Widower Wednesday

Well, it has been a month since Ray died on the 25th April. Where has the time gone? I've been busy looking after myself and dealing with paperwork associated with Ray's death. Mostly it is straight forward, but his superannuation company wants a couple of statutory declarations, which is a bother, and so much form filling in when I can barely write legibly. Our bank next door is quite happy to do document certification but it can't can do stat decs. 

Monday I had cleaners in, who cleaned my en suite, all the wardrobe door mirrors, two other mirrors and the balcony glass and windows. They did a good job and to have clean glass on the balcony is wonderful. I used to clean the balcony until I had sudden onset arthritis. Ray took over the glass and window clearing but the last time he only cleaned two panes of balcony glass, and said, I just can't do it any more. 

Tuesday I had brunch with my neighbour. I could probably call her a friend now. She is good company and it's hard to believe she is 77. She looks and acts like she is 60. 

Wednesday a friend caught a country train, a two hour journey one way to meet up with me in town for lunch. We had a nice time. He pointed out that we first met in around 1981, when Ray and I were living in Ray's flat in Elwood. He worked with Ray. Neither of them knew each other was gay, but apparently, though at work, I had left a copy of gay news magazine the Star Observer in plain sight at the flat. I'm sure the publishing company has had many incarnations and owners, and it is now a national magazine, still hard copy and online. 

Ray would have invited him back home after lunch, but that wasn't for me. It was so nice of him to make such an effort and the dynamics were a bit different to when Ray, me and him last met, at the same cafe in Hardware Lane. That was the last time he saw Ray.

Tomorrow, as I write on the Wednesday before this is published, I will take the car Thursday to restock food and alcohol supplies. I haven't used the car since last Thursday when I did the same. At times I cook but mostly I am eating bought prepared meals. 

It is Tradie Brother's sixtieth birthday party on Saturday. He is my younger brother, divorced from Ex Sis in Law, and father of Fire Fighting Nephew, Oldest Niece and Hippie Niece. It will be a big bash and Sister said she will pick me up to take me to the party, which means I can have a drink, and she'll drop me back home. We agreed two hours at the party will be enough. Her wife, Bone Doctor is bush walking and medical emergency training in Tasmania, but Jo will be with Sister. 

I wasn't sure where it went, but I found a Victoria Police compliment and complaint website to write a compliment to the police who doorknocked me at 1.00am to tell me Ray had died and saw me transported  to the hospital. They were lovely. Lordy, it went straight to the Professional Standards Committee, or something like that. The next day a female sergeant from our nearest police station where they are based called and said she had passed on my compliment to the two police officers. She went on to ask if I needed a referral to grief counselling and if I had support from family and friends. I just think wow. Our police force comes in for much criticism, as it should at times, but how well it worked for me when I was in shock. Over and over in my mind I think of when I opened the door to them at 1 am, I remember my words, 'You are not here to tell me good news, are you'. 'No, sorry Mr C, we aren't.'

When I initially wrote this post was some time ago. I know it is very long, sorry. 

Tradie Brother's party was terrific with two bonfires outside to warm us. People who I vaguely know offered their condolences. I am terrible at such celebrations. I sit back and watch what everyone is doing and who is talking to whom. I did talk to people at times. Tradie Brother's drinking companion was there. They used to sit up late at night drinking and listening to music. She was nice, although an alcoholic in a calm manner. She also has a crippling walking disability. 

Yes, it was a fun night, and I could have a drink, nearly a bottle of wine over two or more hours, before Sister picked me up and drove me and returned me home. I confirmed with all that the 16th of June would be a family gathering for a wake, or celebration of Ray's life. 

Sister said we will now leave and I sat near the gate. Aforesaid person with a a disability had her son to pick her up and take her home. I stood up to open the gate for them and did I trip over my own feet, trip over something? Whatever, I fell backwards to the ground, only saved by rubbish bins and bottle bins. How embarrassing. A couple of people helped me up. Thankfully I don't think too many people noticed. I don't understand why that happened. I wasn't drunk. I felt fine. 'Tis a queer thing.

As soon as I was in Sister's car, she asked me if I fell over. I replied yes, and I don't know why. She made some kind of grunting dismissive sound. Jo had her headphones on and heard nothing. 

Well, that was begun a week or so ago, meant to be published last Wednesday. I added to the post and now added to it again.

Don't I paint a good picture of myself, coping well after the death of my life partner? Well, at times I am fucking well not. I just miss Ray so much. I am living day to day until I die. There is no future, just an existence. But don't worry. Most of the time I don't think about anything beyond what I am doing the next day. Dinner? Go out where? What needs to be done? What can I tick off?