2007 — 4 December: Tuesday and the "green" bin
It's now 10:06, but I've yet to check the bushiness of the tail. The eyes are as myopic as ever. I have a Mock Driving Test starting soon, so forgive me, Geoff, if I hold off on replying about the web site software I use! And thank you, Mike, for the photos of Christa and me on that German training ship. It's reminded me that I have a few more stashed away on her PC somewhere and I will be searching for them later today.
Despite being tired last night, I slept very badly, waking nearly every hour. Either I overdid things yesterday, or "things" temporarily managed to get on top of me. I could sometimes wish there was a temporary "off" switch for my brain. While I wouldn't say I was depressed, I sure as hell am sad and unhappy... I'm also quite tense about the driving, about the possibility of driving myself up to the midlands in the near future, about coping with "life" in my new solo state without all of Christa's moral, physical, mental, and emotional support. Just the usual run of things that assail a freshly-minted widower, I suppose!
My goodness, the house is quiet when I'm its only occupant. Not lonely; we were both loners and both perfectly content as long as we knew each was in the house doing whatever the hell we used to do. She's still in my head, if not in the house, and I can talk to her whenever I want. She just doesn't answer aloud... Music also helps, though. It's very strange, as I said at the funeral. The reality of her death is still causing me to mutter "Unbelievable" from time to time. Yet I know perfectly well that, apart from the lock of her hair that I snipped from her forehead just after she died, I now have all that physically remains of Christa in a green plastic bottle that looks for all the world like an old-fashioned sweets jar — how much weirder can things get?
I still have close friends, distant relatives, hobbies,1 many interests, but an impressively low energy level at the moment. My friend Gill puts it quite neatly:
You've been walking a path through a living hell, doing what was necessary to come out the other side. [Other people] also should be aware that you aren't out the other side yet, nor will you be for quite a while. Christa may be out of pain and gone physically, and the horrors of having to manage a public farewell ceremony dispensed with, but you now have a whole new journey to negotiate. Starting from a position of complete and utter exhaustion (and I mean in all areas — physical, psychological, soul, heart, you name it) you are having — much against your desired path — to build a whole new life.
Yet another journey, heh? Hmmm. Well, at least I packed the green bin. I also note that ERNIE has today decided my girl should have another prize! "Good God!"
Off my (shopping) trolley
Life, such as it is, does go on going on. So it's time to gather in the next batch of supplies. I must say, food shopping concentrates relatively unused bits of my mind. Christa was damnably efficient, it only belatedly occurs to me. An incredible woman, in fact. Oh well, off we jolly well go. Make her proud, David! Thanks for the co-piloting, Peter. Tomorrow, we'll hit Fareham.
That bit about keeping busy... department
For the second evening running my neighbour Bill has co-piloted me around some heavy-traffic parts of Eastleigh and Shirley. Almost as dodgy, in fact, as negotiating past the neighbour's car that is becoming an annoyingly semi-permanent fixture across part of my drive's exit. And now I seem to have been persuaded to take part in a hill walk of some kind on the day after my driving test. And been given a variety of options for yoga classes locally. And an offer of cooking lessons. And further co-pilots. And asked for advice on web site software.
When, I wonder, does a chap get time to watch the complete set of Seinfeld DVDs he's been so assiduously accumulating? (Christa always preferred the Larry Sanders show, but rarely chose to stay up late enough to catch them as BBC2 bounced them all over the late-night schedules a few years ago.)