Clocks Going Backwards

I've just seen a Marie Curie video explaining how their Nurses are going to be working through the 'extra hour' that we're going to have when the clocks go back tomorrow. Watching it, and one of their adverts that was just played on TV, it took me back to what they'd done for my mum.

They came to verify her death. They were very nice. They took off her rings and stuff, and prepared her to be taken away, then they came into the front room and sat with us. There was a lot of silence. I was in the role of brew maker, something I was almost doing on auto pilot in the later days. They sat on the couch and I can't really remember what we talked about.  One of things I was thinking then, and still do, is how it must be to witness all this death.

I thought it was unfair that they'd have to keep going through all that loss, and all the reactions of loved ones [a wide variety of emotions from deep sadness to anger, I'd imagine], but now I think it's much like a surgeon's job in some ways. Death's a part of it [obviously more so in the Marie Curie nurses' case, as their work deals with the terminally ill], and when that's 'accepted' before the event, then maybe you can focus more on the positives that are the job. For the surgeon you know you're trying to prolong life/improve quality of life, and for the Marie Curie nurses you know you're providing dignity and comfort to the dying and their close ones.

And I'm not saying that all those deaths become light like feathers and are no longer felt. I'm sure some of them are just as heavy as the first loss they ever felt. Every one is different, and I'm sure the range of responses reflect that. Actually, I don't know what I'm saying really. Just that this advert made me think. This whole changing of the clocks for most people I talk to revolves mainly around whether they get an extra hour in bed, or whether they're having one cruelly wrent from them, but for people working jobs like this, bearing it so well, it's quite amazing really.

Anyhoo... It's a couple of day left til October's over, whether sober or not. Macmillan are going to get quite a bit of money from my supporters, which is great, and I just thought I'd draw a bit of attention to another charity that did a lot for mum and the family. Maybe if they start doing kooky month-long fundraisers I'll do one of them...

Peace out x

The Wagon

Some more sadness in today's post, so maybe don't read it if you're feeling fragile. Here's the donation page anyway, though: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Martin-Palmer5

Don't worry. With regards to the title, I'm not trying to pull the same stunt as I did with 'Big News'. When I mention 'the wagon', it's not the booze wagon I've fallen from, but the blog wagon. Don't worry.

I just haven't been able to blog the last couple of days [don't cheer too loudly, please]. I've been busy [obviously...] and wanted to be present with someone special, rather than tell her to hang on for half an hour or so while I clatter away at the keyboard. There's not much else to it.

I was going to blog about mum, who is the reason I'm doing Sober for October in the first place. I had this giddy thought half way through my shift on Friday, that I'd soon be seeing her again, and I felt that swelling of the heart that you get when you're excited to tell someone something. Then, within a second, it was over, and I remembered I'd never be able to see her again. This contradiction gave me mental whiplash, and I was confused as to where the thought had come from, then annoyed that I'd tricked myself with such a beautiful dream, and then I thought, "What's the point in going over it?" I just think it's hard not having that someone around that you trusted to bounce ideas off, especially as this relationship was getting stronger the past couple of years. I hope you don't mind me just blurting all this out.

It's certainly not all been doom and gloom here, though. A visit from close family and friends through the week has, though momentarily, changed the character of this house again. The old cliche, perhaps, of 'home' over 'house'. It's not just strong female presences that make this place seem full of life again, and neither is it 'simply' a case of other people's love filling the space once more. Well, if anything can be gleaned here, it's probably that I'm the least likely person to be able to draw a meaningful conclusion from this situation, so I'll just remain happy with the facts.

Speaking of which, I was talking to someone down the pub yesterday [I was on coke, then lime and soda by the way...] about the importance of time with loved ones, and the gentle joy you find. This bloke had lost both his parents inside a ten-year period, and time hasn't made him miss them less. I was telling him that it's a shame we teach people the value of the present, the power they have to express love, to spend time and effort with/on special folk. Some people can't get it, though, until loss happens to them. With that, my friend walked off to the bar. Anecdote over.

Post over.

WORLD'S DEADLIEST BLOG POST!

I wonder what that would be like?