Hurtful words are often said between 2 people who love each other. Cutting words that can make you want to lash out back with something worse.  When you are feeling low and sad, sensitive and vulnerable those words can feel like decapitation of a limb…

Today, I just wanted to curl up in my bed and sob for everything… But the sun crept through the curtains and made the dust dance … And I heard the laughter of the boys downstairs…

Sometimes it is easier to keep the cloak of bitterness, anger, sadness around you… It feels safe. It is harder to shrug it off and be the bigger person. It is far easier to stay wrapped up in bearing a grudge than flinging it off in forgiveness… I have battled the art of forgiving.  What I have learnt is to forgive, not for others, but for yourself and free yourself of the hurt and anger eating at your soul rather than for them… I have learnt to have faith in forgiveness.
The de-robing process – everyone has one. The trick is to work out what suits you.  And it could be a different process for different times.  I remember in the week that Mum was dying, I couldn’t run.  I didn’t have the energy… so I performed a slow, steady pilates routine and focused on my breathing.  Some mornings, I couldn’t even do that… so I lay on the rug in the conservatory and looked up at the sky and watched the birds and the clouds… marveled at the view across the fields.   Let my mind wander as it does when I run… let it be still if it can.  Some people refer to it as meditation… I prefer mindfulness… just being.  And it works for me.

 

There are lovely phrases I see often on cards, ceramic hearts, posters and pictures that have helped me see the ‘silver lining’… and remind me always to look for the positives in every situation… Taught me how I can weather an unsettling time by refocusing on something small to give me hope. ‘When it is dark, look for the stars..’.. ‘When it rains look for rainbows…’  ‘when you fall flat on your face, roll over and look at the beautiful sky’..

 

It takes practice… and in the moments that I haven’t been able to find the silver, I have learnt to plant my feet firmly, hold on to whatever I can, whatever stabilises me… And I hold tight, focus on my breathing, steadying my heart by saying to myself that storms don’t last a lifetime… Weather the storm, ride it out.

 

I will welcome the calm grey skies… And after the grey calm, I have trust there has to be sunshine.  Sunshine, sunlight, warmth and peace …
There has to be. I have faith and I am holding on. Tight.

 

 

I wrote that on my run this morning… a glorious sunny fresh morning. I wrote that just after skidding on the ice.  My run helped begin to de-robe me of sadness… de-robe me of anger and frustration and helped me get through the day.

 

Sometimes you have to ‘fake it’ until you ‘feel it’… Even if you don’t feel like the cloak has really altogether left your back, you can choose to act that it has… and by choosing to act in that way, the feeling that it is true often follow.

 

Today, this practice, helped me see the funny side of driving 90 mile round trip to an amusement park that doesn’t open until March..  In the Big Man’s defense, it was a confusing online booking system ‘book today’…

 

Today, it helped me see the funny side to the fact that we dashed back to get to the pool for the crazy fun swim so that the boys had some way of letting off steam… only to arrive as everyone was leaving the pool.  Lesson learnt – don’t trust your 8 year old son to be able to read a timetable…

 

Today, it helped me keep calm, it helped choose to respond in a good, polite, calm happy way, rather than react in a bad, selfish, angry, hurtful, sad way.
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was worried at the beginning of half term.  Possibly more than worried… panicked maybe!  This was the first half term I had nothing planned… or at least all the plans I did have in place were quashed.  With Mum heading to her snowy heaven and Tom breaking his leg, our skiing plans were put to an abrupt end.

 

Our lovely Superman-lookalike Orthopaedic Consultant also put an end to any football, rugby, cricket .. basically any sports camps…

 

We looked in to heading off for some last minute sun… Dubai?  Tenerife?  And for a very excitable 10 minutes, heading to South Africa to have 5 days with Aunty Brownwings..  But the ridiculous half term prices were just a bit out of our league…

 

With the Big Man on a week holiday… 3 boys to entertain, exercise and feed, even the thought of it made a few more grey hairs spring up!  I like routine, especially when at home… boys in to camp, instead of school; on holiday, boys in to clubs or ski school, sailing school… James at work and the house quiet for me, my chores, my business planning..

 

But as I sit here, at the end of hump day… I realise how selfish I have been and I am glad of the break from the norm, the disruption of plans to show me that.  How selfish am I to have not let the boys chill… relax, have some free time to themselves? Time to do nothing? ..  Have some family time during the week and not just at the weekend…?

