still turning and she had been left behind.

That’s so true, I so understand that. I can remember trying to sort things out with banks, I felt like a wreck, time had stopped, yet I could see and hear the world continuing as normal all around me. People paying in money, sorting out loans for new cars, new houses. Staff talking about holidays, television and nights out. Couldn’t they see me, but why should they. The vast proportion of those I could see and hear had no idea who I was, no idea what I was going through.

Only now can I truly see this.

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Reasons

Midday, perfectly sums up the Yorkshire weather currently.

In a few months, is it really coming up 9 years…..

The latest Bridget Jones movie got me thinking. Good job we didn’t see Alvin and The Chipmunks, lord knows what I’d be thinking about then. Pest control maybe 😂😂😂

That first morning, waking up and everything had changed. Who am I kidding, no sleep that night. Trying to figure out what words to say to Hawklad. Trying to get my head round the new reality. Even the house seemed changed, very different. We often talked about the house being cramped for 3 but on that morning it seemed cavernous for just two of us. It wasn’t just too much space, it was too quiet. But there was something else. Everywhere I looked I could see objects that now had no purpose.

A cup…

A plate …..

Women’s clothes, coats and shoes….

A pile of 80s pop cds

Romance books….

A toothbrush …..

Study books…..

Makeup….

Perfume….

Hair products…..

Set of car keys….

Set of house keys…

So much more…..

Everywhere I looked there was now redundant items. Items that were never going to be used again, glaring reminders of loss and bereavement. Feeling like I needed to get those items out of the house as soon as possible.

Yes some redundant items found a new life through Charity Shops but other items stayed.

It’s 2025 and there are still items scattered around the house that have no purpose anymore. Untouched in 9 years. But something has changed, redundant items now making perfect sense. Making perfect sense that they are staying exactly where they have been for years. No use, will not be used again but they have a reason to be there. The house wouldn’t feel right if they weren’t there.

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Moors

Summer on the North Yorkshire Moors.

Just a few clouds make such a huge difference to the mood here.

Did I ever really grieve, TWICE

Back in 2016, almost to the day. I was sorting out mum’s funeral, broken yet my mind was on my seriously ill partner. It felt like grief had been put on hold. Then a few weeks later I’m sorting out my partners funeral and again …..

Was I really grieving, how much was I allowing myself to grieve.

My focus was on our son, trying to keep my head above the single parenting waves. Looking back I was living through Hawklad. If he was happy, I was happy. If he struggled, I struggled. Did I ever really think and meditate about what grief and death truly meant, how it was changing me.

Probably NOT.

Probably figured out way more about me as a PARENT.

Maybe the Mood will change one day and I can start to seek a little more clarity on grief and how it’s changed me, still changing me.

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IF only

Walk around any store and look at all the food labelling. Detailed information and warnings on all sorts of things which these days means that you can try to shop wisely and safely. It can be done….

A really grey, wet and chilly May Day. We needed to get out so we ventured to the local cinema. Only two films about to start as we arrived. One about Apes running the planet and one about a big blue imaginary monster friend. Looking at the posters, what to go for. Well hardly scientific, we have already seen the Kong movie recently, that’s probably enough Ape for one year. The other movie looked quite cute and funny. Plus as it was rated ok for small children, it should be safe, untaxing entertainment, perfect way to vegetate for a couple of hours.

IF only we had more detailed movie labelling….. AND NO it’s way too late putting a brief disclaimer on the screen that the movie contains depictions of death, bereavement, adult themes, strobe lighting or whatever barely two seconds before the movie starts. If they can do it then they can do it on the trailers, movie posters or what’s on cinema ticket booth screens.

Ok yes, the movie had lots of cute, funny and harmless entertainment. It was a really good movie. BUT all sandwiched between a 12 year old girl trying to deal with her mum dying of what appeared to be cancer and her father in hospital facing the prospect of a major life threatening heart operation. Quite a lot of the movie was the girl visiting her father in hospital and being petrified of losing him as well…..

