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I could not have anticipated how difficult it was to get back home, see all the furniture where she used to sit, or sleep or where we had our meals together, and realize that she will no longer, ever, be there again. Mentally I know this, emotionally it is a totally different thing. Every time I pass by one of those places I burst into tears, uncontrollable, and quite surprising in their suddenness and intensity. So I have decided that this is the beginning of the rest of my life, and I WILL not give in to desperate grief. If I don’t take myself in hand and pull myself out of this deep, dark hole I am in now, nobody can do it for me.
So, starting at 4 am when I woke up, I began tackling the disaster area that is my bedroom. Unfortunately I am still very weak and flag easily, but will not overtax my strength, that would be self defeating. When half an hour later I had cleared one chair, I stopped, got into bed to rest, and strangely enough, fell asleep. On waking up at 8.30 I opted to lounge in bed for some time, and very leisurely got up, had my shower and got dressed before thinking it a good idea to move all my breakfast stuff into the room that was originally prepared for my niece, but when she settled abroad, turned into a part storage, part laundry/ironing room. I shall now call it the breakfast room. I already have a large fridge there, have set up a long table next to it with microwave oven, toaster, electric kettle, juicer and a mini mincer, as well as my tea, honey, biscuits, plates, forks, knives and spoons. I moved the dining table we had in the other room where we had our meals into the breakfast room and that is where I shall now have my breakfast and lunch. This has taken care of a big part of my problem. The living room looks different, and will change some more, and now I will be having my meals in a totally different room. New beginnings.
I am still prone to bursting into tears for no apparent reason, but I hope this is therapeutic and will help me with all the pent up grief that I could not let flood out, when there were still certain events to follow. I nearly broke down in church, but managed to get through the rest of the day without any public displays. But now, in the privacy of my home, I am no longer trying to keep it in. I feel like crying, I cry. I feel like wailing, I wail. I don’t feel like talking, I don’t. I am giving myself a couple of days before my neighbors whom I had kept at bay, start paying me visits of condolences. I will then have to bottle it all up again, till I’m alone once more. I hope I can do that. My first test is tomorrow.
I have been responsible for my Mom for so long now, that not having this responsibility any more has left me at a lose end. I feel lost and purposeless. I feel the day stretching before me, but worse, the evening is decades long. I am still so new at this emptiness, I have not yet developed a way to fill it up. At least not a deliberate plan. I am haphazardly doing things, but these are mainly one time things like rearranging furniture, but must try to think of a routine that would fill up the waking hours. I hope to devote some time every day to my writing, but don’t think that would take up most of the day. I will have to think about that a bit more.
For the second day at the house without my Mom, it was not so bad. I am deliberately trying to turn it into a home again. A new room where I would be spending most of the day, a beautifully bright room, spacious and uncluttered, where all the pets are lounging peacefully around me. I WILL turn it into a home again. Not the same home, but one where I could live without the constant pain of loss, one where I could be happy again. Yes, I am adamant. I shall survive.
7 March 2015