The masks that we wear

Christmas this year was not something I looked forward to.  It was there. I couldn't avoid it. I couldn't spend it in bed with my head buried under the duvet.  I have children to think of so I had to make an effort for their sakes.  I dutifully put up the tree and other decorations.  I shopped for food and drink and presents, which I then wrapped in shiny gift paper with ribbons and bows.  I even managed to hold a party.  I smiled and I even laughed.  My smile was my mask, shielding the hurt and sorrow I felt inside. 

This was my first Christmas without my sister.  The first Christmas I was not able to speak to her, to exchange gifts with her, to compare shopping lists with.  To tell each other how much we love and miss each other. 

I have spent 2 or 3 fantastic Christmases with Katy since she moved to USA 14 years ago.  My family and I would travel out a week before the big day and Katy and I did the food and present shopping together and of course the tree.  I recall one memorable Christmas we went out to buy the tree and made the mistake of taking our children with us.  We ended up buying by far the largest tree available at the store, which we then spent many hysterically giggling minutes trying to stuff it into Katy's car - burying the children amongst the branches!

We would go to the Phoenix Zoo Lights event - the most spectacular and beautiful lit zoo including the wonderful 'dancing palm trees'.  Boxing day would be spent travelling North up to the Grand Canyon, giving us the opportunity to play in the snow among the pine trees.

But it is our childhood Christmases that stick in my head most.  When we were little, Katy and I shared a bedroom.  Christmas Eve we would excitedly go to bed and would take ages to get to sleep, trying to stay awake long enough to catch Father Christmas delivering our presents.  We never managed it.  Then before Dawn broke we would awaken and I still remember the thrill of feeling the weight of my Christmas stocking, now full, on the end of my bed.  One of us would whisper ' are you awake?' and we would attempt to be quiet while we emptied out stockings.  They would always contain a satsuma and some nuts among other goodies.

Our parents were strict about present opening.  Breakfast had to be eaten and cleared away before the whole family would then gather around the Christmas tree and our mother would hand out one present at a time.  This meant that the present opening would last for ages - right up until lunch.  Christmas lunch would be a veritable feast consisting of two different joints of meat with all the trimmings.  Crackers would be pulled and silly hats donned.  Then the afternoon would be spent playing with our new toys and games together.

Normal family Christmas stuff.  Just like millions of other people around the world.  I wish we had had more of them.  I feel so sad that I won't ever have another Christmas with Katy.  I realise the first year is always the hardest - each anniversary a painful reminder to be endured.  The first Christmas, birthday, etc.

With the New Year nearly upon us I am dreading New Years Eve.  For the past few years I have tried to be optimistic saying ' this year will be better', but sadly this has not been the case.  I'm finding it very hard to summon any optimism for 2013.  I'm not going to say it will be better.  I don't want to tempt fate.  I do not feel like going out to celebrate the end of 2012 or the beginning of 2013.  I shall grin and bear it, as I did Christmas.  I shall put on my mask.

The hurt and sorrow aren't lessening, I am just getting better at keeping it inside.  And as time goes on I am hoping that slowly and gradually, the pretence will become the reality.  I am strong. I can do this.

Silly social phobia!

I can not believe that almost 3 months have passed since I lost my darling sister.  I am starting to do more again.  To socialise more and to re-start my simple pleasures such as singing and swimming.  However, I still find it difficult to socialist in a group larger than about 6 people.  I start to feel anxious and upset.  During a close friend's dinner party last Saturday, I suddenly felt as if I was totally alone.  All the other people became quiet and blurred, their conversations a dim cacophony of random words and shrill laughter.  I had to fight my urge to stand up and scream.  I felt a white hot rage.  Fortunately I managed to suppress this irrational emotion and merely quietly left the room to spend several minutes crying bitterly in the cloakroom.

