Lockdown - Day 14

My uncle, who is a priest in Reading is dying and we can't go see him.  My mother is afraid to even try: there are no flights and because she is 82 she's a high risk category.   Nobody on the Irish side will be able to attend his funeral.   He married myself and Hubbie 30 years ago last August and for a priest he has a great sense of humour.  He is the only priest Hubbie likes.  

I wake every morning at 6am regardless of the day of the week or the time of the year.  My bedroom faces north-east and these days the sun is streaming in. Oh, happy days: the year is moving along on and summer is on its way.  

Yesterday was beautiful.  I took my shower at lunchtime and dried my hair sitting on a wicker chair in the garden.  There wasn't much heat but it's so lovely to sit outside.  Son (20) did press ups on the grass alongside me and son (22) laid out on a towel to top up his ski tan.

My friend, Fiona in Singapore shared a post on Facebook about grieving.  The bones of which is that with the Virus and the world shutting down, we are experiencing a displacement of our routine and are in mourning for normalcy.  Well, that makes a lot of sense.  My eyes are red raw from brimming tears.  I'm gorging all around me.  I've stopped the cider and increased the ice cream instead.   According to the post, we want our old lives back and this stress I'm experiencing is non-acceptance. 

 

It is yet another glorious Spring day in Cork.  You would think with my family around me, sitting in my kitchen which I love, candles lit, hot water bottles galore and the beautiful weather I would be content but I'm not.  I'm grieving.  If I had any sense I would enjoy what is happening because who knows that tomorrow will bring.  

I know I won't get this time back again and if I was sensible I would enjoy the novelty of it all.  I would enjoy having the most important people to me around me all day.  

Today I will walk.  Today I will move.  Today I will slap on sunscreen and brave the sun.   

My eldest son came home last night.  It's two months since he was home last. It's good to see him.  He plans to work from home Friday and Monday.    The news from Dublin; he and three mates are competing in the 'Stillo Olympics' short for Stillorgan Olympics 2020.  There are 20 'events' - the 50 metre dash - they go to the park for that one, 'Prosecco Painting' and 'Blind Drawing'.  He promises to show us over the weekend.

I shared with him Fiona's article on grieving.  He said, "What about Neophiles?"   

"What are they?"

"They love all new things and crave constant change."  

"They must be rare," I told him, "I've never heard of them."

I wonder if on the spectrum of Buddhism are Neophiles at the opposite end: not only do they accept change, they demand more of it.  

Son (20) made brownies last night.  Gorgeous.  The entire tray vanished within an hour of emerging from the oven.  They go particularly well with ice-cream.

Hubbie is still working out of the middle room which gets no day-light whatsoever.  I don't know how he sticks it.  Every hour or so, he emerges like a hibernating bear to forage for snacks and tea.  Yesterday afternoon, he went food shopping for his mother, his aunt and us on three separate trips.  His mother specified Barry Collins Supervalu in Carrigaline. No Aldi for her.  He arrived home with a bag of shopping as per her 'list' and barked instructions at the rest of us, "not to touch it."

"But I need milk," I said.  

He said crossly, "I'm getting Ka's (his aunt) now and then I'll get our stuff."  

"Why can't you do all three of us at the same time?"

"Because then, I won't be able to separate the shopping and the money."  

"You put all your mother's stuff on the conveyor belt, put up a divider, tell the cashier what you're doing, pay for that, then put up Ka's stuff, pay for that and then do ours?"  

He blinked,  "You can do that?"  

There was a work meeting yesterday scheduled for 11 am.  I had the App set up on my laptop and was all set to go.  I could see the names, I clicked 'Join' on the calendar but could not penetrate.  I called Hubbie from his lair but we could not break through.  When the meeting ended, my boss rang me and talked me through it.  I felt such a dunce.  I had too many things open.  I closed everything down and then logged in again.  This time it worked.  I was in.  The connection was very poor.  I could see her and she could see me.  The shock of seeing me gave me a fright.   My kitchen looked nice.  My Van Gogh painting - worth 55 million Euros - on the wall behind me looked amazing.    Next time, I will shower, get dressed, comb my hair, I'll even wash my teeth but I'll quench the camera and aim for audio instead.  

The news last night showed 30 Irish doctors arriving into Dublin Airport to help with the virus.  What struck me was they were all women - those that were interviewed - how young then looked.  At the end of the bulletin was a heart breaking moment between one doctor and her mother who was clearly overjoyed at seeing her daughter home but could not come within two metres of her.  

Last night, at 8pm all four of us stood at our front door and clapped in support of the health care workers.   We couldn't see anyone else do it but we heard faint clapping in the distance. 

 

I need to get up and move now; the circulation has gone in my legs.