A car for all journeys

I have just found my post from exactly 1 year ago. It was written on the day I picked up my new car.

I wrote about journeys and cars past and present, about being unique and yet being comforted by thoughts that others have travelled this tough road.

Here's a special, silly little poem in honour of the Skoda that gets me from A to B. 

Happy Birthday car!

We've travelled near and far.

Through sunny days and rain

Through tears and aching pain.

With laughter, sometimes singing

Occasionally a SHOUT!

A helper on my journey

Of that there is no doubt!

And here's last year's post.

Same But Different (written 25th Aug 2011)

“I don’t remember driving on this bit of road last time.”  I thought to myself as I set off once more along the A1.  I’d only travelled it a few weeks ago and I was certain I was going the right way.  Why did it look so different?

Then it dawned on me, last time I drove this route there had been a serious hold up here and we barely moved for an hour!  The scenery went past much slower.  Two lanes merged into three just after the junction and then the road narrowed again back into two.

Same route but a different journey.

During our last journey we had passed the time in the traffic jam with a story tape called “Seriously Weird”.  This time the story CD from the library refused to play on the car CD player and I’d already had complaints from the back despite the fact we were making better progress.

On this occasion my eventual destination was somewhere different.  I wouldn’t be turning off at the usual junction to visit my parents.  This was an adventure for me and youngest son, oldest son being away on his own holiday escapade. 

We were visiting friends and they had given me fantastic directions.  My navigator in the back, now distracted from the lack of story CD, read them out to me,  past the sign to the swimming pool, Black Horse pub on the right, over two mini roundabouts (can we really drive straight over the top?) and along the wiggly road!  The Sat Nav finally fell in line with the route we wanted to take and I amazed myself – I was driving in London!

OK this may not be a very big deal for some of you and I was only in the suburbs not the city but this was a journey I may not have even considered if Andrew was still around.  I would have chickened out and planned a time convenient for him to drive us instead.

It’s another step forward and something else to tick off on my own personal CV of achievements in the past nine months.

The word “journey” itself has been an interesting one this year.

The Sunday before Andrew died as we sat in church together I was doodling during the sermon, pretending to take notes, and it was a word that popped into my head and it started my thoughts for the Nativity play last year.  I thought about all the characters and how they each had to travel to reach Bethlehem.

Maybe God had given the word for me personally as well?

And now I have found out about “A Different Journey”, I wrote briefly about it a couple of posts ago. It is a Christian organisation working with people who have been widowed at a young age.  It has been great getting in touch with others who are on a similar path and I have booked to go on a weekend away.  It will be a chance to meet others travelling in the same direction, not the one we all expected when we set off.

I love the fact that we are on the same journey and have appreciated reading other people stories as they are a comfort.

The organiser wrote me an email and said

“Although there are similarities each person’s journey is unique in time taken to grieve and recover.”

However at the moment it is the sameness that most attracts me.  The fact that these people can understand on a deeper level because they have shared this kind of journey.

There are many times when I want to be unique and stand out in the crowd, just look at the picture of the dress I posted in the last blog, that is not the dress of a woman who wants to fade into the background and not be noticed!

But then there are times when you just want to wear jeans and a T shirt, nothing special just something comfortable.

Today, in my jeans and Tshirt, I go and pick up the new car.  Something else “different”.  Something else that Andrew hasn’t shared with me.

I was sorting out the documents to take to the garage and found the receipts for both our current car and the previous family car we bought together.  I looked at how much we had spent before and satisfied myself that I had made a sensible purchase price wise this time, Andrew would be smiling.  But then I always imagine him smiling down at me with each new step forward I take.

(I have a photo of "happy" Andrew by my laptop and that’s the face I always see giving me courage to carry on despite the tears. A few are inevitably falling as I type...)

Our current car was imported it, a cheaper viable option at the time.  When it was delivered Andrew was away.

“What do I do when it arrives?”  I was flustered.

“Just look round it and make sure it looks OK.  You’ll be fine.”

I knew he really wanted to be there to take delivery but he trusted me to do this on my own.

When the car arrived neither me and nor the delivery truck driver could find the CD player but that was the only "problem".  It said CD on the radio so the man left reasoning it must be somewhere in the car.  It was eventually found underneath the front passenger seat.

So I was the first person to drive our car and I will be the last, at least while I own it.

From now on I whatever journeys I make will be different even if they follow a familiar route.

And Andrew is still there smiling, trusting me to do the right thing without him here.

Some things are different but some will forever be the same.

still walking that hard path but looking back the view is astounding!

Here's a post I wrote about a year ago. It was the middle of the summer holidays, I was distraught and unable to cope. It wasn't an unusual feeling, holidays have often been tough, routine goes out of the window and there is no breathing space bewteen the hours of 9 and 3 when the boys are at school.

I was reflecting on these feelings yesterday while I sat at my counselling session. After a couple of abortive attempts at therapy I have finally found the most wonderful woman to talk to. It doesn't come cheap but as the saying goes you get what you pay for!

This summer I am calmer, more at peace with myself and with the world. Some of my anger has been spent and oh so many tears have been wrung out of me but I have evenually come to a place where I am ready to get up, dust myself down and continue.

The road hasn't changed, it's tough, full of grit and another word that rhymes with it! There are still 3 of us living in the same big old house and things are pretty much the same as they were twelve months ago.

But I have grown - stronger, resilient, more patient, more forgiving of myself. I have gained a perspective that only comes through time and circumstance.

Grief is such a long and winding road but I am glad of my blog, it gives me a chance to look back over the road I've travelled and marvel at the distance I've come so far...the view is astounding!

When the going gets tough…. ( written 15th Aug 2011)

Saturday -   I went into meltdown.   This new life is too hard. Sunday -   I stamped my feet again and declared, “I can’t do this anym...

Scattered

It's just over a year since we picked up Andrew's ashes from the undertakers.

Here's the poem I wrote about them.

All That Remains

Picked up ashes

They run like sand through my fingers,

Dark sand

Like the shores of Tahiti.

Volcanic black remains

A place where our story began

Love and tenderness intermingled.

White bone,

Black ash,

And specks of golden wood.

Weighing as much as our babies

But heavier by far,

The weight of the world

Encompassed in a shoe box.

The depth of our love

To be blown on the wind.

We stopped in Tahiti on our way to New Zealand for our honeymoon. It was the one place I always wanted us to return to when the boys had flown the nest. The beaches are made of black sand and I was reminded of them as I stared at the ashes before me.

Our dreams were gone and this was all that was left.

If you click here you can read about the day we scattered them which typically didn't go to plan...

Today last year....

Haven't reposted anything here for a while but I just had a look at what I wrote last year. I think it was because I remembered that we scattered Andrew's ashes at the beginning of the summer holidays and I wanted to check the date. Actually it wasn't until the 29th but there are a couple of other posts worthwhile reposting too. All part of remembering...


My Life in a Day (written 24th July 2011)

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.  

Still learning to knit (with only one needle…)

Today I popped into a new wool shop in town. It opened a couple of months ago and although I am follow them on Facebook I'd not had the chance to take a look for myself.

The shelves were stacked with beautiful yarn, every colour of the rainbow, soft, silky and fluffy. Wool is becoming a must have commodity.

"I must learn to knit properly!" I exclaimed to my friend as we left.

"You can knit." she scoffed.

Well I can but only the basics and I certainly can't figure out a knitting pattern.

All of which has little to do with this post I wrote almost a year ago except the title.

There are times I re-read my writing from a year ago and think it's rubbish and then there are times when it surprises me, sometimes it's the content, the way I've expressed an idea or the fact that I have moved on from that point.

Sometimes re-reading makes me believe I CAN write and have something to say! 

So often we tell our kids they can do ANYTHING if they put their mind to it, practice and keep trying.

There's a lesson in here somewhere and once again it's perseverance, picking yourself up and carrying on with whatever life throws at you.

I’m knitting with only one needle…

(posted 15th May 2011) 

I’ve figured something out.  I’m now officially out of sync with the rest of my generation.

I’ve always felt odd, a bit different.  In my best and most positive moments I would describe myself as unique!

I shouldn’t be a widow at 43!  Nobody should be.

My peers, my friends have husbands and families to share their lives with.  They do things together. Ups, downs, tears, tantrums, joy and laughter.

We were at the stage of the children growing more independent yet still needing us and we were making those adjustments required to accommodate adolescence.  We had a long way to go but we were learning – together.  A mutual help and support group of two.

OK it’s not like that for everyone.  There are lots of people who are on their own.  Some people never meet that special someone to share their life with.  I was “lucky”, for a while.  For someone who suffered so much anxiety and self-doubt growing up that I would never meet anyone, I counted myself as truly blessed – most of the time.

But now that’s gone.

Nobody should be a widow in their early 40s when there are still jobs to be done.  The children still need raising, the house still needs fixing.  It is a time to plan together for the empty nest.  The years at the end when we get the chance to fly too, satisfied we’ve done our best.

My parents are away on holiday at the moment, a coach trip to Scotland.  Just them and their friends relaxing and having fun.  That should have been us in twenty years time.  Only I always wanted us to return to Tahiti, a romantic getaway, same hotel, our exotic paradise with black sand…. 

I have been enjoying walking round my garden more and more, usually in the morning.  It seems like the thing to do, to admire new growth.  I am going to write some more about that another day.  My last post about the garden was a very popular one, this time I may include some photos!

While taking a wander this morning (still in my dressing gown, because I can!) I thought about not quite fitting in.

To me the word “widow” conjures up an image of an older woman with her family grown.  She is able to visit children, even grandchildren, but still have her own space to do the things she dreams of.  Memories make her smile and some may bring tears but she treasures the time spent together with her husband and the family they created together.

