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!
No comments:
Post a Comment