Tomorrow is the only day of the year that everything is closed for business – all the shops, all the pubs, all the petrol stations – so I guess it is our country’s tiny gesture towards the religious significance of this crucifying day ….
I always save up all my sadnesses for this day because it seems more emotionally economical to do so. After all, I can’t miss my father, who died when I was 19, every day; I can’t miss my misspent youth every day; I can’t miss my inviolable faith every day; I can’t miss Son’s babyhood every day; I can’t miss Husband the way he was, every day.
So tonight, I am doing my sad-missing-stuff thing before Good Friday so that tomorrow I will be able to stretch out both of my arms as far as they will stretch in order to embrace something new, in order to wrap them around what is next, in order to kiss the morning.
Tomorrow, I pick Husband up from the nursing lodge after I leave Son with my mother. I have made fish mornay (Husband’s favourite) for lunch. It will be a good day.