Turning

Those leaves 🍁 are turning. Autumn is coming.

Well actually the last few nights it has felt like winter has already arrived. It’s been freezing. Heating and lights full on. Jumpers (sweaters) most definitely are out of storage. I’m not very organised but I do always remember where I put my million jumpers. Normally I have all of them on at the same time.

So school starts on Monday. Our Son will not be returning at that time. If and when he returns is a matter of much uncertainty.

Dad have school decided what is happening on Monday then ?”

Not yet Hawklad.

Has school sent you the new codes so that we can check the online pupil pages for each subject?”

Not yet. Until we get these then we are basically stuffed.

So what will I be doing?”

Not sure as yet. I don’t have the school timetable. Don’t know what the subject teachers will be looking at.

As I’m now in a new set we won’t even know any kids we can ask to see what they have been doing.”

No. So I can’t speak to any parents and see what they have been given.

So basically Dad we will be winging the homeschooling thing.”

Yes definitely winging it.

So a bit like your cooking then. Bit of a disaster…”

Yep, but at least it won’t be dull.

If it’s bad then I’m going back to bed. Just to let you know.”

Don’t worry son, if it’s that bad I will be resorting to building lego sets…

***********

As it stands the plan is

  • Follow the school timetabled lessons for the day,
  • Email the individual teacher for a guide to what we should be doing….. not entirely hopeful about that. Failing that will see if any lesson notes have been loaded onto the pupil online pages ….. these are often blank or feature very brief notes loaded days after the lesson,
  • Look out for any homework tasks being posted. Submit these to the teacher somehow,
  • Try to find relevant videos online for him to watch. The BBC and other countries have some good resources,
  • Send copies of any work he does to the teacher …. somehow.

Yes winging it sums it up perfectly. I’m actually quite relaxed about the schooling side. The key is for our son to be in a good place. Assuming he is not at school for this half term, then it’s just about keeping him from falling too far behind the rest of the class. Certainly not looking for him to get gold stars. If keeping his hand in means he gets the school day done in an hour, then so be it. More time for him. More time for him to try and reconnect with his happy side.

The key thing is.

Yes we are doing school but it’s not the priority.

Fifth year

So here I go again. Starting another grief year. This will be the fifth one. Grief is not something that suddenly stops. It changes, it evolves but it doesn’t leave you. It becomes part of you. It’s part of me. It will always be part of me.

I remember back in 2016 thinking Life had made a terrible mistake. The roles should have been reversed. It should have been me that went first and my partner became the single parent. I must admit I had the same thought a few hours ago. Why her and not me. For whatever reason it just happened that way and I’ve had to get on with it. But it doesn’t stop me thinking that especially on the anniversary. These days I realise that I will never know the answer. It just happened that way. The key is make sure I’m the best parent I can be for our son. My partner would have done exactly the same thing. Being that parent will not happen if I am constantly inward looking. So let’s put that question back in its bid for another year. Let’s get on with the fifth year of grief by focusing on the here and now. Yes it’s the fifth grief year but more importantly it’s the fifth year of being a single parent. That’s got to continue to be my focus.

L

Friday memories

This is a photograph that I always keep coming back to. Especially today. It’s a photo that can take me in two different directions. Sadness or Happiness. Currently it’s in the direction of happiness.

A meal and a drink outside while gazing upon one the worlds most epic mountains, The Eiger. Then a walk from Kleine Scheidegg down to Lauterbrunnen. Snow on the tops but wonderfully warm. Walking down listening to our son talk about Dr Who and monsters. A two hour walk was just not long enough for him, he only scratched the surface of his Time Lord memory banks. Listing to my partner laugh at our sons numerous monster jokes.

Yes a beautiful day. All flooding back thanks to a treasured old photograph.

A new day

It is a new day. The world keeps turning.

This is what is best described as a free form post. Just writing as the words pop into my head and then I will post it. No checking or editing.

At virtually this exact time four years ago my life changed. Our life changed. I received that late night phone call. I didn’t need to pick it up, I knew the words that I would here. I was right when I did answer the call. It was the Hospice. My partner had passed away. Even though I knew those words would inevitably come it didn’t lessen the pain. The loss. I called her sisters and her mum. I decided to tell our son in the morning after he woke up. I then just sat. I sat all night. Trying to get my head round life and death. The new situation. My old world was gone. The door had permanently slammed shut on that place. The new one was already starting. But it didn’t feel like that . It was just blackness. No light. No new doors to walk through. Nothing. Such a big part of my life was gone. All those unfulfilled dreams suddenly binned. Nothing. What do I tell an 8 year old boy. How do I raise him up when I am utterly flattened.

Looking back. I handled that chat with our son as well as I possibly could. I bumbled through that next period of my life. Can’t believe how devastated I was but still the world kept turning. I felt like I was still looking for a new door to walk through but I just couldn’t find one. Actually that was wrong. I had already walked through the door, I just hadn’t found the light switch. That took much longer to locate. But it was there all along we just find it when we are ready.

