Gosh, long time no blog.  The thing is, sometimes a blog just gets things off your chest, its a way of letting off steam, getting rid of your emotions, without bothering the outside world.  Sadly, I even feel guilty blogging and repeating myself endlessly.  Sighs sadly.

Its been a tough year.  Last year was a tough year too.  Last year Dad became very ill, this year he died.  Two weeks later my husbands uncle died.  Hubby was executor for both wills and has taken a fair amount of time off work to deal with the estates.  It seems like years ago that Dad died, but I can remember his illness as if it was yesterday.  Weird.  On the whole I have been ok the past few months, even to the point of being relatively upbeat about Christmas.  I had some help from a lady I chatted to at a Mind, Body, Spirit fayre, by the name of Ann Oliver.  Her outlook helped me to try and keep positive about life and death, and I am very thankful to her.

I joined a mediumship circle a few months ago, and have had some positive results, if you call it results.  I have really enjoyed going, and finding out different aspects of spiritualism.  So interesting and fascinating.

Also had a nosedive on the old health front, resulting in being signed off work for 3 weeks.  My GP is still seeing me every month to keep a check on me.  Personally I think he is just amused by my lack of mental capacity, and is waiting all agog for my next nutty statement!  Gives him a bit of lighthearted relief in his long days of ailments and moaning.  He is very handy with the tissues too, probably makes him feel like a knight in shining armour, which of course, to me he is.  Lovely man and I am thankful for him too.  Props.  I seem to need them, but then I guess so do a lot of people.

My birthday was going ok, until my sister phoned me at 9.30am.  That opened the floodgates of pain and tears.  No Dad, no early morning phone call and birthday wishes.  Its funny how you can be motoring along quite smoothly, and then you hit a pothole of memories which shakes you up.  The pain is still running in puddles around me at the moment, and of course the next pothole opens up tomorrow.  Hopefully I will steer around that one and give it a miss.  I try to look on the positive side that now Mum and Dad are together for the first time in 12 years, and Dad is reunited with the love of his life.

Crazy thoughts, crazy dreams.  Keep dreaming I am back at school and really behind with my revision.  I can't work out my timetable, where I am supposed to be and why I am taking the subjects as I failed them at school before.   Last night I asked Mum and Dad if I could leave school as I was so far behind.  Maybe I am stressing about christmas, although I don't feel thats the reason.  All up together as far as I am aware.  Maybe my life is running away with me and I have lost control?  

I think that has started to empty my head a bit.  Maybe I should get back on here a bit more.  Have started meditating but find it hard to focus, much like my daily life, I can't keep my mind on anything for too long, all thoughts just shoot away.  No drifting for me!

Happy Christmas to anyone who may have read this, and lets hope, as we all do every year, that next year is a better one.

Well, its a long time since I blogged.  I have often felt like letting rip, but its the same old same old, and there are only so many ways or times that you can say how much you miss someone or how lost and lonely you still feel, or how tired you are!  Still, here I go again, with apologies maybe.

Last week we had 2 people out at work and I got talked into working for 2 1/2 days.  I have to say, I was dreading it, I would rather have worked 5 mornings than all day.  Well, I did it.  The third day which was an all day jobbie was more difficult, but I am proud of myself for staying the course.  This week however it has hit me and I am knackered and pacing for all I am worth.  I took yesterday off, partly because I had a couple of moles removed on Tuesday, and partly because I had holiday I needed to use up.  Sadly I had to do quite a bit of running errands and so didn't get to rest as I should.  I think this afternoon will see me asleep for a while!

The fact that a pipe came free from the washing machine which meant it just kept on filling hasn't helped either.  I have an American style top loader so the water was cascading from the top of the machine as will as underneath.  Luckily there is a small step leading to the utility room so the water was contained.  Typically, the machine had a load of towels in it which weighed a ton, and my washing baskets all have vents in so I couldn't put the towels in them.  Thank heavens for storage boxes!  As well as mopping all the water up I had to bail out the machine.  Not good.  No wonder I am knackered peeps.

As happens when I am tired I am feeling low.  I have been dieting since Feb or March, have lost 1stone and 9lbs, which is a great achievement, especially for diet phobic me, but boy am I struggling.  I don't want to do it!  I want to eat what I want to eat and not have to think about how many points it contains before it passes my lips.  Whilst I have these feelings I also have conflicting feelings of I want to be slim and I want it now, with emphasis on the NOW!   I know its a long, slow game, but boy I am not sure I can do it.  I am tired of it, tired of salad and fruit and not much chocolate.   Mmmmm, twirl bites :o)  I guess I must still have the willpower there somewhere because I feel rebellious and want to just go splurge, but I can't bear the thought of putting weight back on and having to re-lose it!

