It has been many weeks since I last wrote. My mum died six weeks ago and I haven't felt motivated to write or do many other things. I was off work for a few weeks and spent some of it back in London visiting my dad and sister.
I thought I was ready to return to work but my reality was that it took a few weeks for Mums death to begin to affect me. This blog is supposed to be about grief and mental health but right now, I can't, or don't want to, put my thoughts and experiences here. The most obvious thought I will share is that grief remains predictably unpredictable.
Of course, Ruby hasn't been far from my mind.
It was Shrove Tuesday recently. Pancakes were my and Ruby's favourite food and I have been unable to cook pancakes (crepes) since she died almost four years ago. The last few years I made drop-scones/ Scottish pancakes which was an obvious second best. But this year I just got on with making a big pile of proper crepes for breakfast and even managed to use the frying pan I bought Ruby for her own foodie experiments which has been at the back of the cupboard for years. She used it for a chicken-and-spice experiment- we cut a chicken fillet into bite-sized chunks and she marinaded each piece in a combination of different ground spices which were then labelled carefully and fried. Her favourite was a smoked paprika, coriander, cumin and turmeric mix which ever since had been known as Ruby Spice in our house. Even Tom has liked it from a young age and we keep a pre-mixed jar in the cupboard, just in case. Ruby was, of course, not far from my mind.
I remain a jogger, preparing for the Belfast Marathon in May. I have recently started strength and stability training at my local gym, practice a hill run each week and a long run at weekends (I have just got in from my longest ever run- 28km- so my recent gym membership appears to be worth it). It takes a great deal of psychic effort to attend the gym or to spend hours away from Claire and Tom at the weekends but I keep the greater goal in mind of crossing the finish line and of raising money for a heart charity. And, of course, Ruby is not far from my mind.
Adding to my recent feelings of loss was International Women's Day last week, always an emotional day for me. Although I feel a little uncomfortable as a man calling myself a feminist, I undoubtedly am one. There is no reason to not be a feminist. I lost my daughter four years ago and my mum six weeks ago. I am a nurse, of whom many more are women than men, and I have been one of very few men in any team I have worked in and rarely with a man as a manager. I generally prefer the company of women, professionally and personally, I prefer female comics, filmmakers, journalists, photographers and makers of art I admire. International Women's Day isn't just another day to me, it is a chance to openly consider and discuss ideas, interests, joys, admiration, and respects of great interest to me. I spent the lunchtime at Belfast City Hall supporting a pro-choice rally (abortion is still totally illegal here in Northern Ireland. But it's 2017) and then watched an amazing writer and academic speak at City Hall- Angela Davis, an American activist who focuses on ideas of poverty and lack of choice as being the most restrictive type of abuse women receive around the world. It chimed strongly with me as I so strongly believe Christopher Hitchen's maxim that almost all the worlds problems could disappear in one generation if all women were given absolute birth control.
I wished Ruby was with me. She was never far from my thoughts.
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