Oh Kay, I can't sleep. My heart is hammering against my chest, trying to get out, get away from the pain of missing you. I still can't believe that you're gone, every time that I think it I get a shock of fear that it might be true, can't be true. Oh Kay, I miss you so impossibly much, my darling. As each day goes by I learn more about how special you are, about the core role you played in our family, in my life. I have no idea how I'm ever going to get past the hole that you have left.
People say we're doing well, coping. But it doesn't seem like it to me. I feel just as bad as I have done for the last weeks. I'm still struggling to find memories of you, my photos are the only sure ones and they fill me full of pain, of longing, of disbelief. You were just there, a year ago. How can you not be here now?
Oh Kay, My KayKay. Mama misses your help, your thoughtfulness, your willingness to help, always helping. Mama feels more alone because no one helps her anymore like you did.
Kay... I love you so frightenly much. I'm scared without you. What will happen to us? How can I sleep? How can I rest?
Oh Kay, I hear you saying "My Daddy". I'm your Daddy forever, My Kay.
Can you help me sleep? Can you lead me through this darkness?
Oh Kay. Why, My Kay?
Monday, 18 October 2010
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Another Beautiful Sunset
Again, this is why we're here, reminding ourselves that there are many beautiful things in this world:
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| Sunset over La Ciotat |
Big Brother
Beautiful weather here today. A little colder in the shade (18C) but we're sitting in the sun in shorts and tee-shirts. Bit windy though.
For those of you who are concerned that I'm going to blow an artery, here's the results of today's bike ride. I'm being careful, I didn't cycle back up to the house since that's got some sections going above 12%. I generally don't do that unless I'm feeling pretty fit and don't need to lug 5kg of extra fat up with me.
Again, cycling in bright sunshine and a cool, fresh wind is unbelievably therapeutic. The depression receeds a little, the imponderables seem less important, I feel calmer and more peaceful. And most important of all I feel closer to Kay.
I got the (vague) feeling today that she's a little annoyed or impatient with me for being so miserable. I don't think Kay was ever miserable for longer than five minutes before she was off doing the next thing.
Just so as you know, this blog and your support and responses are such a huge source of comfort. When I post a new blog entry I'm constantly refreshing the dashboard to see if there are any comments. The wonders of the modern internet world.
For those of you who are concerned that I'm going to blow an artery, here's the results of today's bike ride. I'm being careful, I didn't cycle back up to the house since that's got some sections going above 12%. I generally don't do that unless I'm feeling pretty fit and don't need to lug 5kg of extra fat up with me.
Again, cycling in bright sunshine and a cool, fresh wind is unbelievably therapeutic. The depression receeds a little, the imponderables seem less important, I feel calmer and more peaceful. And most important of all I feel closer to Kay.
I got the (vague) feeling today that she's a little annoyed or impatient with me for being so miserable. I don't think Kay was ever miserable for longer than five minutes before she was off doing the next thing.
Just so as you know, this blog and your support and responses are such a huge source of comfort. When I post a new blog entry I'm constantly refreshing the dashboard to see if there are any comments. The wonders of the modern internet world.
Friday, 15 October 2010
Jan Modaal
We have some friends whom we have known for a long time who lead very normal lives. They live in a semi, they have two children, boy & girl. He has a fulltime job, she has a part time job. Their children have grown up seemingly without a ripple. To my eye they have led peaceful and enjoyable lives and have produced two exemplary children. Jan Modaal & family (John Average), if you wish.
I have long admired their world and have said many times to Marion that I wished I could have lived my life in the same way. Contrast with our lives, the highs and lows: divorce, selling our businesses, remarriage, leukemia I, building a new business, leukemia II, death of a child, to name but a few things. Marion just laughed at me everytime I said that I wish I could have lived a quieter life as the neighbour of Jan Modaal: three kids, huisje, boompje, beestje and camping holidays in the summer. She said that it would be like a lion trying to live like a bunny. Ha, we laughed, ridiculous!
But maybe not so ridiculous. I might have said this before, but for many years Marion & I have felt that "the light at the end of the tunnel is actually the next train coming". Everytime we got through one problem, everytime we thought that we'd reached the end of a tunnel another problem would hit us squarely between the eyes (sorry, mixing my metaphores again). The last 15 years or so seem to have been nothing but one long battle with a series of non-trival problems. Indeed, one can argue that some problems have been of our own making. But equally I think that what we have experienced in general puts us so far away from the mean, so far out on the edge of the bell curve, that I'm often left wondering if there's not some meaning in it.
Well, I guess that there are two points of view. The agnostic statisticians amongst you will no doubt be arguing that someone has to be at the extreme end of the bell curve, otherwise it would have no meaning. They would say that the fact that it happens to be me/us living there is merely bad luck, not least because statistics don't apply to individuals.