Previous to Katy dying I had never suffered with any social anxieties - indeed I was generally considered to be to be the life and soul of the party. In fact Katy always used to say I was a big fat show off!! Now, however, I find myself withdraw and become introverted in larger groups.  The party season will soon be here.  My office party on the 15th December I first declined when the email circulated.  But my colleague and friend, Lisa, put my name down to attend anyway.  Despite some misgivings I have decided to brave it.  Tomorrow night I am going out with my work colleagues for dinner.  There will be 8 of us.  Even this relatively low number of people is causing me some stress.  But I have to force myself to go to these occasions or I run the risk of becoming completely social phobic.

I have no idea why I am suffering with this weird anxiety but I am going to work through it.  With the silly season stomping through the dark evenings towards us, i need to brace myself. 

I am determined to be the life and soul of the party once more. 

Getting in the Zone

My HBA1c has been completely up the wall recently (hardly surprising, stress induced).  I haven't exactly be taking great care of myself or taking much notice at all to be honest.  But I know Katy would be very cross with me so I have decided to get back on track health wise again.  I really do not want to have my medication increased or to go onto insulin, which is what the GP has said, so I have decided to try and lower my HBA1c myself through diet and exercise.  I also thought that losing a few pounds before the silly season starts would be a good plan too!

I used to do alot of swimming as a young teenager and have had phases through the years of swimming regularly so I thought I would try it again.  I have been going twice a week for the past 3 weeks and love it.  I had forgotten how enjoyable it is.  Gets every part of you exercised, which is obviously great.  But a side effect is also that it is also very therapeutic.  I swim up and down and after the first few lengths start to feel very relaxed.  I zone out and my mind starts wandering. 

I think about all sorts of things as I plough through the water - from my shopping lists to work issues to family.  I have been back at work again the past two weeks and am really enjoying being back.  When I went back previously I had forced myself to go, feeling that I ought to.  But I wasn't ready and in hindsight it was far too early.  But this time, I felt ready to go back and it feels good to be using my brain again and being with my great work colleagues. 

It has also been a bit of a strange couple of weeks as an estranged family member has been in contact.  It has made me think alot about how strange people can be and about what makes them tick.  I was unsure how to handle the situation and desperately wanted to ask my sister for her opinion.  It struck me all over again that she is no longer there to help and advise and now I have to think 'what would Katy do', instead of picking up the phone and asking her.  I don't cry every single day now, but that day I did cry all evening.  It is now different circumstances where it hits me all over again and I feel the pain of losing her all over again. 

I do quite often feel adrift these days, but when I am swimming it helps me to focus my mind and make decisions in a much calmer way.  I finish my sessions feeling much more serene and able to cope with what the day throws my way.

Whatever you do that helps get you into the zone, stick with it, as I intend to do.  Exercise is great for mind, body and soul.  Plus, when you have done some exercise you then feel justified in having a whacking great glass of wine!

Happy Friday everyone xx

What do You Believe?

I am not a religious person.  I believe in equality for all and a world free of racism and other forms of bigotry and prejudice.  I believe in being kind and being tolerant. 

So, if I do not believe in 'God' and 'Heaven' etc, then what am I supposed to believe when it comes to what happens when we die? Those people who are lucky enough to have a faith presumably believe that our spirits go on to a 'better place'.  What is this place exactly?  What do these people imagine this place to be like? Is it billowy white clouds drifting about a clear blue sky with hosts of Angels playing harps? Is it a fresh green valley filled with our loved ones who have died before us and with whom we will be reunited?

I know quite a few people who believe our spirits linger and that the dead never really leave us.  In the past, I would have scoffed at this (not obviously to those peoples' faces).  But recently, I have started to think that maybe there is something in this.  I have had a few experiences that have led me to believe that my sister is not entirely gone. 

Of course, I know that she is dead and that she will not be returning and that I will never see her again.  I am only just starting to accept this and and am desperately trying to move on and start living a full life again.  Katy would not want me to spend my days crying.  She would want me to get on with my life and enjoy it and make the most of it.  And so I shall. 