My final bit of news is that I have sold my car * sob *.  My lovely little car with the wonky ariel that has been my companion for the past 3 years has finally got to go.  Its daft to insure and tax 2 cars, plus the van, and as mine was never the "family" car it is going. 

Thats it for now, hopefully not too moaning and depressive! x

Swallow swiftly!

Its days like this that I miss Dad. I took my usual walk to the park with Speckle, past the pond of course, and on around the park.  Despite the rain I might add!  Anyway, there were around 20 swallows, or were they swifts, flying low across the water catching insects.  I haven't seen this before I don't think, although I am aware at how unreliable my memory is, and its the sort of thing I would have phoned Dad about on the spot and then gone round for a natter about it.  I texted eldest daughter, who told me that swallows have longer tails, so I have decided that the birds were in fact swifts.  Now, having googled swifts, swallows and house martins, I have changed my mind and declare them to be swallows.  See?  I need my Dad to inform me.  He knew so much and we all relied on him for information.  Who needed Google with Dad/Grandad around?!  To add to my delight, not only did I see the swallows, but I actually caught sight of the woodpecker.  I have been taking Specks to the park for 7 years, heard the woodpecker frequently, but never spotted it.  It has been a good morning, and I am feeling more cheerful.  Little steps :o) 

Work remains quite stressful, and being in the middle of an ME flare doesn't help.  I ache and I hurt and I am sure I will soon rattle from all the painkillers I am taking.  Hate it, but thats a story you have all heard before.............

feel crappy really :o(

The house has been emptied, barr the kitchen.  I ran out of puff, and found that each day I spent there rendered me a bit more emotional and tired.  I have moved everything apart from furniture, into the garage for my sister and her family to take, cleaned the house, hubby tidied the garden, and thats it.  Done.  House is now on the market.  The day the agent came to take the photos, he found 3 ducks sat on the lawn.  Odd, but for me very apt!  They stayed there all day apparently and now appear in the house details.

I had some very good cries whilst clearing out the house, still plenty of tears left in me, but at least I just let go and went with the flow so to speak.  I am feeling emotionally drained and battered and my family is getting used to the sudden flow of tears at odd times.  I also feel emotionally vulnerable.  Hubby and I had a spat earlier, one which I would have joined in with gusto normally, but had me sobbing almost immediately.  Spoilt everyones fun!  I have also lost the ability to enjoy myself I think.  I can't seem to find the joy in anything at the moment and it upsets me greatly.  I am sure it will pass in time, but it doesn't help.

I bumped into Ed today in Tesco and said to him that I want to blog, but the words just won't come.  I desperately want to get my feelings out, but the time is possibly not right, and they remain firmly locked away.  That sucks.

And that brings me to the end.  I tried and on this occasion didn't succeed to let it all out.  Next time maybe ..............

Probate

Well now the hard bit begins.  What am I saying?  It has all been hard!  I mentioned to my eldest son that I felt very emotionally young, but he told me I am strong when I need to be and this is just normal.  I know hes right, I am remembering the feelings from when Mum died, although I think there was a lot of disbelief with Mum as we didn't really realise just how ill she was. 

Probate has been granted, so now we can go about emptying the house and putting it on the market.  Husband has suggested we go to the estate agents this weekend to get an idea of how they would market it - it has a stair lift fitted and a wet room for disabled living - and how much they think it is worth.  Up until now it has all been talk.  After the initial clearing out of upstairs I found it easy to avoid going to the house.  Rob is still living there, although he has found a house to rent with his friends and will be moving out soon. 

Now, I will have to go to the house to sort out the remaining books, furniture, white goods etc.  We also have to sell his electric scooter.  Up until now it has all been talk, house sales that is.  It hit me, this great big block of bricks swinging back and forth, it is real.  Dad is dead, the house will be sold and that is the end of it all.  I really don't think I can cope with it all.

Some days I am lower than the lowest low thing.  I don't know how to get through the day, the weight is just too great.  Every little thing makes me cry.  I say I am aimless, and I have come to realise that my routine has changed drastically.  For the past I don't know how many years I have taken Dad out on a Thursday, then Wednesday was added, then Friday.  This was a regular thing, along with still popping in at odd times to "surprise" him, and the phone calls, the only one I don't miss is his 9am Sunday morning phone call!  No wonder I am lost.  I am better on other days and can talk to his photo and not get too upset.  I have apologised to Mum because at the moment I talk mainly to Dad.  I hope she understands and knows that in time I will chat to her as much as I used to.

I have had a few odd happenings, not sure if I have mentioned this first one.  A few days after Dad died I went into my bedroom to go to bed and there was an awful smell in there.  It was so bad I had to spray some deodorant in my room to mask it!  After looking round for cat poo, saying nothing about the cat!!, and finding nothing to cause the offensive odour, I said out loud that I wasn't too happy with the smell and could it please be taken away.  With that the smell instantly disappeared and a voice popped into my head to say "just to let you know he has arrived".  I need to say here that I have had no thought of contact with Dad because he was catergoric  in his belief that once he was dead that was it, the end.