I would say that that sounds like a very rational explanation. But then I'd argue about just how damned wide this bell curve is and at what point can one conclude that one's experience is so many standard deviations removed from Jan Modaal that one actually lies outside the bell curve and in Job territory. Certainly that's how this all feels to me.
We lie in bed at night and we ask ourselves, why us? What did we do to deserve to lose Kay? What have we done wrong? Where in our lives could we have made a different decision that would have led to Kay being with us now? Why did Kay's leukemia come back when it's practically unheard of for a relapse to happen after so many years? Is there perhaps something wrong with where we live? Xenon gas, heavy metals in the ground? If we'd moved somewhere else when Kay was born would things have gone differently? Etc, bloody etc.
(I just post-added the point about Kay's leukemia relapse, I'd forgotten that one incredible piece of injustice until I reread this text. If you want to know just how far away from the bell curve we are, consider that one fact. Then factor it in to everything else and I don't see how one can possibly avoid the conclusion that we're being dumped on).
But then actually these questions can be broadened: why have we spent so many years facing so many problems? Why have we been consistently tested, time after time? Why have we had to pay the ultimate price? Should we have lain down somewhere along the way and played dead to fate? Stuck our paws in the air and let life roll over us? Should the lion have read the message in the wind and taken up living like a bunny?
There are matters of belief and deity wrapped up in all this but what concerns me here is how to approach the future? What can be concluded from the last 15 years? What should I do differently in the future? How can I try to ensure that we have seen the last of tunnels and trains?
One thing is for sure. Marion & I have reached some kind of upper limit on the amount of negative stuff that we can take. The idea that I'm fated in some way to continue living such an extremely unfortunate life is more than I can possibly take. (And before anyone starts pointing out that the word "unfortunate" hardly applies to someone sitting in his second house in the south of France, let me point out to you in the STRONGEST possible terms that I would swap EVERYTHING to live as Jan Modaal with Marion, Kay, Nattie & Lauren).
Of course, as usual, no answers are to be found anywhere. And this scares me stupid, because we're going to continue blundering along without having learnt anything really important from our lives. How can we know if we've made a mistake? How can we learn if we don't know? How can we avoid repeating the mistake?
I've not really heard Kay clearly in my mind for a while. It's worrying me, has she gone from me? Will I not hear her again? I assume that I'm too deeply buried in grief for her to reach me clearly. But the last time that she 'spoke' to me she told me that Marion & I should rest and that she would look after us. I hope that this means that she will smooth out the future for us, that the price that we have paid by losing her means that no more will we have to battle with tunnels and trains.
Kay, if you're listening, I could really do with hearing from you right now. I'm not really resting my darling and I could do with hearing you in my head, if not feeling you in my arms.
I have long admired their world and have said many times to Marion that I wished I could have lived my life in the same way. Contrast with our lives, the highs and lows: divorce, selling our businesses, remarriage, leukemia I, building a new business, leukemia II, death of a child, to name but a few things. Marion just laughed at me everytime I said that I wish I could have lived a quieter life as the neighbour of Jan Modaal: three kids, huisje, boompje, beestje and camping holidays in the summer. She said that it would be like a lion trying to live like a bunny. Ha, we laughed, ridiculous!
But maybe not so ridiculous. I might have said this before, but for many years Marion & I have felt that "the light at the end of the tunnel is actually the next train coming". Everytime we got through one problem, everytime we thought that we'd reached the end of a tunnel another problem would hit us squarely between the eyes (sorry, mixing my metaphores again). The last 15 years or so seem to have been nothing but one long battle with a series of non-trival problems. Indeed, one can argue that some problems have been of our own making. But equally I think that what we have experienced in general puts us so far away from the mean, so far out on the edge of the bell curve, that I'm often left wondering if there's not some meaning in it.
Well, I guess that there are two points of view. The agnostic statisticians amongst you will no doubt be arguing that someone has to be at the extreme end of the bell curve, otherwise it would have no meaning. They would say that the fact that it happens to be me/us living there is merely bad luck, not least because statistics don't apply to individuals.
I would say that that sounds like a very rational explanation. But then I'd argue about just how damned wide this bell curve is and at what point can one conclude that one's experience is so many standard deviations removed from Jan Modaal that one actually lies outside the bell curve and in Job territory. Certainly that's how this all feels to me.
We lie in bed at night and we ask ourselves, why us? What did we do to deserve to lose Kay? What have we done wrong? Where in our lives could we have made a different decision that would have led to Kay being with us now? Why did Kay's leukemia come back when it's practically unheard of for a relapse to happen after so many years? Is there perhaps something wrong with where we live? Xenon gas, heavy metals in the ground? If we'd moved somewhere else when Kay was born would things have gone differently? Etc, bloody etc.
