Having a difficult day. Sitting with my Mum who remains blissfully unaware of recent events and is in her chair colouring in her book in vivid hues. Revisiting Dad’s demise with her in fits and starts. “Did they ever find the body?” Was I with him when he went?” “How long is it since Dad died?” “He’s not dead – I saw him at the party yesterday!” “It’s a wedding tonight. I think it’s mine but I’ve never met the groom. They’ve chosen me a rich man.” “What’s happened to all you kids?” Gulp. “You’re all fine aren’t you? Of course you are!”
Haven’t really processed much of the last 10 weeks yet and definitely haven’t got to grips with losing my brother despite the years and recent accelerated weeks of his illness.
Feeling complicit in an unsavoury cover up but I know it’s the best thing for her.
Early days, I know.