I took myself off for a walk this afternoon. I had to try and get my head around parting with things which had been so connected to Keith, from our dealing days. I had been trying to cope with it by telling myself that these were just "old stock" which he had overpriced, or weren't what people wanted, or . . . but somehow it all goes so much deeper. I could remember researching various pieces, occasions when "customers" would try to show off their "expertise" by running something down. They were usually completely ignorant about whatever they were trying to pretend to be an expert about, but it always rankled. This especially since Keith has died, as it's almost like a slur against him and his knowledge. I could remember the occasions when we bought something, when Keith had done a good deal with one of his mates, laughing about something, me saying to him "WHY did you buy that?" I will confess to having been in tears the last few days, because of having to face up to all this and process my emotions.
He would tell me I have done the right thing, but it has been hard. I need to start sorting out the contents of the stables and his workshop. I will put a listing up on Facebook Marketplace for his barrels of bits of old chairs, stretchers, legs, table legs, short bits of wood for repairs. No good to me, but if someone still does repairs . . . otherwise someone might want it as firewood. I can't deal with that just yet though.
It felt very cold this morning when I did my shopping in Llandod. Fortunately it was a bit warmer after lunch when I walked to the old telephone box and back (2 miles).
Processing grief is complex, as it spears you from so many different angles, and always catches you unawares. The one constant is that part of you is missing, your main reason for living ripped away and the wound that is left behind only has the flimsiest of skins over it. I am off to try and find something on tv to distract me.
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