Aftermaths

There's been nothing to speak of, really, except that suddenly I feel I must get on with things.

Of course, most 'things' are quite mundane. I need to get an insurance policy on the house, so I have done that. I am prowling through the house, thinking, "Well, that can go!' and "I don't want THAT any more".  Of course, more haste, less speed, and nothing need be done in a hurry: there are things to sort out and the payment made to the horrid family. But at least it feels satisfying to think I can do what I like, I can take my time, and do it all as soon or as late as I like, according to my own dictates, and tastes.

I went to Vinnies, and they will send people to take things away. So that will be done, in  due course. After the holiday, that is!  I am wandering around the house, contemplating how to re-organise the contents of the rooms, and even think of putting in new carpets. This might not be such a good idea, depending on the cost, but you get the picture.  I can do what I like, so long as I can afford it, and if it seems like a good idea. And if not, not.

Although I am contemplating all kinds of possibilities, in fact, these possibilities are so many balls in the air. If I move furniture around the house, I will need physical help, as it is all too heavy for me. I have to remember that I am older, and less strong.  People have remarked how haggard I look. And it is true. The emotional and physical tolls show clearly on my face and body. So be it: those lines were honestly earned.

All these sensations are very mixed, numerous, conflicting, and sparks fly around my mind in all directions. They represent freedom and choices, and autonomy. As well as grief and regret.

It is probably very natural to feel the relief, and the realisation that, all going according to plan or inclinations, I can make my own choices, that in many ways I feel like moths flying around lights. My moods fluctuate between tearfulness, anger at the step-family, the excitement of freedom, and, more soberly, the recognition that there is still a long road to travel. Equilibrium must be gained, life must be re-directed. In some ways I feel fearful, in other ways, that life is opening up.

I must mourn the opportunities missed, the wrong choices made, the failure to stand up for myself, and face the regrets that meanness and lack of generosity made the marriage less than it could and should have been. Finally I was able to stand up for myself and my future, and this I was unable to do during Dr P's lifetime, for very many reasons.

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of his death. It will be a day for meditation and reflection, acknowledgement of achievements and failures, bereavement and freedom. And remembrance and acknowledgment of the help given me by so many people, and their gladness that resolution has been achieved.

And again I think Ave atque Vale. And Pete Seeger singing We shall Overcome. 

In due course, the record will stop sticking and repeating. Now there's an outdated metaphor.