Okay, the second odd thing was this week.  I was sat in the lounge having a cuppa and staring out of the window when a kestrel landed on the garage roof opposite.  It was weird, honestly, it really was.  We have buzzards in the summer flying overhead, and although I have never seen one around the area of the house and park I can't say that we don't have kestrels.  Its just I have never seen one landing on buildings, and never on the roof opposite my house!  It gives me comfort to believe, whether its true or not, that it was something associated with Dad.

Tuesday has been one of my lowest days so far I think, I really don't know why.  Tuesday night I dreamed of Dad and he was playing his "happy music" and telling me to listen to it.  Whenever anyone was down Dad would play The Maggie on his ipod.  He called it his happy music because it was a really jaunty tune, and we had it played at his funeral.  Okay, subconsciously I knew about this and maybe that was the reason for the dream, I don't know, and actually nor does anyone else.  Those people who know me know that I have the attitude of "look for the obvious, and if you can't find it then believe", and I want to believe.

First steps

Well, I forced myself to go to the farm shop today. I say forced myself because it is a place that dad and I went to a lot, usually taking Josh with us. We would have some lunch, wander around the shop and then go outside to feed the pigs and see the chickens. It was a step forward for me, and I nearly backed out, but I need to start somewhere.

I find myself so aimless and lost. I have not only lost my father, but I have lost my friend too. We did so much together, and the saying "you never know what you had until its lost" is so true. I guess maybe I should look at it that I have so many memories in so many places that dad will always be with me. I am trying very hard to be positive, but I am aware that I am lonely and very low.

Life goes on despite the sadness.

Two months on

I am finding it hard coming to terms with the fact that my dad has gone and I will never see him again. It all feels so surreal. I still cry when I think of him, but I am not blocking thoughts of him out now. We have also put some photos up of him and I try and look at them as much as I can bear. As time passes we realise more and more just how big a part of our lives he was. How much we turned to him for his advice and opinions on things. We took all this for granted, as you do with life and the people around you.

The gap left is huge. We went out together to so many places that the memories are everywhere and I can't escape them. I know that in time it won't hurt as much, but that is a long way off.

Anguish

I am struggling, I admit it. I have reached the stage now where I miss Dad terribly and he keeps creeping into my thoughts unbidden. I am having trouble blocking the thoughts, and maybe I shouldn't. There are reminders of him wherever I go, we went to so many places together that nowhere is safe. Matthew says I have lost my focus and I am certainly aware that I am not my normal self. I feel depressed, but I know it is grief plain and simple. I phoned the hospice today to ask them to arrange some bereavement counselling so at least I have made a positive step. Dad was such a big part of my life I know it is going to take a long time for the enormous hole he left to fill up. I am adrift but hopefully will not sink.

Three and a half weeks on

I really want to blog. Sadly the words just won't seem to leave my head, not the ones I really want to say anyway.

The week after dad died I thought I was going to be ok. The second week proved that actually that wasn't the case and that I had built a wall up around me the first week for protection. I kidded myself that it was easier because dad had been declining for so long, and I had watched that decline every single day and was used to the fact that he was only really there in body for quite some time. The dad we all knew and loved had disappeared, leaving a shell behind. Not even a shell that resembled him. I don't want to dwell, because those are the memories I really do want to erase. I haven't really told anyone of the way dad changed after entering the hospice. Obviously Matthew knows because he was there too a lot of the time. I really cannot praise the hospice staff enough, their care extended to relatives as well as the dying, and they never stinted on it or made you feel a nuisance.

Needless to say, I miss dad. I miss asking him questions, he never let me down by not knowing an answer. I miss his telephone calls, and his standard message left on the answer machine if we were out - "this is a speaking machine, I called". I even went through all the old messages in the hope of finding one so I could hear his voice again. No luck. I spent so much time with him I am now aimless. I cry in shops because he's not with me. The ready meals in Morrisons today did it for me. Then the spring flowers section. I am crying as I type with silly little memories. Little memories that join up to make my dad the person he was.

When I am feeling stronger I will write him, a sort of eulogy maybe. I have had a stinking cold and sore throat, which made me very indignant, and now I cant breath through my nose again from crying and my head is pounding. Knew I shouldn't have started writing. Instinct is a wonderful thing, and I have learned to ignore mine at my peril!

