Celebrations

And the news from York is (at the risk of boring you rigid) well it's still very tough!! Many ups and downs over the last couple of weeks.

Last Friday was a very special day as we had half of Dave's ashes interred at York Cemetery (the place where the funeral service was held). The other half of his ashes will be scattered later by Emma and I on a favourite walk in Swaledale. On Friday, a small group of family and friends attended at the cemetery. I created what turned out to be a very simple and quite moving ceremony and for the first time Emma let out a lot of her upset and emotion. Although this was very difficult at the time for her it was something that needed to happen as she has been so brave and strong ever since Dave died. I was also taken by surprise by the emotion and found myself shaking like a leaf in Sainsburys on the morning before the interrment and Emma and I had a terrible few days leading up to the event as well. I think it is something of a reality check to put your husband/father's remains in the ground. However, the love and support of the people who came to the ceremony made me feel like we were being wrapped in a warm blanket and I was very present to the love in our life.

The spot Emma chose for the interrment is beautiful as it is in the old Victorian part of the cemetery where all the graves are wild and overgrown. It is very peaceful and when you are there on your own all you can hear is bird song. In a couple of weeks a headstone will be placed on the plot. We did keep the ceremony very private due to the very public nature (and numbers) of the funeral but if any of you would like to go to visit the spot in the future please let me know.

After the ceremony we went back to the ever accommodating Rob and Tricia's for a barbecue. The weather was fabulous as I had hoped and we had a lovely evening although it has to be said there were a few sore heads the next day as some effort was put in to celebrating the occasion!

Sunday would have been our 23rd wedding anniversary. I found myself in the car thinking how strange it was that I was 23 when I got married and would have been married 23 years. This led me to wonder where I would be in the next 23 years at the age of 69 as so much has happened in the last 23 years. What could have been a very difficult day was averted by Julia taking Emma and I out to a country pub for dinner on a lovely summer's evening.

This week the main event for me has been going back to work on a part-time basis. In the last couple of weeks I have felt myself to be ready for a distraction from this grieving business although going back to work is still hard. I think for myself going back to work is hard because it is another sign of going back to "normal" life when absolutely nothing you have left in your life feels normal. It feels as if I have a huge rock in my chest just as I did in the first few weeks after Dave died and similarly I also have a big lump in my throat. And the sleepless nights are back with a vengeance - think I managed all of two hours last night! Still I hope that work will become a welcome diversion and a bit therapeutic as it was during much of Dave's illness - looks as though I just need to get through the pain barrier first.

A friend sent me an email the other day telling me about a programme on tv that Sheila Hancock did in the series "My life in poetry". I haven't managed to get time to see the actual programme on iplayer yet but I read an associated news article on the web. When referring to the death of her husband John Thaw, Sheila Hancock was saying that she got sick of people sending her cards saying that "he was just in the next room" when in fact she was clear that he was in fact stone dead! She said in the article about grieving something along the lines of the fact that grief doesn't get better, you just get better at dealing with it. From my experience so far this would appear to be the case. What I therefore need now is to work my way towards mastery but I won't be holding my breath, as I think this apparent merry-go-round could bamboozle me for some time yet!

An enquiry in to the usefulness of the male species.....

Before Dave died he wrote an A-Z of how to live your life for Emma and I and I was reading it just the other night. In the manual B is for boyfriends and discusses the male species in general. Dave said in the manual that "the thing about men and boyfriends is this: they can provide you with some of the things that your girl friends can't, and I don't just mean the obvious! Some of them know things about cars and boilers and plumbing, and decorating, and all that other useful stuff I ultimately was too bored to be good at." One of my missions over the last few weeks appears to have been to find out the hard way how true that is.

I have sometimes in the past (I am ashamed to admit)been quite disparaging at times of the male species especially with regard to the ability to multi-task. I have watched many females buzz around doing all number of tasks at the same time whilst observing the male of the household with a fixed gaze on the remote control concentrating on changing channels and at times have seen them struggle to drink a beer at the same time.

But in the last couple of weeks I have been forced to change my opinions and eat my words as I have discovered the problems of not having a ready male on tap!! And my extensive research has revealed that the men do come in very handy at times and as Dave says not just for the obvious. I have discovered that men are very useful when you need to accomplish the following tasks:

Moving furniture - after being nearly crushed to death by a bookcase I can confirm that another pair of hands and some brute strength are useful.

Hanging pictures on the wall. How do you do that when you only have one of hands? - it just doesn't work effectively as a solitary activity.

Using a drill - far too dangerous for most normal women to consider (and I used to be a feminist). If you do manage to drill a hole you can be sure it will be the wrong size and in the wrong place and you will have almost certainly fallen off the ladder.

Loading and unloading the cars for a trip to the dump. The dump is a smelly and unglamorous place and the recycling areas are always in the wrong order and it is ultimately very boring. And now it is very pc so you will be met with a glare any time you try to shove something in the "landfill" bin rather than recycling.

Unblocking the hoover pipe when you have managed to fill it with fluff from the new carpet you have just had laid and completely knackered both of your hoovers. Having to accost a passing Irsihman with the patience of a saint to undo all the damage you have managed to do.

Getting a chair out of the attic conversion knowing that it went in through the doorway when you moved in, but finding that it will now not come out and will definitely get stuck fast in the doorway. Embarrassingly the (male)carpet fitter got it out in 30 seonds flat after you have bemoaned the problem and told him you will have to saw the legs off.

Getting the lid off off a jar of jam. Are the French people at Bonne Maman sadistic?

Barbecuing - assembling the barbecue, cooking the food and cleaning the barbecue afterwards - all more suited to the hunter gatherer and the female of the species should just be tasked with drinking the Pimms.

Loading a holiday's worth of luggage in to a very small car boot. Much better to watch the male grapple with this one whilst standing by the car and offering advice. Also preferable for the male to herd all the luggage through the airport and off the baggage carousel whilst you complain how hot you are and drink your Evian.

Collapsing a table tennis table in Provence in order to put the cover on. This may just be me and Claire but it took half an hour and every ounce of our initiative when a random male could almost certainly have completed the task in two minutes flat.

So I feel I must apologise to all you lads out there - there are definitely times when you are very very useful! And your strategies for doing these types of things are far more effective then mine which tends to involve a lack of patience, ranting my bad temper and, if all else fails, crying and looking helpless. So is there anyone out there who wants to adopt a helpless female in York?