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ConchShell of Zenith
Jun. 17th, 2019 10:04 pmIf one is going to have a tune stuck in one's head, may I recommend Seal Lullaby. It's lovely and much more soothing than most of the other tunes I've had playing lately. I took a couple of days off posting because it wasn't going well. I think that visit to work on the memorial service, although fine in itself, served as a slow-motion trigger that ultimately resulted in a couple of crash and burn days. I wish I could say simply that I'm grieving for my mother. It sounds much less ignoble than the internal flailing around that is actually taking place. I'm unfairly mad at everything whether there's any logic to that or not. Old pictures that I saw at the Duchess's brought up a lot of unfortunate memories. Yesterday I tried to meditate, but it only took away my distractions, leaving me face to face with my own mind, which was not helpful. The thing about grief and loss is that there isn't an interesting plot development followed by an uplifting denouement. Things just go on being sad, usually in some disorganized and inartistic way.
I successfully carried out my therapist's suggestion that I get Mr. Science, who is after all the executor, to choose a date for the burial of ashes. This was not as easy as it sounds. I've also spoken to his daughter, who very nicely offered to put together the order of service in a decorative manner once we figure out what goes in it. Yay! So that's progress. Although it's progress that I would really rather have nothing to do with. Oh well. At least it's getting done.
I meditated and took a walk. Other than that, it was miles and miles and bloody miles of sweet fuck-all, as the British say. Yesterday I made blueberry pancakes, bacon, and homemade applesauce for Father's Day breakfast for the Sparrowhawk, and the kids called and sent cards and things in a very satisfactory way. He was determined to grill for dinner, and he actually succeeded in getting the meat to cook, even though it was about 60 degrees out, so that was a small triumph for the Dad. He is a great father, the kind who listens, offers support when it's needed, always believes in them, and gives them a hug when they're down, rather than explaining how they should have done things differently. He deserves a better celebration, but it seems this was just not that year.
I successfully carried out my therapist's suggestion that I get Mr. Science, who is after all the executor, to choose a date for the burial of ashes. This was not as easy as it sounds. I've also spoken to his daughter, who very nicely offered to put together the order of service in a decorative manner once we figure out what goes in it. Yay! So that's progress. Although it's progress that I would really rather have nothing to do with. Oh well. At least it's getting done.
I meditated and took a walk. Other than that, it was miles and miles and bloody miles of sweet fuck-all, as the British say. Yesterday I made blueberry pancakes, bacon, and homemade applesauce for Father's Day breakfast for the Sparrowhawk, and the kids called and sent cards and things in a very satisfactory way. He was determined to grill for dinner, and he actually succeeded in getting the meat to cook, even though it was about 60 degrees out, so that was a small triumph for the Dad. He is a great father, the kind who listens, offers support when it's needed, always believes in them, and gives them a hug when they're down, rather than explaining how they should have done things differently. He deserves a better celebration, but it seems this was just not that year.
