Three days in the life

Since Frog died (10 weeks ago) my two sisters and two brothers have been taking it in turn to come and stay, keeping me company and helping with the myriad practical tasks that have now come my way. Each brings their own brand of support. Last week it was the turn of J, who is the admin expert and also, since retired, turning out to be a pretty handy sort of person all round.

On Friday, in driving rain, we filled a skip with all the debris that had been collecting around the back door for decades.

I had no idea what most of it was (other than mysterious electronic boxes, wires, lumps of metal, lumps of plastic) and I had tried to sort it into piles for recycling at the tip but I then decided, bu- - er it (as Frog would say). I have a bad back at the moment, I didn’t have the strength to load and unload the car and anyway I couldn’t work out how to put the car’s back seat down.

It was very satisfying.

We then moved to the carport all the boxes and bags that had been cluttering up the conservatory.

The boxes were the result of a preliminary clearing of Frog’s debris in kitchen and sitting-room, mostly stuff that, again, he hadn’t used for decades (pens, badges, frog ornaments, puppets and, again, numerous unidentifiable wires and connectors).

The bags contained clothes and shoes. At the suggestion of my sister E, I had kept my favourites of both, and Frog’s favourites, and all the clothes that I had made for him. It wasn’t a question of getting rid of everything; it was a question of keeping a selection to remember him by.

Frog was a hoarder and for 44 years I had lived in his shadow, keeping small areas clear for myself and ignoring the rest of the house. Now, in order to move on, I had to make space for myself. It was heart-rending but vital. Frog didn’t need the stuff any more, he’d left it behind, and in order to join him – as, when and wherever ‒ I had to leave it behind as well.

These boxes and bags we covered in a tarpaulin and left for a charity to collect.

The next day, we tackled some of the dreaded admin (transferring savings and investments into my name, informing utility and insurance companies, contacting the Land Registry about ownership of the house etc etc). This again is heart-rending task, not made any easier by the unpleasantness of some of the institutions who seem to go out of their way not to help one, and by the fact that I couldn’t contact anyone by phone because it made cry. J is a godsend.

Then we turned to the Tilley lamp which I’d found in the shed and tried to use during Storm Eunice when I was without power for 8 hours.

We had some experience of Tilley lamps from sailing holidays when we were children and I'd watched a video on YouTube and printed out some instructions. 

However, after – with great difficulty – installing a new ‘mantle’ (a sort of net that soaks up the paraffin and burns), spilling paraffin all over the kitchen, and two abortive attempts to light the darn thing, we decided that the pumping lever (which creates pressure in the paraffin well and sends the paraffin up the tube to the mantle) was caput, and gave up. Watch this space for the next instalment.

The next day, we went to the sea. We left home in wind and rain and arrived on the coast in beautiful sunshine. It was spring at last and wildflowers were starting to burgeon.

The first Alexanders, only found by the sea

The first violets

Ivy berries, one of the few things birds have to eat at this time of year

In spite of the weather, we had the beach almost to ourselves

Ellie has found something interesting under the pebbles.
(I had to alter the picture because the sea was flowing downhill and unfortunately in the process I lost my brother's top half

Celandines, glowing in the sun

That night, perhaps because that part of the coast was somewhere Frog and I had loved visiting together, and perhaps because I knew J was leaving the next day, I had one of my meltdowns.

The counsellor I’m seeing says that they’re a symptom of shock, the result of sudden traumatic loss. They make me feel as if I have nothing inside me but panic and that I’m trapped in a small black box by myself for ever and ever.

I went outside to look at the stars and J stood by.