… to all of you who have responded since I resumed the blog, both in public and in private.
I write this blog in the main to help me. If it helps anybody else then that is a bonus.
The following is not a plea for responses, in fact, I am asking for none.
I have no idea what I have said or done that chimes with you, dear reader. I am just another cancer widow(er) who is trying to find his way out of what is probably a paper bag, but in my grief and blind panic it seems to be in a darkened room with no doors or windows. Sometimes I think I see a glimmer of light, but maybe I am merely becoming accustomed to the lack of illumination since my pupils are now well and truly dilated.
I don’t see the death of Laing as “The End”, no matter how much it felt like it at the time. It is the unwanted early close of a chapter or a volume. There is a lot of unfinished business that I have to attend to from the earlier part of the story.
Going back to people and places and facing up to reality that way is not so difficult when you try it. Right now I am suffering badly from pre-my-first-birthday-on-my-own blues. Laing always made a little fuss of my birthday whenever possible. He would organise a good dinner perhaps, or maybe a few days away if it fell at a weekend. There was always a card of some sort with no printed message inside just something handwritten. This year, and sorry to be so negative, I shall have nothing. Nothing, except memories. I so want a birthday card from anybody, though I really hated anybody except Laing doing it. I didn’t want the knee jerk response from the office (my birthday has been a guarded secret at work for a long time now) and I knew my mother loved me without the need for a card.
I need to retain the discipline of blog writing. If you read every word and make sense of the poor spelling, poor grammar and poor editing, then you deserve some sort of endurance award. Also, if you think I am letting the side down by not posting enough (though please, not daily!) give me a nudge. I owe it to you as my reader to do my bit for you, as much as posting is for me.
I never thought the discipline of blogging would be something I would be able to maintain. My time in Venice didn’t help as I was having to learn Italian, and so I let my discipline slip. Having restarted, it’s like riding a bike. You just get back on and pedal like buggery.
To those of you out there not sure if blogging is for you, try it. Don’t set yourself ambitious targets. I started off daily but soon found out, as I have an unreasonable employer who thinks I have to work and go to the office in return for recompense, I have to fit blogging in as and when I can. The knowledge somebody else out there, even if it is only one person who comments favourably, especially if you have laboured over the blog, is a rich reward.
I feel sick to my stomach that I only discovered I could blog because the focus of my life, and yes, the love of my life, died cruelly young from cancer.
If there is any deity out there, you’ve been stingy with your favours. I’m not asking for wealth or anything, just an opportunity to give to others less fortunate than I. At present, all I can do is give words, only words, and words are all I have.
Take them. They’re yours.