Four years on I am filled with emotions and memories. I still feel that loss. I can still feel that dark chill to my soul which I experienced that night. I feel a deep sadness but I may not mourn today, we shall see. It might be a time for tears but it might also be a time for reliving happy memories. I will definitely remember the wonderful times we had. The ways in which our fallen member of our family left the world she found a better place. But I will also not forget that it is a new day. The new crop of dreams still need planting, nurturing and harvesting. I can definitely today look back as well as forward. Here’s to beautiful memories and new dreams.

Saturn 5

We live on a hill. A not very big hill. But a nice one. This is the slope dropping down into the flat Vale of York. The Vale stretches for mile after mile. This gentle grassy slope is also our sledging run during winter. It’s not very steep but it’s long enough to generate enough speed. Enough to send this Dad flying through the air. That takes lots of momentum. Even those massive NASA Saturn 5 rockets would struggle to lift my butt into the air.

We don’t get much snow. But when we do it’s time to get to our hill slope.

What could possibly go wrong. The first time we tried sledging here Hawklad asked if I would safety test the run first. I reassured him that it was perfectly safe. I set off from the top and a few seconds later smashed into the tree at the bottom. I was like a precision guided missile. A missile with a large butt carrying much momentum. At least the padding helped protect me.

So when the snow comes again – what could possibly go wrong.

Signposts

Sometimes it’s good for me to know my place in life. To get a sense of where I stand. I guess like most people I can be guilty of over playing things. Sometimes under playing them. Misinterpreting or even missing clear signposts. Going down a path which is either wrong or just ultimately a dead end. The path could be a project, a relationship, a friendship, work, a dream, life in general. But every so often something happens that finally helps ground me. Get a better bearing of where I am. Shining a light on the direction I am heading. It could be a conversation, some written words, an action, an event or even an outcome. Doesn’t really matter what the source is, it’s just good to have that moment of clarity.

I think I’ve had one of those moments of clarity over the last few days. Still trying to process it. But it feels like I’ve been potentially heading down a wrong path. Definitely time to think and assess.

I remember climbing in Scotland when I was in my early thirties. I was climbing alone and trying a route which was just about within my capabilities. I was sticking to what I thought was a promising route to the top. I missed (or chose to miss) so many signs clearly indicating I was heading the wrong way. After hours of hard work I came to a dead end. Light was starting to fade and I had no choice but to abandon and go down. Never did go back to re-climb that rock face. Such a waste of beautiful climbing conditions. Still kick myself for ignoring the clear signals that day. Less stubborn, more aware and I would have easily made it to the top. That was probably my one and only shot at that climb. But what was ironic was that at the same time I was in a job that seemed promising. But again I missed the signposts. A few months later I suddenly realised that I was at a dead end. The dream job was a bit of a disaster. It felt like months of effort had been wasted.

One day I might start to open my eyes to the signposts. They are there if I just take the time to look.

J

Monday

Got to just follow a trail. Hope it leads in the right direction.

So the school reopens a week today. Most kids will return. Some won’t. Our son will not be able to return at this stage. How long will he be out of school. Weeks, months, permanently – no idea. So we have to work on the assumption that he will return at some stage. So with minimal help from school and nothing from the authorities, who do we try to keep him on track with his classmates. To ensure that if and when he does return that he has not fallen behind.

The plan is to get the class timetable from school. That will form the basis of the learning each day. We won’t stick to the class timings but will try to focus on covering the subject matter. First call will be any lesson notes that are posted in the school system. Ensuring we do any work assignments that might be posted as well. I will ask each teacher to at least provide an indication of what topics will be covered and the copies of any handouts that are provided. Then it’s Dad trying to be teacher, looking for relevant videos and resources on the internet. All work completed will be emailed to each teacher at the end of the day. Any gaps we will make up with stuff son wants to cover.

If this school at home project extends further then I will supplement gaps with buying online teaching packages.

We are lucky that my work has basically dried up. Not much until 2021 at the earliest. The positive is that frees my time up to focus on being a teacher. Maybe I need to dress like a teacher?

That’s the plan. What could possibly go wrong.

Double Edge

It’s a beautiful sky but it heralded heavy rain and high winds. Basically a double edged sword.

I am almost four years into my grief journey. Seems like a lifetime. Certainly been through some tough times. Can still experience grief storms even now. But as I travel further down the road the landscape has definitely started to change. I’ve started to laugh as well as cry. If I can feel sad at times then surely at other times I can feel happy as well. It must be ok to start to live again. To dream again.

But here’s the thing.

A nagging doubt still exists. A small part of me still feels uncomfortable with the idea of me living and having fun. That voice in my head is whispering that it’s wrong. Trying to force an image into my head. Me knelt over a grave, with a rose, filled with sadness – visiting every day. The voice keeps saying that is what I should be doing. That surely is the right thing to do. It is your assigned life. You signed up to this. In effect a grief journey is fine as long as it keeps returning to the same spot.

