Yesterday marked the first anniversary of Carol's death - 15th October 2020. Perhaps understandably I didn't feel much like writing about it, and today I have more of a sense that I ought to mark the occasion than I particularly want to. On Sunday at Communion, the priest had read out Carol's name among the list of parishioners on the anniversaries of their deaths as he always does: I'd remembered when it was, so I wasn't taken by surprise, rather, I suppose comforted by a feeling that she was now in a better place than the one she'd left. Looking back, which I try not to do too often, the last couple of weeks were altogether pretty grisly and it was with a definite sense of relief that I realized her time had finally come.
The post year hasn't really been much like I'd expected it was going to be - although truth to tell I didn't have much of a clear idea of what to expect. I didn't go to all pieces (or at least, I haven't done yet) and I dealt with all the practicalities early on quite calmly and efficiently. I shed a tear or two at the crematorium but mostly at home it's just been learning to accept reality... remembering the good times and all the happy years we spent together, and nothing's ever going to take those away.
One thing I've still got to tackle is the legacy of all the stuff Carol left behind: the tons of craft material, her books and DVDs, which are still all as she left them. It's because I simply don't know what to do with them rather than I can't bear to touch them or anything like that. Eventually I know I'll be galvanized into action and come up with a plan of some sort, but I don't sense any great urgency at the moment. I've dealt with everything that was urgent in order to maker the place habitable for me, and the stuff that isn't can wait a while longer.
No comments:
Post a Comment