I haven't posted anything new here for a long time. I have another blog (www.avalleyjournal.co.uk) in which I write about more general bereavement subjects. I was trying to make that one "supportive" and this one "personal" but I almost forgot...
Catherine's 4th anniversary came and went, preceded a week earlier by my mother's anniversary and the death of my mother's sister. At 94-ish, that wasn't a surprise, and we weren't close, so it didn't have much impact on me except a sadness at the passing of generations. A month before that was my brother's anniversary.
So from early March to the middle of April, I was anniversaried, and now I'm coming closer to Pax's.
March-April-May are not happy months for me, which is a warning about that which follows.
Lots of other things are trying to drag me down at the moment. For the first time in my life, I don't have any required work to do, any projects that I must pursue, or anybody to take care of. (Hubby retired and we have enough to scrape by.) I do some health and social care related volunteering, I help with writing articles and leaflets on bereavement, I do the occasional other nice thing. I've been trying (not too hard) to promote my "A Valley Journal" book but it's not going far. A major writing/editing project that threaded through my previous decades has now come to a complete end, and a book proposal with a new publisher has been rejected. It would have been me something else to put my teeth into.
I do have lots of other stuff in the pipeline that I'm working on, but none of it is essential.
I don't seem to be able to put my weight down on anything in particular. A bit of this, a bit of that. I can work on one of those projects for a few hours, or play the piano, or paint, or read a book, potter in the garden, or look at the sky. I bet some people would love to be in this state of liberty, but it's not helpful for me. To feel un-needed by life in general and rather directionless is not healthy in my bereaved state.
Bereaved state. That's not something that many people understand. I don't know why, because we have words for states:
Motherhood, fatherhood, parenthood ...
And me: bereavedhood.
That's it for now.
Catherine's 4th anniversary came and went, preceded a week earlier by my mother's anniversary and the death of my mother's sister. At 94-ish, that wasn't a surprise, and we weren't close, so it didn't have much impact on me except a sadness at the passing of generations. A month before that was my brother's anniversary.
So from early March to the middle of April, I was anniversaried, and now I'm coming closer to Pax's.
March-April-May are not happy months for me, which is a warning about that which follows.
Lots of other things are trying to drag me down at the moment. For the first time in my life, I don't have any required work to do, any projects that I must pursue, or anybody to take care of. (Hubby retired and we have enough to scrape by.) I do some health and social care related volunteering, I help with writing articles and leaflets on bereavement, I do the occasional other nice thing. I've been trying (not too hard) to promote my "A Valley Journal" book but it's not going far. A major writing/editing project that threaded through my previous decades has now come to a complete end, and a book proposal with a new publisher has been rejected. It would have been me something else to put my teeth into.
I do have lots of other stuff in the pipeline that I'm working on, but none of it is essential.
I don't seem to be able to put my weight down on anything in particular. A bit of this, a bit of that. I can work on one of those projects for a few hours, or play the piano, or paint, or read a book, potter in the garden, or look at the sky. I bet some people would love to be in this state of liberty, but it's not helpful for me. To feel un-needed by life in general and rather directionless is not healthy in my bereaved state.
Bereaved state. That's not something that many people understand. I don't know why, because we have words for states:
Motherhood, fatherhood, parenthood ...
And me: bereavedhood.
That's it for now.
