The Grief Tap. Full On

Wimbledon.
Not the same without my lovely mummy.
I've been looking forward to it too. When I've been up to my eyes in caravanalia and missing husbands I hung onto the prospect of Wimbledon fortnight for dear life.
Dear Life
Dearest Life.
How fragile you are.
One minute you're alive on a hot beach the next your distant family in England cry.

My husband the ever reliable Mr Horsehound has gone. To pastures far away. And I don't and can't blame him. Infact I welcome it. God knows he deserves happiness.
I just wish he'd told me first.
If he'd bought a motorbike or grown a beard or even found the Lord I'd have kept him in my bed and heart but he fell into that old hole called love and vanished. 
I see him occasionally. I worry all the time. But it is his choice and I must respect it.

It's nearly a year since mum fell asleep forever and that awful bullish undertaker took her away leaving me behind. My God I've lost count of the times I've wished I could see her sultry blue eyes and hear her caustic observations on life. Laugh? I nearly died. Nearly? On reflection maybe I did. The afternoon she ceased to be a sentient being I kind of stopped being a being too.
The being I was, the one that kept the bungalow afloat and made love and cakes accompanied her on that sad little day to her final residence. 
My body still exhausts itself likewise my mind but I have a heaviness about me, one that wasn't there before.
'Oh bugger' I sometimes say.

I keep crying.
Last week in Morrisons I crumbled by the pet food, Mr Hairy Suit held me up.
Then in a charity shop when I had to get out and get in the car before I scratched someones eyes out. I didn't feel very Christian in the Church Shop.
Hairy Suit again steering me home.

I've been spending a lot of time with Hairy Suit's family. Mum, Dad and young Mark. And Mrs Hairy Suit too. We get on very well.
And they are fine.
Good people doing crafts and loving each other.
I like them.

But if a dream had foretold that my parents would die and my husband leave me without a word or a penny to bless myself with I'd have dashed out of bed, had a strong cup of tea and thanked God it was only a dream.


I didn't get the job I applied for.
My back hurts.
I ache for mum and dad
but
I'm loved
A family of swans hang out at our caravan
I've started writing again
and Andy Murray plays tomorrow...