A promise

 I realised as I lay in bed last night that the end of my previous post might have made out that Tall was controlling, that he tried to tell me how I should be. It couldn't be further from the truth.

Tall championed me. He always had faith in me, even when I didn't have faith in myself. He never tried to change me, unlike my first husband, he simply loved me for who I was, warts and all. In return I loved Tall in exactly the same way. It's one of the reasons that I know we were soulmates, we loved each other, never wishing to change a single thing about the other. So I feel I owe it to Tall to explain what I meant about not being the woman Tall had wanted me to be. 

We had months knowing that Tall's health was declining, months that Tall used to get his affairs in order. One of the things he wanted was to make sure I would be okay. We had many conversations about what would happen to me when he was gone. Many of his plans didn't work out as friends and family, that he was sure would step up, simply stepped away. Along with his plans on how to continue the business was the plan that I should find someone else. Despite my repeatedly tearful replies that I could never love someone else, Tall insisted I must try, saying I had too much love to give to spend my life alone. Eventually I agreed, if only to stop him talking about it so often. Three years on, and with the clarity of reaching a different place in my grief, I can see that my acceptance of Tall's suggestion wasn't so much for me, but for him. He needed to know that I would be okay, even if he was leaving me. I realise now that the guilt he was feeling must have been awful for him. We had spent so many years joined at the hip, and he knew how hard it was going to be, having to continue our journeys alone. The promise that he made me give him eased his passing, and I know that he would understand that in my own way I have kept that promise. I have rediscovered the Good Cheer Pixie, and with her help, I don't need anyone else to love me.

The path to nifty sixty

 Three weeks in, and the job seems to be going well. I find myself dreaming of Tall most nights, I guess because I can't tell him about my day any other way. There are so many things I want to tell him. One of the real pluses is that the walking there and back has helped with my aim to be a healthy BMI by my birthday next year, hopefully it will be sooner.

 As part of my healthier lifestyle I looked back at the possible reasons why at the start of this year I found myself heavier than I had ever been. Eleven years ago, when we were planning our wedding, losing the weight was easy. I managed to keep the weight off until our very dear friend P. died, just before our first wedding anniversary. In 2017 I lost some weight again and vowed I would never allow myself to to put it back on. That lasted until Tall and I realised that he wasn't going to recover from the second SCT like he had after the first, and it was clear his health was going to slowly deteriorate. After his death the weight continued to creep on, little by little, not helped by the isolation of lockdown in 2020. 

Clearly I am a comfort eater. I use food to console myself when grief strikes, be that the loss of a friend, the loss of a future or the loss of a soulmate. I have come to realise over the last couple of months that, in reality, eating and drinking to excess doesn't actually make me feel any better. I still wake up the following day with a massive hole that can never be filled by wine or cream cakes. I need to find my happiness elsewhere. 

I have realised too that the changes I have made are so much easier without Tall. There's no one adding hot cross buns or Easter eggs to the trolley. No one suggesting we get a bottle, or two, of wine. No one asking for sausage and bacon sandwiches whilst on the dialysis machine. I thought that I would miss my crutches, yet in reality I am finding life without them quite easy. I can walk past the things Tall would have picked up and smile, remembering fondly what he would have said and done. 

 I think it might just turn out that I'm going to be alright on my own. Not quite the woman Tall told me I should be, but a woman that I am content with. 

 

New beginings

 As I approach the three year anniversary of Tall's death I am finally starting to feel more at peace. There is a sense of being content, not the heady over excited feeling of complete giddy happiness, but it is a massive change from the way I was feeling two years ago, or even last year. I often think about Tall and reflect on the good times we spent together, and the bad times too. Life was a roller coaster during what seemed like far too short a time. The bad years made the good ones all the better, and even the last two years were a bonus given how we thought Tall was going to die in 2017. 

I am still having to learn how to stand on my own two feet. It is strange how much I relied on just having another person's opinion on life, someone else's take on world events or the best way to do something. As I have probably said before, I might not have actually followed the advice, but it was always great to have another point of view. I now manage to do little jobs for myself, today I changed the saddle on my bike. There was a lot of cussing and I could have done with another pair of hands as I struggled to hold the spanner on one side of the bike while I tightened the one on the other. Tall would have managed with his long arms!

Next week I start a new job as a receptionist at a doctors' surgery. I have to confess when I sent off my CV I didn't think I actually had the experience or qualifications. As it turns out it was the years of being self-employed with Tall that actually helped. The years of dealing with customers and keeping the books paid off. I know that Tall would be really pleased for me. He always said I had people skills and that I underestimated myself. Life is going to be so very different, I haven't had a job with set hours for fifteen years. I have had the luxury of being able to shop when I like, walk the dog when I want and please myself about almost everything. I won't be working Mondays and Tuesdays as I'll still be looking after my granddughter, the rest of the week is anyone's guess. 

I think Tall would be proud. I am going to believe he would be with all my heart, and that he would be happy that I seem to have reached a stage of contentment and peace.