lolabobs: (Default)
I just told [personal profile] jekesta that I hadn't gotten as far as posting, even though I thought I ought (that rhymes) because otherwise I wouldn't. And now I am. I wasn't lying, but I made my comment out of date very quickly. Or reasonably quickly, depending how long it takes me to write this.

I was ill. On New Year's Eve I started feeling, then being, very very sick. I am blaming a chicken sandwich, though it was preceded (and accompanied) by the same sort of pain that they told me was a heart attack last time. It wasn't. It was, however, horribly unpleasant and I still have no voice X days later. I was going to put a number there but have no idea how many days issit. Anyway. I was in bed by 5pm on NYE and that's that.

I am not at work either. I went to the doctor to get my "you can go to work" certificate signed. This is progress apparantly, the doc has t say you can go back now instead of just saying you can't. Anyway, he didn't. Or did. Depending which bit of that sentence this bit goes with. Either way, I was a snivelling, shaking wreck and he said I wasn't to go to work. So. Which has left me glad and sad in equal measure. 'Cos I kinda think I should and it would proably be good for me. But it makes me feel sick whenever I think about it. But I know that I have passed the 'acceptable/sympathy' time now and people will now think I am swinging the lead/milking it. Not all the people. Not nice people, but HR type people and work people and all those. And I still don't know what to do about the Norwich work and wether I should give that up, which I want to but don't and which I think would be maybe a mistake, but then doing it was a mistake in teh first place and i haven't a clue. Oh and my doctor has referred me to someone. I don't know who. And he gave me sleeping pills to take, which I was wary about taking anyway and then the Evil Daily Mail (mum's paper. Ths is one more layer of crapness is that I see teh Mail every day) says the pills I have are EVIL and for weak people. And gragh. I know to disbelieve the Mail on principal but my brain isn't always good at that.

And my brother and I had a talk and he said that if I had to move in permanently to help Mum in the future, they wouldn't kick me out of teh house when she died. he didn't say it like that. he was very tactful and keen to make sure that I knew he wasn't expecting me to look after her and that they had talked about having her mve in with them ("Except that wouldn't work") and that they would take her cat so mine could move in with me and ....

And he took my Daddy's car away to sell it. And I saw today that the man who runs the auctions me and Dad always go to had a big accident on the 17th of November and is going to be okay but nearly wasn't and I wanted to tell my Daddy and couldn't. And my brther wanted me to stay in to receive a parcel for him tomorrow and I didn't want to, 'cos Thirsday is tehe day Mum goes out and so it is the day I go out and he was fine and got it sent to work instead but I cried and cried and cried.

Oh and he gave me a sewing machine, which he gave me Friday and he had to hunt it out of the back of his cupboard and I hit my head helping him and then he found the instructions too and it's all very kind, but I don't want it, 'cos I want a new one and my friends have clubbed together to gve me brthday money towards a new one and I don't know how to say no.

I was sent cards and ecards and virtual gifts and they were all lovely and they made me smile when I got them and I am really appreciative but I don't know who I've said Thank you to and who I haven't and so I'll say Thank you here and I know it isn't personal but I do mean it.

Oh and I got a cupcake maker for Christmas. I shall make cupcakes tomorrow. My Thursday outness has been cancelled. And I didn't know what to do instead, on my own 'cos who I was going to see I can't. That's why I looked at Fakenham to see if teh auction was on. But anyway it isn't, so I don't know where to go now. So I might make cupcakes instead. And I do have a scarf to knit and cats to fuss, but I did want to escape. Hmm.

I watched Sherlock and wasn't horrified by the pre watershed nudity; although was by the person in the daily mail who called Adler a 'slut'. And I watched H50 and there wasn't any nudity. Are those spoilers? I don't think so. And there's a programme on about Probation officer tonight, but I haven't watched it yet. I hope they don't have feisty probation Officer Anna Friel falling in love with her client.

I should go I think.
lolabobs: (Default)
Christmas was hard. Everything was off kilter and wrong. But then, I expected nothing else and we got through it. Boxing Day was easier than Christmas Day 'cos we did different things. We went shopping, we went to my house and sat with the cats and then we went to see my brother. All different so there was no direct comparison, whereas Christmas Day everything was imbued with 'we normally do this'/and absence.

