More sun, garden and crochet.

Ahh bliss.
I have actually enjoyed today; and for a little while I even "forgot" about Pete's death and looming funeral, although I don't think a date will be set until next week.

Anyway, today.
Well, another glorious day, incredibly warm - in fact it feels like summer here in Folkestone.  Even in the shade it's pleasantly warm, whereas a few short weeks ago it was warmish in the sun but darn nippy in the shade!  This morning I was minding, and it was a pleasant morning, minimal squabbling and tetchiness over sharing things... indeed there was some excellent sharing/takeing turns going on at times.  Kids really do mirror your emotional state.  Beginning of the week when I was pretty miserable, far too quick to shout, and just a litany of "Don't do that and this" and "Stop!" and well just harranging the kids basically, to the past few days when I've found a bit more balance in my moods, (all hail crochet lol), and the children have played together better, being more cooperative, and when talking to the children I've been more postitive rather than only seeing the negative.  Which makes for a much more pleasant time together.

The crochet project is coming along nicely, I really love the play of the colours as I work it together.  I'm creating each motif and working in ends as I go, so I don't have a multitude left at the end, and I'm joining as I go, which is slowing me down a bit; but it's worth it.  My only concern is that the cotton I'm using is quite thick and doesn't feel as soft as I expected when worked up; so I'm not sure how comfortable it will be to wear.  Does look beautiful though.  I fully plan to make myself one, although i have a slightly different configuration in mind and I've seen some gorgeous, gorgeous yarn I want to make it from.  The Mini Mochi flaming rainbow colourway is beautiful and I think would make a gorgeous shawl, and as it's a thin yarn should also drape beautifully...which is a concern I'm having with the rico creative cotton, aran. 

Today has pretty much been spent in the garden, Izzy and her children came around this afternoon, the older kids did some work at the garden table, lol under protest, before going off to play, although I think they enjoyed my interest in what they were doing.  And then Izzy and I sat and chatted, and tried to figure out where she was in a pattern for a lovely cardy from the Stitch and Bitch book.  Wow, the pattern is quite hard to understand; but I think we got there eventually.  If you have the stitch and bitch book (Happy Hooker), it's the purple cardy in it.    And then it was time for Izzy and kids to go and I had snuggles with Rye, a wee snooze on the sofa.  Lately it gets to half four/five o'clock and I find myself feeling exhausted, I do perk up again, but for a wee while I feel utterly shattered, yet it's too late to have a nap really.  More snuggle with Rye, watched a bit of Miss Spider/Sunny Patch dvd with him and then bed for him and a bit of a catch up on here.

Tomorrow spritz around the house, prepare food for a Home Ed group bbq tomorrow, and then in the afternoon, the bbq at the park across from my house.  Looking forward to it, weather looks like it will be glorious again.. and after that I have a few days off for the Easter break, which I'm so looking forward to and also Rye is visiting is dad on Monday, back Tuesday evening.  I have plans so I don't turn in Miss Mardy Pants - not that's there anything with grieving of course, but I am a bit of a wallower, so keeping busy is good for me; and I am still giving myself time to grieve too - but it does kinda feel a bit in limbo at the moment, once the date for the funeral is known, then I'm sure it will hit me more; so again rather relieved for the bank holiday's and time off from work to give me that opportunity to grieve without the need to put on a "brave" face, as it were, for the kids.

Anyhoos, I'm off to crochet some more :-) 

Drained.

I have done very little today, made snacks and meals for the kids, changed bums, crocheted in the garden, and after lunch I took them down to the park for a hour or so; and I feel utterly done in now.  I need to clean and tidy the kitchen, I managed to put the bins and recycling out for tomorrow and that was it for me.  The cleaning will have to wait until the morning.

Rye said to me earlier, "Mum, are you still sad?"
"yeah, a bit Rye, I'll be sad for a while yet."
"Because Peter died?"
"Yes darling, because Peter died."
"I think he'll be ok now though, mummy."

Bless him, wise words.

It has been a glorious day and very warm indeed.  The top photo is when Rye was trying to tie one of the ride on's to the back of the tractor, and the little boy, I have on a Tuesday, had fallen asleep on the trampoline, bum in air, which is why my bed throw is trailing the floor - I've draped it over the line and the trampoline to provide shade.  The little girl had a nap too, a nice respite; and without mindees to excite Rye he calmed down lovely and played intently and quietly.

 Not sure what he was thinking here, but bless, he looked very thoughtful.

The sandpit was a good buy, it gets a lot of use, and Rye is happy as a pig in sh*t; especially now he's realised he's allowed to take his wooden dumper truck and exacavtor out there.   I'm happy too, as a friend has told me that washed sand is the exact same stuff as "play" sand but costs a fraction of the price.  Happy days, last year I probably spent going on for £100 replenishing the sand!

 Oooh and a spark of excitement when the postie banged on the gate announcing he had a recorded delivery for me.  The yarn I ordered has arrived.  All 27 balls of it; it's Rico Creative Cotton, Aran; lovely and soft, if rather splitty - but holding the tension tight sorts that problem out.  I've made a flower, but I'm not keen on the centre, so I'm tweaking at the moment.

But alas a "OOOOHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" moment when this happened;

My favourite 4.5mm hook, toast.   Ahh well, gives me an excuse to pick up the coloured aluminmum set I've had my eye on.   I've enjoyed crocheting, and I have to say I did brighten up quite a bit and felt much less mardy. 

