I keep waking up early. My brain already active at 6 a.m. Although not always making sense.
It never used to be like this at the weekend. I used to wake up later. We used to wake up later. Sleepily, lazily debating whose turn it was to make the tea as we snuggled up together. Neither of us wanting to relinquish the duvet nor the closeness.
I rarely lie in with a cuppa now. By the time I’ve got up and boiled the kettle there seems to be no point in going back to an empty bed. Instead I search out friends on line; email and facebook have replaced the quality early morning time spent with Andrew.
Sometimes youngest son will climb in bed for a cuddle but I know we have to get up and face another day. The routine of getting ready for school giving us the much needed impetus to get moving.
But now it’s the holidays, like a permanent weekend stretching into the distance. A time of late nights and late mornings – if I can ever switch my brain off and blissfully sleep beyond the eight o’clock mark. I'd be happy if the numbers on the clock started with a seven!
Last time I wrote about my heart, how I was feeling. It races along in a daydream looking for something to fill in the cracks.
Meanwhile my head tries to keep things in perspective and slow things down. Heeding advice and urging caution. In my head I know that all this talk of finding a new house, a new man and starting my new life, is realistically a while off, there are still many hurdles to negotiate. The grieving process is a long one and far more draining that I ever thought imaginable.
I’m still sorting things out slowly in tiny manageable pieces.
Yesterday I moved a few things around on Andrew’s desk in a haphazard attempt at tidying, suddenly I found the memory card from the old camera. The camera which had been dropped and broken last summer. The one Andrew took apart with a view to fixing! The memory card had been misplaced and I’ve spent all these months desperately looking for it. I think it may contain the last ever photo of the two of us. Finding it made me cry, tears that were a mixture of joy and sadness.
As well as sorting the mess Andrew left behind, there is my own stuff to deal with. The truth is whenever and wherever we move to the new house will be smaller than this one so there is a lot of de-cluttering to be done. I keep far too much, hording mementos that remind me of the happy times and special events.
I have a box of keepsakes packed from the last time we moved eight years ago. It is filled with acceptances for our wedding invitations, wedding cards and anniversary cards, old photos albums, girl guide badges, school reports and certificates – I have proof that I can safely ride a bike, swim and that I passed my music theory exam with full marks in 1980! I have rediscovered that I was enrolled in the junior Red Cross for a short while, and on my first school trip to France I saved receipts and yoghurt pot lids in a scrap book!
But there are bigger items I have realised I will have to give away. We have always had plenty of space and so kept the cot and the high chair, there are also lots of old games and toys in the loft too. My head says it’s sensible to let go now. My heart still wants to hang on.
It is my heart that somehow lives in the past and the future. Able to hold on and look forward. My head tries to see things clearly and weigh up the sensible options for the here and now. I’ve got to somehow get them to balance and achieve a perfect tension between them. Not letting one overrule the other.
In today’s service the Old Testament reading was from 1 Kings Chapter 3. It was a passage where King Solomon askes God for the wisdom he needs to rule over the people. He knows he can’t do it in his own strength.
My task is far less daunting but I still need God's guidance and discernment to help me make the right choices for us as a family. Making decisions was something Andrew and I did together. Now we need to work out as a family of 3 what we need to keep and carry with us to the next phase. No "throwing away the baby with the bathwater" – even if there is no cot for him to sleep in when we reach our final destination!
The other day I wrote about longing for my next chapter “What Sarah did Next”, when I added my blog to Facebook there were all my friends reminding me of “What Sarah did Before”. Friends from now, from college, from sixth form and from school.
They have each shared a part of my life and helped shape the person I am today.
These are the things they reminded me. I am still the same person I always was. I have never done anything by halves. I am faithful and loyal to my friends. And finally whichever era of my life they came from they all agreed I have a future and maybe my writing has a big part to play.
Today I started writing early in the morning and with all the normal interruptions of the day it has taken me until almost midnight to get to somewhere near the end.
Brain still ticking, thinking, pondering even though it sometimes seems to be as battered as my heart and incapable of making any rational judgements.
As much as I hate early mornings in bed alone I loathe the nights. I drag out my night time routines procrastinating, trying to attain such a sleepy state that it won’t matter I am on my own.
It’s a common enough thing to do if your husband works away, I’ve spoken to other wives who tell me they do the same and I always went to bed far later when Andrew was off shore.
So it’s one more check of the emails and Facebook and I’ll post this before I go.
Night Night and God Bless!