I'd like to say it had got easier but then I don't like lying without a good reason! It's a weird old thing this extended grieving. Moments of grief and tears when songs, adverts and 'issues' appear on TV or the radio are interspersed with moments of happiness and contentment (often surf or game related) and laughter (with family and friends) which then leads bizarrely to utter feelings of guilt. That's the one I am finding hardest to deal with to be honest, there really should be no guilt when life seems normal - but there is. Certainly if any form of afterlife/presence was a reality it would probably be the last thing Juni would want, but still, it is there. But I think that slowly it could be balancing out.
Tasmania at Christmas was hard - very hard. I spent a lot of time in the water and while that in itself is probably not a shock it was for different reasons. It was easier than going back up to the shack and having no one there to share the waves with or be happy that it meant I would then happily spend a few hours doing chores... In the end though it is the only place I really feel happy I think, even if the memories are so strong there, maybe that's why.
The absolute weirdest, most crass thing, and one I feel angry and appalled at, is some peoples insistence that it is natural (and that I should) move on ... Questions about 'have you met anyone else' or 'oh I have a friend you should meet' (even done by my mother in law who spent a week trying to get me to meet some widow from her French club) have quite rightly been met with a firm 'Fuck you...' (don't panic, in my mother in laws case I said 'stop it'). It annoyed me enough when people did it after Joey our dog died but REALLY suggesting it for Juni. Why would I even want to for fucks sake? Anyway enough on that one.
I don't expect people to read this - if you are, I apologise its supposed to just be cathartic for me, not sure if it is but I suspect it may be slightly. Again I think it highlights just how alone we really are, one can be surrounded by people and friends but when it boils down to it perhaps it is one major person and 2-4 semi-major ones. Outside of that its people you know and would probably not really care if you didn't see again (if absolute truth be known). OR maybe I am, as I have often suspected, just a socio-path.
Still can't face sorting stuff out like our wardrobe or the garden - here I find the old ostrich urban myth is my friend; ignore it for long enough and it may go away. I have the girls to keep me going of course - forays into thinking what I would do I didn't have them usually are not a path worth going down.
So eighteen months, a disturbance in the force every Friday 13th or the 28th and a kind of limbo effect at other times. Check in in another six maybe... I suspect things will not be much different.
Tasmania at Christmas was hard - very hard. I spent a lot of time in the water and while that in itself is probably not a shock it was for different reasons. It was easier than going back up to the shack and having no one there to share the waves with or be happy that it meant I would then happily spend a few hours doing chores... In the end though it is the only place I really feel happy I think, even if the memories are so strong there, maybe that's why.
The absolute weirdest, most crass thing, and one I feel angry and appalled at, is some peoples insistence that it is natural (and that I should) move on ... Questions about 'have you met anyone else' or 'oh I have a friend you should meet' (even done by my mother in law who spent a week trying to get me to meet some widow from her French club) have quite rightly been met with a firm 'Fuck you...' (don't panic, in my mother in laws case I said 'stop it'). It annoyed me enough when people did it after Joey our dog died but REALLY suggesting it for Juni. Why would I even want to for fucks sake? Anyway enough on that one.
I don't expect people to read this - if you are, I apologise its supposed to just be cathartic for me, not sure if it is but I suspect it may be slightly. Again I think it highlights just how alone we really are, one can be surrounded by people and friends but when it boils down to it perhaps it is one major person and 2-4 semi-major ones. Outside of that its people you know and would probably not really care if you didn't see again (if absolute truth be known). OR maybe I am, as I have often suspected, just a socio-path.
Still can't face sorting stuff out like our wardrobe or the garden - here I find the old ostrich urban myth is my friend; ignore it for long enough and it may go away. I have the girls to keep me going of course - forays into thinking what I would do I didn't have them usually are not a path worth going down.
So eighteen months, a disturbance in the force every Friday 13th or the 28th and a kind of limbo effect at other times. Check in in another six maybe... I suspect things will not be much different.