Three years

Three years
1096 days.

I thought I would be better this year.  I really did.

But I’m still falling down the rabbit hole.

 

An now today, I wake from little sleep.

I vomit.

I try to sleep more, but can’t.

I am flustered because I want to be at the cemetery at the exact time you died, and know I won’t make it.

It is still raining (has it stopped at all in 3 years?  is this the same rain that killed you?)

The kids are sad.

I am sad.

and tired.

The flooded garage during the week didn’t help.

We meet Mum for lunch.

I don’t know what to eat.

I choose poorly and gag on my food.

The kids whinge.

I come home.

I eat far too much chocolate.

I visit Mum and Dad.

Our son decides its time to have a tantrum that we haven’t seen in years.

I come home.

I distract myself on the internet.

I manage to bait a troll who wants to debate me on half-facts and semantics ( trolls are sad when they can’t understand the information they’ve cut and pasted from elsewhere and then try to defend their misunderstanding.)

I opt out of the debate (there isn’t one in my head, nor in the science and I don’t need the agro today of all days).

I try to sleep.

I can’t.

I ask you to talk to me.

You don’t.

I read a book that my lovely friend sent me…..

…..and it makes me think….

….and then I remember that flowers arrived right at the time you died.

more flowers arrived right when I was feeling really low.

…and then my friend arrived just because and we chatted.

….and I sleep.

Fitfully, but I sleep.

 

 

 

Dear Darl, it’s 18 January, 2013

1054 days

I’ve been quiet on here for a while.  I think that’s because I seem to just converse with you now instead of writing missives…..

Christmas was OK this year.  Not great.  But OK.
In fact, most of the school holidays have been upbeat and we’ve focussed on fun and relaxation.

…. helped along by a bit of job security that came my way in the last fortnight of the school year….. a new school with an old friend who appreciates good teaching over flattery and who can cope with a discussion in ways other than sin-binning me if I disagree on something or don’t suck up to him enough.
I have taught with this new HOC before and she has seen me teach (and seen my effect on the data for literacy)…. and the new principal seems nice too.

I am nervous and excited in equal measure, to be starting somewhere new.

….having to prove myself over again to new staff.
…. meeting a new bunch of kids (although they seem lovely on first meeting).
…. having the kids at the old school and me at the new.

But I start this new year with hope … and a bit of joy.

Stay tuned!

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

Dear Darl, its October 27, 2012

Day 971

Halloween Street party: another family event that felt wrong.

I didn’t really want to go, but H was dancing on the stage and he begged me to be able to go.

The weather was terrible.  Horrible.  We had to park miles away.

I turned around as we were walking to the festival from the car.  twice.

I just didn’t want to go without you.

That and frankly, Halloween is really, really creepy….. so many people with masks covering their faces getting in MY face.
I can’t understand how this is “fun”.
Mannequins hanging from trees in nooses?
People dressed as thought they had just emerged from a car wreck??
So. Not. Cool.

AND there were bagpipes.  Fucking BAGPIPES.

Hell.

But … I persevered and stayed for the dance performances.  H was happy.  That’s what mattered.

But you weren’t there and it felt wrong.

You should be here.

It’s wrong that you aren’t.

I miss you,

I love you,

XA

Dear Darl, it’s September 30, 2012

Day 914

 I have a cold.

 

Normally, I can soldier on through them, but today I feel like the proverbial baby-grand has landed on my back, my nose seems to be continually leaking, my eyes are itchy, my throat is red-raw, my temperature shoots upwards as soon as the advil wears off,  and my energy is low.

So low, that I had to have a little sit-down on the floor of the supermarket just now because I got a little bit light-headed in the frozen foods aisle (a few lollies and a drink of water later and I was OK).

 

I probably shouldn’t have left the house, but my need for advil and and a few groceries was great and I was functioning thanks to Mr Codral’s cold and flu medication when I decided to go on my food foraging expedition. …and at least tonight the children can make themselves toast for dinner and leave me in peace in my tissue-filled bed.

 

….and it is days like this when I seem to miss you more than ever.

 

I want you here to make the dinner and supervise the children.   To bring me a hot lemon tea and to rub my back.  To run to the store to get milk and bread and the all-important advil that is currently keeping my temperature down to a balmy 37°C. I want you here so that I can be a bit of a sooky-lala and have someone take care of ME for a change (the kids do try, but its not quite the same).

 

But you are not here, and I am having a little sad.  A bit of a pity-party for one.  A bit of a ‘woe-is me’, and ‘why is my life so hard’ day.  (It may also be a delayed reaction to our 15th wedding anniversary being last week when I deliberately didn’t let myself crack the sads  – just goes to show that grief will out itself if you try to ignore it.) I don’t throw these little soirees for myself very often these days, but when I do, I throw a good one.

 

But even while I cry and mope and generally feel sorry for myself,  I know that I will be OK.