Of course in reality “widows” come in all shapes and sizes.  Some older and some even younger than me.

It’s just at the moment I am quite angry at the unfairness of it all.  It wasn’t even as if I picked at man considerably older than me so I somehow expected this to happen so early.  Six years isn’t a huge age gap.

What I am most frustrated about at the moment is that I still have to raise the boys.  I have no idea what goes on in their heads they are like a different species!  This is a job for two people and I now have to do it alone.

Today’s title is from a Queen song that just happened to shuffle its way onto my iPod …

I’m knitting on only one needle

Unravelling fast it’s true

I’m driving on only three wheels

My dear, how about you?

I’m going slightly mad

You can’t possibly knit on one needle so maybe I need to learn to crochet instead to hold us together.

The other week I did have a flat tyre and you can’t drive like that, maybe I just need to rely on others to keep me balanced.  Or buy a Robin Reliant!

I am having to adjust to so much to do the best I can with what I’ve been given.  Sometimes it is so hard and I feel like the pain will never end.  I still don’t understand why it hurts so much more now than it did in the beginning.  Probably reality hitting home.  There are still moments every day when I stop and realise - Andrew's never coming back!

Sometimes it feels like I am going slightly mad so please bear with me while I acclimatise to my new state.  The road ahead is still very bumpy but you can still follow if you wish…

A big decision made last year

It was a whole year ago that the house went on the market, I know because I wrote about it!

Yesterday I wrote something for re-ravelling about the many journeys I make in a day, going to and from school, church, shops, my friends. Those 7 minute trips soon add up and often take an hour out of my day. 

How I wish the boys could walk to school, they would gain so much freedom and I would get back my hour a day...

I long to move, to put the finishing touches to this chapter and begin the next one.

But I keep hearing from various sources that I should live in the present and enjoy the things I've got here and now, not always easy but I'm trying. 

In the end I never posted my whingey post about my seven minute journeys, I've written too much lately about the lows, the things that pull me under.

I need to celebrate just how far I've come, enjoy living in this home Andrew and I created while we are still here and look back with satisfaction at all the decisions I have made...

unravelling edges: Sometimes the big decisions are far easier than th...: Well I’ve done it!   I’ve put the house on the market.   The house Andrew and I lovingly worked on to create our family home. I remember...

Last year I wrote a poem that didn't rhyme...

A year ago I wrote and posted this "sort of" poem about all the things I should be doing but just don't have the time or inclination to complete. Also about the impossible things on my list that I will never achieve and how the "shoulds" and the "nevers" merge into one...

 

Here I sit a year on and wonder how much has changed, some days are still a hard slog. I could make the excuse that our wedding anniversary is coming around soon, so it is another difficult time of the year, but it would be an excuse, grief has so many ups and downs not always connected to dates or seasons. Sometimes it has more to do with the weather!

Today, this year, I have nearly reached the bottom of my ironing pile, have written a letter and posted a birthday card and present. I also finished the crossword with youngest son, otherwise I have not been at my most productive. There are lots of things I "should" have done with my free day.

I wonder what I will be doing this time next year? How much my life will have changed or if I will still only be moving in baby steps, unsure and uncertain...

 

Today I wrote a Poem That Didn't Rhyme... 

(posted 2nd May 2011)

 

Today I should have cooked a wholesome meal and made sure the boys had at least maybe three portions of fresh fruit and veg.

Today I should have worried about world peace and that particularly unpleasant situation that’s flared up in some far flung corner of the globe.

Today I should have climbed a mountain, swam the entire length of the Amazon and popped to the Antarctic before the ice caps melt.

Today I should have telephoned my friend who’s sick, wrapped and posted a birthday present and replied to that email I got two weeks ago.

Today I should have tidied that cupboard, recycled my cardboard, cut out those coupons and written a shopping list so I don’t forget to buy the toilet rolls again next week.

Today I should have practiced flying on the trapeze and learnt Ophelia’s lines from Hamlet.  I should have baked that cake with icing and a cherry on the top!

Today I remembered to breathe.  I did one load of washing but left the ironing.  I fed the boys pasta for the third day in a row.

Last week I left the dishes in the sink and post unopened on the table.  I forgot to charge my phone and I was only 14p in credit.

The month before I couldn’t do the crossword without you and I woke up in a panic at ten to twelve worried I hadn’t locked the front door.

Six months ago you were here to change the light bulbs and shut the gate at night.  You were someone to impress with my culinary skills.

Today I remembered to breathe.  I spent time talking to the children.   I visited your mum.  I wrote a poem.

Today I made it, somehow I got through.  I shed a tear.  I thought of you.

P.S. I didn’t really feed the boys pasta three days in a row, it just felt like it.

P.P.S. If you are the one who didn’t get the phone call, birthday card or email. Please know that I am thinking of you.

Today I hope that my thought counts! x