I haven’t felt like writing for a while; my writing brain seems to have atrophied. Why? I think my mourning for Peter, although not worn externally, has had a truly deep effect on me. This effect first showed in spending money more than usual – and I am a fairly thrifty person that dislikes all advertisements and avoids buying unnecessary stuff. But Peter was the opposite; was I being him?
Then there is the actual physical pain that strikes somewhere around my solar plexus every so often when something said or done or seen reminds me of Peter and the loss of Peter. I almost welcomed me these occasions because somehow it seems wrong to just carry on as usual.
I think it will be a long while before we can tell each other Peter stories, say “what would Peter think” or “Peter would like this” as we do about my father (who died in 1980) quite comfortably.
Its been a tough six months for other, more prosaic, but demanding reasons. So that’s probably why I feel so drained, yet along with that is the excited anticipation of the birth of my second granddaughter next month.
Life – it’s such a cliche…