Grief is a funny old bedfellow. I hate it. I hate the explosive unpredictability of it. But I also wallow in its now familiar depths. It is where I feel close to my father. Where I hear his voice the clearest.Continue reading “Behind Her Eyes”
I have not written a blog post for a while. I have not had the will, nor the words. And if I’m honest, I know there is enough doom and gloom around without my maudlin witterings.Continue reading “Imperfectly Perfect Humanity”
Continue reading “Mabel’s Idea of Heaven”
I started this blog as a means of sharing my mother’s story. A woman cut down in her prime by an aggressive and rapid version of dementia. I never once dreamed whilst pouring my broken heart out on to the screen, expunging my pain through the over-sharing of my experience and shock, that I would need to use it to grieve my father.
I sometimes worry about sharing so much of our family’s story. I know it is not everyone’s choice of therapy. My need to write, to expunge the fear and grief through words is a very personal thing. Continue reading ““A Bugger Of A disease” – By My Dad”
I am trying desperately to find the positive in our current situation. Having always been a bit of a dreamer – a girl with her nose in a book, carried along through life trusting in fate and goodness – I am now wracking my brain to try and decipher what positive I can take from it. Continue reading “Time To Make Time Count”
It is Day 12.
My father has had his treatment discussion with the oncologist and chemotherapy starts next Friday. To be honest, I was expecting our Virtual Meeting to be a bit hopeless. A bit, “There’s nothing we can do Mr T. Sorry about that old chum!” But it wasn’t that bad. Continue reading “Operation “Save Dad” Begins!”