Ghostly Presence

10/03/24

Due to the house being little better than a building site at the moment, it’s not been safe to have the Grandbeanies to stay over here.

I can’t drive and take them on outings as was the routine before EH left, so I’ve been spending time with them at their house instead.

It’s not the same, but all cuddles and chats with them are good cuddles and chats, no matter where they’re occurring.

The weather was decent recently, so Kieran brought all four of the here, to play in the garden and spend the day.

I was so excited, scooping them up at the front door in a big, squirming bundle of hugs and kisses, all of them jabbering excitedly, trying to tell me their news.

Oh how I love those squishy little humans.

Unfortunately, the day went downhill, for me, from there.

The Grandbeanies were just as wonderful, interesting and engaging as they’ve ever been. It was me. I just couldn’t cope with the flood of unexpected grief their presence induced in me.

Even though there’s not a biological tie, EH has always been their grandfather. He’s always been here when they are, so of course they would ask about his absence.

I was prepared for that, and they were satisfied with a simple explanation that he doesn’t live here now.

What I hadn’t anticipated was having his presence haunt the whole day. It was like he was standing at their shoulders, smirking, mocking me with memories of times we’d all spent together.

It had never crossed my mind that seeing my grandchildren excitedly rummage through their individual boxes of ‘special treasures’ would feel like I was having my heart torn to tiny shreds.

I broke completely when Daisy pulled out a badge, a memento of a trip we’d all taken together. Reading it, she turned to me with the most beautiful smile and said, “I still believe in fairies Grandma, do you?“

Her innocence, the memories of that day, and my terrible sense that actually, someone stamped on the fairies and broke their wings…. It was too much.

I had to run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom. I don’t want them to see me cry like that. It scares me, so I’m pretty sure it would terrify them.

This kept happening throughout the day.

I’d pull myself together, then some little trinket or rock or comment would tip me into tears again, and I’d have to absent myself.

Thankfully Kieran was here too, so I knew they were safe. Still, I hated having to lie to them, saying I had a poorly tummy and that’s why I kept running off.

Although, in actual fact, that’s not entirely a lie. The stress puking continues to plague my waking hours.

This is relentless.

Every time I think I’ve made some progress, I’m smacked around the face with some brand new emotional turmoil.

The pain, the pain, the pain. Please, just make it stop.

I know some of it stems from the withdrawal and recovery from the unhealthy, addictive relationship that was my marriage. However, enough already. Just let me be on the other side.

Please.

JP