 

Maybe not today, but tomorrow is another day.

 

Tomorrow I will be awesome again.

 

I miss you,

I love you

XA

Dear Darl, it’s 30 August, 2012

lost count of the days….. too many.

Well, birthday month is nearly over.

Once again, I hated that you weren’t there.

It seems a lifetime since you were here.

 

….and this weekend is father’s day.  I’m really not interested in it at all.  I am not letting the kids buy crap from the school’s father’s day stall.

….and of course, my teaching partner has left me with organising the father’s day presents from the children in our class.  Not quite sure why she can’t  do this in her 3-days per week, but there you go.

I hate these days of celebration that aren’t…. the days you should be here and you are not.

But I can tick them off again and now wait for Christmas to rear its ugly head….

XA

 

Dear Darl, it’s May 29, 2012

820 days.

Life plods on without you. I don’t want it too.
Bit of a shock today when I realised that if Mum and the kids had also been killed that day, then I would not be here.
I guess that makes me suicidal….
….except they ARE here so I have a reason to keep living.
God help me if any of them die any time soon (and by soon, Dear Universe, I mean at least 30 years for my mother and at least 90 years for my children – understandies??)
I am not enough on my own.
……and that’s the sad reality.

Dear Darl, it’s April 14, 2012

775 days

Or 2 years, 1 month, 13 days

 

I am slipping down the rabbit hole again.

I keep coming back to the fact that you are gone and it is so unfair and it all just sucks the big one.

Every single thing I do is touched with the thought “Greg would have liked this” or “Greg would have done that” or “Last time I was here, Greg was with me”.

Every

Single

Thing.

I  refuse to move on.

I refuse to learn any great meaning from life from this.

I refuse to be happy.

… and I reject the idea that I need to do anything else than develop a greater level of patience as I wait until it is my turn to die*.

It is all fucked.

…and I am sick of it.

 

* Not suicidal ….. I am just tired of existing.

Dear Darl, it’s March 1, 2012

2 years.

Two whole years that simultaneously feel like two minutes and two centuries.

The fog and numbness have gone this time – it’s just pure loneliness and loss this year: I miss you so badly.

I took the day off work …. I got some raised eyebrows when I did this, but thankfully not from my boss. (He is an odd boss – simultaneously infuriating and marvellous).

Plus I needed it after yesterday…

I took the kids to visit your grave.  Finally.  They haven’t been since you were buried.  I haven’t been because I don’t think you are there…..
I didn’t expect the reaction they had.

H cried.

K was quiet.

They sang a song in the car on the way “Our Daddy died on the first of March.  It’s the first of march today”.

sob.

They brought some stones they had decorated and carefully placed them on your (our) headstone.

…and we put in a solar light with a dragonfly on it.

The we left.

I treated the kids to lunch in a cafe before coming home.

We miss you.

We love you.

XA

 

 

 

Dear Darl, it’s February 28, 2012

729 days….

The death march has started.

I can feel myself slipping down into the black hole.

I’d be there now except for the fact that I am currently so red-hot angry that I’m genuinely surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted already.

You see, I tried to be kind to myself…..

Psych myself into this week with some nice relaxing things.

A bit of pampering to balance the pain.

But that always backfires.

 

I had today off (I don’t work on Tuesdays) so I thought I’[d treat myself to a haircut.  You know – a proper one at the hairdressers.  Problem was, my regular hairdresser was running late so her partner (sister) did it.  TWO FREAKING HOURS of her telling me that her angel child was ruined by teachers who are all horrible (me included it seems).  (BTW – your angel child is a nasty little work-avoiding, shit-stirring,  bugger of a kid who is not the angel you think he is).

After a while I tried just tuning her out as she was on for the rant of the century.

Meanwhile, my regular hairdresser turned up but LEFT ME WITH THIS NUTTER.

The nutter who ignored me when I  said I had school photos tomorrow and could I please have nice, straight, neat hair: your basic neat, brown bob please. ….But she was so into her own ranty headspace that she didn’t seem to understand and she fucking layered it and now I look like Side-Show Bob.

In the end, I didn’t care so long as I could get the hell out of there.

So now, I am an evil teacher with Side-Show Bob hair.

BOY, DO I FEEL PAMPERED NOW!!!

It took 2 full hours of me sitting at home…. completely alone …. before I stopped shaking.

The introvert crawling back into her cave to claw a bit of sanity back…..

 

…..and now I feel childish for having a ranty blog tanty over a bad haircut given under two hours of verbal torture.

gah!

 

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Darl. It’s 23 February, 2012. Happy 49th Birthday.

724 days.

Almost 2 years.

Happy Birthday Darl.

I should have baked a cake.

I should have cooked roast beef.

I should have the “good china” on the table.

I should have had presents wrapped and cards made.

But I didn’t.

You died too young: 47 and a bit.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA