I always somehow manage to decide to start a new diet plan on a Friday. I woke up today with the motivation to start changing and it actually worked a little! The aim for today was drink 2 litres of water, have fruit for breakfast and do a minimum of 1 exercise regime lasting 7 minutes. And for once I reached these goals!
After house cleaning this morning, Granny B came round. We have finally started organising Uncle Tom’s house and whilst doing so we discovered his late wife’s jewellery. Stella died 8 years ago. And today Mum started organise who was getting what. As Stella was Granny’s sister, we asked her to help and the more we looked at the more memories we all had to share. In a way it was lovely. However, it has left me emotionally drained. When Rachel came home from school and was told who had what she started to cry. Not because she wasn’t happy with who was getting what, but because, like myself, the idea of it all being divided up and given out just hurts us beyond belief.
Stella was the first death that properly hit the two of us. Our Granda had died when I was 7 and Rachel was 4 and so at that age we didn’t quite know what that fully meant but we accepted that Granda wouldn’t be sitting in his armchair the next time we went to visit Granny. At the time, the 4 of us lived in Scotland so we only really saw them a couple of times a year and so Granda’s death upset me but not for the reasons death does now.
Fast forward 4 years, almost to the day, and I woke up one Monday morning to be told Stella had died during the night. Even now I tear up remembering all the times we had together. Stella had been like another granny to us. She’d never had her own children, which I’ve only recently heard the reasons why for, and Granny B lived too far away or was always with our cousins. Since then we made a concerted effort to see all elderly family members but especially Tom.
This year, with living in Glasgow, I didn’t speak to Tom much. A few times I tried to phone but he never answered and so I gave up. I still visited him any time I was back, November, before Christmas, Christmas Day he came to ours and we all had a brilliant day, Easter and then both before and just after Ibiza. After Ibiza we were going into Lisburn one day and Dad said we really should call in and see him to tell him about the holiday. Well the visit went as it always did – Dad and Tom talked while Rachel and I sat there politely listening until it was time to go. As we walked out the front door, Tom gripped my arm and whispered to come back soon without Dad and he would give me some money for university. That was the last time I saw him.
The day he went into hospital, I went into work. It was only a short shift and because Tom was always in and out of hospital with all sorts of problems, Mum told me I could go the next day to see him. I now remember telling her I couldn’t be bothered with the falseness of it all – I would go and he would pretend to be interested in what I was saying but really we would both be looking at the clock. The fact I wasn’t even given the opportunity to see him still hurts. I shouldn’t have been in work. He had sent money the week before that, telling Dad to tell me it was for uni in case I needed any textbooks this year. I never even got the opportunity to say thank you for that, Dad didn’t tell me until I was in Glasgow doing my resits and once again Tom wasn’t answering his phone.
It sounds stupid probably, spilling all this out onto a blog for anyone to read. And thank you to anyone who has stuck through this post to read until the end. I just need to share it with someone. The 3 friends I most want to talk to are spread all over the place and aren’t available for phone calls. I miss the 3 of them so so much. At least I get to see one of them soon. Who knows when I’ll see the other two again. I just didn’t realise how lonely I felt until today.
Goodnight all, hope I haven’t brought you down too much