Still. I am trying not to post nothing but misery, so I'll stop that now.

Change of subject: Anyone have any sewing machine recommendations?
lolabobs: (Default)
I am due to go back to work Monday - HR requested I call today to confirm this and arrange for my 'sickness review meeting'.

However, two sentences into the call I started crying and could barely talk with the woman who, for some reason, deemed me "not ready to come back just yet" (!)

Instead I have a meeting with her booked for Tuesday afternoon, just to see what's what.

******

The last couple of days have been bad emotionally, but focussing on the positive, I managed to get out and see my friend for lunch today, which gave me a massive boost, just to be me for a bit. And even better, Mum had her 6 monthly cancer check and that was all okay.
lolabobs: (Default)
Approx 10 days ago we notified the Home Insurance people of Dad's passing and asked them to put the account in Mum's name. They told us to send our request in writing with a copy of teh certificate and it would be sorted out.

Today Mum received notification of her 'new' policy and a bill for £75.

I called to query this. Apparantly the law dictates that a policy cannot be changed, a new policy must be issued. The law also dictates that money cannot be transfered between the old and new. This makes some sense to me and I am prepared to accept that.

However, the operator's attitude sucked. When I asked why they hadn't explained this I was told "We're not required to." I questioned their customer services standards if they don't feel it is necessary to explain what is going to happen to any customer, let alone newly bereaved. "We're not required to." came again.

I questioned what would happen to the refund from Dad's policy. It will, she informed me be paid back into his account. His account, I explained patiently (at this point) is closed. Because, if you noticed, he's dead. "It has to go back to his account." I explained that there is no account. "It has to go back to his account". I pointed out again that there was no account for it to go into. "Oh, well then it will bounce back and we'll send a cheque." She wouldn't confirm whether this would be in his name or my mothers.

"Has this process started then?" was my next question - "and could tehy confirm the amount" so I can make sure they haven't increased the charges. She needed the old policy number for that. So I found it and gave it to her. She called up the account,I clarified the details.
"I can't tell you that information because you're not the account holder." Then why fucking ask for the details? I asked her, perhaps a little tersely. "How do you expect a dead man to come to the phone?" "I can't give that information as you're not the account holder. We'll send you a letter"

Could she then, please tell me whether the letter has been sent? Why haven't they sent the letter, maybe even in with the new bill. She needed me to give her the new account details again. "I don't know" was the eventual answer.

How long do we have to pay the bill? 21 days. Will teh refund have reached us by then? I don't know.

I questioned again why no one had taken the three minutes at the initial call to explain "The law says we have to close the account and open a new one, so you'll get a refund from one and a bill for the new one." It's quite a simple concept.

"We're not required to."

She left me shaking with frustration and crying with anger.
lolabobs: (Default)
I dreamt last night (or is it I dreamed? )
I woke up pretty much immediately after this and felt so guilty I thought I was going to be sick.

In my waking hours I think it's just a good example of the denial going on in my brain.

------------

In other news I spent the afternoon attempting to Christmas shop on line. People are going to get very unimaginative presents this year.
Oh an dmy concentration was so shot I ended up ordering all the gifts from one website - but in 4 separate orders. Thank goodness for free postage!
----------------

I bought myself some new pyjamas in the week. Mum admired them muchly and, as it was her birthday yesterday (great timing Dad!) and imagination as I've indicated above is very low, I ended up buying her a pair as a birthday gift. Today saw us sitting in adjacent chairs, in identical pjs, initially reading the Sunday papers in unison and then knitting...!

Thank you.

Dec. 3rd, 2011 11:45 pm
lolabobs: (Default)
I've realised that I can't go back and answer everybody individually for their wishes. And I know you've all said I needn't, but I do want to say Thank you. Sincerely, Thank you for your words and thoughts and wishes. It really does help and I will hold them to me as the days go on.

I'm going to try and engage with folk in more general ways now too, I'm in that strange limbo where I know I'm allowed to live and try and reclaim myself, whilst being unable to stop the voice that says "If I comment about tv people will think I'm a heartless, superficial cow."