 

Day trips to Dalby Forest and to York have been fun and I have loved hearing the boys’ constant chatter… And breaking the rules today… popcorn and Tango for lunch at the cinema, midweek tea time in front of the tv… Wii and ipad on rotation…   And the result… the boys haven’t grown horns or turned ugly (little boys anyway!).  In fact, quite the opposite..They are more cuddly than normal, holding my hand, giving me kisses… polite and almost tantrum and rude free!

 

Don’t get me wrong… they will still be back in camps and clubs next holiday… but it hasn’t been as scary as I thought!

 

It is going to be a beautiful sunny, cold day in Yorkshire tomorrow… time to open the guide book and look for the adventure!
  

What do you do in the school holidays when there is no sport allowed? With York steeped in chocolate heritage, go on a chocolate tour of course!

 

A few of facts that made me love chocolate even more…(if that were possible).

 

The history of chocolate in York began with 2 families the Tukes and the Rowntrees, both followed the Quaker faith.  According to our very knowledgeable guide, Ben, part of the practice of the Quakers was a high prioritisation on social responsibility.  They saw the benefit of the cocoa trade not only for themselves as a family but for the community of York and how many people they could help with purpose, with jobs.  They were also innovative in their employment – offering paid holiday and other benefits.

 

I like that.  How many people start a company to help the community first?

 

After we had eaten our way through the history of chocolate – from the ‘chocolat eau’ which was seen as an elixir for life by tribal communities where the cocoa grew and was fiercely protected… to the delicious hand made chocolates fashioned by our chocolatier… and even to our own personal creations of chocolate lollipops covered in sprinkles of our liking – we got to wander freely around the small museum.  And I read my second fact.. Chocolate makes you happy… and brainy!  Fact… according to a report published by the Sunday Times.  And furthermore, chocolate is also a superfruit!

 

I concur – eating chocolate all afternoon made me (and the 2 boys) very happy…

 

I am big on superfruits…  so here’s to chocolate covered blueberries…

 

And apparently, I need to get ‘proper job’… so I better get these grey cells back in gear….  Chocolate for breakfast, lunch and tea is ok by me!
  
 

 

Twice today I have been jolted back in to reality and out of my head.  Twice, ice has brought me back in to living in the moment….

 

The first time, I had just come back from a pummelling… my back, neck and shoulders stiff with emotion, tension and time spent sitting in cars and in awkward positions to hold Mum’s hand as long as possible.. As I got out of the car and was crossing the yard, I was in my own little world… and comedy cartoon moment as my feet flew from underneath me and suddenly, I lay, supine, staring at the blue blue sky… As I had been cursing my stiff, weak body, frustrated at the lack of exercise I have been able to do recently… I slipped on black, sheet ice in the yard and I lay breathless, winded, mentally checking my legs, back, arms, head and giving thanks that I was in tact… and back in the moment, I realised that it was a beautiful day to get out and about with my family in the fresh air.

 

The second time, I was filling a cup full of icy water for Tom to have with his supper.  He was asking me a question about something, or telling me a story – again, I was in my old little world, slightly annoyed about Willy storming off in a grumpy mood…  Suddenly the cup literally jumped out of my hand, bounced on the floor, shocking both Tom and I with spray from freezing water.  We gasped and laughed at the ice cubes scuttling across the floor… Our socks went on the aga and the floor got an extra mop… and I turned my attention to Tom who had been telling me about the comic strips he had been doing at school, he wanted me to print a blank one for him to fill in.  The cup of icy water, bringing me back to the important stuff, the present moment and my beautiful, bright, cheerful son…

 

I realise that I have changed.  A few years ago, the icy incidents would have darkened my moods further.

 

Now, I see them as trivial upsets and a blessing, the universe shaking me back into seeing the good, taking me away from the dark side, to see the light in every moment.

 

It was a beautiful day chasing the snow… and found it in the North Yorkshire Moors…
  

   

 
 

 

 

It snowed in Yorkshire today..  Not for long, but it did!

 

And it reminded me of the poem that we chose for Mum’s funeral, to which I like to refer to, to read, take comfort in and think of her.  I realise that I can dwell on the feeling that we were robbed of her far too early by Alzheimer’s and then again more recently in body or I can take a more spiritual view.

 

“Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there.  I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there; I did not die.

