I had a moment the other morning, where I was caught out. I was filling up everyone’s water bottles for the day. School for Chance and Quinn, kindy day for Darby and Julius, and I was going on a walk with my dear friend for the morning (thanks K). I thought to myself “there should be six water bottles” since I was getting one for all of us.

But there were only five.

It took me probably 10 seconds of absent-mindedness to realise why there weren’t six. I think I rolled my eyes and kicked myself and was brought back to my reality.

And it just happened momentarily once again, as I was skimming through the Woollies catalogue. I saw that Heinz Meat in a Can was half price and thought “I should grab a few”.

I would never eat meat from a can, but somehow Frith thought it was okay. Well, it was more the convenience of having a whole meal that he could take to work and leave there, and it would still be okay two months later. Not like the leftovers I would send to work with him that would stay in his bag all day, that he would remember about at 3pm, and would eat after microwaving the crap out of it (and melting my Tupperware in the process several times) and declare it was “still good!”

I always thought it was funny that he had an iron gut for some things, for example reheating leftover KFC chicken after it had been sitting in the fridge for a week, then promptly forgetting about it, discovering it in the microwave the next day, and reheating it once more. And eating it. And living to tell the tale. (Actually, that was one of the stories his best man told at our wedding. Classic stuff.) Yet when he started eating hot and spicy KFC a few years ago, he would suffer the next day. Every time. Yet he persisted.

I feel like I’m a year behind in my grief. Does that make sense? I feel like, the way I’m feeling and behaving now, is how everyone expected me to feel and behave a year ago. But this time last year, I was a machine. No one could believe how well I was “coping”. I was filling out forms like a mad-woman; I was exercising pretty much every day; I was there for the kids emotionally and physically; I was just go go go and in survival mode; I knew Frith wasn’t around, and I didn’t expect him to be, because nothing in my physical environment reminded me that he should be here. (The kids are my emotional environment FYI.)

But now, getting up every day is hard; exercising is a chore and always comes last in my to-do list; I’m still filling out forms, but with lest gusto; I’m finding the kids’ demands so… demanding!

I’m having moments of forgetting that Frith isn’t here anymore.

More than anything, I’m finding this all very interesting, and not as upsetting as the story sounds. I’m unpacking so much of this with my new psych, and I feel like I’m actually moving forward, slowly, with my journey, instead of being stuck.

I’ve been stuck, so stuck, for months. Unable to see anything in my future that could possibly bring me joy. Perhaps this is the ominous cloud lifting. Perhaps nothing will change for a few more months. Undoubtedly, it will be hard to get out of bed for a while longer, since I’m not a morning person 🙂

That’s enough for this rainy Friday night. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here.

It helps.