My daughter held a bbq for her birthday

The actual birthday isn’t for a few days but it is the last weekend before they go off to South America so an early celebration is in order.

I didn’t want to go at all. To start with, I always have to see my ex-husband and his family there and it is stressful. Right now, social interaction is incredibly hard anyway.

I normally provide some sort of food and a homemade cake. I’d actually bought all the cake ingredients but today was a day when I couldn’t even brush my teeth, let alone turn an oven on. Husband was dispatched to buy an ice-cream cake instead.

I was very anxious about going there because I don’t have the social skills right now to deal with groups of people but she is my lovely daughter and I can make a huge effort for her.

It didn’t work out well.

I am lousy with the memory right now and one of the causes of my grief is that I don’t remember the last conversation I had with my brother. Because I didn’t know it would be that last conversation and a huge part of my grief is that everybody else in my family had the chance to consolidate and bind and say important things but I never did. Because they kept it from me while I was away and I only found out by a random email from overseas,wishing us all good luck.

I don’t think that I will ever be able to fine tune memory down to that last conversation but I now do realise the last time I saw him as he truly was. It was at the last year’s birthday party. I can even see exactly where he sat. His absence, from a family scene so typical, was absolutely devastating.

I feel flayed, like every nerve ending is screaming with raw pain.





About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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