Isn't it strange

In case you missed it, you can read last week's post here.

It's very strange how life continues on after someone in your life dies. I am no stranger to grief, I have lost many friends over the years and the majority of them from a young age, and many significant people from my logical and biological family. A parent is different they say, and this is my first experience. My dad didn't want a service and I am in Scotland, my two brothers make the trip to Arkansas to be with my mother. I keep up my end of things via video and phone. We are all exhausted and everything is strange. 

People say strange things too. 

I was off work the week my dad died since it was my birthday, but I go back to work this week. I treat everything as an experiment. I don't exactly know what I can and can't handle or how I am coping. It's a lonelier experience, being so far away. My friends here are lovely and supportive. I am thankful.

My brother Ben sends this photograph of me and my Dad on what I think was my 12th birthday. I am wearing false eyelashes for my old hollywood party - I am an unknown starlet of my own design. My Dad is 4 years younger in the picture than I am now in 2025. That seems strange and wonderful. We weren't worried about our health then. 

Speaking of my wonderful friends, my pal James took me on a birthday adventure to the beautiful Japanese garden at Cowden, but before we go to the garden, we go somewhere I had been meaning to return to for years - the Campbell Castle in Dollar. 

I made a promise to that castle back in 2013 that I would return to Scotland. At the time, I didn't know how or when I would be back - it all seemed rather fraught and impossible. And it pretty much was, but I did it. It was particularly meaningful for me to be there again during this time, as my middle name is Campbell after my grandma's maiden name (my Dad's mother). So, it just seemed to make sense. 

The Japanese garden was beautiful, we see loads of frogs and enjoy cake in the sunshine. I do a lot of grief eating of cake in gorgeous places during this time. 

Thank you for being here on this journey with me. 

You can read next week's post here.

That gum you like is going to come back in style

Capture the light

Morning Sun 1952 - painting Edward Hopper

I am stuck here wordless. 

I was videoless this week as well. 

After last week's activity comes this week's pause, this week's work, and this week's riding of the wave.

But there is a beam of sunshine on my hands and there is music in the air. I had a nice lunch and good snacks. I am wearing a new (to me) crisp white oversized button-up shirt from a charity shop. I can see clouds moving quickly from my window. I have packages coming my way and a stray cat who visits me. 

It's not bad or good - it's just life. 

When we look at a painting by Hopper we don't feel too bad about things. We don't judge the space in the room or the lone woman. We like the feeling. We celebrate it. Perhaps we can celebrate those days in real life too. Or just soak up the space, the light, the feeling. Celebrate is too strong. We can just be in the space without judgment and without wanting to move on too fast. 

Autumn is good for this, the need for hibernation is starting to filter in around the edges. It's okay to put on your shoes and go for a walk or just sit still and capture the light. 

Until next week, keep fighting and then take a nap. And if you live in Scotland sign this petition.

Thank you.