Oh you know the part. With the crying and the wailing. And the floor. Ah yes the floor. It seems to become my friend at moments in need. Rushing up to greet me with open arms. Loving, warm, and MAY I add, bloody hard.
I am starting to think there is a real market for a floor made of cushions. Oh, no wait, I believe that is called a sofa...............
I have been fine all weekend. I have even enjoyed the freedom of driving to see whom I choose when I choose. THAT has been bloody marvellous! In fact I would go so far as to say, I had a lovely weekend. (Divorce, blah blah, freedom yedeyah) In fact, at some points, it was a HOOT! SO why, the floor? Well. When I got home I got this notion into my head to continue packing. (9 days and then I am in Scotland with Lovely one. C A N N O T wait). I pull out a box from yet another storage space, and it’s my Childhood box. I'm rummaging through it, and I come across a birthday card from Mum and Dad.
Suddenly, before I even get a warning tremor, my breath ceases in my chest, and that feeling, I am starting to know a little too intimately sweeps over me like a force 9 gale.
To our darling daughter, Happy Birthday, Love Mum and Dad.
Oh holy crap buckets from hell. It slammed into me that next year, it will only be from Mum. That Christmas will only be from Mum. Forever. Always. End of the road Jack. And the reality of the situation sends my poor weaken knees sagging and me crashing to the floor in a chest heaving, in humane sounds wreck once again. By this point breathing is hard, and I don't know what to do with my hands. THEN even more strange I am laughing, although it sounds strangled, and then crying, and gasping, and.......... Well I think you all get the wonderful picture.
I texted a friend of mine, because I was desperate to talk to someone who knew. Who understood. And it’s not fair to have a pop, because she was probably busy. But she didn't text back. She lost a very very dear friend to cancer so has an inkling. I can't load this onto my GF because, well I won't. I don't want to drag her into the horrors, and with BOTH of us having Aspergers, well, I just want to keep her out of it. I'm worried that my head will explode and nothing kills romance faster than being splattered with brain matter. PLUS I also want to keep her out of it, so that when the dust settles, I go home to an untainted, life. Something that isn't entangled in the now. It’s very precious to me this new future I am carving out for myself, and I guess, well. I guess I want to protect her from it. Shield her from it. Is this a terrible thing? I don't know. But in my head, it makes sense. PLUS she doesn't know my Dad at all, and will not, (sadly) have enough time to get to know him properly.
Ex Hub on the other hand, has expressed a wish to be there, and he has know my Dad for 7 years. I've asked my closest friend to stand with me on the day. Because it would be weird for the ex to do that. Because, well it would be.
Today was even weirder as well, because of the 'outing' of myself to my 85 year old Grandma, who brazenly said, Oh I knew about that ages ago and I can't say I'm surprised.......... To say my jaw hit the floor and skittered around for a while was to put it mildly.
Am I digressing? Oh wildly I imagine. Again par for the course it appears here. I am bone tired again. Mother Nature is visiting.... (Yes thank you for your IMMACULATE timing as usual) and I have to get up and work tomorrow. And to be fair, I think I will enjoy the distraction.
Out of all of this, the one person I am worried about is my Mum. The MacMillan Nurse comes to visit tomorrow, the one that Dad has been assigned. And I have told Mum that they are there for her too. For all of us. I don't know what more I can do for her. She looks and sounds world weary. The slightest thing she does wrong sends her further downwards, no matter how small it is. In example, I take sugar in my tea. Only one. But when I said, 'Ooo could I put some sugar in' the fact that she had forgotten, I thought she was going to cry.
Now. Here is where I am EPICALLY shit on a major level. And you will probably wonder how my GF and I manage to function, (we do function together extremely well, because we are similar in this respect......neither of us being the cryey tactile PDA kinda girl) but I am RUBBISH with crying women. Absolutely hopeless. I don't know what to do. or say?!?!?!? And everyone is different. I need to be left alone. To get on with it. Unless I am proper broken and then a hug is fine. But I mean, like, soul destroying proper broken. If I am wound up or angry, Oooooo don't touch me. I get all skin crawly and punchy.
Mum it seems needs hugs. And lots of them. A LOT of them. And the thing is I am not a shockingly tactile person. I can stand so much. and then I feel uncomfortable. (I have even once or twice had to extrapolate myself from children's hugs) I can tolerate small touches for longer periods. Holding hands or arms touching. Feet shoved under thighs etc. But full on hugging for long periods of time sees my body tensing and my shoulders gravitating towards my ears. Weirdly, Mum is the only one who can hug me THROUGH this phase to the other side where my shoulders then make their journey back downwards, and my Body relaxes. (I don't know if it’s just because she's stubborn and just holds on through it or because its a 'Mum' thing....)
I fail though; it appears to be able to do the same for her. I don't feel that what I give is enough. I feel like I fail. And I feel like a dud. I want SO desperately to help her, to heal her. To take the pain away so so so so much that its killing me more I think to watch her going through this and knowing that I am about as much help as a male stripper gram at a lesbian coming out party.
John said to me, is it worse to be the patient, or the carer. I also think there is another role here.
Is it worse to be the patient, the carer, or the daughter, watching the whole thing play out..........
In all honesty I don't know. But I am already tired of the roller coaster, and it’s only just begun...............
I will say this though. If one more person says to me, 'I know what you're going through.' And they then liken it to a FRIGGING cat dying of cancer. I will punch them........ Because CLEARLY its EXACTLY the same.
*mutters something unspeakable under breath and throws self on floor again*
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