Dear Doug,
I walked to our bedroom door and stood in the doorway.
You should have been lying there, resting your body, researching the cost of your next shed project on your iPad.
You should have noticed me standing there, seen the look on my face, put the iPad to one side, opening your arms for me to fall into.
Some friends are doing it tough. It’s going to be a long road. You know I feel deeply when it comes to such things.
You should have been there, on the bed.
I miss us.
I don’t feel I can write to you today and talk about my feelings and reflections of living life without you and Mum.
My grief doesn’t seem worthy of space given what others are enduring right now.
If only thinking this way actually lessened the weight of the cross others must bear,
But it doesn’t.
I hear my own words echoing back to me ‘It’s all relative’.
Our truths, our stories are our own unique realities, they need not be denied or dismissed in the face of another’s pain.
Sadly, It doesn’t make the other person's pain go away. It only makes us stifle our own pain and that’s not helpful for anybody.
Inwards and onwards with empathy we must tread.
Our truths bind us. Acknowledgment and empathy the threads.
I’m tired Doug. I am so very, very tired from all the loss of the past few years and the loss I relive each dawn of a new day.
But… there will always be room on my plate and in my heart for others just as others have made room on their plates for me.
Connection is everything…
EVERYTHING!
Onward.
In other news…
I started Pilates two weeks ago. Pretty sure I look like some sort of uncoordinated cartoon pigeon but I really like the exercise.
My mental strength along with my physical strength has really suffered of late so I’m hoping intentional movement will help support both those areas.
It has been so bitterly cold this Winter Doug. I can’t remember a Winter where we had so many frosts in a row.
The crisp white blanket across the open area of parkland reminds me of bloody freezing mornings on the farm feeding out hay to the cattle with no cabin on the tractor.
“If we’re cold, the cattle will be cold” your Dad used to say.
Pretty sure we were colder! But gosh we saw some bloody beautiful mornings.
I’ve been struggling to cook of late (I know, what’s new about that?). The other night I was thinking about how we used to wrap spuds in foil and pop them in the hot coals of the wood heater.
Not quite the same as camp fire coals but they were great Winter warmers when we couldn’t be bothered preparing anything else for dinner.
Jacket spuds were your favourite with lashings of butter and salt. Occasionally we’d splurge and have sour cream and bacon on hand.
We’d sit in front of the fire and reminisce about camping trips and the guys trying to scare me by making noises like dingo’s outside the tent… they’d succeed every time. There would be much raucous laughter - not from me though - I’d be crapping my pants.
Speaking of which, no way would I go to the bush dunny on my own after that - your worst thing about camping - me making you traipse into the night on dingo and wild dog watch so I could take a pee.
There were only a few years when we were first married before the Rheumatoid ramped up and ravaged your body - but we managed to have some lovely experiences together before then and just as many after - just in a different way to everyone else’s normality.
I still haven’t been able to pack up any of Mum’s belongings yet. It’s been four months. I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Are we ever really ‘ready’?
I hate going into her side of the house. It feels sad, empty of soul and cold.
Well, it is physically cold because the heater is no longer set to ‘let’s live in the Bahama’s’. Funny the things you miss, like being hit in the face with hot air when I open the passage door.
Poor Mum was always so cold to her bones. She’d even have the microwave heat bag wrapped over her nose because the tip was cold.
I seem to have lost my gardening mojo as well. I know it’s Winter and gardens struggle along in the climate this time of year but it all looks rather shabby.
Yesterday I splurged on a few Pansy and Viola punnets to brighten up the sadness I see around me - even in the garden beds.
Their darling little petal faces make me smile. So delicate. Now if a pair of fairy wrens would hop through the nodding foliage my week would be made… it’s the little things.
Until next time.
All my love,
Sandra Xx
I love to write creative non-fiction. If you love to read my words please consider shouting me a cuppa as I write or consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Tap one of the buttons below the pic - I’m so grateful for your presence here in any capacity. Xx
I'm so glad you've taken up Pilates. It's one of my absolute favourite forms of exercise. I love how it's all about slow, controlled movements and working within your limits. Good for the body and excellent for the mind. x