Everybody was feeling low after all the build-up to the previous day – we’d been working on adrenaline and that had kept us all going through the funeral and the get together afterwards.
But the 13th was a really difficult day because Carol wasn’t there. The first one of our children’s birthdays without their mum.
Elaine and Carly bought some balloons and we released them from Fistral beach in the morning – there was something about watching a silver star shaped balloon rising into the sky and disappearing into the distance above the sea – it was a very poignant moment.
In the evening James had booked a meal at a local restaurant and all the family were there. This was a very emotional occasion because there was somebody missing. I know the whole family were feeling it too but the longer we sat there the more the room was closing in on me.
That weekend was about preparing for everyone to leave for home. Paul, Elaine and Carly left on Sunday and I drove my mum and dad to the airport on Monday morning to catch their flight. They’d been with us for a month, and it had certainly turned out differently than we’d planned when they arrived way back in the middle of December.
It was very strange walking back into the house – the empty house. Was this how it was going to be now? I can’t even begin to describe the feelings on that day.
There were still a few things outstanding and all of those were finalised on the Wednesday – we’d broken up the ramp from the front of the house and that was taken away, a courier collected the MNDA laptop and communication equipment that we’d had on loan and the Possum engineer came round to remove the system that had been so useful for Carol in times that now seemed so long ago.
I’ve not gone back to work yet – there’s no way I’m ready for that right now – they’ve been very understanding and have left me alone and that’s been appreciated. I know I’ll need to face up to going back at some point but at the moment it’s hard enough just getting out of bed and forcing myself to make it through the day.
I said in an earlier post that the grieving process started a long time ago – I stand by that but we were protected from the reality of grieving by the fact that Carol was still here and we all had things to keep our minds occupied. Despite having to deal with the changes that affected Carol so much she was still there in the middle of everything - there was a focus and the family was able to carry on.
Grieving the actual loss of Carol is something entirely different - and in these early stages every day is worse than the one before. I feel that there’s a point I’m going to have to reach before I can start to climb back up again. I don’t know when that will be but there’s some comfort in the fact that I’m even aware it’s happening.
The truth is that despite all the planning, despite the fact that we knew where the disease was taking Carol ,and what the end result would be, there’s no way to fully describe what this “feels” like. There’s no way to explain what it’s like to not have that person here – I mean that person, that actual person in that body, that physical being – that's the part I’ve come to realise we were never going to be prepared for - the whole thing seems so unreal.
The children are being very strong – Carol’s spirit shines through in them all and that will always drive them on. There are bad times that we have to work through, and so many questions that we have no answers for, but I love them so much and I’m very proud of them all – and I know Carol feels the same.
The sympathy cards keep arriving and it’s been no real surprise to see just how many people have been affected by Carol’s passing, because Carol obviously meant so much to so many of them in life.
Each day is about setting yourself targets – sometimes you’ll start to drift off and then wonder what just happened and where the time went but we all realise it’s a slow process - hour by hour, day by day and so on.
We’re not looking too far ahead – there’s an Elvis concert in March and there’ll be a crowd of us going to that in celebration of Carol’s life, but there aren’t too many other plans being made right now.
The USA trip will need to be arranged but there’s time for that later – and Carol’s ashes are now ready to be collected, so that’s the next bridge to cross – as I said hour by hour, day by day and so on………
Everyone assumes (if they've not been thru it) that the funeral is the hardest time and things start to get better after that. If only that were true!
ReplyDeleteThe hardest days are without doubt the ones after everyone's gone back to their normal daily routine and you're just expected to "get on with it."
Because you plaster on a fake smile, they assume you're OK. Because Carol suffered in the last few months, they assume you were ready to let her go. People try & say stuff to make you feel better - it actually has the opposite effect but they don't mean any harm (even though you may be tempted to rip someone's head off)!
The fact is, there is a big Carol shaped hole in the heart of this family, and things will never be the same again. That "everything happens for a reason" crap just isn't helping at the moment!
In time we will all be able to remember her & smile, and be grateful that she was "ours" for 25 years. I just don't know when that's going to be :(