Katy could sometimes have a rather naughty sense of humour (I can recall numerous occasions where we laughed so hard that snot came out my nose and a little bit of wee escaped! I blame my children for my weak pelvic floor!).  She also enjoyed an occasional dark bit of humour with me and I can't help thinking that she would find it highly amusing to play little tricks on me now.  Just to let me know that she is still 'around' in some way.  A few things have happened to make me think this.  I sometimes feel her here so strongly that I almost glimpse her out of the corner of my eye. 

I hope that wherever she is that it is somewhere that is beautiful and fun and happy.  But, Katy, if you are here then please tap three times....xx

Packing Away Summer

I carried out the much needed chore of emptying out all my clothes drawers, packing away my summer clothes and reinstating my winter wardrobe.  Bit depressing in some ways but also quite nice to get out clothes I haven't worn for a few months - feels like a shopping spree!  I took the opportunity to bag up clothes for charity shop that I haven't worn for a while and not likely to again.  Also to throw away some tatty clothes that really shouldn't be worn again.  It was an emotional process in some ways, as a lot of my clothes are ones that I bought when with my sister, or ones that she bought me as presents over the years.  And even though some of them were quite old and bedraggled, I could not bring myself to throw them away. 

I met up with my mum Saturday, for the first time since she got back from USA.  I was almost dreading seeing her in some ways as I knew it would be hard for both of us.  But she met me with literal open arms and we had a big hug.  We talked about general things until she produced a bag and I knew this was going to be hard.  She had very kindly managed to bring back for me Katy's little guardian angel brooch, which she loved and wore all the time.  Also a blue rosette from one of Katy's horse shows that she had won.  Two very simple items but so personal and such strong memories of Katy.  I haven't been able to take them out of the bag yet. 

I keep having very vivid dreams of my sister.  Not bad ones - but they make me cry upon wakening when I realise that they were just dreams.  A couple of days ago I dreamt that I had woken up and Katy was sat on my sofa.  I gave her a massive hug.  Katy never actually made it over to see my little flat, but my dream was so real that I broke my heart when I woke up for real and realised she wasn't really there. 

My GP has strongly recommended I contact Cruise Bereavement Services, which I will do.  I think I will anyway! I am just not very good at talking to strangers - I find it hard enough to open up to my closest friends.  But I think I need to give it a try as I am really struggling right now.

i have packed away all my summer clothes, but unfortunately I can't pack away the emotions of this summer.  The grief and loss.  But I do need to start to try to put a little of it away.  New life and new experiences continue.  The Summer wanes, but my memories of Katy haven't and never will.

On Chat

I just logged into facebook and my sister appeared on chat.  The first time that happened it kinda freaked me out, but now I find it strangely comforting to see her there.  I even sent her a little message just to say hi. 

I am back at work and finding it tough.  Working in a medical environment there is no escape from sad things and I have too many reminders during the day, which then render me useless for a while as I have a cry at my desk.  But my work friends are brilliant - very understanding and kind - and always on hand to give me a little hug when needed.  However, I am managing to get up every morning and just go into autopilot with the typical morning routine and head off to work. 

Sleep has been an issue the past few weeks - i.e. not enough of it.  I am struggling to get off to sleep before midnight then am besieged by the most awful nightmares; therefore any sleep I do get is not of the restful kind and I awaken feeling exhausted both physically and mentally.  But the worst was this morning.  I had drifted back off to sleep (lovely Sunday lie in) and then proceeded to dream that Katy was actually still alive.  In hospital - but alive.  When I woke up and realised it was a dream, I was devastated.  It was like losing her all over again. 

So, when I saw her on facebook just now, it was nice.  I know it's not real. I'm not cracking up. I realise it is just a technical glitch thingy.  But it does, if only for a split second, make me imagine that she is still here somehow and waiting to chat. 

Bubbly Reasons..

