Monday, 27 April 2015

Healing sleep

John has just mentioned - after a goosing - about his friend, Bob, dying, and how hard it must be for Olwen to face a glorious day like today - the sun beaming down and the Spring flowers out as if nothing has happened.

In a much smaller way, there is slightly less a reason for me to want to go out to my rural workshop, now that Dolly the Collie will not be there to greet me. If I feel like that, then heaven knows how Dolly's owner must feel, not being woken at dawn by her climbing onto the bed and snuggling up as she has for the last 12 years.

Whenever I have experienced that sort of loss - like when my mother or father died - for several days I would wake up in the morning thinking, 'I know something quite important has happened, but I can't quite remember what it is... oh yes, now I remember', and the loss comes crashing down again, and the void opens up afresh.

A few hours of repair in bed - during which time nothing has changed - and then you are ready to face life again - or as ready as you ever will be.

My father a few days after the death of my mother:

"I don't think I will ever get over this."


"Neither do I, but you will get used to it."


  1. I have often thought that mankind is a creature of habit and, as you rightly said, one therefore get's used to things.

  2. Getting used to it is the thing. It just takes a long time. Hope you're OK.

  3. "You will get used to it" is an odd expression after a death, but, yes, it is true. We go on, maybe not totally the same, but we go on.

  4. I wish I could say something useful, but I can't. I count stages of grieving as remembering later in the day I woke up and the event was not the first thing on my mind. Those are the worst days, the first thing on your mind days.

  5. I've been doing my jewish momma bit with chicken soup just a few minutes ago.....and Olwen said something very similar......" The sun shines as its always done"

    When my brother died ...i remember feeling angry at people going about their mundane jobs

  6. Rachel said it all with the last comment.

    I have just found out that a beautiful (in every sense of the word) young friend of mine (barmaid of The Bell at the least) was - and hopefully still is, or better - never was - right in the middle of the worst place to be in Katmandu when the earthquake happened.

    Of course, it will be a while before any news comes out, but I am really worrying about her Bath family right now.

    In this case, no news is a hideous combination of hopefully good and resignedly bad.

    If prayers are any use to anyone, now's the time.

    1. It is not looking good. I am just watching it on the News. Pray for Nepal.

  7. As John said above, it's seeing people going about their usual business, not knowing your pain, that makes matters worse.

  8. The loss of someone dear to us is something we never get used to ….. just something that eases a little with time.
    I can't imagine what it's like in Nepal …. and on Everest. Hope that your friend managed to be safe Tom. XXXX

  9. I have been here in the States in order to attend the memorial service for my brother and my mother. That day was the most beautiful perfect Spring day and it felt like a blessing to their memory. But deep inside there is sometimes a sense of loss of the physical presence that binds those of us left together...

  10. I have heard that Soozie - the girl in Nepal - has somehow managed to communicate that she is safe but running out of everything, but I don't know how authentic this report is.

    It will probably be days more before we find anything else out.

  11. After more than 60 years together mum put dad, that is to say his ashes, in the bedroom wardrobe for a year. Now I can tell him what I think, and the best of it is he can't answer me back, she said by way of explanation. She has a philosophical nature which I think is a big plus in sad times.

  12. Last line of your post says it all Tom.

  13. Susannah Ross - Soozie - is alive and well in Nepal, and will shortly be on her way home. She managed to borrow a satellite phone from a mountaineer to let us know.

    That's all from me on this post, but thanks for your comments - I've read them all.

  14. I lost my beloved Tess right before Christmas last December and I still feel her absence daily. I lost my husband to a vehicle accident when I was 25 and that changed me and how I live my life so much that I hardly recognize the person I was prior to his death. Not all the things that changed are good, but a fair amount of them are improvements in how I handle life and people around me. Once I stopped crying about losing him, I didn't shed a tear for 10 years, now in my old (soft) age I cry over everything. (grin) I'm sorry the void in your daily routine, as others have stated, we do get used to it, but it's sharp for a bit. I feel the more we feel the pain of losing someone, the deeper the fondness or love. Celebrate those loving feelings, there's nothing else quite like it!