It can be such a struggle to break free of those nagging voices. But I know I must. Life has to go on. We make commitments but then sometimes circumstances change. Life changes. It becomes a different world. Don’t change and you are likely to wither away. We have been blessed with a life, surely it would be wrong not to try to make the most of it. I will certainly try to do that. At times that will make me feel uncomfortable. I will never forget my partner. Will never stop loving her. But that doesn’t mean that I need to be knelt over the grave every day. Yes I will do that somedays. I will do that on the anniversary of her passing. But life has to go on. I will keep telling myself that.

New game

We are always on the look out for new games. Son likes to spend time outside talking and having fun. Fun normally entails making up stories and playing silly mind games. Yesterday we started a new one.

Ok Dad I’m going to tell you a name or thing and you have to tell me the first words or first image that pops into your head”…

So here are some of the responses we mustered.

Donald Trump

  • Dad – Orange Turnip playing golf
  • Son – Orange hot air balloon

Summer

  • Dad – Cold
  • Son – Wet

Boris Johnson

  • Dad – Emperor Nero
  • Son – Clueless

McDonald’s

  • Dad – Burgers
  • Son – Rubbish buns

Cricket

  • Dad – Stick of Rhubard
  • Son – Boring

Frodo

  • Dad – Frodo getting to Mount Doom and realising he left the ring back in the Shire
  • Son – unwilling hero

Football

  • Dad – Newcastle United
  • Son – Chelsea

Sherlock Holmes

  • Dad – Reichenback
  • Son – Aspergers

ScoobyDoo

  • Dad – Jinkies
  • Son – Dad liking Thelma in the movie

King Richard III

  • Dad – White Rose
  • Son – Misunderstood

Wrestling

  • Dad – Hulk Hogan
  • Son – Edge

Dinosaurs

  • Dad – Dinosaur Train
  • Son – Jurassic Park

Brexit

  • Dad – Waking off a cliff edge
  • Son – My generation going to take us back into Europe

Muppets

  • Dad – Kermit
  • Son – Dad

The Avengers

  • Dad – Captain America
  • Son – Ironman

Childhood Hero

  • Dad – Captain Scarlett
  • Son – Batman

America

  • Dad – Grand Canyon
  • Son – Yellowstone

Pandemic

  • Dad – Masks
  • Son – Hand washing

School

  • Dad – Detention
  • Son – Homework

Bill & Ted

  • Dad – Medieval Dickweed (sorry first thing that popped in)
  • Son – Party on dudes

Mars

  • Dad – Chocolate bar
  • Son – Fourth Planet

Scotland

  • Dad – Deep Fried Mars Bar
  • Son – Macbeth

Braveheart

  • Dad – Freedom
  • Son – Mel Gibson’s accent

Avatar

  • Dad – Boring
  • Son – Why?

Star Wars

  • Dad – Obi-wan
  • Son – Darth Vader

Dad

  • Dad – erm Muppet
  • Son – definitely Muppet

Son

  • Dad – Tomato Ketchup
  • Son – Bigger than you….

A thought

Wonder what these cows are thinking?

Hawklad has always loved listening and making stories up. One particular story line has been a common theme. We call it the Mr Mole Stories. It’s a world we’re talking animals live alongside humans. The story started back when Hawklad was a toddler. He was not the greatest of travellers and when he looked out of a moving train window – it was asking for trouble. It came to a head one particularly train journey. In a full carriage Hawklad decided to be sick. I took the full impact. Amazingly everywhere else was spared. I remember my walk of shame up the length of the crammed carriage to our suitcases. A now very distinctively marked black T-shirt needed changing urgently and wow did it stand out.

We needed a plan B as we soon had a long train journey from Geneva to Bern to navigate.

A plan was hatched. I would distract Hawklad with a story. A random story was told. A taking mole was walking down a street. He would happily talk to the various humans he would bump into. Problem was that Mr Mole had a spectacular sneeze. Tornado Force Sneeze. So when he did sneeze things happened. Clothes would be blown off washing lines. Cakes would fly through the air and hit people in the face. Umbrellas would take to the air. The poor postman even lost his trousers. Hawklad loved it – he nearly wet himself with giggles. For two hours Mr Moles sneezes caused increasing levels of mayhem. The Mr Mole Stories were born.

Since then the stories have moved on from sneezing to a self contained world filled with various weird animal characters. Over time the stories became increasingly Hawklads. He would help frame and tell the tales. Over the last 10 years I dread to think how many stories have been made. Hawklad can remember virtually all of them.

Last night was no different. A wild tale was told. Mr Mole with his friends Mr Cheetah and Olive the Ostrich we’re trying to explain wrestling to the legendary Mr Crocodile. A very special Crocodile. A vegetarian. He is scared of water. Actually scared of most things. A crocodile who finds most things confusing. A crocodile who does not always comply with the general laws of space, time and physics. A couple of actual wrestlers had been enrolled to help. Sasha Banks and The Undertaker.

Then the thought hit. We live in a world of over 7 billion people. With almost incalculable numbers of other living creatures. At that particular time. With such a bizarre story. Almost certainly we were the only 2 living creatures in the planet telling a story about talking mole, a mad crocodile and wrestling. Maybe the only 2 living creatures thinking those thoughts in the entire Universe.

That is such a cool thought. It really is.