Cliff's brother Graeme and his nephew Louis came to the rescue yesterday. I now have downstairs lights on again. So why do I feel worse? Because someone other than Cliff had to resolve the problem? Because they had to touch some of his stuff? Because they asked me some questions about the house that I couldn't answer and that made me feel guilty, even though Cliff wouldn't have expected me to know? I don't know.
It was good to see them and Louis is coming back to install the burglar alarm which is incredibly sweet of him. Most kids his age wouldn't bother ... he is a sensitive soul.
I'd like to lie down and die, but I know that's not an option. Instead I will get through today, see my shrink tomorrow (so that he can refer me back to my counsellor and my healthcare insurance will pay for the sessions), then drive to my sister's for the night. We are off to see my nephew, niece, their partners and children on Saturday/Sunday. This should perk me up a bit ... Helen has already texted me to ask if I drink diet or fat coke with my vodka ... it's fat coke, I need all the energy I can get, even if my stomach doesn't.
Another light in the darkness is that Faye and David have had their little boy. He arrived safely yesterday. This whole experience has changed me so much ... I cried with relief that she was okay. Before, I would have simply been overjoyed that the baby had been born. That said, I can't wait to see them and their baby. I KNEW it would be a boy and bought him a gift when I went over to Denmark.
An old and much trusted friend said this to me shortly after Cliff died:
even though it is such early days -I promise you that his light is still there, it is only that you are in such darkness now that you may not be able to see it for a while ... but you will, someday, and it will be a comfort. For now, though, darkness will prevail.
Right now I am holding onto those words ... and I wonder if she knows how much she has helped me, despite her own unimaginable heartache and loss. I must make sure I tell her. I can't trust myself to remember anything unless I write it down.