The other weekend, we went to Dorset County Show and purchased some gorgeous, hand made in Jerusalem, champagne flutes.  A couple of years previously I had bought some wine glasses from the same man and felt like treating myself again.  (Next time you go to the show check him out as his glasses really are beautiful and unique!).

Last Friday, Tony stopped at Tesco on his way home from work to buy a couple of bottles of champagne purely because he felt we should give our new glasses a test run.  I felt this to be a little extravagant but as I knew he had done this in an effort to cheer me up, I felt it would be churlish to object.  So, we sat at our little kitchen table eating our simple pasta carbonara accompanied by some rather nice bubbly.  And as we did so, I realised that treats like that should not be just for special occasions.  We should make the time to fit little treats into our lives as often as possible.

So, I have compiled a list of reasons to have bubbly.  It's not exclusive and feel free to tell me of any others:

1.  Because you have bought new glasses
2.  Because it's Friday
3.  Because you are spending time with your boyfriend for the first time all week
4.  Because you need cheering up
5.  Because you are happy
6.  Because you are with your favourite girls for a little get together
7.  Because you have run out of gin
8.  Because you like the way the bubbles feel in your mouth
9.  Because you have put the music on and are singing along and need to quench your thirst
10.  Because you are worth it!

So, give yourself a treat.  It doesn't have to be expensive champagne.  Try Prossecco.  Or, anything else you fancy.  Treat yourself because you deserve it.  Don't wait for birthdays.  Light your candles because they look lovely.  Wear your expensive perfume just to do the shopping.  Put on lipgloss to take the bins out.  Don that favourite necklace just for coffee with friends.  Don't save things just for 'best'.

Remember: Bubbly is not just for Christmas - it is for life!!

Normality and New Beginnings

My son returned to school this week - a new year beginning again already.  I drove him to school on his first day back yesterday and as we drove up Dorchester Road we passed quite a few 'newbies'.  These are the new Year 7 pupils who were just about to start senior school.  Most of them looked absolutely tiny, wearing blazers much too big for them and with shiny new shoes and hair cuts.  They looked far too young and too small to be going to 'big school' and my heart sympathised for them. 

James commented on how little they looked and as I looked at him in his new blazer, sat beside me, nearly as tall as me now, I suddenly had a flash back of making that same journey to the school 2 years ago.  With a boy much smaller, with a blazer much too big for him and a shiny new hair cut.  His legs shook with nerves all the way and I felt so helpless.  He was making that huge leap from small junior school to very large senior school and he had to make it alone.  Unlike junior school, parents are very definitely not allowed to get out of their car and wait with their child.  Being seen with your parent at senior school is likely to get one at least enormously made fun of, or even beaten up for being such a Mummy's boy, so I would never (even if James let me) place such stigma on him.  So I had to just stop the car and let him get out on his own.  I desperately wanted to go in with him and give him a hug, but managed to maintain cool parent control and keep things light, determined to make it as easy for James as possible.  Then, just as I was fighting back the tears, James demanded I stop the car there as he had just spotted 3 boys he knew.  With that, he grabbed his bag, threw a casual 'see ya mum' behind him and ran off without so much as a backward glance.  I drove the rest of the way to work in tears, the image of my baby boy in his slightly too big uniform making his way to that huge school without me.

I spent the morning at work worrying about whether he was managing to find his way around the buildings, whether he was being bullied, whether he had managed the canteen at lunch time, etc.  It was with some trepidation that I went to collect him at the end of the first day, wondering how he had fared.  Ha! I might have known!  I was waiting in my car, scanning the sea of faces of the pupils as they left the school building.  Then, I spotted him.  Strolling casually out of the doors, shirt untucked from his trousers, tie undone, blazer tossed over his shoulders in a debonair fashion, sauntering across the school yard exchanging banter with lots of students both his age and older, looking like he owned the joint!! He got in the car - 'alright mum?' - and I asked him how it had been.  He was so enthusiastic and said he only got lost twice and that he knew loads of his fellow students from various out of school clubs.  I heaved a secret sigh of relief - he would be fine. 

