jmgoyder

For the last six years, I have dreaded this month’s anniversary of Anthony’s death – August 23rd.

How absolutely ridiculous! I am ashamed and embarrassed at my self-pity, and Ants would have swiftly told me to get a grip, be stronger, stop. His clone, Ming, has now taken on this role, haha!

I loved (love) Anthony so much and the ongoing grief hurts a lot of course BUT….

…. there is a new kid on the block, born in August a year ago, a grandchild with the bluest eyes, the most incredible giggle, and the best re-definition of August for me, for ever.

Yesterday afternoon, feeling ghastly with a cold/flu thing, I decided to go online and order some fast food to be delivered. Ordinarily, I don’t eat fast food, but I was feeling a vulnerable craving for chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy – comfort food.

I made the order, then realised that I had run out of milk, so I drove down to the closest shop to get the milk, thinking to myself that I could easily have picked up the fast-food order myself. Hindsight is everything, of course.

Just as it was getting dark, I returned home, with my milk, to find a big delivery truck in my driveway. Alarmed by the super-duper headlights shining onto the front of my house, I ducked down in my car, hoping to avoid the intruder.

But he saw me! “Your gravy, ma’am” he said, as he left. I suspected that he was a bit amused, or bemused, or perhaps thought I was a bit of a character.

On my doorstep was a tiny little container of gravy.

We absolutely have to talk about death differently; we have to ‘do’ death differently; we have to face its inevitability with our eyes wide open, instead of shying away. My dad died when I was 19; my husband died seven years ago; my mother’s best friend died a couple of weeks ago – and more and more and more people I know have died, or are dying. To the thousands of us who grieve these deaths, let’s have a chat.