And so we begin a new age, one in which Kay is merely a memory, a presence in my head. An age in which we can't hug her or hear her or see her or feel her warmth or join in her laughter. A worse age. One that has a hole in it. One in which we reference Kay in the past tense. One that exists in the shadow of a finer age when we were a complete family, when strangers didn't start off a conversation by saying "my condolances".
But I don't suppose that we're doing so badly for day one on our own, although the atmosphere in the house is somber, depressed and emptier than it should be. I have been to the office for a few hours and discovered that I can still think, even if slowly and ponderously. Marion has been busy round the house and is functioning, to an extent. There's enough going on at the office for my interest to be peaked even through the thick cloud of grief and misery that is wrapped round my soul and mind.
Lauren has been doing whatever it is that teenage girls do in their bedroom all day. "Tidying up" is what she calls it, but there's no noticable difference in the quality of the fetid squalor that she inhabits. We have provisionally agreed that I'll take Lauren back to school on Sunday, which seems to be Ok with her.
Nattie is her usual cheerful and busy self. The only thing that I noticed this morning when I stuck my head in her bedroom was that she was playing the Jan Smit song, "Leef" that was a favourite of Kay. "Silent waters run deep" with Natasha, so we'll have to keep an eye on her. However, on Saturday at the end, she cried her heart out to the extent that I had to carry her from the crematorium. I see this as healthy and an indication that possibly of all of us Natasha is most clearly walking a path that will lead her out of all this grief and pain.
The weekend has provided me with an echo of strength and peace, a pointer towards a place where I might yet find the feelings themselves. So much love and support around us. A feeling that we have done our best for Kay right until the last moment of her physical presence on this Earth.
And yet, I miss her so, so very much.
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I was wondering this morning if you would keep updating your blog, and I'm so glad to see you are. If almost feel like we've abandoned you by leaving yesterday. Shame we don't live closer, I would find comfort in being able to visit more often and be near you when you need us. We'll be back though sooner rather than later. Thinking of you all day today, found it really hard to get back into a work mode and since I didn't have any 'formal' engagements today, I just hung around and found myself busy around the house. trying to find comfort in familiar activities of domestic life...boring really, but it helps to be busy. Anyway, I send you all my love and positive vibes. I'm sure with time we will find that the rest of your life holds many unexpected happy moments, but I know that for now it is difficult to imagine this is possible. Let's try and get together soon. James and I had the idea of taking you to a Michelin star restaurant in Brussels, not one that serves jelly cubes on toast!!! Lots of love. Isabelle
ReplyDeleteDear Rob
ReplyDeleteToday has been surreal here - back to the routine of making beds, making toast and making the school run with seconds to spare, and all the time it doesn't feel right somehow. Mum feels it too. We know the world has changed and yet the vast majority of people seem not to have noticed.
Watching you and your beautiful girls holding each other over the last few days, laughing and crying together, has changed us. You showed us all so clearly the strength we draw from, and can give to, those we love.
The amazing feeling of solidarity over the weekend changed us too. I defy anyone who was there to contradict me. We were all there in support of a truly outstanding family who were staring such desolation in the face and finding a way through it together.
I don't want to contradict Alison's view, but in our minds, you and Marion, Lauren and Natasha are the true heroes in this nightmare. In the midst of such dreadful pain you managed to pull together the most poignant,uplifting and moving send off I know I will ever witness. Kay may not have been amused by our tears but I am sure she will have loved seeing you all so unified.
So our daily routines will happen again tomorrow and you will face the second day of the rest of your lives - together.
Please know you will all be continuously in Mum's thoughts and mine as we plod on, only now we will do this safe in the the knowledge that there is incredible love, strength and hope in this world of ours.
All our love
Lynne and Auntie Jacky
xx
Like Isabelle, I too wondered if you would update your blog. I will miss the daily contact with you if and when you do decide to end it. The thing that has struck me and kept me reading is the way you convey what has been and is happening daily whilst letting us into your head. I never knew you could write so thoughtfully.
ReplyDeleteWe said our goodyes to Kay by sending a chinese lantern into the night sky. It was a beautiful sight, one I will never forget.
Thinking of you all.
Lesley x
Beste Rob,
ReplyDeleteDe afgelopen dagen heb ik steeds je blogs gelezen. Eerst kreeg ik altijd de berichten via Marion per mail. En ik zat er ook steeds weer op te wachten. Zo intens werden we meegenomen in het ziekteproces van Kay, dat het leek alsof we het zelf stees beleefden. En nu weer. Sinds de het overlijden van Kay kan ik aan niets anders meer denken en ben ik regelmatig intens verdrietig om het verlies van dit prachtige meisje, dat wij hebben leren kennen als een echte optimist met een winnaars mentaliteit. Zelden kom je in het leven mensen tegen die je zo raken. Maar Kay was een van die mensen die mij diep in het hart heeft geraakt. Vanaf het allereerste moment dat ik haar heb leren kennen. En hoewel ik heel gelukkig ben met mijn eigen drie kinderen, voel ik nu echt een leegte in mij en kan ik het nog steeds niet geloven dat ze er niet meer is. De ceremonie was in een woord geweldig! Het had niet beter en mooier gekund. Ik heb de tranen uit mijn ogen gehuild, zo emotioneel, zo prachtig. Ieder woord, ieder liedje en m.n. jullie prachtige woorden over jullie dochter konden niet beter verwoord worden. Het vliegtuig, de ballonnen. Tja, wat moet ik verder nog zeggen. In het treurigst van de situatie, was de sfeer helemaal mooi en sereen en heeft Kay het afscheid gekregen dat ze verdiende. Maar het was gewoon veel te vroeg.....
Ik wens jullie allen zoveel sterkte toe om dit een plekje te geven en hoop dat jullie de rust vinden om Kay verlies te kunnen dragen. Het moet het meest erge zijn want een mens kan overkomen, daar ben ik van overtuigd. Sterkte en veel liefde voor Marion, Nattie en Lauren
You have been in mind most of the day as you face the reality of family life without Kay. I am so glad that you are surrounded by so many wonderful friends to help you through such a difficult times, only wish we could be nearer to offer the support and love too.
ReplyDeleteSharon x
Isabelle has just encapsulated almost everything I have felt today*. What a strange day - getting back to 'normal' - even here in Poynton. Work went on and I was busy - catching up on so much - but detached from it, wanting to pick up the phone to you, wanting to tell people that Saturday was beautiful.
ReplyDeleteChris called in for dinner and sends his love to all of you - he and Lorna have been following the blog, for months now.
I have no doubt that everyone who followed the blog for so long is sending positive vibes through the ether, sending love and support and thinking of you all each day, hoping you build strength from the knowledge that although we have gone home, we are still with you all the time.
You are amazing.
With love
Linda and Em xx
* (apart from taking you to a Michelin restaurant - sorry!).