Kevin called again today too.  His MIL has told him that I won't receive a funeral grant because Kevin has some savings - and it can take some weeks for it to be sorted - so Kevin is going ahead with plans and will pay for the funeral himself.   Pete's body is being released for cremation, so the funeral will probably be in about 2 weeks time, which means I'm gonna have to cancel my Scotland plans, while I could still go up - the thought of doing that drive to Scotland and back and then a day or two later having to drive up to Yorkshire, attend a funeral and then drive home... well it does not enthuse me, that's for sure.  At least things are moving forward, that's something.

Ramblings.

I am so very fortunate.  Pete's death has made me very aware of that.  So many friends being wonderfully supportive, the use of a car so I can visit Kevin tomorrow, taking Rye to the park and keeping him entertained for a few hours so I could snooze - offering to come and help me out next week, hanging out washing for me.  Listening to my ramblings, I'm probably repeating myself a lot but then its not about the words, its the connection.  Everyone is rallying around in ways that they can and I am very grateful, so very grateful.

Peter was always rather shy, socially awkward, and rather blunt.  He didn't suffer fools gladly and, being that he had a scathing wit, he was also rather formidable...  that wit could also be hilariously funny - so-long not directed at you.   The death of my father and later middle brother, began the gradual process of Peter becoming more and more isolated and withdrawing from society.  Then when mum died he really began to cut himself off... not straight away and for a long time he did satisfy that social need, we all have, via the internet...until eventually he removed that connection too - but not before he had researched the method he would use to exit this world.

He used helium gas and a bag.  He left a note, explaining why, asking us to understand and forgive him and not to be sad or guilty, he'd had enough, he didn't want our help, he just wanted to go. He offered comfort by explaining he would feel no pain and his passing would be peaceful.   Not entirely sure I can forgive, not even sure if there is any point in forgiving, he's dead, what the hell does he care?  And just as quickly as the spark of anger ignites, it flickers out again and I just feel numb and sad.  He was so very rational, he knew exactly what he was doing... how do you get to that point?  Impulse I can understand; Richard's sucide was an impulse - he probably didn't even mean for it to go so far that he died..but he did... but Peter.  He deliberately set out to find a method that would be painless, he left a note for Kevin along with some paperwork (but not a will it seems), he turned off the gas, electric and water supplies and he secured the house, then he laid down and he did the deed.

I don't understand, how can you do that?  That level of dispassionate-ness, it is beyond me.

and so I ramble, I umm and arrhhh, I stare into space; sometimes I cry briefly, over times silent tears fall, other times I'm able to block it out and concentrate on the normal daily routines; laugh at the children, read stories to Rye, have cuddles and kisses, play games. 

And deep down I thank my gods that I made connections, I have connections, that I cannot understand how Peter could be done with life at 46 years of age and that, despite having similar recluse tendencies, I do have friends, a community around me, I do know I am loved and normally life is good.

Flat.

The details are now coming to light and it's, well I don't know what word to use.  Not entirely sure how I feel, flat is probably the best descriptive word.  Rye has been lovely, keeps asking if I'm still sad about Peter, along with asking if he's opened his eyes yet.  I was trying to get him to understand the finiteness of death, but then, he doens't really need to understand, does he, so I just leave it with, "No, darling, he won't ever open his eyes now."   And leave it at that because even that Rye isn't really grasping.

This morning when Rye woke up, he came downstairs and climbed onto my lap to give me a cuddle and ask if I was happy today.  I explained that I will be sad for quite a while yet, and he seems to grasp that's because of Peter.  It's kinda like the past few days Rye has suddenly matured quite a bit; he's been very helpful and showing much empathy - and not just occupied with his own little world, as little kids are wont to be. 

Its been very comforting to snuggle up to his warm little body and hold the next generation, as it were, life goes on, it is going on, and Rye is next generation of our family; along with the Kevin's kids and Richard's, now grown up, son.  

Goodbye, Peter, watch out for mum, she's bound to give you an arse kicking.

Was 6 now 2.

Once upon a time I belonged to a largeish family of six.  My parents, 3 brothers and myself.  My father died when I 19, some years later the middle brother committed sucide, destroyed my mother, who then, sometime later, was diagnosed with cancer and died within 3 months of that.  Yesterday, my eldest brother, Kevin, called to tell me Peter has been found dead.  He was the youngest of the 3 boys, and ten years older than me.  So now there is only Kevin and myself.  It seems so unreal, how can one family loose so many members?

I don't know the details of his death.  Kevin was contacted by the police because Peter's neighbours had raised an alarm, they hadn't seem him at all for a while.  Did Kevin know where Peter was, could he be out, on holiday?  Unlikely, so the police broke down the door, or whatever they do to get inside a house, and found him.  All I know is the police told Kevin it looked like Peter had been dead a while.  How long that is, who knows.  It's that which is playing on my mind, along with the obvious questions of why he's dead?  Peter I use to be thick as thieves, but after mum's death we fell out and never talked again.  He refused all overtures I made and eventually I stopped, if I were in Yorkshire I would pop by the house but he never once answered the door.    And deep down I knew he would never forgive me, but you know, you hope, there's none now.  Gods though, for no one to know, no one to be there.  That is awful, poor Peter.  He was a git, but damn he was my brother and I loved him.  I keep imaging him laying there in that house, horrible visions and my heart aches for him so much.

Kevin has driven up, I assume he's on his way back to Hampshire, where he lives, now.  I assume he will have made the formal identification; but then I wonder if he would have been able to, would they have let him see Peter?  I wanted to go too, yet I couldn't, I have Rye to think about, I couldn't take him up there not knowing what state the house is in.  I will go up, for the funeral of course.  Another funeral, another blood relative to bury, to grieve for.  When does it end?  It doesn't, that's life, and it's shit, not always, but today, it's shit.

Ahhh Peter, what happened?  Why are you dead?