Monday 22.04.19

Ben and I walk together, I see a rainbow in the sky, I point it out to Ben he can't see it, I keep pointing and he tells me it's faint and I remember not to point them out anymore but I know Dad is still around.

Lydia messages me a photo of Dad, Ben and I.

I remind myself to print it out.

I'm doing so much writing. I start writing some ideas down for a eulogy.

I write and write and cry and cry

I put together my monthly planner and things are beginning to feel not as hard as I had imagined. I'm eating again, cooking, cleaning, daily tasks.

I go to Nu Nus, a place we've taken Dad. It's incredibly healing. I've never seen the water up so high but it's been raining for days and heavy too, the waterfall behind me is so powerful and calming. It's freezing so I didn't bring togs but I have an urge to jump in, I strip down to my undies and jump in and it's magical. I get out and I feel nothing, I'm not cold or hot, an experience I've never felt before. I flick off a leach and feel the smooth stones with my feet. A cute bird wags its orange tail at me further up the path, I spot huge white mushrooms and everything is so beautiful. I'm so glad I'm still here.

At home I post on my vegan foodie page suggestions of what to do with Dad's limes, preserves and marmalades and drying and cakes and the idea to save the seeds and plant a tree. Someone suggests limecello which I've never heard about but I think about cheersing Dad when we move into our house - that sounds like an amazing idea. Someone else posted a recipe for lime curd and I think I'm going to go with that also.

I finish my book on bereavement and realised I have moved forward in my journey, things are feeling different now, less sad. I try not to carry guilt for being where I am but just accept each feeling, each moment and try to put one foot in front of the other.

I think about going back to work and needing to pay rent and I scold myself a little for saying no to a photo gig a few weekends back but then I realised it was the last walk I went on with Dad and I'm so so grateful I didn't shoot that wedding.

Billy Joel songs stay with me for some reason.

I fight with Ben over dinner. I had printed off a recipe and felt like I was moving forward. But my grief is wrapped in so much weirdness and peculiarity. I'm not really hungry, I don't really want to cook but I'm trying to cling onto little clues of joys and go with them.

I know Ben is fading from my world. The gap is getting bigger and that's scary

My world is floored with eggshells.

Food is mechanical to Ben, food is complex and hard to me.

It was once my joy now it's the bookmark to night, it represents a loneliness.

I try and explain all this but I just seem like I'm clutching at grief in my own mind when I say the words to Ben. Maybe I am, maybe I'm okay, maybe I'm making this a huge issue when it's just food.

Dad is telling me just to eat.

It's hard.

I go to bed sad and Ben takes to the time to talk with me and we work it out.

/I'll be sharing a series of diary entries two weeks around my Dad's death