So now here we are 2 years later and he has had, let's face it, a rather difficult summer having lost his aunty.  But  he has just come back from his second day back really proud at having been put into the top set in English.  He has already lost his tie.  His shirt is already untucked and his trousers already appear to look scruffy.  Life goes on.

I started back at work this week and it is very busy.  I spent today at my desk mainly in tears - I have good and bad days.  Luckily my desk means I sit with my back to the room, so I am able to hide this (I think!).  I am incredibly tired as for the last week I am taking til about 3 am to get to sleep every night, so I am feeling rather run down.  But life has to go on.  I have to pay my mortgage and bills and make lunches for my son.  I get up in the morning and put on makeup and my mask for the day.  I found myself practising smiling in the mirror the other day as I was convinced that mine had turned into a grimace.

Normality has to return.  But I so wanted to phone my sister to share James's success at school and to find out how my little niece and nephew are getting on at school.  I want to share life's normality with my sister and it is so so unfair that she is unable to experience these things.  She never got to see her little girl start 1st grade and to share that with me.

Normality and new beginnings for many and we should appreciate these moments for the major triumphs that they are.  A friend of mine recently commented that she was more affected about turning the big 50 than she thought she was going to be.  I told her to look on each year as a blessing she is lucky enough to have.  I am trying to do the same.

Small Pleasures

It has been a very difficult time with lots of feelings of anger and bitterness as well as loss.  Each time I cry I think that I cannot possibly have any more tears left inside of me, but then I cry some more.  I still cannot accept that my sister is no longer at the end of a phone, ready to laugh or cry with me and share stories of our family life.  I still find it totally unbelievable and this feeling is compounded by the fact that there was no funeral to go to.  Typical of Katy - a devout vegetarian for 25 years - she donated her body for medical science research, so to do some good and help others even after her death.  She and her husband were not religious and Katy did not want a service.  I totally respect her decision and admire her immensely for it.  However, the ritual of burying the dead is to help those left to begin the grieving process and to gain 'closure' in some way. It marks the end of the person's life and helps the loved ones gain acceptance and start to move on.  Not having that ritual makes everything seem so unreal still, like a bad dream from which I will eventually awaken.

But during all this grief, I am struck by all the good things I have in my life and several times during the past couple of weeks, I have felt overwhelmed by the kindness of people.  My work friends have been totally supportive and understanding and patient and I feel very lucky to work with such lovely people - thank you.  My friends - particularly the Karens - have not let me withdraw and are making me go out and do things regularly and they do not mind when I cry all of a sudden.  My daughter, who is busy with her new job, takes the time to text me to ask how I am doing.  My wonderful son makes me cups of tea and always asks how I am feeling and always knows when I have been crying and gives me a hug.  My gorgeous boyfriend is so kind and loving and supportive, even when I get snappy and bad tempered.  I know I am lucky to have lots of fantastic people in my life.

And it has not all been tears.  I have managed to take pleasure in simple things.  Going out for Saturday brunch with my boyfriend and enjoying that first coffee of the day.  Sitting outside a pub on the harbour with a cold glass of cider, people watching and enjoying some rare sunshine.  Cooking pasta at home listening to music and dancing in the living room with my boyfriend.  Sitting on the sofa with my son watching a rubbish TV movie and laughing together.  Sitting outside a cafe right on the beach and watching the waves gently break, catching the light from the sun, a mug of tea resting on my lap, hearing children laughing and playing on the sand.  These are simple pleasures but ones I am learning to appreciate now more than ever before.

And all the time my sister Katy is there in the back of my mind and I wish, oh how I wish, that I could pick up the phone and tell her about these simple pleasures.

Feeling numb

It has been a week since I last posted on my blog. Just a few hours after my last post, I received the phone call that I had been expecting in my heart of hearts, but even so I still didn't actually believe would happen.  My beautiful, courageous sister had died at 10 pm UK time, 2pm Arizona time.  She was in her own bed in her own home, our mum sitting with her.  Just typing these words feels like stabbing myself in my chest.

