Remembering

This time last year, on the first Sunday of November, John had wibble-wobbled out of bed, stood very unsteadily in front of his chair, given a sheepish grin to Andrew who was hovering, and then had sunk gently into it and closed his eyes. Andrew and I had looked at each other and were of the same mind. “Let’s get you back into bed, Dad,” Andrew said softly, as we proceeded to help the ol’ man back up into his bed.

Andrew had attempted to administer some medication, but John’s lips, like his eyes, were firmly closed. We knew what was coming, and for the next three and a half days, the boys and I kept vigil. But it was on that Sunday that I had looked into John’s eyes for one last time. He hadn’t quite known where he was or what he was doing, but there was sheer trust in his eyes as he looked at me and Andrew. For which I shall be forever grateful.

A year on and I have been trying to keep up with the regular events of life as they happen. They have helped to keep me on an even keel and overcome the loss of such a vibrant, full-on, sometimes brash, forever opinionated and loveable man.

So re-wind to last weekend, when it was yet another birthday. Andrew’s this time and….how old is he? Crikey, my baby is thirty-five! Of course, we had to celebrate and have a family meal. What with one thing and another, it wasn’t that simple – the team had other things going on and we had to plan around events. So, it was a lunchtime roast this time, which everyone thoroughly enjoyed.

Here’s a fitting photo…… you can’t keep Andrew out of the kitchen, can you!!?? Mind you, he doesn’t look too happy – I wonder if I cooked the rib of beef right?

After lunch, I sped off up to church where there was a Service of Remembering, which I found very comforting. I’d requested an anthem, which the choir sang well, and John’s name was read out. We held moments of silence as we all remembered our loved ones. There was a solidarity in the sadness somehow.

Back home, while I’d been out, the children had decorated the porch in readiness for Hallowe’en. This has come to be a bit of a tradition, and I was thrilled with the result. So were the Trick or Treaters! They thought it was fab!

I didn’t think too much about it then, but on Hallowe’en itself, as I answered the door to the costumed and maquillaged children, their eyes expectantly turned towards me for a treat offering, I remembered this time last year. The ol’ man was laughing at me and teasing me as I dashed to the door every five minutes. “You enjoy this more than the kids, don’t you?” he’d said. I’d nodded, cos it was true. That memory is a lovely one, but it hurts a bit.

There’ll be more poignant memories to come as the anniversary of John’s death comes and goes, of course, and the festive season approaches. But I wouldn’t want to forget. We had lived and loved, fought and reconciled, laughed and cried together for just over 56 years. I want to remember it all.

Take care everyone. And may God bless you in whatever you are doing and whatever circumstances you find yourselves in.