Sunday, June 26, 2011

What's A Body To Do?

So here I am with this blog that I can hardly be bothered with. My life has come to a stand still and I have nothing to write about any more.

For instance, take today. I was wakened at around 5am with my chest, my throat, my sinuses and went downstairs to make a cup of tea. Returned to bed with said cup of tea, went through a mountain of tissues and fell asleep until 11 o' clock. I had noted earlier that there was no evidence of an amazing sunny day (as promised) so seemed little point in getting up.

Due to Bert also sleeping in, the pigs and hens also had a lie-in. I dragged myself out and sorted them out. They were very forgiving of our tardiness.

Today I wanted Matty. Although, prior to her diagnosis, I had often been exasperated by her obssession with her health, the good side of that was that she was most sympathetic to any ailments her children suffered from. Had she been around, and relatively well, she'd have been advising me to take it easy, get medicine, look after myself. I found myself missing that so much. So I went to visit her. even though I knew it was almost a pointless exercise because she wasn't there in the graveyard beside St Comgall's. But I brought flowers from the garden, picked the nicest roses, weeded the Herb Robert from her plot and did a bit of thinking and crying. Those flowers will probably only last a couple of days but it's the thought, isn't it?

Then I called with the young brother who has had a misfortune. His motorbike got smashed in an accident on the A26 this morning. He seems to have got away with bruising but he has a dodgy back and I'm worried about him. Matty would have been terribly worried too. That's roadworks. Two roads closed with no notice to the residents. OK - it probably was in the local rags but who reads those? Except sad sacks like me who are supposed to be seeking paid employment.

So really I should get a grip of myself. I've got a cold. Our Joe's bike is smashed, he is sad and sore. Cousin Joe has just come through brain surgery and one of the priests who officiated at Matty's funeral (also a local lad) has had a devastating stroke. So I've little to complain about. But if I could have just one kind word from Matty I'd be OK.

5 comments:

Grannymar said...

Have you got Matty's photo on the fridge door? Best place to put it so you can talk to her every time you reach for the milk!

Brighid said...

I've talked up a storm to Himself since he died. His ashes are in my work room, along with Max the Wonder Cowdog's. We are waiting til later in the summer to take them up home.
GM has an excellent idea, and I may do that too...just as soon as I peel his picture off the dart board.
I have issues!

Nelly said...

Happy to report that I feel a lot better today. Those sad days seem to lead to better ones.

Brighid - cannot say I know how you feel because I don't. It must be a very complicated sadness you've got going on there. Anyway hope you're having your good days too.

Brighid said...

Mia culpa...the prior post of mine...It was a bad day that day.
Glad your feeling better.

Nelly said...

Brighid - bad days are part of it. Knowing Matty was dying meant that many of our bad days occurred before she passed. But when it is sudden, like your bereavement was - that has to lead to a lot of crazy and bad days. Part of the process I expect. My thoughts are with you often.