Monday, June 06, 2011

How not to deal

I will always associate Crunchie chocolate bars with my Uncle R. He would bring them with him every single time he came to visit. When you are 8 years old and you are given Crunchie every time a particular person comes to visit - you very quickly develop a Pavlovian response to that person. Beat up old Holden in the driveway = saliva. Never fails.

If everyone has a crazy Uncle, then mine is R. He would refer to Christmas at Easter time, make stupid jokes at the wrong moment and do the Mexican party cry YOW YOWYOWYOW in the middle of an otherwise sedate family dinner. Definitely not for the fainthearted - or for the sensitive of hearing either.

He died today.

I don't know what else to say about that - except that it wasn't really a party at the end, nor was there a Crunchie in sight. Eventually he went peacefully, but it was a struggle for years and years.

I wish I knew how to deal with this in a normal way. I've not cried or blubbered once. I'm just dazed and feeling kind of worried, with a bit of dread settling deep somewhere in my belly - though I can't tell you why or what for. I want for nothing else than to be a blubbering, snotty mess and unable to cope. At least I know that reaction isn't forever - it's a truck stop on the way to a better place. Instead, I don't know what to do with with what I've got but I have a feeling I'm going to be stuck with it for a while.

Labels: , , ,

Sunday, June 05, 2011

old... officially

The guy bagging my groceries referred to me as ma'am today.