Definitely brought the occasional tear to this grizzled lump, Hawklad struggled. But was it suitable for really young children, especially those who might have already experienced loss. And what about the two poor parents who brought their really young children to see the cute film. One child had to leave in tears early on and the other had to be taken out to buy some distracting ice cream during one tough scene.

IF only those parents had some film labelling and warnings before they bought the tickets.

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8 Years

This week I’ve got round to something which has been nearly EIGHT years in the making.

A few years back was the start of the world changing for us. Since then Hawklad has experienced losing his mum, two grannies, an uncle and a niece. Not to mention several pets. Hard enough for a grizzled, well weathered muppet like me, unimaginably tough for a child who was only 8 when the world started changing.

I’ve always tried to find the right words for Hawklad, being open to whatever he needs to get through this but being brutally honest, I’ve tended to skim over some really important areas when it comes to how I’m getting through this. Definitely putting off making sense of what death and loss truly mean, I don’t think I was ready for that. Now it kinda feels like it’s been put off long enough.

The hotel we stayed at in Switzerland had a beautiful reading room, filled with books in German, French, Italian and English. In the English section I noticed on our last trip a fine collection of CS Lewis books. Plenty of the expected magical adventures but amongst those was a clearly well thumbed little book. This was his diary on GRIEF, talking about what he was thinking and struggling with during the weeks after he had lost his wife. Even back then, I could quickly tell that it wasn’t an easy read and that was before our world changing. I remember carefully putting the book back, thinking ‘thankfully not yet…”. It soon would be….. yet I always put off visiting those pages.

Now in 2024, it’s time to read that book as it has a huge relevance to me, AND now I feel I’m ready to open some of those closed doors.

Images from that last Switzerland adventure when that book was still not required….

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Straw Castle

The last storm toppled the walls of this STRAW CASTLE. The Farmer won’t be happy.

At least it is still in better shape than the local stone castle.

One of the first post funeral trips I managed by myself was to a book fair just a few yards from what’s left of this castle. It wasn’t easy or enjoyable but I did do it, a step forward back then. One of the books I brought home was a ‘how to survive bereavement’ guide. It quickly ended up in the bin but I do remember one thing it talked about. How talking to a lost loved one might feel natural but wasn’t a good thing. Apparently it just stopped you moving on.

I clearly didn’t listen to that gem of advice that well.

Even after 7 plus years, if there is any news about her SON, I tell her. To me it’s not about moving on, it just seems the right thing to do for us.

Maybe one day someone will produce the shortest ever bereavement guide. One page. Maybe it just needs to say.

Every grief journey is unique. As time goes on you will start to figure out yours.

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7

Has it really been SEVEN years.

It’s exactly 7 years since we welcomed this little hooligan into our world.

For 2 months I hadn’t been functioning, I was a mess and seemingly unable to take control. It had just been over 2 months since we had buried Hawklad’s Mum.

But then in November I realised that the house needed more LIFE, more noise, rekindled fun. A mad puppy was the answer. And do you know what, it still is the single best parenting decision I have made.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 39 Comments

Toffee Apples

How hard can it be to get a toffee apple right…

It’s beyond me. It has been beyond me since 2016. I’ve tried every November with varying degrees of incompetence. Before then his mum would get it right each year. That’s either making her own excellent ones or remembering to buy them before they sell out. I’m still waiting after 7 years to achieve either of these.

This used to bother me lots. Just how much of this parenting GIG I felt totally out of my depth in. Trying badly to do things his mum would seemingly do effortless.

But you just do the best you can. Just keep trying. Keep smiling at the many mistakes and think maybe next time it might improve.

‘Dad that’s your worst haircut ever, wow I look like a cross between Scooby Shaggy and Krusty the Clown.”

Yes it was a bad one. But on the bright side, when he popped into a Halloween Festival a few days later…

“That haircut looks like something perfect for a Halloween Scare Look. It’s not out of place here, I can take my hat off finally….”

When did his mum ever get a Halloween Hair Cut, THIS RIGHT.