2007 — 20 November: Tuesday, and the rain has stopped
It's 10:15 and Junior slumbers1 peacefully on. I had a somewhat better night, dozing from about 4 a.m. but mostly reviewing memories of my life with Christa. While I miss Her more than I can adequately express, I'm pleased Peter and I have so many good and happy memories. And the house positively sings with Her spirit, even as the garden enters its pre-winter decline. We've decided today is the day (if not the morning!) we do some clearing and tidying, even if just superficially. The array of medicines has got to go, for a start. The catheters. The special cushions. And I'm sure some of Her clothes can be re-housed in wardrobes etc for the time being.
The bank has written outlining the first steps of what I must do to become (once again) the Executor of Her will (though forgetting to enclose the guidance notes they mention). Her previous car insurer has written to Her, and finally coughed up a refund cheque. They had the wit to make it out to me, if not the grace to express sympathy on Her death or my loss. (They took a £30 admin fee, however, so I suppose they're happy.) I shall have to inform ERNIE, and return Her most recent prize — although it's actually dated three days before Her death, it took its own sweet time to be delivered and I'm sure I'd get into trouble if I forged Her signature!
I'm also very pleased to have received a second batch of names on another "Sympathy" card from her colleagues at the translation agency; they say very nice things about Her cheerfulness, Her intelligence, helpfulness and competence. One mentions Her delightful "Rheinland accent". No news to me, though She would have been tickled, I'm sure.
On the family front, Big Bro has sent me a lovely piece of text that I shall be able to read from at the funeral. Thanks, John; I'll do my best! Late this afternoon I'm seeing the chap who will be officiating; we need to chat about Christa. And, though I've yet to draft my own thoughts on Her life and times, I have jotted down a few words... I've never written a "sermon" before, but my chosen topic — very briefly — is death, oddly enough.
Reminder: Funeral service for Christa — Friday 23rd November
At 2:15 p.m. in the West Chapel of Southampton Crematorium, Bassett Green Road.
Followed by, I very much hope, tea and a biscuit at Frith Hall, United Reformed Church, Kings Road, Chandlers Ford from around 3 p.m. I suspect I will be about ready to collapse by the end of Friday.
Minor missions accomplished
Freezers have been cleared of much anonymous-looking material of dubious "use by" date. (I can clearly hear Her saying "Good God, what a waste!") Re-usable medical bits and pieces have been turned in to the District Nursing team at the surgery. Prescription medicines will be carted off to a chemist, probably after tomorrow morning's next driving lesson. The local authority has kindly applied — on the spot, as it were — a pro-rated "25% single person discount" to my council tax bill for the remainder of the tax year. And the helpful council youngster promised to contact the Electoral Roll people on my behalf to remove Christa from the register.2 A little something has been obtained for our dinner hostess tonight. A freezer has been defrosted. No less than three of the well-fired loaves now nestle within it. And I've parked, without incident, at five different venues this morning.
I'm now (15:30 or so) munching the last part of an over-cooked (but now tepid) pepperoni pizza from which Junior has kindly extirpated all trace of pepperoni for me. He, meanwhile, is catching up on an episode of Battlestar Galactica on his MacBook and fielding calls from numerous female friends, by the sound of it.