There was no reason to suppose there would be any tearful moments today.
After a frustrating day yesterday where I had to work round too many other people, I was looking forward to a happy day doing my own thing. I dropped the children off at school and walked to the supermarket to get some soup for lunch as part of my healthy eating attempts.
I spent a lot of time going to this supermarket with Dad and I reflected on happy times shopping together as I entered. I was still perfectly fine. I turned a corner and saw the birthday card display and thought perhaps I would get one for my son’s birthday on Friday. The first one that caught my eye had the word “Grandson” on it and I was floored. My Dad would always be more organised than me and put such thought into cards and gifts. This year his card won’t appear and that hurts me so goodness knows how my lovely son will feel.
I rushed my shopping and went to the checkout. “Do you need a bag, love?” asked the assistant. “Yes please”, I managed as more pain hit remembering how Dad would always make sure I had a bag before I set off to town. He too would use a bag for life over and over again.
Out into the car park and I can now see him quite clearly emptying his wine bottles and newspapers into the recycling bins.
Walking home, I see a charity is offering pop-in sessions at the local community centre for old people. Dad would be most unlikely to go anyway but it is another of what my step-daughter refers to as “heart-gripping moments”.
It was a relief to participate in the #littlebigthings Twitter party run by BritMums today. Dad did not die of cancer but Mum did so my thoughts could go to her as Tweeps talked of their experiences of what little things help when people are facing cancer. I threw myself into it and probably tweeted too much. It was a good reminder of that that saying that time heals and things do get less raw in time.
Later, I did the afternoon school run and saw a Grandad about my Dad’s age in a flat cap just like he used to wear and a sensible coat picking the children up as Dad would sometimes do for me.
I guess it is just one of those days when the grief minefield is particularly full of mines.
After school, I went to the charity shop and Dad had left me something there but more of that next week.