Some days I am better than others.
Dad is gone and everything I didn’t manage to do and tell him about some days hits hard.
Some days it puts me into his back patio one summer’s day talking about his grief for his Dad.
I had longer with him than he had with his Dad. Then again we had a good relationship as long as I lived a ways away from him and Mum.
That hurt for a long time whilst he was alive but I hadn’t realised grief would decide to regurgitate old pain seemingly at random.
There are a lot of friends who’ve lost parents and older relatives this year, unsurprisingly, and I’ve heard a lot of people describing grief as being a heavy feeling.
The end of April through May I felt poleaxed. A lot of my emotional pain decides to be physical, I don’t know how my sister managed to parent her kids through this. (Once again thank fuck we didn’t decide to have kids before my chronic fatigue decided to kick my ass). I could not get off the sofa, my concentration was absolutely shot. The Jellicle Cat was doing basically everything.
It wasn’t the same as The Swamp, I mean, outwardly it looked very similar but it didn’t feel the same at all.
Today is a grieving day but it’s not as heavy, not quite.