At breakfast this morning, I mentioned to LT that Graham, my wonderful friend who helped so much with the sorting out two summers ago, hadn’t been in touch yet. He’s been over from New Zealand for a couple of weeks, staying in L’toft where his son and family live. Not an hour later, I heard a car draw up, went to look – and there he was. So pleased to see him and LT gave him a warm welcome too. We talked for a long time, I showed him all round the garden – and the new stove and he promised to come again before he leaves for home.
By then, it was noon and the morning was gone, so I suggested we go out for lunch. And that was very good too. Young Stevo and his mate spent several hours putting down paving slabs – it’s pouring with rain now and I hope their efforts have not been undone: the job is to be finished tomorrow. We planted out the stuff we bought at the street market on Sunday and I’ve done a bit more weeding in the veg garden – there’s a serious amount of weeding in the flower beds too, it’s quite a lot for people who hate weeding.
I had a very affectionate and emotional phone call last night with my friend whose daughter has died and I wonder how on earth one can start to feel like living a normal life after that. It’s so totally devastating. I remember years ago, talking with girlfriends and, I don’t know how, the subject of family death came up. I said that surely losing a child would be worse than anything and my friend, the mother of five, said quite definitely that, to her, losing her husband would be the worst thing of all. I said that my mother had been widowed young and so had my sister, whereas it was natural to expect to outlive one’s child. It made me wonder, though, if I were being disloyal, but I still don’t think so. Especially, perhaps, an adult but still young child. Really on the brink.