Dave Myers’ hair isn’t the only tragedy of Saturday nights.
I bumped into a fellow widow in Sainsbury’s earlier (we get around, us widows) and we were discussing one of this blog’s favourite subjects – the tyranny of the weekend.
She agreed that the sagging void represented by the upcoming 48 hours was one of the worst things about finding yourself without a spouse. (That and the fact that your entire world has shrivelled to resemble melting Tupperware.)
A typical Saturday night for me is role-playing Timothy Lumsden with my Mother – but Timothy if he had a mobile phone and a drink problem. In fact, my Mother has been staying with me for a while for reasons I won’t bore you with here, so the Sorry! theme has extended throughout weeknights too.
And Mother has been observing. Clocking. Taking notes.
And she has brought it to my attention (through the medium of furrowed brows and mother-daughter telepathy) that I spend most of my evenings texting people and draining wine. While my daughter wears a groove in the laminate with her scooter.
Having thought about it, this is definitely a post-Mark’s death phenomenon. Endless messaging was not a feature of our evenings as a couple. I don’t even recall what we did in the evenings actually. Just existed, together, I suppose. Then retired to bed with our comics.
Now, I seem to rely on it. Live-streaming the outside world into my lounge has become part of my widow’s safety net. More evidence, if any were needed, of a regression to a sort of petulant grief-induced teenager-dom.
Mother has now moved back into her own house.
But I can still hear the sound of the brows knitting together through the wind…
13 thoughts on “Dave Myers’ hair as a metaphor for bereavement”
Oh the sheer awfulness ofseeing all the couples inM&S on saturdays buying Dine in for £10 but we hardly ever agreed on which one to have and one of us always wanted red wine and the other white, but im glad to say most of the other couples were having the same problem, but at least iv, e got years of wonderfull memorys you were robbed , Norma X
Norma – lovely to see you In Sainsbury’s! Keep in touch xxx
I hate Saturdays in particular as we went to the farmers market in the morning, I shopped and G watched racing/football in the afternoon and we went out at night. Now it’s crap tv and wine for one and probably too much time on fb and the internet in general. It’s rubbish, but it makes the night seem less long and me feel less alone. Well done for having your mum to stay – I’d murder mine if we had to spend too much time in close proximity as she like to fuss and hover and I can’t cope with it. Love & hugs xx
Yes exactly, it makes the night seem less long and makes you feel as if you’re in touch with the land of the living. Phew though – another weekend over Fi. Monday and the new normal resumes. XXX
clocking, taking notes,fussing hovering -all summed up in one word really-caring
That’s very true. Thanks for reminding me x
❤ (I think that's text shorthand for 'like'!) XX
Lol! You know I couldn’t do without you Mother XX
You will have seen this before but I came across it again this week and wanted to share it.
You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he’ll come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him
Or it can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what he would want:
Smile, Open your Eyes, Love and Go On
That’s was read at G’s funeral. Beautiful words, not always easy to follow them tho xx
Thanks for sharing that. I hope one day to see things from this perspective…but it is hellishly hard…as you know. XX
The weekends are the hardest for me, its when all the “normal” stuff needs to be done, but there’s only me to do it, then the lonely evenings in front of the TV with a single glass of wine. I seem to be learning some good avoidance techniques at least… changing the routine for housework, watching a film he would have hated, turning the music on instead of the news.. Doesnt quite cut the mustard but its better than the tears!
Yes, avoidance is sometimes the only way. I feel as if I spend my life avoiding thoughts of Mark or reminders of him. Actually, the only time I get to think about him is when I visit the blog. Which is nice, because I don’t have to face anyone or be anyone different – I can sit in my office with the door shut and give him the attention he deserves. X