I was sat in the van outside my old house a few days ago. I had a 6.30am appointment with Peter and for once was early. After a few moments of flicking between radio stations, I checked my e-mails one last time. I didn’t really expect to get any that time of day, so I was surprised when one popped into my inbox.
It was from a regular correspondent. These e-mails have been coming in regularly over the last couple of years (pretty much since I started the blog). They are full of sound advice and have an uncanny knack of expressing exactly how I am feeling. In the days of the technological age, where more and more people are reportedly feeling isolated and alone, they have become a huge source of comfort to me.
Today’s was no exception.
“I hope you are okay, yup small nod yup rethink big nod no! So much swirling around with divorce papers sent back but nothing really finalised and too many memories just to tidy in a box and put the lid on. So many choices for the future.”
I welled up but fought back the tears thinking of G telling me, I am much stronger than I think am and of poor Peter who had to put up with me weeping on him when I rekindled the PT sessions two weeks ago.
The problem, of course, is that Alan can (and has) run away from the pain, into the sunset with the love of his life. I am his past, just somebody he used to know
But I see him everywhere. In the code I type into the alarm system, the e-mail address I use to get into the ETL twitter account, his name on certain bills, everytime someone comes into the shop and asks about the tall bloke that used to work here. Every day takes such energy to get through it that I don’t get left over to give myself a chance to heal.
And we had legal responsibilities to fulfil. No longer shared, as in an effort to be fair to him, I have taken them on myself. So, I have to stay here and fulfil them. Running away is not an option no matter how much I long to do so.
So all that is left is to come up with coping strategies, hence the reason I was sat checking up on my mail outside my old house at some godforsaken time on a Thursday morning.
Bring back some normality and hopefully with it, each day when I wake up, it will all feel just that little bit easier.