Teardrops in abundance

Well after my last blog I did indeed fall apart. I knew it was coming and at the time it felt like the end of the world. I cried at home, then took the dog out and cried some more. Stood looking at the stars and cried and came home feeling like a bag of poo! Took myself off to bed and had yet another sleepless night. Tuesday morning my eyes were beautifully puffy and red, but I felt better in myself. Managed work ok, but I have noticed I am suffering from a severe lack of patience. Not good in my job!! One patient in particular had me wanting to hit him round the head, but luckily for him the closest thing to hand of any substance was the suction tube. Being made of plastic it wouldn't have done much harm. Could have gouged his eyes out I suppose had I taken his glasses off!

Sleeping is becoming a bit of a problem, but I guess if I am honest I would admit to that being normal for me. Yet another M.E symptom. I am very tired, but again, normal. I need to phone my sister, but am balking. It's hard when you are struggling with your own grief to be surrounded by someone else's. That sounds selfish but I noticed it when mum died too. You can hide from friends but I guess you shouldn't do it with family. Maybe a day in bed hiding under the covers would do us all good.

Time to fall apart

I feel like a volcano building up to errupt at the moment. The week after Dad died I had a mental wall very firmly in place, a bit of preservation I guess. This is rapidly slipping and I am in the falling apart zone. Little things set me off into floods of tears. I feel so unbelievably low at the moment, not helped by trying to keep the dreaded M.E under control. I know it will pass in time but it's all too new at the moment. I am struggling and would like to do my bear hibernating trick. Maybe things will be easier after the funeral,closure as everyone says. Not sure of that because I know that Dads soul has gone already and it's only his shell left. At least the stress of the organisation will be gone, and I can begin life with a new normality.

How I will fill my hours I don't yet know, that will evolve hopefully. I have spent the last 11 years adding the status of "friend" to father, and adding the role of carer to myself. When you take on the role of carer for someone they become an even bigger part of your life and there is a gaping hole left when they are no longer there.

It has been a difficult and stressful 6 months for my family and myself. The time will soon be here when we can start to live normally again. Having said that I have just been reminded that Dads house needs sorting, emptying and selling .......

The final chapter?

Catkins in January!  Dad would have had something to say about that, along with the magpie trying out a last years' nest for size.  Not sure what is happening to our seasons!  I am sure he would have enlightened me with some snippet of his wisdom.

My life has been on hold for a long time, and I guess it won't be mine again until after Dads funeral next week.  I have mourned the gradual loss of my Father over the past 6 weeks, and the pain of him finally dying is not as raw as it was when my Mother died.  None the less it is, obviously, still painful.  I think I am ok and then something sneeks past the barrier set up in my mind and triggers the flood gates.  Today I am very, very sad.  I have found myself talking to him already in the same way I talk to Mum.  I can do this out loud or in my head, I am not bothered!  I seem to have the habit of talking to myself anyway, so now its a three way conversation.

The night before Dad died we had a good visit.  I had a natter with him, well, to him, he lost his power of speech a while ago, about the days events.  One of the nurses had put some classical music on the radio for him to listen to and I did threaten to change it to something Will Young orientated.  Dad would probably have raised his hands and mock screamed "ahhh, Will" as he did whenever I talked about him, knowing my er affection for him!  The hospice wasn't terribly full so the nurses seemed to drift to Dad's room and it was more like a coffee morning at some points.  The lovely thing about the nurses, or one of the lovely things, was that they always spoke to Dad as if he was able to hear and answer.  No one knew how aware of anyone he was, but with the premise that hearing is the last sense to be lost, they were always cheerful around him and included him.  When one of the nurses phoned me at 4.15am to say he had died, as well as being numb, I was comforted by the fact that they were still looking after him at that time of the morning.  The St Peters Hospice nurses are very special ladies, and we owe them a lot.  They looked after Dad as if he was their own father and they looked after my sister and myself too, bless them.

Monday night I had a dream about Dad, he was still ill, but was recovering.  It was a weird dream, as most of mine are, but at the very end of it Dad gave me a really big, tight hug.  I am happy to go along with the belief that he came to me to say goodbye.  I know all the rational thoughts and explanations, but I do feel better for it and am happy to think it really was Dad. 

I had another strange occurrence last night as well.  When I went into my bedroom it smelled bad!  I checked for cat poo or wee, flippin cat, will say no more about her, and the room was yuk free.  I kept smelling the smell and realised it was a cigar like smell, and out loud said "If there is someone in here I will be a bit cross because its a bit rude to wander into peoples bedrooms!"  I then got into bed and had a voice in my head say "He's arrived now" and the smell went.   Weird.  I am 100pc certain that I wasn't consciously thinking about Dad.  I have had no thoughts of him being anywhere other than dead because of his absolute belief that when he died that would be it.  I used to ask him to pop back and leave me a message or sign and he would say in no uncertain terms that when he died that would be the end, he wouldn't go on anywhere, reincarnate or anything because there was nothing after death.  Maybe I am having the last laugh .............