Thanks you guys. It's very strange because part of me still can't believe this has happened. Partly I guess because it all happened so quickly and relentlessly. It's exactly four weeks ago I drove him home from hospital and he was gone within the week.
Then there's the feeling that we're now somehow inhabiting a strange altered universe. Sometimes catch myself thinking, Ah must tell Hans about such-and-such... Then it hits you, of course.
Loss is exactly like we're told it is, only more so. Or something.
Loss is exactly like we're told it is, only more so. Or something.
I know.
Opened a book last week - source material I'd not read in some time - at the bookmark. Which bookmark was a letter sent by Jack (the Old Boy) back in 1986 on his trip back to the US and Canada.
"Hello my Son..." No dementia, no nursing home no creeping death. I read the lot: start to finish. The voice was there in my head.
I was back in the Strathfield apartment Jack had addressed it to. Just like that.
We're looking at moving house sometime soon. Not in itself anything to look forward to, but for the prospect of maybe finding forgotten bits and pieces which often turn up in the process of sorting and packing.
5 Comments:
RIP Hans.
That's a beautiful picture Jacob.
Been thinking of you....
An excellent picture.
Ditto what Kathy says: been wondering how its holding up Jacob.
Thanks you guys. It's very strange because part of me still can't believe this has happened. Partly I guess because it all happened so quickly and relentlessly. It's exactly four weeks ago I drove him home from hospital and he was gone within the week.
Then there's the feeling that we're now somehow inhabiting a strange altered universe. Sometimes catch myself thinking, Ah must tell Hans about such-and-such... Then it hits you, of course.
Loss is exactly like we're told it is, only more so. Or something.
Loss is exactly like we're told it is, only more so. Or something.
I know.
Opened a book last week - source material I'd not read in some time - at the bookmark. Which bookmark was a letter sent by Jack (the Old Boy) back in 1986 on his trip back to the US and Canada.
"Hello my Son..." No dementia, no nursing home no creeping death. I read the lot: start to finish. The voice was there in my head.
I was back in the Strathfield apartment Jack had addressed it to. Just like that.
Wow, what a find! Something to cherish, eh.
We're looking at moving house sometime soon. Not in itself anything to look forward to, but for the prospect of maybe finding forgotten bits and pieces which often turn up in the process of sorting and packing.
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