A Turnaround.

Exeter Cathedral...

I've been feeling restricted all week by wet cold and windy weather...didn't want to walk out with my camera.

A turnaround today - blue sky, sun warm on my skin, spring returning everywhere as I walk in the park.

And today I missed Robin - properly, achingly - the whole of him, the sweetness of him, his love for me and our life together. It was the first time I could feel him, remember him without the dross of my regrets and  pain and self recrimination clinging to my memories.

A dear friend reminded me of the strength of our long connection. Her image of a thick looping rope from  boat to shore, frayed at the edges of course -  the split ends of our differences -  but not sharp enough to snap us, really helped me to remember what matters in this cauldron of grieving. To have loved like this......

 A grateful turnaround....the return of spring.

Twisted. Out of Kilter

I wake at 4am. I think I'm having a heart attack or a panic attack. Pain all round my chest, ribs, back, left side, it hurts to breathe, my heart racing....my arm feels numb.  

I wonder if I should call an ambulance...drive myself to A&E, ring Devon Doctors? After I calm down a bit I realise the pain is mostly in my ribs and my shoulder and back and maybe my arm is numb  because I've been lying on it. And even though it hurts I can take shallow breaths.

But I lie awake and  let it sink in - the fact I'm alone in my house in the early hours of the morning  - and how do I deal with a possible emergency when it's my own? I always found out very quickly what to do if it was Robin who needed  an ambulance....I can hear it now...that terrible crash of him falling on the stairs...

I'm lucky to get an appointment later in the day with our wonderful back man who says it's a strain in the big fan of muscles attached to my middle back and ribs. Not serious. Not my heart. Probably from doing a seated twisted pose in my yoga class on Monday. Even though the class is deliciously gentle and not strenuous at all, I must have indulged my tendency to go that little bit beyond my capacity and put something out of kilter.

Which all fits really with how I'm feeling at the moment....out of kilter....broken hearted....hurting.

Pain makes me miserable and grumpy all day. I cook green leeks and savoy cabbage, ruby chard and sweet potatoes with garlic and ginger and I heat up a twisted cheese straw out of the freezer to eat while I'm cooking. 

Trying not to breathe too deeply.....to feel the hurt too deeply....a fist around  my heart.

The absence of him....

March 2009 Amsterdam

March 2010 Somerset

March 2011 Bristol

March 2012 Portugal

March 2013 Portugal

March 2014 Sidmouth

March 2015 Portugal

March 2016 Bovey, Devon

 March 2017

I weep for him today. 

 Till the walls of our house are steeped in sadness.

 And no new paint will cover 

the absence of him

which is in the air

I breathe.

Beautiful or Useful and Breathing More Easily

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." William Morris.

Denise Linn (the gist of what she says anyway) - 

"Love it, use it or bin it."(....or recycle it, give it away, sell it, donate it) but don't keep anything that doesn't fit that category.  It is your attachment to things, not the things themselves which clutter up your space, cause your energy to stagnate."

Robin's candle and the soot on the ceiling and the smeary kitchen walls have started me on a de-cluttering/space clearing journey. To uncover the bits of me in the house by shifting stuff, shifting the energy, choosing what I love, what to let go of, what to put back.

 I still feel ambivalent about it though...claiming all of the house as mine when it was always our married home, always joint decisions. Even though  Robin usually went along with my preferences in most things.....

My sister helped me on Saturday...more than helped me.... she did a marathon job with me. And took away boxes of stuff in her car for the charity shop. So now I'm experimenting with what it feels like to live with only having one or two items on a shelf, a surface.

I love each thing, each one has an association, a connection with a place or people I know and love.

They stand alone in a clear space.

Helping me to breathe more easily.

....like a sleepy lizard

A  little slice of Italy in Bristol yesterday...

a fragrant delicatessen shop and cafe

where we had  lunch, perched on bar stools at the counter.... mozzarella and artichoke paninis.  followed by tiny crisp pastries stuffed with chocolate and pistachio cream. The sort of shop I'd like to live in.

This is Billy my great- nephew's Leopard Gekko lizard....who lives in a vivarium in his room, dozes all day and eats baby crickets and meal worms and doesn't like bright lights.

And this is Tundra, his Snow Tiger who is a long way from home, nibbling crocuses in the park.

At  5 years old, great nephew tells me there is a Pokemon character 

called Crocus...and why not. There are many ways to learn about flowers...

 Later his parents produced a wonderful Indian thali supper - I especially liked the spinach and paneer curry....and the beautiful cloth spread on the table....the colour of crocuses.

Today I feel defeated by form filling  - even with the help of my bright young PA. Robin had a few shares...not worth very much....I need to get them transferred to my name... and the bank needs to countersign the forms.  Who would have thought anything could be so complicated and time consuming. At least I got some exercise in town traipsing between the banks and building societies in an attempt to sort it out ...even though it was fruitless in the end. Still no resolution.

A man comes to clean the plastic roof - the one that leaks into the kitchen - and clear it of all the moss that the pigeons throw onto it from next door's roof. It immediately feels lighter.

I want to take some time out....stop being so busy......and driven...slow down....calm down...relax....like a  sleepy lizard.

Why do I find it so hard then, almost impossible, to read a book, a novel, on the sofa at 4pm in the afternoon.... a wet week day afternoon..... without thinking I'm somehow slacking? 

Still so much to learn in this new looking-after-me lizard habit...

Come on. Jump Off.

'Let's go on the zip wire', says my 5 year old great-nephew.

I don't think he means me and his grandma.

But when he's had a few whooshing rides,  he says,

Now you.

Is is safe?  I say.

Will it hold my weight?

Is it meant for grown-ups?

It's for everyone, he says, handing me the suspended rubber seat.

Just get on it and go.

I stand at the edge, looking down at the long muddy track below me. 

Come on, he says.

Jump off.

I'm going to race you.

And because he's waiting for me

and because I want him to think 

I'm a cool great-aunty

and because I'm scared 

of falling off

but I'm more scared

of going back

of giving up

of failing

I leap out 

into the air 

and scream

and laugh

at the same time

 and 

sail along beside

 the little boy

who is running next to me

then ahead of me 

as my momentum 

slows 

to a stop.

Yeah, I won, he says.

You did,

I say.

And hug my own little triumph inside me.

You Need You

It's been dawning on me

a fact 

sharp and clear in the

mistiness 

 of how everything is

different now,

that no-one needs me.

 Not a husband 

to hold

in the

dark

or

a soft furry

creature 

with hungry 

eyes

to feed.

Or a parent

or a child.

A friend

or a 

stranger.

I don't mean I'm not

loved

or appreciated

or that 

I wouldn't be missed 

or anything like that.

Just that 

no one is 

depending on me

to be there.

So that I must 

keep my word 

to them.

So that I must 

rise 

every morning

to feel

it's 

worth 

it.

Because no-one else

but me

would do.

Like I used 

to feel.

But, 

my friend says,

You 

need

you.

When I think about that

I imagine 

the 

neglected

little girl 

inside me.

The one with

the hungry eyes

who 

craves

attention and

time and

love.

And then I see

that I am 

the only one

who can 

give 

it to her.

Wholeheartedly.

Not to do so

would be to

abandon

her.

She has waited long enough.