Strange Notations From a Laborious Life

It’s been wet. It must have rained for 36 hours straight here in Canberra. I walked across my back lawn yesterday and it was sodden, soaked. Lots of flash flooding around eastern Australia. The “Sunburnt Country” often pays us back threefold.

I had trouble sleeping last night. Woke early, still dark so I went for a walk around 6.00am. No one was around but it was eerie and quiet. Fog all around and, well it wasn’t drizzle, it was lighter than that but there was a steady stream of it, but I braved it anyway. I walked up the street, around the corner, down to the main road, through the grassland separating the senior and junior campuses of Wanniassa School and down the footpath between St Anthony’s Primary School and the oval that adjoins it.

There was a car in the oval carpark. God knows what someone is up to at that time of the morning, just idling away. I kept my distance, did a lap of the school and ended up near the water feature at the shopping centre end of the oval.

The lights of Wanniassa and of cars negotiating the streets bounced off the fog creating shapes and atmosphere-I was damp but not wet and it was…..somewhat exhilarating. I’m alive and pushing on despite the cloud of grief that hovers over and often devours me.

The car was leaving as I completed my lap of the school, so I looped through the car park and suddenly, feeling quite hungry, headed home through the quiet streets, the sedate, darkened world only pierced by the light and sound of the odd car beating the early morning rush to work.

Home again and for the first time in a long time I went back to bed-and slept.

It’s three weeks tomorrow since Linda passed away. It seems like an eternity. It’s surreal, wandering through an awakening city in a world where she no longer exists. The gaping breach she leaves behind in my heart and soul weighs me down and tears are shed liberally, even this morning as I ploughed on through the misty rain, the pure wet drizzle mixed with the salty drip from my eyes. But we go on. She asked us to.

I visited the cemetery at lunchtime, standing in the same cool rain as I had walked through this morning. It provides me with some comfort, and I am glad I braved the wet roads and intemperate drivers to get out there for a short time.

I emptied her medicine box, disposing of the tablets, potions and liquids that had kept her pain free and active for so long. The enormity of her battle and the gallantry of her fight laid bare by the prescriptions and packets and bottles. She really did give the disease a run for its money.

To the shops this afternoon, a mission I am quite able at now. It was packed on a rainy Tuesday afternoon and I wonder if anyone works anymore such was the scramble at the checkouts and the lazy beverages being sunk by the numerous people in the local coffee shops.

But not for me. I’m home looking for purpose. There is plenty I can do but life has no urgency at the moment. I’ve been well looked after by my closest friends and the days roll on. I know it will get better and it is. But slowly. Very slowly. The tap of the rhythm of life is starting to be heard again.

The rain has stopped but ominous rainclouds are gathering again to the north. I think we may get a little more.

Take care.