Please don't think I'm a heartless, superficial cow.
lolabobs: (daddy salute)
We had Dad’s ceremony yesterday and, although it was an awful, bleak day, it was also, when it came to the actual ceremony, stunningly uplifting.

We sat up till the early hours the night before, both trying to put off the day – if we didn’t go to bed, tomorrow couldn’t come...

But of course it did and we journeyed to the crematorium physically shaking, Mum finally starting to cry and me torn between wanting to look anywhere but at the hearse ahead and being unable to take my eyes of it. It didn’t (doesn’t) seem possible that he could have been in there.

And then we got to the Crematorium. Waiting outside to escort the coffin were an honour guard of ex servicemen and women from his associations, all in uniform and standing to attention. Then as we walked in to the chapel it literally took my breath away – the aisle was lined with Royal and National Standards, full dress uniform men and woman bearing the Standards aloft in honour of my Daddy. They stood throughout the ceremony and lowered the standards at the committal and it was beautiful and dreadful and wonderful.

Dad would have been overwhelmed; there were so many people there, friends and family and these proud men from his associations. One man rose at 4am to drive 250 miles to bear a standard for Dad, leaving immediately after the service. Dad only ever met this man for one weekend a year on an Association weekend, but he chose to honour Dad so. It was amazing to see.

And it was awful, Mum was shaking and weeping and could barely stand it. And did you know you have a receiving line as you do in a wedding? I didn’t. So we stood there and a parade of well wishers queued to hug us and say their sympathies and I’d have thought this was impossible, but instead it was... warming. These were people who were crying for my father, or Mum or me, and it felt like being cherished.

It was exhausting and terrible and wrong. And then later, when everybody had gone and we’d waked and wept. My brother and his partner and Ethan my nephew, and Ethan’s Mum came to the house and we talked and were together – and then talked about how one escapes if buried alive and we laughed till we cried.

My Dad would have approved of that.
lolabobs: (Default)
Again, thank you for your thoughts. I will try and answer you all eventually.

I started to tell you what happened, but I can't do that now it would seem. I can say the basics. Sudden (so sudden) heart attack. Near instantaneous death and no suffering. I can say that, but of all else that has been happening I can't.

And not, I guess, that you'd particularly want to hear it.

I feel scared all the time. Like I'm waiting for something dreadful to happen. Which doesn't make sense, 'cos it already happened.

I'm scared and I don't know how to be any more.

And of course, and naturally and understandably and of course, everyone is coming round, visiting and hugging and holding and asking questions and *being sorry*. And in a card, or on a text, or a mail, or a letter it helps, it really really does. Every single one of your messages has given me a moment's warmth, and a reminder of who I am. But when Auntie X comes round and needs tea and details and time - or offers me sympathy I break a little bit more.

And Mum is so small, so crushed, so... stunned. And she's worrying that she isn't crying all the time, that she can smile or laugh about Dad, or talk about cups of tea. She thinks that people will judge her and assume she isn't mourning. She's utterly broken and thinks that she's being cold because she isn't wailing aloud 24 hours a day.

Daddy wanted to leave his body to medical science. He did all the paperwork and had it all agreed and, although none of us wanted it, we agreed and signed his consent forms at the time. And Wednesday, when it happened, we remembered. None of us wanted it, ever, and certainly not when it became real. And we couldn't find the paperwork and I had to call and track down people and find out. And then, because he died at home and needed an autopsy, they don't want him. So I feel guilty that we couldn't do it, even though we tried, and I feel guilty that I'm glad and now we're sorting a funeral and.

But he had signed the organ register. They called me on Wednesday morning and asked me for his eyes. And again, it's what he wanted and I know and I'm glad. And I know that we'll be glad to hear of those he helped and I'm on the register myself. But I gave away his eyes.

He was my Daddy. Is my Daddy. He made *everything* alright. always. And I'm letting people chop him up, and I'm never going to see him again, or hold him. Or have him hug me and take away my problems. And I know I'm an adult woman, I'm almost 40 for fuck's sake, and my world has ended because I've lost my Daddy.
lolabobs: (Default)
Thank you for your messages and wishes.
lolabobs: (daddy)
My beautiful Daddy died this morning.

I don't know how to do this.

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