I am incredibly lucky to have some fantastic loved ones in my life.  Red Karen (for her hair colour, not her political views) immediately left her work where she does night shift and came straight over.  My wonderful gorgeous boyfriend, Tony, works away in Reading during the week, but drove straight home to be with me.  My amazing son stayed up and made me cups of tea (the English cure-all).  We sat up talking til the early hours of the morning.  Looking at photos of Katy.  Recalling memories, laughing and crying.

The following 3 days I functioned pretty well.  Lots of tears, but also managed to get up and go out and receive visits from friends.  Unfortunately the 4th day I woke up and there was absolutely no way I was going to get up that day.  I stayed in bed all day, unable to eat or talk.  People talk about being in a 'dark' place and now I know what they mean.  Now though, I just feel numb.  I haven't reached acceptance yet and the chest pains haven't alleviated, but I feel very distanced from the everything.  It is a very strange feeling that is hard to describe.  The best way to describe it is NUMB.

It may be a bit of self preservation going on, shielding me from the pain for a few days, giving myself a rest from it.  And no, before you ask, I haven't taken anything strange!

So ok, I will go along with the numbness, because, for now, it is preferable to the pain.  I can function like this.

Olympics and stuff

I suddenly remembered, whilst watching the olympics one evening this week, that my sister used to be a very keen and very talented cross country runner.  She was a member of Barry Harriers when we lived in South Wales.  I have no idea why I had forgotten about that.  It was a big part of her life as a teenager.  She would go out running in all weathers (and being Barry that usually meant rain).  Then when she got home she would have to clean the mud off of her 'spikes' (special cross country running shoes with small metal spikes on the soles to help avoid slipping in the mud). 

I find myself remembering lots of things about our childhood together.  Things I haven't thought about in years.  Not necessarily the big events, but just day to day mundane stuff - yet so precious.  Back in those childhood days (the 1970's!), we went out to play.  We would be out all day on a Saturday and indeed unless the weather was totally foul, we would be instructed not to come home until tea time!!  Saturday tea often consisted of either lemon curd (for Katy) or chocolate spread (for me) sandwiches whilst watching Doctor Who on a black and white TV.  Katy would laugh at me when I hid behind a cushion because I was scared of the Cybermen or the Daleks. 

I watch these incredible athletes on the Olympics and remember my sister running. 

That's a good memory to have.

Coming home....

Home can mean many different things to different people.  To me and probably most others, Home is where my loved ones are.  It is where are able to kick back and be yourself.  Where I relax in my pjs with a mug of tea and my tattiest furry slippers.  Where I curl up on the sofa with a good book on the kindle or film.  Where my 13 year old son rushes in to do a smash and raid on the fridge before  running back out the house again to continue with whatever he was doing that was so important with his friends.  Where my boyfriend sits with his laptop, browsing the latest techy stuff that he thinks he needs.  Where I'm glad to get back to after a trying day at work, finally able to relax after a day of having to smile and be understanding and patient.  but most of all, it is the place where I most feel safe and loved, surrounded by people who care how I am feeling.

So it is not surprising that my brave sister has decided that her Home is where she wants to spend the rest of her life, however long that may be.  After having spent the last 4 weeks in hospital - the first week of which was spent in ICU connected to a variety of wires and machines - she knows that her Home is where she needs to be now.  With her loved ones.  Her husband.  Her two young children.  Her faithful chocolate labrador who never leaves her side.  Her own familiar things around her.  Her own comfortable bed.  The feelings of security and love that will envelop her and ensure she has peace. 

I may be 4000 miles away from my sister, unable to be physically included amongst the loved ones with her, but my heart is there with her.  I am sending out my love across the Atlantic Ocean and further West to Arizona.  I am thinking about her constantly.  She is my first thought on waking in the morning and my last before closing my eyes in sleep at night. 

I am happy my sister is Home.