 

Mum loved the snow, having grown up in Switzerland. And I remember when we designed my wedding dress, we chose a duchess satin, covered it in organza silk and then we threw thousands and thousands of tiny crystals all over … to recreate the look of the sunlight dancing on fresh snow, ‘the diamond glints in snow’.

 

Without fail, every year Mum would send me a Valentine’s card… so I believe the 30 second snow flurry this morning and the blue skies that followed was my Mum telling me she loved me and always will.  Love you back Mumbo. x

 

 

 

I was snoozing nicely, in that lovely place where you kind of hear what’s going on, but you are blissfully somewhere else… somewhere in the real world, I heard a good tune come on the car radio… James singing along (badly)…   the boys yelling at him to ‘shut up, Daddy!’…. and then my nap was over… Willy yelling ‘Mummy… I’m hungry!’… and I got an excited tap on my legs and the question..

 

‘So… what shall we plan for?  What are you excited for?…’

 

The Big Man… I read books about visualisation, the power of imagination, goal setting and belief that anything is possible, if you want it bad enough.  He just has it ingrained into him.  Part of his DNA.  He is always 10 years ahead of me… he knows what house, what car, what holiday…

 

He says he always ‘wants more’… and sometimes his ambition frightens me… wrong word… has me in awe….  He totally believes he will always get what he puts his mind to.

 

I remember an old friend talking fondly of James… “he always lands on his feet.. he is the kind of bloke in a full car park, pulls in just as someone is leaving…”  It’s true.. whereas some people think it’s luck, the Big Man just has strong belief that nothing else but the best is possible.

 

When I worry about his ‘wanting more’… he always puts me at rest.  “I know I am the luckiest man alive, Ali… I don’t need to write my gratitudes every day… I know it!  I have a gorgeous family, wonderful wife and sons… I love coming back to our home.. and on a gorgeous day, I have a pick of cars to take for a spin or put on my trainers and go for a beautiful run right outside my backdoor.”

 

He seems to have worked out the balance of being grateful for what you have, happy, content but at the same time looking forward to the next adventure, dreaming about the next thing.

 

I think I think too much about getting it right…. I worry about being greedy, ungrateful.  He just says he wants the best for us…  there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

So for the last hour of the journey we daydream about our family future…

 

For me, with Mum’s funeral yesterday, I am all about making memories, as a family, as a couple… enjoying life, capturing the fun.  And James, he is building our dream house is his mind…

 

We may have to wait a little while… but I know it will be worth it…

 

Which is what I said to Tom when he said he wished for a Ferrari once and still hadn’t had it…

“Do what your Daddy does… make the wish by holding the image of it in your mind and believe it will come true.  Once you have it, keep it by being grateful for it.”
  

“225,000 people will develop dementia this year alone and that number is only going to rise. So the question we have to ask ourselves is ‘do you give enough of yourself everyday to those you love to give them the strength, patience and love to care for you through the bad years’. Mum obviously did for Dad.”
It was a poignant question that Bambi asked during our tribute to Mum today….and one I will vow to remind myself of daily. 
Mum showed us to love. To love unconditionally…. Consistently…. Unfailingly… 
The evidence was present today. We were overwhelmed with the number of people who came to show their respects and share memories of a lively, feisty, beautiful, elegant lady… 
The evidence has been in the piles of heartfelt letters and cards and the steady stream of emails.
The evidence was visible as we stood solid as the remaining family and next generation in honour and for the love of a wonderful Mum, Granny and wife.
 (Well almost… Spot the 4th grandchild – just as stubborn as his granny – won’t do as he is told!)

  

Dear Universe, dear Genie in the lamp who says ‘your wish is my command’… this is what I wish for right now.

 

I wish for a little bit of boring… a little bit of normality…

I would like calm, no upsets… no deaths, no broken bones, no emotional outbursts, no nastiness.

I wish for weekday routine… a simple, single school run, with fun tunes on the radio, my boys happy, munching apples.

I wish for weekend routine with football, rugby, lie ins, car washing and Friday night in the pub, Saturday night out and Sunday family cinema.

I wish for a simple life, James happy in a steady job, no dramas, no long commute, no staying away.

I wish for simple, silly, family holidays… walks on the beach or gentle skiing, sandcastles or snowballs… the sun.  Just the sun and the warmth.  I don’t care where.

 

Just for 6 months… or even a few months.

