The grieving process is odd

I have been considering this for a few days now. This may be more of a window into my head than I'd normally want to open - or maybe not - but it might be useful to some people, so is probably worth it.

One of the things I noticed in the first 24 hours was how we wanted to just be still and quiet. We had close family around at that stage, and after the conversations naturally petered out we just sat in silence. Not an especially comfy silence, granted, but in many ways we prefered it. Words didn't cut it (how many people have said "there are no words to cover this"?).

Alongside that was the strangeness and almost awkward rudeness of biological function. It seemed really wrong to need to eat, to want the loo, to sleep. After the first sleepless night we were desperately tired, and I've remained aware of a lack of endurance since then - I really want sleep! Last night I stayed up 'till a bit after 12 to email various people, read a couple of forums etc. I just HAD to go to bed. My eyes start feeling heavy around 9.30-10.00ish.

Then there's the bike. Oh yes, the bike. This became my little secret bit of guilt at the beginning. See on the Saturday (THAT Saturday) I'd been to look at the one I'd mentioned earlier and agreed to buy it. It was irrational, but in my own mind I started to wonder if there could be some connection between that and what happened. People are daft sometimes. I KNOW there's no connection, but it took a bit of God's grace and patience to see that. Chris and I talked it over, and as our sharper eyed neighbours will have noticed, it's sat there at the bottom of the garden. Don't really feel much like riding it at the moment - there's a sharp reminder of that day, and especially that evening. Sarah was really excited at the thought of us having it, but it's the one area where I'm struggling to push past the feelings I have. Think it'll just get left until after the funeral. Once I get on it then it's likely to feel different.

So we're not completely (well, I'm not) perfect.

There you go. A window into my head, briefly open.

And now...... Breakfast.