Here is my den, my nest, my lair. My little corner of the house/world where I type away, play with photos, think thoughts (well some anyway) and generally try to be creative.

Usually Minou would be sitting on the pile of papers beside the plant looking out of the window and keeping up to speed with the comings and goings. She is a lady who likes to know what’s happening. You could well imagine her gossiping to Berti whilst lazing by the fire of an evening – “Well you’ll never guess, that old ginger guy from up the lane was marching past bold as brass this morning, think he’s up to no good. He’d better not turn up here carrying a dead mouse for me, yuck I don’t even like the cat, eeuurgh he’s ginger!”.

Minou is not sitting by the window because I got up to take this photograph and my moving very often means a trip to the kitchen, and that’s something no girl can ever miss out on…..

I’m back at my desk again these days. I realised that there is nothing I can do in the present Mum Situation. While I wish it were all over, I cannot hasten the end. Funny how it can take you a while just to grasp this. You get so wound up in all your anguish and grief that you almost think that by wishing it were all over then that would be so. Wishful thinking at its best I guess.

This was another to-ing and fro-ing weekend, another chance to get better acquainted with the M8 motorway and harbour such thoughts as a wish that you could gain car miles like those air miles you get on planes, I could be heading for a nice holiday by now with all my cross country mileage. I imagine myself motoring in Tuscany and perhaps heading down that gorgeous Italian coastline on the winding scenic roads. Headscarf and shades firmly in place and the look of a young Grace Kelly about me. Come on it’s a dream remember…..

Anyway I’m back at my desk again. Working and blogging. Maybe not on full power yet, but I’ll get there. I can’t put my life on hold for someone else to let theirs go. Life as we know it in all its ups and downs goes on.

Thanks again for all your support and good wishes. You really have no idea how much it has all meant to me. I’ll keep you posted re Mum, but I want to try to get back to ‘normal’ (whatever that is) whenever I can. This has all taken such a toll on all of us. It’s funny how grief effects us all in different ways.

I cry and rage and fall apart somewhat publicly. Tears flow and I have no stoppage of them. Colin seems like a rock, a sturdy wall of compassion and strength. But even a wall, an island or a rock is not all it may seem. There are cracks and fissures where sadness and doubt can creep in and cause havoc beneath the calm and strong exterior. Fissures that can  threaten to bring down the entire structure by undermining the core. Where I rage and sob and wail and behave with mannerisms not too far removed from the average five year old, his trauma and grief eat at him through his health and pull him down a breath at a time. Every bug and infection seem to cling to him as if his own immune system is tired of being strong for someone else.

Too much, too much.

Work goes on. Book manuscript  is in and calls must be made.

Onwards today, onwards.

Karon x

Wonder where Minou is, she had better not have run off with that Ginger guy afterall…

I’ve not been blogging because I hate this bad news stuff, yet at the same time I don’t feel it is right to get jolly, do favourite things and giveaways etc, believe me I don’t want to burden readers with this mess.

It is wrong, a crime against humanity to wish someone dead. I’m guilty of this crime and  am beating myself up endlessly about it. I don’t want to do this of course, it just happens. We are brought up to respect life, to cling on to it to give it all we’ve got. But dear God when it is gone in all but the breathing and most piteous of communications, why do we have it?

I don’t think I ever really understood the term ‘death is a mercy’ until now.  Right now for my Mum I would host a party for it. I can see now where wakes can be celebrations, not just of a life well lived, but of a release from pain and suffering at the end.

“We are keeping her comfortable” is the daily news. To be honest I’m tired, I’m knackered mentally and physically from the backwards and forwards, the listening for the phone, the heartbreaking rush of “She’ll only last the weekend”, then the “she is rallying a little”, again “things are going down”. We all know there is no hope, but the wait seems endless.

I feel like the lowest most hateful creature, a veritable Golem if you will. On one hand the dutiful daughter rushing to and fro across the country, hand holding, smiling and whispering words I have long lost track of, yet on the other I am longing for the end. I have never been good with stress, I am not liking me at all right now.

Karon x