Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 61 Comments

5 years

As I’m writing this, it is almost 5 years to the minute that I last spoke to my mum. She was in hospital and planning to go home. Ok the doctors weren’t planning on her going home for another week or so, but mum was stubborn. A battle of wills was brewing. I can’t remember what we talked about that evening. How often is that the case. I can remember being given a shopping list to fill her home refrigerator – remember she was going home.

We didn’t see the overnight relapse coming.

Yes I really miss her. My sibling do as well. She was the gravity that held us together.

But I’m not sad. Not today. She would have used a Yorkshire cricket expression – ‘had a long innings‘. She did. Lots of great memories. Lots of smiles. That’s what I see now. And today lots of ‘tea and biscuits’. That’s exactly what you got every time you went to see mum. Within seconds you found a biscuit in your hand, as if by magic. Even if you were on a diet that biscuit founds it’s way into your hand. Followed by a reassuring ‘that diet can start tomorrow, how about a piece of apple pie…”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 39 Comments

Times have changed

How times change….

When I was at school you did no work on the final day of the summer term. It was bring a game in day. Or play football all day. Or bring a pet into school (actually in my day it was bring a Dinosaur into school). It would end up with the ceremonial burning of the school exercise books behind the bike shed. The teachers never venturing too far from the staff common room all day, unless that was for an emergency replenish the stock trip to the alcohol off licence. Basically a more unruly version of The Purge.

Times have changed….

Hawklad received a class email this morning. The class has to revise for a science test. Two days to revise for the examination on Friday. The last day of the Summer term.

Wow times have changed.

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DEFCON

Guess who has been baking again. Yes NORAD have raised the threat level to DEFCON THREE.

Years ago I worked in a Police Force as a civilian. I was based at an old country mansion which acted at the Police Headquarters. At the front desk there was a sign on the wall saying THREAT LEVEL. It had a slide in colour board. Usually it was Green (it’s all cool dude), sometimes yellow (it’s not so cool but no need to panic dude) and rarely Red (it’s time to assume the crash position dude). We also had white which meant ‘everything was cool, but the government audit team is in so put on a tie, dude’. One day the threat level went brown. No one had a clue what that meant. Even granite chiselled veterans had never seen that colour in decades of work here. Much confusion and speculation ensued. The receptionist was not there so we couldn’t ask her. She was like Thor’s Heimdall. The Gatekeeper. No one got in or out without her approval during the day. She also maintained the threat level board.

Finally she was located. Apparently Threat Level BROWN was ‘she had put the board in back to front’. If just one of us muppets had bothered to look on the other side of the board we would have found that it was in fact GREEN…..

And yes DEFCON THREE was wrong. Apart from the earthquake cracked crust it was a rather fine gluten and dairy free loaf. Time to lower the threat level.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 40 Comments

What went wrong

While I was rummaging around the loft I came across a box from mums old house. Inside I found all sorts of things. Decades old bus timetables, shopping lists, out of date vouchers, instructions from long lost video recorders, random keys and coins from long defunct foreign currencies. My mum had a philosophy – you never know when you might need this. Actually the answer was invariably – NEVER.

But as I still have the box I must clearly have signed up to mums philosophy. But I did find and one of my old school reports. All pretty boring apart from the Home Economics page. I quote

“He shows some talent in cooking. He has mastered a number of baking recipes. He has produced some very good bread loafs and cakes.”

Wow. What went wrong……

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Jim

On the 3rd July 1971 we lost Jim Morrison. The Doors frontman died 50 years ago in Paris. Such a talent taken way too soon.

Fast forward a few years and I’m sat in an A Level exam. Facing a dreaded French comprehension question. The exam wasn’t going well. I was failing. I was tempted to put my pen down and walk. But a quick glance at the French text changed my mind. The text was a French newspaper report. All about Jim Morrison, The Doors and the circumstances surrounding his death. Unbelievably I didn’t need to read the French text to answer the questions. Just a few minutes later the questions were answered perfectly. Unbelievably I passed. Passed because of Jim Morrison.