(I just post-added the point about Kay's leukemia relapse, I'd forgotten that one incredible piece of injustice until I reread this text. If you want to know just how far away from the bell curve we are, consider that one fact. Then factor it in to everything else and I don't see how one can possibly avoid the conclusion that we're being dumped on).
But then actually these questions can be broadened: why have we spent so many years facing so many problems? Why have we been consistently tested, time after time? Why have we had to pay the ultimate price? Should we have lain down somewhere along the way and played dead to fate? Stuck our paws in the air and let life roll over us? Should the lion have read the message in the wind and taken up living like a bunny?
There are matters of belief and deity wrapped up in all this but what concerns me here is how to approach the future? What can be concluded from the last 15 years? What should I do differently in the future? How can I try to ensure that we have seen the last of tunnels and trains?
One thing is for sure. Marion & I have reached some kind of upper limit on the amount of negative stuff that we can take. The idea that I'm fated in some way to continue living such an extremely unfortunate life is more than I can possibly take. (And before anyone starts pointing out that the word "unfortunate" hardly applies to someone sitting in his second house in the south of France, let me point out to you in the STRONGEST possible terms that I would swap EVERYTHING to live as Jan Modaal with Marion, Kay, Nattie & Lauren).
Of course, as usual, no answers are to be found anywhere. And this scares me stupid, because we're going to continue blundering along without having learnt anything really important from our lives. How can we know if we've made a mistake? How can we learn if we don't know? How can we avoid repeating the mistake?
I've not really heard Kay clearly in my mind for a while. It's worrying me, has she gone from me? Will I not hear her again? I assume that I'm too deeply buried in grief for her to reach me clearly. But the last time that she 'spoke' to me she told me that Marion & I should rest and that she would look after us. I hope that this means that she will smooth out the future for us, that the price that we have paid by losing her means that no more will we have to battle with tunnels and trains.
Kay, if you're listening, I could really do with hearing from you right now. I'm not really resting my darling and I could do with hearing you in my head, if not feeling you in my arms.
As the Sun Went Down...
...so did I. I was heading for bed when another huge wave of emotion suddenly rose up in me. I couldn't contain it and Marion & I then spent a very tearful half hour clinging to each other. This morning I again feel super depressed, my eyes sore from the tears. My heart feeling like a lump of lead pinning my chest to the bed, my limbs drained of the strength to move, my mind void of the capacity to override the lethargy.
It's so very very quiet here that you can hear your own heart beating and wonder how it continues to do so when every beat brings so much pain and grief.
Time to do another bike ride, if only I can find the strength to even get out of bed.
It's so very very quiet here that you can hear your own heart beating and wonder how it continues to do so when every beat brings so much pain and grief.
Time to do another bike ride, if only I can find the strength to even get out of bed.
Thursday, 14 October 2010
One Year Ago: The Beginning of the End
One year ago today our nightmare began. I can't really add anything deep or meaningful to this statement, in the last year I've said most of it. It still feels like I/we have fallen through into a ghastly parallel, nastier universe. And I still have an overwhelming desire to know why this should have happened to us, even though I know that there are no answers. And I still have the feeling that this is a big mistake, as though Kay's going to come walking in the door any minute with a cheeky expression on her face, laughing at the big joke that she's pulled on us.
This evening the sky is clear and the stars are out. In summers past we used to do some star/planet gazing. I had the "Starry Night" software on my laptop and we used to use it to navigate our way round the sky. Jupiter has been prominent in the sky for the last years and the girls used to love looking at it. I've been meaning to buy a telescope for a while but never got round to it. Instead we used some image stablised binoculars or a long lens on my camera, mounted on a tripod. Not optimal but we could see the moons of Jupiter.
Kay loved looking at the sky and Jupiter in particular. The Dutch often tell their children that when someone dies they become a star. If that's the case, Kay must now be occupying Jupiter. Big, Bright, Red/Brown, Dominant, The Bringer of Jollity. Oh how I miss her...
I had been expecting that we'd have a bad day today. But the weather has been super, bright sun and warm all day. We took Nattie down to the beach because she wanted to do some wave boarding. And then we had a nice lunch in the sun with a very nice bottle of Bandol wine. We came home and Nattie jumped straight in the pool. So the sun and the warmth and the activity have held off our living nightmare for a little while at least.
This evening the sky is clear and the stars are out. In summers past we used to do some star/planet gazing. I had the "Starry Night" software on my laptop and we used to use it to navigate our way round the sky. Jupiter has been prominent in the sky for the last years and the girls used to love looking at it. I've been meaning to buy a telescope for a while but never got round to it. Instead we used some image stablised binoculars or a long lens on my camera, mounted on a tripod. Not optimal but we could see the moons of Jupiter.
