This post was written in September. Things have changed dramatically since I scheduled it, with our world being turned upside down with our eldest daughter dying at the age of 36 very suddenly and very unexpectedly on the evening of on October 7th 2024.
There was something inside me that just knew I had to clear space for to be able to deal with what was lying ahead.
I'd been really struggling in September with my emotions. It was the first anniversary since Bob The Dog died on the 29th and I'd been thinking about him daily. It was my father's and my grandmothers birthdays and I don't know if it was the right thing to do or not but we decided to visit the crematorium for the first time in ages.
We never collected their ashes, they were interred by the crematorium staff without an additional service and we were given a plot number. The crematorium provided us with a grid reference so I know what area their ashes are in. We have a plaque on a 10 year lease, due to be renewed in 3 years. I don't think anyone else visits my father and when I arrived I couldn't locate it and just assumed we'd only purchased a 5 year lease. I wasn't sad, just accepted it and prepared myself to leave the flowers at my grans plaque. One of my aunts or cousins must be renewing hers.
I found my father's plaque further down the row than I'd remembered. I only visit the crematorium these days when there is a family funeral. There aren't many of his generation left and the contact becomes less as the older generation die.
I'm sad that I never collected Bob the Dogs ashes. At the time, my thinking was, I never collected my father's, why would I want the dogs? But with a person, people let you talk, people want to talk. And whilst people do that with a dog also, it's only for the first few days, that they understand and seem to allow the grief. Even when they've lost a dog themselves.
I'm not sure what I'd have done with Bob's ashes, scattered them on the Malvern Hills, where he loved to walk, kept them in a pot in front of the fire, where he loved to sleep, planted them in the garden where he loved to sun puddle, taken them back to South Africa where he came from. My friend bought me some forget me not seeds that are planted in a pot in the garden and she gave me a bracelet, I've worn everyday, that sadly I lost on holiday in August.
Whilst the vets were absolutely brilliant when we had Bob put to sleep and my friend came to say goodbye to him, there was no service, no gathering of those who loved him, nothing of memories, no drink in the pub. The vets sent us a pot of his fur. I took a paw print in some clay the day before he died and I put his collar, tag and a piece of his bedding in a little frame. I've put these bits and pieces together in the garden, changed my phone screen, written one last piece, shared one last photo and decided the time has come to say goodbye, let go and move on.
It took a long time to come to terms with my father's death. I actually accepted his death, the moment he died, but I didn't grieve for him for a long time. His death was sudden and traumatic. I had to deal with the police and coroners office. I was separated from my husband for 6 months in total, apart from him coming to the funeral. I was dealing with the youngest child just finishing school and trying to support him into the work place. I had a nightmare neighbour making my life hell. My eldest son was emigrating to Australia within 3 weeks of my father's death and a week after that, my middle son was being deployed to Iraq for 6 months, whilst having to deal with planning a funeral also. Over the next 5 months I was also diagnosed with pneumonia, I cleared my father's belongings, sold my mums house, flew back to Dubai to move house ourselves, returned to the UK to finalise mums new house purchase. I wasn't able to start my new job and I became isolated again back in Dubai. A few months later I was back in the UK for my SIL's funeral, also my friend, taken by cancer, I missed saying goodbye by 2 days, our last conversation being over the phone. During this time I also had a bone marrow biopsy, was seeing an oncologist and having regular iron infusions.
Towards the end of 2019 I was flying back and forth to the UK, Northern Ireland,South Africa, out to Australia I'd created a new norm of not being in any one place for any length of time, never being anywhere long enough to have to adjust, never having time to settle and get into a routine, never have time to think. Then we were advised to evict our tenants in our UK home, due to damage and non payment of rent and by December 2019, I picked up the keys to our damaged house, moved from the flat in South Wales and rented that out and arranged for the cat and dog to fly to the UK the end of January 2020, with the plan being for Peter to move out the Villa into an apartment and for me to get a teaching job in the UK and fly out to Dubai during the holidays and I'd lined up house sitters for the first year, regardless of whether I got a job or not.....then covid hit.