So today I’m going to listen to my L. A. Woman LP. Listening to Jim Morrison.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 89 Comments

Rare

It’s been over 5 years since I sat down in a restaurant….. That’s as rare as a start to the morning like the photograph above. That’s as rare as my football team winning something. Oh hang on the last time that happened was 1969. So hopefully not that rare….😂😂😂

A bit like my so called football team and silverware, the next restaurant trip is not looking particularly imminent. Hawklad isn’t keen. I can’t think of the last time I went with my family to eat out. Maybe a couple of picnics or a garden bbq before the world changed. It’s well over a decade since I went for a meal with a friend. The height of culinary excellence with friends has been limited to the very occasional grabbing a bag of crisps on the way to see my team get beat again. And the other side of the family is understandably very much more distant now.

But here’s the thing. I’m not missing the food. I’m much happier with a bag of chips , sat on a sea wall and fighting off the mad seagulls. I’m not in a mad rush to expand my social circle again. Do you know what I miss about restaurants. That feeling of being grown up every so often. Having to smarten myself up, even combing my hair…. To sit properly. To feel like I’m doing stuff that other people are doing.

That probably makes no sense at all and anyway it’s not happening anytime soon.

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Gaze

Colour has arrived to Yorkshire. Always great to see, it’s such a lift. Sadly it won’t last long and it will be gone for another year. It’s a reminder to me that time is precious. Got to make the most of it. Grab those moments. Live and not just survive.

Yes there will be darker, colder months. Those times will be more manageable if the gaze is in the moment or looking forward, rather than focused on what has been.

It can still be a such a wonderful life.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 41 Comments

Memories

Loss is different for everyone, whatever the reason behind the life story. Each loss is unique.

It’s now approaching 5 years for me. The journey continues. Things change. Sometimes suddenly, other times gradually.

Memories.

One of the biggest changes over that time has been with my attitude towards memories. When 2016 hit I truly realised their importance. Time can be short so it’s important that you create as many memories as you can. But here’s the thing, my mindset was that was for me there would be no new personal memories. Yes there would be new ones but they would be about Hawklad, not stuff I had done. For me that was it….

That’s changed now.

Time is still a limited resource and memories are still important. But it can’t be just about looking back. It is definitely OK to create new memories. That shows that life is not just about survival. It’s about LIVING, even after loss. So yes I want to create new memories. AND there is no reason that the NEW ones can’t be just as good or even better than the old ones.

You just never know. All you can do. All I can do is give LIFE a CHANCE.

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Thoughts and dreams

In years gone by if I needed to think. Be with my thoughts. I would go for a run. Maybe go climbing. Those things worked best for me. But then parenting and then single parenting curtailed the climbing option. It was then running. Fell running to collect and process my thoughts. Often I would start a run then become lost in my thoughts. Only the alarm on my watch would bring me back to reality. I would be miles into the hills and it would be a mad sprint to get back home for the return of the school bus.

Then the pandemic happened. We went into our family lockdown. So far 16 months of a lockdown. I lost running. But I didn’t lose my need to think. So I discovered the joys of leaning against our back garden fence. Thinking while looking over the fields and scanning the distant horizon from a little hill top home.

It worked.

So this morning I was leaning on the fence. Thinking. Looking at a distant beautiful tree. Dreaming.

But then I was joined. Someone decided to invade my space and block my view.

I’m can’t really see the tree now. I’m having to stroke and feed this one. I’m telling this cow my dreams. She seems udderly fascinated. Or maybe she’s herd then all before. Definitely deja moo…

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Tubular Bells

Time marching on sometimes takes my breath away. The helpful iPad flashes up a message each day telling me what happened this week in years gone by.

Today it informed me that in this week Tubular Bells by Mike Oldfield was released. Released in 1973……

1973 for pity sake. I can vaguely remember my older brother playing this on his hifi. Has it been out that long….. But here’s the thing. I like listening to the music but I’ve never owned it. Always had to listen to it on the radio or when others have played it.

Maybe when our own personal lockdown eases I will venture out into the second hand stores. The charity shops to see if I can find an original copy. Own it for the first time. That would be nice. Would feel kind of right.

In life some things seem just right. Very occasionally perfect. Those things give me direction. Give me hope. They always make me smile.