It’s another really nice morning in Canberra. Not a cloud in the sky. I am sitting on my back deck as I type. The table I am at is half shaded by the roof of the deck and there is a slight nip in the air but if I sit at the other end of the table, I am sure the sun will be too harsh. The things in life I have to worry about!
It’s one of the few little quirks that have crept into my life since Linda passed. I never sat out here on my computer before. Never sat out here and drank coffee as I do now, gazing at the far ramparts of the Brindabella Ranges. I guess that is what decks are made for?!
Linda would have still been in bed. I never met a woman who loved a lie in as much as her. Even before she was ill it was hard to get her moving on a Saturday or Sunday or if she was on holidays. I think it annoyed her that I liked to get up early although lately, as I have written recently, I sleep with my blinds up and wake to a panoramic view of the surrounding neighbourhood and countryside as the sun creeps over the eastern hills. My (our!) bedroom is painted in two different shades of yellow so it creates quite a palate in the morning with sunshine streaming in. It makes me feel comfortable. And I lie in longer than I ever did although Linda would have hated the light so early!
She’s been gone eight months which is hard to believe. Most of her belongings sit where they were the day she left home for the last time. It’s been a lesson in life and death for me. Everything we hold dear, every material thing we treasure in life means nothing after we have gone. It’s strange to see clothes in her closet that she regularly wore sitting there untouched. Mementos that she had hung onto for years, particularly things that had been owned by her father who died when she was young, sit in a lounge room cabinet still holding pride of place but all those for who these things meant something are gone.
I am the custodian of her property now and I will give it the respect it deserves. I will give her life the respect it deserves. She won’t be forgotten.
Linda and I did most things together, particularly in the last three and a half years of her life when I quit working just to look after her and squeeze every last bit of companionship out of our relationship as we could. And it worked.
The flipside is now of course that nothing quite seems the same. The memories of more difficult times have faded away and all that is left is the soft glow of the companionship and closeness that we shared. I guess you take it for granted until it’s gone.
I think about the things I would like to do and there are a lot but the thought of doing them without Linda seems like trying to drive a car with a cracked windscreen. I can see where I am going but the view isn’t quite as it should be.
It’s strange place to be. I can accept Linda’s fate, that her life on earth wasn’t as long as she or we would have hoped it to be. The unfairness is that those of us who loved her have to go on and live without her. Create another chapter that doesn’t include her. That is what burns me.
Life is like the chiming of a cracked bell.
Summer approaches. The magpies aren’t so fierce now as spring reaches its halfway point. It’s time to try to live some of the life I have coveted. Walking, riding, doing things that I enjoy and maintaining my health and fitness. Doing the things Linda wanted me to do. And I take her with me wherever I go.
Have a great day.
