C'est Le Weekend: Dang and Blast

Today a month ago, my dad passed away.
The husband and I shortly talked about it this morning:  it feels quite far away, yet like it just happened.
We miss the old fart. 
He was loved, and still is. 

My mother's contract at the school where she's filling in, is ending today, to her great relief.
Finally, time to just be quiet.
For her to sit on the couch and just think about life for a while.

It's a busy weekend that awaits us.  
Rugby tournaments, the husband has to attend a tennis tournament for work on Sunday, swimming and rugby lessons, laundry (woohoo, exciting).
I'm spending money I don't have on clothes for the boys.
And it's cold and blustery weather.

Nothing to do but fire and wine, loving kindness, reading, kissing a lot.
Thanksgiving for Non-Americans - but it really should be Thanksgiving every day.
A lot to be grateful for, happy about.
Even if I have to force myself into thinking along those lines.

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Wisdom & the inevitability of parting

The logs of wood which move down the river together

Are driven apart by every wave.

Such inevitable parting should not be the cause of misery.

 - Nagarjuna

And so it is with life and leaving our loved ones, I suppose.

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The Dire Straits

Son#1 had a dance performance together with his class for the past 2 nights in a row, then Son#2 fell off the swings at school, scraping his entire left side of his face.
Not a flinch.
This kid is tough.
But:  back to what I was trying to say:  The boys are tired and need a break.

I decided to keep them home today - it would have been a short morning at school anyway.
We went for a one-buck-breakfast at the Hema in Breda, then I bought the boys new pants to replace their hole-riddled pairs, a jacket for Son#2 that actually fits, and new pajamas for all 3.
Everything went well-ish.

Now home, lunch finished, Son#1 and #2 are starting to fight again, and #3 needs to take a nap.

The husband is tired and misses a purpose to his life.
I don't know how to fix this.  
We need balance in some shape or form, but it seems that that much-craved balance is out of whack and that we've made a lot of wrong turns the last couple of years.
I'm not religious but this made me feel a bit better:

One needs to be calm and at peace in order to think logically and clearly, not just in a frantic survival-mode, but I don't know how to get to peace & calm.  
I don't know what it feels like to not be in frantic survival-mode anymore.
Any suggestions?

The husband's new eco-car arrived on Monday, only to break again on Tuesday.
Luckily, the husband and I first drove to Eindhoven's Van Abbe museum.
What a place.
Not only the art was magnificent, but the building itself was superb.  
Anyway, the road home saw the car's swift demise, and the husband had to quickly organize another car for today.
We miss the Volvo.

Perhaps we were born for a time such as this.
Perhaps these are the ashes, and soon we'll rise from it.
All I know is that we've had to deal with a lot of things the last few years, and we're tired now.
The breath knocked out, empty vessels.
But what to fill it with again, I don't know.


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The Hávamál

Young and alone on a long road,
Once I lost my way:
Rich I felt when I found another;
Man rejoices in man.

 

  A kind word need not cost much,
The price of praise can be cheap:
With half a loaf and an empty cup
I found myself a friend.


(Taken from the Havamal, a 9th Century compilation of sayings attributed to Odin - I ♥ Vikings)
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Soopa Sunday

I came downstairs this morning and found a complete laid-out breakfast in the dining room.
Son#1 had been busy.
Christmas music in the background.
Bless his cotton socks. 

I cleaned the kitchen afterwards, listening to music that makes me think of my dad and this last year of suffering.
I worry about my mom and I miss my father. 
Where is he now?
The desolation that his death has left us with overpowers me at times.
I know it's early days yet, but still.
Can't imagine that this will ever feel okay.
One falls into a bit of a void, limbo if you will.
Now to live one's way out of it again.

Today is quiet, I think.
The kids whine from time to time.
I'm going to dinner with a friend tonight.
The husband is getting his new eco-car tomorrow.
Goodbye grand Volvo, but hello extra almost-€500-in-our-pockets-every-month.
We ain't complainin'.
A quiet week at work awaits.
Halle-bleeding-lujah.

Opportunity knocks (A.C. Grayling#2)

Behave in life as at a dinner party. 

Is anything brought around to you? 

Put out your hand and take your share with moderation. 

Does it pass by you?
Do not stop it. 
Is it not yet come? 

Do not stretch your desire towards it, but wait till it reaches you. 

Do this with regard to children, to a spouse, to public post, to riches, and you will eventually be a worthy guest at the feast of life.

A.C. Grayling 
(again) 

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C'est Le Weekend: Tough Cookie

The week was up and down for us all.
I needed an adjustment to all the noise in the house - it was nice and civilizedly quiet in South Africa.
The weather is also playing a role - no more blue skies, sunshine, t-shirts or flip-flops.
Back to boots, coats, scarves and central heating - all in different shades of grey.

A week ago I left my mom in South Africa.
It already feels like so much longer than just a week.
Here, a photo from the Sacramento Restaurant's terrace of the sea.

We were there in February when my dad was still with us, and we went there now when he was not.
He liked to sit on the bench there way up front, and look at the sea.
I miss you daddykins, so much that my chest hurts and squeezes.
Death sucks.
Missing someone sucks.
My dad's passing has wrought a makeshift closure of sorts - there is no more worrying how this will all end.
No  uncertainty of which treatment plan to follow.
No more 'will he make it?'.
Death is brutal in its certainty and leaves no room for mercy in its wake.
It leaves one with a not-a-ripple-on-the-surface-of-the-lake kind of calm and clarity.
There is life to be lived, people to love - because we will all die one day.
And I didn't believe it, really.

We are going into the weekend with no clear plan.
I have friends to call and catch up with.
Laundry.
Son #2's swimming lessons, and Son#1's rugby practice.
Son#3's all-of-a-sudden-I'm-throwing-tantrums-by-the-bucket-loads to manage.
And a kind husband that must be relieved of looking-after-kids-duties.
The man works hard, and should be rewarded.

 Have a good weekend, dear reader.

 

Up North

Son#3 and I are back from South Africa.
Yesterday was a tough and tearful day back at work and into the rhythm of our stressful life.
 
You know, I can rationalize that it's better that my dad passed away, but I can't seem to sell it to myself emotionally.
We left my mother behind, and that feels awful.
I know that she has to get used to the quiet house, to the being alone, but I wish I could help her through this.
I wish she could have come with us.

We fell into an easy rhythm, the three of us.
Took my mom to the school where she's teaching until the end of November, went home so Son#3 could play for a while.  

Grocery shopping.
Laundry.
Fetching my mother again, and having lunch, at home or in a cafe.
Dinner.
Bed.
Little sleep.
 
I'm glad we went.
I needed it, and so did my mom.
We're comfortable when together.

  
Son#3 was in his element:  Heat, lots of loving from adoring females, water.

He cried for his grandmother 3 times within 2 hours last night.

It all boils down to missing my father, and the finality of not being able to see or speak to him again is awful.
Grief is a strange, strange state.


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