The thing is about grief, your brain (or at least mine does at any rate) seems to feel the need to obsess about the person who's gone. There is no logic in it at all - when mum was alive, I could go days - sometimes weeks without really thinking of her or my dad. Writing that down actually makes me feel even more guilty... many a time "Wogan" used to be waffling on (nicely like he did) on the radio and he'd say the phrase "you'll never miss your mother 'till she's beneath the clay" ... I'm paraphrasing here I suspect but the SENTIMENT is true.
Now, as we're chugging along on a beautiful day with the sun shining, birds singing and flowers blooming EVERYTHING reminds me at some level of mum and is stopping me from being in the moment... it's really brassing me off to be honest.... even things that are so tenuously related to her keep needling me to the point of being on the verge of tears... tears which are never really THAT far away at the best of times. Luckily I have a really dark pair of 'chugging' sun-glasses which hide them well so most folk are oblivious... and those that are not... well, I suppose I don't REALLY worry about them anyway.
Recently, it's been the spring flowers triggering memories - the other day we happened across a hillside absolutely carpeted with wild primroses and within seconds my brain had wandered off to childhood memories - one in particular... Where we lived, there were loads of them around and mum used to pick some, tie them up with cotton and place a tiny bouquet in an egg cup and then take them to an old lady called Jean (who was in a wheel chair and lived next door to where my nan lived) when she used to call in to "set her hair" - I'd be bored watching said hair being put into rollers with setting lotion (the smell of that is coming back to me even now) and even when she'd finished it really din't make much of a difference to her appearance ... BUT to Jean, she felt like someone had made an effort to make her look more pretty and it made her happy - therefore it made mum happy too .... as a kid, I was just very bored sitting in this woman's kitchen watching her hair being "done"... This went on for years after my nan died but it was mum's way of keeping a connection with HER mother... I understand this now.
It's not just primroses - Aubretia is another one... yesterday we chugged passed SO many gardens with canal-side walls with masses of the stuff tumbling down - Mum could never grow it... I think it needs lime-soil to prosper and ours was very clay like...just seeing it and my brain thinking "Joyce'd love that" interrupts the moment again.
I DO hope this is temporary and I can chug past something without my subconscious prodding me to point out I've not been upset for 30 seconds so it's time to remember again.
It's a similar thing when I talk with my dad on the phone. It's a necessary thing for us both but we both end up upsetting each other - with stifled sobs as we try and compose ourselves enough to make conversation about something else - ANYTHING else to convince ourselves life moves on and things are gonna be fine... the reality being that Joyce was the "common ground" between us and without her presence, we realise she was the hub so to speak.
Even in the darkness however there are some comedy moments with him - yesterday he told me he'd bought himself a chainsaw... "your mother would never let me have one and I've always wanted one" ... he then went on to say how savage it is and having "cut a chunk out of something I shouldn't' have done , I've used a hand saw" lol.
Apparently he's been helping some other oldies do some fencing - no, not sword fighting... erecting barriers in their gardens. This is the man with most of his stomach muscles missing since his operation last year - it's nearly 12 months now since he was on deaths door in a coma... he's now filling his waking hours with "jobs" to make him tired and stifle the loneliness. Loneliness he at least feels comfortable enough to be able to admit to feeling ... AND to try and do something about. NOT that folk have abandoned him... far from it... from the sounds of things, he's barely a moment to himself.
This somewhat new-found celebrity status has it's negatives too though - some of the people who are now making an effort to spend time with him out of kindness, didn't necessarily extend the same kindness towards mother when she was alive and immobile ... at a time when her world had become SO small. He's sad that some folk hadn't been able to tolerate (for want of a better word) her towards the end as it'd have meant more to HIM for her to have been happier if you follow...he's always been (and contines to be) a kind man who puts everyone one ELSE before him.
People are SO complicated.
NOT me however... I'm pretty much WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get) - wear my heart on my sleeve.
ANYWAY - enough of that until the next time it erupts....
WHAT'S been going on then? - well, we said goodbye to our first couple, did a mass wash and clean and then new guests joined us on Monday lunchtime in Marple.
We'd just sneaked in on the end of the 2 day moorings that those 3 boats seem to be living on - STILL cross about that - not at crt but them... they KNOW they are taking a liberty and spoiling things for visiting boaters who then have to try find somewhere else to tie up - perhaps further out of town... perhaps far enough out NOT to walk back in and spend any money there... grrr...
Their arrival was fortuitous as I'd been "stuck" with a chatty man who wasn't taking the hint to bugger off so when then trolled up on the towpath, I could brush him a side and get us moving.
You'll remember the Closure of Bosley locks had been looming over us so we raced - (as fast as you can at 2-3 miles an hour) in that direction as soon as they stepped on board.
Having stopped at Bollington Wharf to fill with diesel and have a pump out, we chugged on to about half an hour away from the locks before stopping for the night. Not too bad a spot but as usual of late, the Geese decided it was time for us to get up before it was light... I really hate geese these days.
At the top of Bosley we filled with water (2 other boats were queuing at the water point so we nipped into the pump-out arm.
THIS meant that accidentally, we queue jumped and ended up going down the locks ahead of a boat that would otherwise have been in front... ahem... Guilt pricked away at our conscience and our crew then helped them follow us down so as to re-balance the Karma.