She is totally irresistible - this mallard duck - preening and cleaning herself in the sunshine in the park yesterday. She doesn't know she's beautiful - but I do.
This morning, in town outside The Exploding Bakery Cafe, I bump into a lovely woman who works at the day centre that Robin used to go to on a Thursday. She knew him well.
I know she's a widow. She was married for 45 years. She tells me that the hospice nurse who looked after her husband at the end of his life, took her hand and said,
"You won't mend till you accept it".
She says of course you accept it, the fact of it, in your head, finally. But it takes a different length of time to accept the truth of it inside, in your heart. Many years in her case. And I know what she means.
Except the fact of it hasn't landed in my head yet. It's such an irrational thing. Not sensible. I've given up trying to make sense of it otherwise I'd think I was going mad. And inside I just feel hollow most of the time.
This afternoon my lovely cranio-sacral therapist says grief work can be exhausting. It's all a big knot gathered in my lower back - the holding on, keeping the pain at bay..... also keeping my resources at bay...explains my constant dropping tiredness.
It doesn't feel like grief work - more like living grief. As if it's all of me.
Now the kitchen smells of hot cake. It seems I'm never too tired to bake. Tonight it's a spicy carrot cake for two birthday girls tomorrow.
Another day over.
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