Untethered

19th January 2012 Thursday

I wake up with a hot dry cough lodged in my chest. And an ocean of something which isn’t only sadness sloshing about in the whole of me. A dear friend describes it for me when she says the death of your father changes your inner landscape - the usual reference points removed. I feel cut adrift even though I didn’t realise I was tethered.

This morning more phone calls and emails and letters about my father come in - each one precious and filling out the bright canvas that was his life. One friend says he was ‘an endless encourager.’

Unseasonal asparagus and boiled eggs for lunch and then my husband and I collect our new glasses and sunglasses from the opticians. And a fat wad of South African rand from the bank. This time next week we will be in another continent. In the hot dry landscape of summer - untethered.