The things I do…

I sit in John’s chair. I sleep on his side of the bed. I wear his hearing aids. I wear his T-shorts as nightshirts. I watch his programmes on TV. I rummage among his things and sigh. I hang my glasses on his glasses stand….

I look at the green bin that languishes half-way up the path and, in my mind’s eye, I see him resting on it, his shoulders heaving to catch his breath as he makes his way back from the Man-Shed.

I sit at his computer and am befuddled. What was the password again? I look at photos of him in years gone by and send them to the kids.

I use John’s tools to drill holes, screw in screws, hammer home nails, sand down wood, glue stuff together, winkle things out, mend things. I stand in the garage and look at the Lotus. I talk to him. And I cry when someone asks me how I’m doing.

Meanwhile, and in between times, I hug my sons hard. We remember the ol’ man daily. I help with the grandchildren and giggle a lot.

I go on holidays with the family and revel in their company, whereupon I thank the Lord for amazing familial relationships.

We celebrate birthdays which come at this time of the year all of a rush. My birthday is coming up – and John’s birthday would’ve been this month, too. I sleep on the new mattress that we ordered just before he died, and which arrived too late for him, but on his birthday. Ha!

I stay with friends and enjoy their company, too. I visit them for coffee, tea or a meal; and they visit me. My friends hug me with compassion and phone me, text me and keep in touch.

I go for a swim or a walk, and take a yoga class or two. The very act of movement helps.

I pet the pets – Chester: now very elderly, who barks at me whenever I arrive at Michael’s, and who refuses to shut up until he’s been fussed and fussed; and the pups: Marmaduke and Mabel, who wriggle and squirm and insinuate themselves onto my lap and look at me with adoring eyes.

I write my blog and find it cathartic.

See? It’s not all bad. A year on, and there’s some comfort in the things I do, whether I’m by myself, with the family or with friends. Weaving the daily distractions in with the remembering makes it bearable. Much of the time.

An early birthday present from Graham and Gail set me off this week though. When we were on holiday I lost my pashmina to much heartache. But look at that! It is now replaced. Gosh, what a lovely, lovely gift and such a moving message.

But one thing I hold onto every single day is the thought that John loved us all, as we did him.

He wrote a note before he died to let us know that he knew ‘it was time’. He told us to remember how important family is, and added: ‘Your love will be with me forever, and mine with you.’. Can’t say fairer than that, can you?

Take care everyone. God bless.