There is such pathos in her use of the word, and to us, over the phone. She isn’t apologising for a wrong doing but for the fact that she couldn’t manage to eat her soup at lunchtime. There is a regressing happening, though I suspect from what she has hinted at, that she wasn’t a meek child, far from it. But she is becoming one now. Sorry, she said, I couldn’t. And my heart aches.
I cannot look at the news footage. I cannot. But I can see it, in my head, and in my sleep. Poor loves. My heart bleeds for you.
Do I want it for the sake of it? Is it just a wish to be somewhere else, doing something else and being someone else? Or will it bring genuine richness, a new outlook and much needed optimism. I am in the doldrums. Perhaps it is to be expected. I have worked long and hard on this project and the rewards, along the way, are few. I just need to keep steady and wait. Wait and see.
She would have minded, she would have minded very much. I thought of them all, well not all, not all are monarchists these days, I am sure. But I thought of people of her generation and what his death would mean to them. A sadness no doubt, he said that he seen wreaths laid, and flags half mast. A new king. Without celebration.
He thought that they hadn’t paid in his state pension. He’d expected it to be in his account yesterday. Oh, perhaps it will be Friday. No. Nothing. We find the number for him to call, his NI number, everything, only to discover that it was paid in at the beginning of the month. Poor love, it distracted him. There is comfort in the fact that the system wasn’t awry after all, but not about an expected amount having already been spent. Bless him.
It was too much. Too much at once. He didn’t understand and still doesn’t. My fault. My fault for not being able to articulate it. He meant to be kind, and I appeared ungrateful, but it was just too much. And now they are all going back.
I don’t normally wear them. Nor do I buy them. This purchase and indeed style was an aberration. But I am glad that I did and wore it. It made me feel….different.
There have been too many days of scratchy moods and hysterics. I want it to stop. I want to learn to accept the rough and tumble of what life brings. For the disruptions are nothing, nothing in comparisons to wars, pestilence and famine. Nothing. So just stop the habit of throwing tantrums. After all, this is the life you have chosen, so live it, as it is.
She told them that they would have to do the caring. I understand her. I do. But I feel for the one who will need caring for so much. But I also feel for her, her hurt at not being able to offer this hangs there. It has happened before. When I interviewed him he said that he wanted to be put in a home when the time came, that he wanted to be responsible only for himself. I understand that too, though my own fear of having that happen to me is immense. So much loss awaits us all. Can we care?
I don’t know where it came from. I’d been outside, reading, ten minutes before and I’d been fine, calm even, tranquil. And then the raging came. It is fear mostly, fear of breaking down in front of them again. And not wanting that judgement. It’s all irrational, I know. He got cross with me, seeing it as indulgence (especially my bashing of the ironing board). Then I feel ashamed. It’s lifted. For now.