And then maybe the adventures can begin again.. for the Big Man anyway…

 

But right now… for me.. just some calm, some certainty…. Some boring.

 

That is all.

Thank you.

 

 

I think I must be in the angry phase of grief.

 

When I am not being distracted with daily tasks or chores, chatting with the boys or friends… I am am an angry person.  I can feel it in my face.  I can feel the little thunder cloud over my head, hovering…. ready to bang, clap and pound down the rain.

 

I am not angry at Mum, or the Alzheimer’s… but I am angry… Not entirely sure what for or at.  But trivial, little things have made me angry today…

 

James’s phone pinging at 6am and waking me up… why wasn’t it on silent or nighttime mode?  I lay there stewing…

 

Ringing HMRC and having to say multiple times my NI number before the computer on the end of the line gets it… and then being cut off by them after 40 minutes of waiting!  It happened three times… and I nearly bit James’ head off when he pressed the hang up button as he walked in to the kitchen!  Why the F did he do that?!  Fuming.

 

A total idiot pulled out in front of me in the petrol station – he wasn’t looking as he pulled out on to the main road, too busy tapping on something on the dashboard….  I peeped my horn, shouted and gesticulated… I hardly ever do that.  I am usually a pretty gracious driver and laugh at James when he is angry car man.  I gesticulated!

 

Tom threw his yoyo at me while I was driving and it landed in my footwell under the break pedal.  Oh my goodness…. I yelled.  Shock probably, but also because I was so conscious of how lucky we were and that I didn’t have to break suddenly.  I probably overreacted… failed to speak calmly to him.  Threw the yoyo in the bin.  Sent him to his room…. For me to calm down mainly.  Steam spurting out of my ears and nose…  I could have even been stamping my foot…

 

I feel like I have been stomping around the house.  I certainly got out of bed the wrong side.  The cloud is lingering… threatening to break.

 

I am really struggling with my usual techniques to combat negativity.  I am trying to focus on the positives;  the early wake up meant I got to do my pilates before the boys got up in peace;  I got a lovely girl on the end of the phone at HMRC who has seemingly and actually made some progress; the petrol station idiot made me slow down and be more aware of my surroundings;  yoyo-gate… well at least Tom is packed to go to Grandad’s tomorrow and he has drawn a beautiful card for Granny with the most lovely note inside for her.

 

Focussing on the positives is all well and good.  But all I still really want to do is punch someone.

 

Perhaps it’s a good thing the Big Man has decided to go to the gym and go out with a mate for a beer rather than have supper with me.

   

 

 

Why does a stew always taste better the day after?

 

   

 

Last night, I cooked a chicken and butternut, warming, wintry stew.  It looked like a lovely recipe and perfect for a chilly February night.   Last night, it was tasty, but quite watery.  It didn’t have much depth of flavour, character… it wasn’t very satisfying.

 

But letting it sit today and rest…. And then putting it back in the aga for another few hours, it is thicker, richer, velvety… I can hear Mum saying the word ‘onctueuse’… (literal translation, smooth.. but I always think of it a more creamy, silky smooth).

 

I’d been avoiding sitting down and writing Mum’s eulogy.  Bambi had sent me her draft but I couldn’t read it.  I wanted to gather my thoughts first… and get them down on paper and then merge the two.  I wanted to do it yesterday, but it was raining and I had always imagined that I would write it in the glorious warmth and light of our beautiful kitchen, next to the daffodils on the kitchen table.

 

A friend advised that when her Dad died in similar circumstances, she found running without music helped her.  So I tried it… It didn’t work… but the running did and so did the music… I don’t really hear the words, but subliminally it triggers emotions and feelings for me and my thoughts and memories flooded through the recesses of my mind…

 

I let the music continue to drown out the usual daily kitchen noise (dishwasher, washing machine, dog barking… the Big Man…), opened my beloved Mac Book Pro next to the sunflowers and started to let the words flow across the page.

 

Then just like a stew, I walked away…  Let it simmer.

 

Just like a stew, I went back and tested it, tasted it…

 

Just like a stew, I added a sprinkle of this and that… mixed it up a bit (with my sister’s – interestingly, same ingredients, just added in a different way….)

 

Then just like a good stew, I am going to walk away and I am putting the lid on and leaving it to rest overnight.

 

Just like a good stew, I am going to take off the lid and reduce it, thicken it.  With Bambi beside me, both armed with our tools of choice, we will make it ‘onctueuse’.