I've been lucky with the weather

Gasp! Yes, I have. The showery weather this week has kept me indoors, with my bee-sting infected leg elevated, guzzling antibiotics, and watching the tennis at Wimbledon. Never before have I been able to do this. I think I planned it rather well; except for the pain, the side-effects of the antibiotics and the tutting of the doctors 'this could develop into necrotising fasciitis'. Scary stuff.

Today it looks like I've been hit by a tennis ball, perhaps one of those 130mph serves from a large Croat. Never mind, I am at last on the mend. And so I treated myself to a walk round the garden. The Boxers were rather bemused that I am up on my hind legs, heading outdoors and not just to the fridge. I've hardly moved all week but I've eaten everything I can find. I even had Waitrose deliver this morning so I could plan my lunch and afternoon tea! Better not get used to this or I will be as large as a house. All things being well, I will be at aqua class tomorrow and I will walk the Boxers. 

They have of course still had an evening walk. Mr B has been very good at that. Not so good at the emotional stuff (or cooking or tidying the kitchen), but we are managing. Especially as our capable PA is on holiday and has left me dealing with Mr B's office. Thank goodness I can do that from the sofa - game, set and match!


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Isn't it time we changed the way we do bereavement?

Bereavement doesn't have to mean suffering. It can be a period of reflection, from which we, the survivors, draw comfort and strength to face the future without our loved ones. I have been close to my Dad this week as he recovers from surgery at our home. It was also our 20th Wedding Anniversary and the start of Wimbledon fortnight, always a highlight for Mom. I thought Dad might remember our Anniversary, but instead he stared into his bowl of cereal and said in a very serious and small voice 'Mom has been dead for 10 months today'. Of course, I already knew that. I still wake every morning, reflecting on the way we lost Mom to cancer, but I don't feel the need to off-load those thoughts on my Dad. He has enough to deal with.

I do wonder though if he is dealing with his bereavement by constantly reminding himself of Mom, because if he doesn't, he might forget her. I know he will never forget his partner of over forty years - how could he? Her presence is all around us.

Mom at Wimbledon

And in Wimbledon there is a perfect example of that. Mom loved tennis and played for most of her life. In fact, she and Virginia Wade (who won Wimbledon in 1977 during the Queen's Silver Jubilee) played tennis together as young girls in Durban in the 1950s. Mom never missed Wimbledon, watching avidly on the TV, until her first visit to the Championships twelve years ago. She went several times after that, and always felt so lucky to have done so. 

We grew up in the Bjorn Borg era of tennis, Mom's real tennis hero, but she was, at heart, a lover of the game at ground level. So, this first year of Wimbledon without Mom, I'm flying the flag for armchair tennis watching - and I'm loving it!

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