The beginning

Firstly, apologies if you feel this blog is too self indulgent.
However, I think I am allowed to be self-indulgent with grief - surely anyone is allowed that?!

But why a blog? Well, talking about it is hard. I am torn between wanting to, needing to, and feeling as if I am just annoying the hell out of everyone by droning on (I know this isn't the case as I have been reassured otherwise, but you can't help but feel that you don't want to be bringing friends or family down) and there is only so much you can say on facebook without getting your posts blocked...

So that brings me here. A blog. hmmm... A blog about grief - I wonder how many people are going to read this. It's not exactly a jolly one after all. But still - its for me and I am being self-indulgent, as, like I said, I am allowed. Because its my grief and its my blog and I don't give a shite about the rest of you!

so.....



My Dad died last year. 27th November. It was very sudden and completely unexpected and I don't really know what else to say about that. You know when you wake up and the day is just the same as any other, and you are just going on about your normal stuff, you aren't expecting to hear anything out of the ordinary. But that is exactly what happened. I tell you what - you dread being told anything else after that - when the phone rings you just think its going to be something bad. How long will that last?

I didn't believe it. I was in Ikea, at the till, loading my shopping with Greg and the kids. There was a man (called Ray? Bob?) on the phone and he told me my Dad had died. All I kept saying was 'what? what? what? what?' really incredulous - how fucking ridiculous, I almost laughed at the idiocy of it all! My dad - dead? Don't be bloody stupid!! My Dad can't die! But he was, and he did.

So logical me kicked in, got greg to pay for the shopping (I couldn't really stand up) phoned my neighbour to ask if she could feed the cats as I wasn't sure when I would be home and we drove to my mums (luckily only about 40mins away). Almost laughing, really shaking, shushing the kids, telling them everything would be okay, not thinking about anything apart from my Mum. Trying to get hold of my brother in Canada (with work) speaking to my sister in law, everything going into overdrive. Getting to Mums, hugging, crying - loads of people, explanations, just so much chaos. Having to phone his friends, friends he has known since school - explaining what had happened, listening to their grief, their shock. By the time I had gone through the phone book I had got pretty good at breaking the news. Going into a trance. Drinking a lot of wine (still am). Vivid dreams. Not sleeping. Lots of tears. Lots of sitting up with Mum throughout the night. Coroners. Funeral directors. Laughing at how ridiculous it all was! My brother arriving from Canada. More tears. More wine. The Funeral.

How was I to know that that was the easy bit. The bit before you start to realise that this isn't a dream, this is actually happening. He isn't going to walk through the door at any minute. He isn't coming home. I still don't think I really believe that.