Thank you Puddock for your kind words which always make me feel more normal in my disjointed world of bereavement. I walk pass houses in my little lane and wonder who lives there and what they do... it isn't a friendly lane in the way my childhood street was. People keep to themselves and nod or smile when I walk past and happen to catch someone by their front door or their car; but I don't get invited anywhere or asked in for a cup of tea. I never see anyone; they're either at work I suppose, or hiding away, or out and about with others. The houses in the picture are at Ripley, all very pretty and uniform, but with no clue as to the personalities of those within.
My heart is still heavy and I don't know why. I've cried and cried all day, and I know it isn't hormones as they have been kept in tight control since 1989. I went to the Gym and found that for some reason we ladies had to use the men's locker rooms and the men had to use ours. Strange! Amourous little man was there and smiling at me. The snake with goggles wasn't there neither was the predatory female. I swam fast and left without acknowledging the frequent smiles. I'd rather go home to my cats, meal for one and watch a DVD than embark on a date with someone who only comes up to my armpits.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I have to say that - having declared myself as an optimist! Apparently optimist live on average, seven years longer than pessimists. Is that a good thing?
I don't think I'm helping other bereaved people with these words... sorry! Will try harder tomorrow!