Kay loved looking at the sky and Jupiter in particular. The Dutch often tell their children that when someone dies they become a star. If that's the case, Kay must now be occupying Jupiter. Big, Bright, Red/Brown, Dominant, The Bringer of Jollity. Oh how I miss her...
I had been expecting that we'd have a bad day today. But the weather has been super, bright sun and warm all day. We took Nattie down to the beach because she wanted to do some wave boarding. And then we had a nice lunch in the sun with a very nice bottle of Bandol wine. We came home and Nattie jumped straight in the pool. So the sun and the warmth and the activity have held off our living nightmare for a little while at least.
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| Natasha and Daddy trying to ride a wave(let) |
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Popstar Wisdom
If anything, today has been a little less intense emotionally than the last few days. Marion stayed in bed until 9.30-ish, when Nattie and I dragged her out for breakfast. Then she went back to bed again to 'read'. Around 11.30 I went up to check on her and she was sleeping. She's snoozed in the (vague) sun this afternoon and so has had a restful day.
It was raining a little this morning so I was happy to hang around the house, but it cleared up mid-morning so I had no excuse not to drag my ass out for a bike ride. When I checked the air temp it was around 14C, so I put on a light jacket. However, when I got down to Bandol it was 24C and I was cooking. Since my fitness has taken a hit I chose a shortish, flatish route - all relative, this region is anything but level. There's a lovely climb from Sanary through Olllioules and then through a beautiful gorge back to Le Beausset. It looks quite a challenge when you drive it, but actually it's a pleasant 3-4%.
Once I was moving on my bike I realised (stupidly) how much I need to cycle. I felt much less depressed as I rode along. My head is way too disturbed and noisy to be receptive to anything except my own loud and turbulent thoughts. But equally I realised just how full of s*** my system is, stress, worry, medication to name but a few things. It's clearly imperative that I exercise and I'm definitely in the right place for that. Next time I'm going to do my standard route round the airport, 40km and about 600m climbing. That should clean me out some more. And I need to start attacking the rubber ring that I've grown around my middle.
To be honest though, I'm finding it very difficult to relax and rest. Whilst Marion seems able to stay in bed, when I wake up I feel the clock ticking. I have a long list of jobs to do, mostly private and money administration. A lot of stuff that has been hanging around for too long and that is starting to worry me. There are also plenty of jobs to do around the house and future stuff to think about. I guess that I should just sit down for a couple of days and work through the admin, but tiredness and general lethargy stand squarely in the way. It's a difficult balance to strike.
Anyway, I'm going to keep things light today. Tomorrow will be another heavily emotional day, I suspect.
It was raining a little this morning so I was happy to hang around the house, but it cleared up mid-morning so I had no excuse not to drag my ass out for a bike ride. When I checked the air temp it was around 14C, so I put on a light jacket. However, when I got down to Bandol it was 24C and I was cooking. Since my fitness has taken a hit I chose a shortish, flatish route - all relative, this region is anything but level. There's a lovely climb from Sanary through Olllioules and then through a beautiful gorge back to Le Beausset. It looks quite a challenge when you drive it, but actually it's a pleasant 3-4%.
Once I was moving on my bike I realised (stupidly) how much I need to cycle. I felt much less depressed as I rode along. My head is way too disturbed and noisy to be receptive to anything except my own loud and turbulent thoughts. But equally I realised just how full of s*** my system is, stress, worry, medication to name but a few things. It's clearly imperative that I exercise and I'm definitely in the right place for that. Next time I'm going to do my standard route round the airport, 40km and about 600m climbing. That should clean me out some more. And I need to start attacking the rubber ring that I've grown around my middle.
To be honest though, I'm finding it very difficult to relax and rest. Whilst Marion seems able to stay in bed, when I wake up I feel the clock ticking. I have a long list of jobs to do, mostly private and money administration. A lot of stuff that has been hanging around for too long and that is starting to worry me. There are also plenty of jobs to do around the house and future stuff to think about. I guess that I should just sit down for a couple of days and work through the admin, but tiredness and general lethargy stand squarely in the way. It's a difficult balance to strike.
Anyway, I'm going to keep things light today. Tomorrow will be another heavily emotional day, I suspect.
As a last remark, last night Marion was watching a bio about George Michael. Talking about the death of his mother, he said that he thought that there are two types of people in the world, those who have experienced great loss and those who haven’t, yet. I thought that this was probably very true but equally a fact that I’d rather not know. I hope knowing it doesn’t mean that I now have to start hanging out in men’s public toilets.
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