I managed to get back from Dubai and was isolated in the UK till the end of August 2020 when Peter was finally given permission to fly to the UK for 3 weeks. Then 2 weeks later, I got permission to go out to Dubai for 3 weeks to organise shipping for half our furniture and all my things. Covid caused major stress as did the evergreen container that got stuck in the Suez Canal and I ended up homeless for two weeks back in the UK and had to fly to Northern Ireland to stay with my son and his wife. Furniture arrived the night before I flew back to Dubai, the house sitters had to deal with the boxes and the sofas ended up in the neighbours garage. The iron infusions continued throughout this period.
I got back to Dubai for Christmas, Hubby got stuck in Saudi for Christmas as the borders closed behind him. In the New Year I was in hospital for a week, before returning to the UK. I then returned to Dubai in April with the neighbours dog and cat sitting. The UK government banned direct flights, introduced hotel quarantine, we moved out the villa and into a hotel, finally got a flight home and paid £2,600 for 10 nights in the Crowne Plaza over looking the car park at Birmingham Airport.
2nd container arrived, just as much of a battle to get to the house, no unpacking, due to covid. 6 months later, I got a job, 2 weeks later I caught covid and was really ill for a week. We were still mask wearing at that point (March 2022)
By now we had 2 grandchildren, lots of lovely visits and happy times and major surgery for the youngest for the first 18 months of his life. The rest of 2022 went well. We went to Australia to see our son.
2023 was good, well the start of it, with a new ground floor extension, I started for the first time to really get my head round my fathers death, I'd been reliving the night over and over, the helplessness of just sitting there watching someone die. I'd been so stressed with everything else going on in my life, I'd just not stopped to process exactly what had been going on that night. I was dealing with everything as a separate emotion. Everything I was doing was huge. Everything that had happened was a major thing in anyones life.
Then Bob died and it hit me bloody hard. We'd just returned from Australia. I cried for weeks, then I cried some more. I cried longer than I did when my dad died. I cried more than when I did when my dad died. I wasn't crying for my dad. I was crying for my dog. My dog who was with me every day throughout everything, the only time my dog wasn't with me, was when my dad died.
We bought a camper van, we called it Bobster, grandsons health improved, mine settled (for a while) the garden took shape. Peter went to Egypt. I went to Paris, I made some great friends in work, then I lost my job, I fought to get a new one in the same place. We went to Turkey. Spent the summer with the grandchildren, I went back to work and approached the first anniversary of Bob the dog's death.
I realised I'd been holding everything in. I'd not had 5 seconds between each event to be normal, to feel normal, to breathe, to have a bit of space. I don't feel anyone has ever acknowledged how I've just gone from one stressful event straight into another, how could they? They've all been doing their own things, been caught up each time in a bit of what I've been doing whilst dealing with their own stuff. Maybe they've found things just as hard at times, maybe at the same time as I have, but maybe their gaps in-between have been longer. I know I've heard an awful lot from people about how well I do things, how well I manage, how they couldn't have done half the things they've done if it wasn't for me to help them.
A friend asked me last week if I had considered how much stress can affect our lives and our health. I asked her 'what do I have to be stressed about?' 'I don't have money or relationship issues' 'I've nothing to complain about' she looked at me for quite some time.
I was diagnosed with Generalised anxiety disorder a few years after my father died, I didn't have time to deal with it, I wasn't in one place long enough to deal with it. Last month I was suffering with severe stomach pains. My husband nagged me to go to the GP. I hate going there, more blood tests, migraines, pain killers, my age, it must be the menopause. I went, I casually mentioned my gallstones, diagnosed in 2019, they weren't on my records, they'd been emailed through. I'm now waiting for surgery. I'm guessing the GAD isn't on my records either. I'm going to have to face up to that now as well.
I've had this feeling of impending doom sitting heavily inside me for a few weeks now, a fear that something very bad is going to happen. I don't know what, where to when, but it's been stopping me from sleeping, eating, functioning.
The next time the GP asks me if I'm feeling stressed, I guess I'll have to say 'yes I am' It's time for me to move on, it's not doing me any good thinking I'm ok, I'm not really, am I?
