livinglifeafterdeath.com/blog

‘It a secret, no-one must know my daughter tells me – but it’s a nice story for your blog.’

My granddaughter is back at school, year four, and there’s a realisation that she has more responsibilities now she is in an upper class.

Apparently she felt a bit sick yesterday, Mummy got a call almost at the end of school, but it wasn’t a physical sickness more a deep disappointment, and bubbling anger she’s isn’t accustomed to feeling. Obviously the new teacher hasn’t worked her out yet.

She wanted to stand for the school council again but her teacher adamantly refused her request.

She was a school councillor in year one, so was denied the opportunity to have the role again despite her understanding you can apply again after two consecutive years have passed.

She had her canvassing speech already worked out, (to be honest I was rather surprised that she even put herself forward), only to be crushed without even having a chance to represent herself.

But that wasn’t the only blow.

The class were ask what charity they wanted to support this year.

There were lots of suggestions pertaining to dogs and cats, and that is probably what the teacher might expect. However this young lady has lived all her life with the shadows of Grandpa’s dementia and she wanted to help dementia charities.

When it came to the class vote she didn’t get a single one.

Apparently the teacher didn’t give her the opportunity to help the her classmates understand what dementia is. Her friend said later (with an air of guilt at not being supportive), that the teacher skipped over the suggestion. She knew exactly why her friend felt sick.

Perhaps the teacher thought it was too tough a topic for the class to discuss?

Anyway the dogs trust was the winner, puppies are a much softer option after all.

My granddaughter is eight, with more knowledge than most of the devastating disease her Grandpa lived with. She saw an opportunity to do good. It was that that upset her, nobody else cared.

Mummy gently explained that most of the class wouldn’t even know what dementia was.

Perhaps she could think of a way to raise funds by herself to help people like Grandpa in his memory instead?

I’m not supposed to know, but had tears in my eyes when my daughter relayed this story this morning.

I felt so proud but so sad.

I think a coffee morning may be on the cards.

Tomorrow our daughter is forty.

Forty.

Where did those years go?

There will be cake, celebration, laughter and lots of love. A milestone birthday deserves nothing less.

But for me, tomorrow has extra meaning

It was our wedding anniversary.

Forty years ago, our daughter was born,

On our third wedding anniversary,

And not just on the same date.

Our first born arrived at the exact time we had said I do.

1.30pm.

It has always felt like one of those extraordinary little coincidences that life gives you — two of the most significant moments of my life forever joined together by a date and a time.

For years, her birthday simply trumped our anniversary.

Of course it did.

There were presents to buy, parties to organise, candles to blow out and a little girl — and later a young woman — to celebrate.

Our anniversary was never forgotten. It just quietly sat in the background.

Tomorrow will be her fortieth.

And it will be her first without Dad.

That is the part brings tears to my eyes.

But I won’t put a shadow over her special day.

Tomorrow belongs to her.

I also know that, somewhere amongst the celebrations, I will be thinking about Ken.

I will remember us both, the young couple who had no idea what life would bring them.

And I will look at the woman our daughter has become.

Strong. Kind. Loving.

I’ll remember that although one of the people who gave me those two extraordinary moments is no longer here, something of him remains.

In her.

Perhaps that is what makes tomorrow a mixture of emotions.

I have lost my husband.

But I still have one of the greatest gift our marriage gave me.

A daughter.

Tomorrow I will celebrate her.

I will laugh. I will raise a glass. I will watch her turn forty and wonder, as every mother does, how on earth the years passed so quickly.

And somewhere quietly inside me, I will think of Ken.

Two beginnings.

One date.

Two of the most important moments of my life.

Happy 40th birthday, my beautiful girl.

A family break to celebrate a milestone birthday.

Impeccable timing as all seven of us arrive at exactly the same time.

Recent heavy rain has magically turned the scorched forest green again, and the faint smell of pine and damp earth brings back memories of our happy times here in the past.

The kids are chattering excitedly, the two cars are loaded with food, clothes for every season, and everything will need – all to be moved into our villa as soon as the clock strikes two.

About ten minutes to wait were all stood together waiting.

Suddenly James spots something and says, in a hushed voice.

‘Look up there!’

We all divert our eyes to a low lying branch literally inches above my daughter’s head.

My heart leaps and my eyes prickle.

A Robin cocks his head and watches us down on us all.

It’s as though he’s counting and checking all are present and correct.

No fear, he watches us, watching him.

We all feel the presence of someone loved,

Ken definitely sending us a sign, ‘Have a good time’.

Some might call it coincidence, I truly don’t believe that, our first trip to Central Parcs a favourite family place. Our first trip back without Dad.

Ken wanted to give us his blessing, and with that he is gone.

We’ve a lot of memories to make this week, but that was a moment non of us will forget, Ken is still with us.

I’m feeling pretty pleased, the grandkids and I have really pushed the boundaries this summer, my last duty of the holidays done and no trips to casualty!

I’ve watched in particular my granddaughter grow. Not just physically but mentally, she has learnt that she is far more capable than she believed. Her older brother may have the athleticism but she has endeavour and with a little push has surprised and delighted her self doing things she didn’t think she could do.

Go karting in petrol carts, golf lessons, climbing, paddle boarding, horse riding and even doing the Gladiator course, just to name a few things from our action packed last six weeks.

We’ve talked a lot too, laughter a lot, had a few disagreements but comprised. Eight now, I hope she will look back when she is older and remember the feeling of being challenged but not afraid of fear, and has learnt that it doesn’t have to stop you from doing things.

Important lessons I hope she will remember.

As summer begins to fade and the days already feel that little bit shorter, school is on the horizon. We’ve a family week away together first though which is exciting.

