An old friend visited…

Yesterday, a knock at the door was an old friend who I have known since I was about 13. He was in his mid-twenties, the younger brother of friends of my parents. I ran into both of them earlier in the summer and, not recognising them, it was a chance remark that revealed our past friendship.

I confessed to Hugh that I had a slight crush on him at the time. He was good-looking, single, and turned up irregularly. All the ingredients to be noticed by a traumatised young girl who felt like she did not exist.

It turns out that the two roads in which he has lived are the two roads that two of my closest friends lived in. It was so strange. I was visiting where he lived in two roads over 30 years.

We chatted, and I made us tea and coffee, while he did some washing up for me. Then he helped me reframe one of my photos. I gave him my phone number on a torn piece of notepaper that I found in my living room drawer. On it was written;

“Chrissie, sorry for involving the council. It was Dawn. M.”

I had completely forgotten the existence of that note! It is inconsequential now. Hugh took it and noted my phone number.

My day did get a little difficult as I find smallest jobs to take a while now. A dear friend in Malaysia has been sending a WhatsApp as he goes to bed. It gives me a time check to remember my evening meal. For some reason, he told me something and I thought I had caused a problem for him, but no, it seems that he was sharing thoughts that were not necessary for me to know.


I realise I have lost all my resilience…

The last two years since my sister died have been very hard, and since last year when Mike ghosted me because he ‘didn’t want to be my cook, cleaner and nurse’, twenty four hours after he proclaimed his love and that he would not let me die alone, my emotional strength has been even more fragile. I also lost my dog a week or so after the death of my sister.

I have had some bad news today and have wept and feel I will never stop weeping.

All the PTSD I’ve suffered because of my neurological disease seems to haunt me again, and feelings of worthlessness are constant companions. I have no resilience to weather the storms, even literal ones. And the loss of the view of the harbour has impacted me deeply.

I am a changed person since September last year, and the passive aggression of Abby G Poetree has hurt me far more than my relationship with her warranted. I had been trying to nurture a friendship, but she is hard work.

I am grateful to Tanya and John. They are friends indeed, and during this pandemic we all need to show kindness more than ever before.


Sleep, glorious sleep…

Last night I slept like a log. I woke early, fiddled on some work and went back back to sleep.

I slept through three phone calls and roof repairs . I feel so different. Recharged.

I am giving English as a foreign language lessons to a neighbour. I so enjoy it. We have fun. I let him set the agenda quite a bit and teach him idioms, slang, and proper words and sentences too.

He makes good progresss.

Maybe I slept better because I poured my heart out to a friend of Mike. I told him all about the alcoholism. I worry so much about him.I don’t know if I’m indifferent or hate him. I loved him as I never loved anyone before.

So, I am considering linking with the local hospice so I can stop my lung medicine and slip away. My daughter has the opportunity to go elsewhere for six months after this is over. When that will be I don’t know.

I cannot live without seeing the sun in winter.

And Michael Ebsworth repeatedly crooned I’m never going to let you die alone. You and I are all I care about now.


A reply first published on…

This is such a great piece, and has made my eyes prick with tears for my last love. He came to move in with me after a nine month gap, at which time he was my neighbour. I loved asking him about his day, I loved expressing my gratitude for the things he did for me. I loved to tell him I valued his skills at putting my towel rack together, the shelving in my kitchen and a small trolley to slide into my under- the- stairs cupboard. While he was doing something else, I knelt on the floor looking at a bird table with roof that I had not dreamt would need putting together. It had screws. I took a breath and said, I’ll glue it. He immediately turned to me and said to let him have look. Three minutes later, it was put together with the screws.

He might be in town and text to ask if I needed anything. No. So he would bring me chocolate.

I have poor health, but he didn’t mind. He made wonderful love to me, and I to him.

When he came to move in, he’d been more hasty than I anticipated. The first night left us both with sleep deprivation. The next day, I sat next to him and asked his opinion about a change in the help I had in the house as I was dissatisfied with the help I had. He just kept telling me not to cancel it. I thought he was tired, so I left it for another day. I popped out to see a friend, and when I came back he was gone. At first I thought he’d gone to the local store. No, he was gone as in gone. Later he would text to tell me I had chased him to get a cleaner, cook, and nurse. I felt sad he thought so little of me and himself.

I am not over him.


I’m Weird

Oh Michael Ebsworth, you seduced me, you loved me, you revealed yourself completely to me…you were horrid to me… I love you still.