Cold and frosty mornings

The sun is shining, as a new week begins, but the price to pay is the cold and frosty mornings. It is icy out now, and cars have to be scraped. Winter woolies are the order of the day. The weekend was busy, noisy and good. Having my 2 sons and my daughter-in-law home together was great, and Andrew has noticed what a change there has been in David too. They are more equals now, and actually listen to each other's opinions. And they cook too. What more could a mother ask for.......! A and A went running yesterday morning. In their lycra. I am not sure the village is quite ready for lycra yet. They have run a lot of 10k races, and are getting back into it again after a break.

I popped in to the end of the shared lunch yesterday after they left, but didn't stay for long. I did get to cuddle the newest baby for a while though. Little Hannah weighed 7lb 7oz , is a week old, and is the sweetest thing, and I absolutely loved cuddling her and marvelling over the perfection of her tiny hands. What a blessing each and every baby is. Last night I thought about not going to the expanded fireworks, but got a call from Jean to say the little ones would be very disappointed if I didn't show up, so I went and it was lovely. This year Mims didn't like the rockets, while Chris wasn't at all scared. I am not so good in crowds at the moment. I know it will get better, but I am tending to avoid larger gatherings right now.

I found a series of blogs written by widows by accident last night. I had no idea they were out there. Some say things I completely agree with, and most say an awful lot about personal feelings. I can't do that. Don't get me wrong, I am so glad to see what they say and to realise I am not the only one reacting the way I do to certain parts of my life. However, I know that people who love me, like my children, read this blog. Peter said to me this weekend, that anyone reading my blog would not have a clue about what I am really thinking or feeling. Perhaps he is right. I do a lot of talking, but like so many people, I think 99% of me is hidden. Until you have walked in these shoes, you can't really understand, much though you may want to, so it is better to concentrate on the living, and keep the rest under wraps.

I will say that it does matter that some friends move forwards towards you to be there no matter what, and some retreat to obscurity. It does matter that some think that 4 months or so have passed and that means things are back to normal. What on earth is normal? It matters that they never ask or that they don't really want to hear the answer. It matters that they simply don't think. It matters that they just see the surface and don't look any deeper. It matters when they say they are just a call away and then never answer messages. It matters when they haven't got the time to listen.

I will never be the same person I was the minute before he died. It is not possible. I will be a new person, different, but that is still under development. A work in progress. And the "A-list" of family and friends , (the 3 o' clock in the morning brigade) will be there encouraging me and believing in me all the way. Especially my kids.

And in case you were wondering what Ann was looking at in the photo, here are the Christmas tags/decorations I have made.