A Baggy Fit

 Nine months on. Seven since I last posted anything here. More ‘firsts’ have been and gone. My first birthday made all the more poignant because Mags, despite everything, had circled an M and written BDay next to it on the kitchen calendar for November 23rd. It was around this time that I booked a one-off session with a grief counsellor from the hospice. She asked me if I could use one word to describe how I felt, what would it be? “Lost,” I said. She went on to explain that when a person loses a life partner/soulmate they suddenly find themselves in a lot of open space. A heavy and unexpected dose of freedom if you like. Couple that with the guilt one feels at only having oneself to consider and you have a sure fire recipe for feeling lost, disoriented. It all made sense to me and bought me some relief, in the short term anyway.

Then Christmas arrived. I made an effort to make the place feel at least vaguely festive. Various artificial berries and sprigs were draped or tucked over picture frames. I invested in a tiny pre-lit tree and decorated it one morning around 06.30. That might have been me subconsciously trying to avoid the norm. The norm being a two handed job. Mags passing the baubles and me placing them. A pair of novelty candles gifted to Heather nearly 40 years ago by a neighbour nearly remained in their box, because Mags always unpacked them and placed each at opposing ends of a mantelpiece or shelf. I felt that I shouldn’t really be handling them.

I baked mince pies and a Christmas cake. After watching Mags over the years, I found it was relatively easy to get a half decent result from what I’d memorised. The big day itself and Boxing Day were both surprisingly happy. Our little family split the time between their place and mine. We chilled out, played games, walked, laughed and remembered. 

Since the turn of the year I’ve filled my days effortlessly with walking (although not of late) reading and sometimes just living in stillness, not thinking about any one thing in particular. I’ve also, quite inexplicably, got into jazz. It’s not a music genre I’ve explored much but I’m learning that it’s full of wonderful stories and surprises. Mostly stuff from the 50s and 60s, some of which I could happily have on repeat play all day.

Recently I had lunch with an old friend and former colleague from the university. I also accepted an invitation to have coffee with a neighbour and her husband, which was lovely. Such a kind and thoughtful couple. But I discovered that expanding my social calendar too much too quickly is not the way to go. At least not for me. I found the whole reintroduction to socialising resulted in a delayed overwhelming. In light of this I had to bail on two other arrangements. Fortunately the parties concerned were both very understanding and accommodating. I will get around to rescheduling before too much longer.

Oh, and before I sign off, I was called on by a neighbour, a couple of weeks ago, who asked if I’d mind babysitting his one year old for an hour while he picked his wife up from the train station. So I took my book and hoped the little girl didn’t cry out. As it was she hardly stirred for the entire time I was there. The wonders of modern parenthood. A babycam in her nursery and a monitor for me to have eyes on right next to me. 

So basically yes, my life has a lot of space now. It’s a baggy fit, but I know I’ll grow into it, in time.