SOME NIGHTS

11173341_10152839575161342_5346910051323536752_n

And behind it all , behind the fridges and the good people and the lagoon, everything is gone and done.

My cousin said of my father that after my mother’s death noone could reach him. He was inconsolable.

I am, at core, inconsolable.

What the hell am I supposed to do now ?

Who is to hold me, speak with me , dance with me in the kitchen ?

There is no music anymore. No Love songs. No exploring.

Pain and illness and weakness. Prospects of Old People’s Homes and Hospitals. Money worries and memories of him lying beside the road and getting sicker and sicker in the months before that.

And I couldn’t convince him that anything was wrong.

And now – there is me.  What is left of me.

And his side of our new bed.

11889626_10153101298831342_7864282315991121151_n

A NEW FRIDGE

20 November
“THY WILL, NOT MINE”
. . . when making specific requests, it will be well to add to each one of them this qualification. “. . . if it be Thy will.”
— TWELVE STEPS AND TWELVE TRADITIONS, p. 102
I ask simply that throughout the day God place in me the best understanding of His will that I can have for that day, and that I be given the grace by which I may carry it out. As the day goes on, I can pause when facing situations that must be met and decisions that must be made, and renew the simple request: “Thy will, not mine, be done.”
I must always keep in mind that in every situation I am responsible for the effort and God is responsible for the outcome. I can “Let Go and Let God” by humbly repeating: “Thy will, not mine, be done.” Patience and persistence in seeking His will for me will free me from the pain of selfish expectations.
From the book Daily Reflections

Copyright © 1990 by Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc.

Today my cousins brought me a fridge. We lunched at the OceanView Hotel in Urunga and talked of many things. I didn’t go to the Funeral at Brierfield. I am extremely weak. I struggle to do the least thing now.  The Baseline keeps being re-defined and sometimes it is a blow to me. Often it is a blow. Yesterday’s Cardio experience threw me. She wouldn’t even let me get on the treadmill.

Nonetheless – she was not the specialist and I have been frightened before by idle comments from radiographers and GPs and more. So – pfui. One told us Poppy’s toe was not broken when it actually was. Another bright young thing told us something was seriously wrong with Saf due to her unequal pupils when it was simply tick reaction. So I put that aside. I stood and wept briefly yesterday. That’s enough but the extreme weakness is disheartening.

Now I am settled in for the night and I am on Facetime with Eden and I feel OK.

The fridge story – well. It was one part of the multitude of stress factors after Izzy’s death. We had a good fridge which packed it in after he died. I did not know what to do. I bought a little one and the Parks gave me a freezer. It has got me through to now but storage is minimal and the freezer freezes over. Then I saw the fridge on Facebook and it was my cousins down the road in Eungai. So they said they would bring it to me. True Sanders’ blood. They arrived – exactly on time – as we Sanders do. Trailer. Fridge neatly lashed – as we Sanders’ do. And they gave it to me. For free. Damn near shed a wee tear again.

I think it will work for me. Maybe the small fridge can go in the Caravan or outside someplace. It was new and cost $260 last december. A drinks fridge perhaps or we might get the caravan in more order than it is.

But I am weak and cannot do the things I would like to do.