Then life goes back to routine, only my routine doesn’t exist anymore, I wonder how I will fill the time when days are dark and cold?

My prescription for iron tablets has definitely made a difference, the crippling fatigue is almost forgotten, but I now definitely understand the feeling of ‘loss’ it’s hard to describe unless you know.

The counselling session was okay, I basically filled out the forms and told my life story. Afterwards my counsellor who is incidentally very nice told me I had a lot of trauma to process.

A bit like my granddaughter recognising the fear but facing it anyway.

Eight year olds have much wisdom to share.

I seem to be suffering from ‘writer’s block’ or maybe it’s just the prevailing empty numbness on the periphery of my unconscious mind. Certainly writing has lost its appeal, without Ken my stories seem just of everyday life which I doubt are particularly interesting to you readers.

I’ve a few things in the pipeline, but they aren’t yet for public consumption so I’ll have to wait to share and the grandkids of course are brilliant distractions but also keep me focused.

This week my emotions have been anything but stable. Ken’s birthday was a difficult day for all of us, but we came out at the other side as always trying hard to remember the positives; which in a way makes things even harder because we want what we should have had and can’t get back.

Every where I look I see retired couples enjoying their time. More than ever I realise I have to get used to my solo life, and make changes to the way I feel. I’m pushing hard to convince myself I’m okay but I want to be better than that.

One piece of good advice I was once given was ‘only take advice from people whose lives you like’. Be selective, for instance take advice on relationships from people who have good relationships; take advice on investing from people who have successfully invested their own money, and now learn from others who have experienced grief and learnt to live well with loss.

My support network is changing, I’m officially a widow now not a carer, and that means infiltrating other groups. The WI seems to be full of ladies in my situation and of course I have now officially joined the tribe of too many friends who are also dementia widows.

Tonight I’m taking a big step towards really getting in touch with my suppressed emotions. The ones I’ve kept locked away somewhere deep.

I’m having my first ever one to one bereavement counselling session, which quite frankly fills me with dread. It’ll be interesting how I react though, will I need the tissues or be defensive to protect myself, I just don’t know.

I remember all the time Ken spent in therapy through his depression and early stage dementia. He never really spoke much about it so I’m really not sure what to expect. What I did find however was that I did have to pick up the pieces after particularly difficult sessions and sometimes he felt the need to do physical work (He once climbed up the copper beech to get rid of some Ivy) saying he wanted to do something dangerous, to release endorphins and replenish I suppose

Mental energy may not use many calories but is exhausting all the same, will I feel better or will I feel worse?

I think the best I can do is to be honest, and more importantly be honest to myself.

Today would have been Ken’s 64th birthday. I know he will be smiling – he’s caught me up again and no longer my ‘toy boy’.

I used to joke if had I known I was older than he was I’d have never gone out with him.

We were very often on holiday this week in August, usually somewhere hot and sunny. I remember his thirtieth birthday decorating our apartment with balloons and bunting and ordering a special cake from the local bakery, it was covered in chocolate and by the time I got it back it has completely melted into a dark brown sorry mess. We had to put it in the fridge to recover, but all saw the funny side and the kids thought it tasted even better.

Ken wasn’t really a birthday celebrator maybe the best present he could have was just having the family to himself.

Today I’ve the grandkids keeping me company and we’re going out for lunch but I can’t disguise the sense of loss I’m feeling which is absolutely understandable I know – but it doesn’t make it any easier.

A few birthday photos over the last few years the last being in 2012 building the house next door.

Six years ago. Proof that there is humour in dementia it certainly made me laugh out loud today. It’s important to remember the happy times, the times when Ken could laugh at himself, obviously knowing he wasn’t able to do something.

A lesson for all of us xx

Hello again.

I’ve been caught up in the turmoil of life and trying to survive the heat!

You’d laugh if you could have seen the turn out on the village green last night all armed with colanders, and me with a Blue Peter style cereal box pin hole camera. ( which I have to say it was much admired!)

All for the solar eclipse – we weren’t disappointed.

James had some special glasses and got fab photos.

Carrying on, I’ve made some BIG decisions and am excited about the prospect of change, but more of that another time.

Today I’m wearing black again (despite the forecast 34 degree temperatures), and the thought occurred – it is a very different feeling supporting another one of my friends recently bereaved when you are already on that side of the fence.

The venues are to be exactly the same as Ken’s for today’s funeral and wake, I’m trying to work out how that feels. Obviously today isn’t about me, but I don’t expect it will be an easy one.

I’ll probably be meeting up with people from the dementia world again, staff from the care home perhaps and others who have trod the same well worn path, there aren’t many left from Ken’s original group now, which is sad but also isn’t.

I still haven’t really cried since Ken died, my dear friend whose husband is being cremated today cried buckets for him, yet like me she has felt weirdly numb since she lost her own soul mate. I wonder if the flood gates will open for me today?

It’s nearly four months since Ken died, a blink in the eye in the scheme of things, people have stopped asking if I am okay, life goes on it has to. We have no choice.

Time to go, I trust myself, I will be fine, I always am.

Most of the time.

Walked, trotted, and cantered, Gem my mount used to be a dressage horse so a really nice ride.

My gluts are letting me know now though – I’m not as young as I used to be. All that core work with my PT has certainly been put in practice over the last week!

Exercise is definitely a mood booster and a bit of fear not a bad thing, I’m glad I’ve pushed myself and slowly feel I’m getting myself back.

I tried something new tonight, I was very nervous at first especially as everyone else was under 18!

( But I didn’t fall in, much to my surprise!)

Perfect evening if a little breezy. The light was simply golden, the river so peaceful, I even saw an otter.

Another thing ticked off, but I’ll definitely try it again,