Category: Headfuck

I pop my key in the door and turn the lock. It opens with a click and I walk into the dim depths. The house that was always warm is now cold. I flick on a light and wrap my arms about myself. With a press of a button, I turn on the heatpump. Knowing that it will take a while for the heatpump to warm things up, I turn on the wall heater as well.

Nathan brings the children inside. Isaac is in his pram, complaining about the lack of mobility he has in there. Amy walks around the house getting into mischief.

The house is a mess. As I walk around, I pick things up and put them back down again. This doesn’t feel right. It’s not easy here.

The floor has gotten dusty. Nan would hate that. I poke at the dust with my foot, unable to muster the energy to find the broom and sweep.

We wait for Mum to arrive.

Boxes litter the floor. Empty, they are just waiting for things to fill them.

It’s not right that you can pack someone’s life into boxes after they are gone.

I take a deep breathe and pick a cupboard and a box. Chin up and head back, it needs to be done. There is no time for memories.

The scrape of gravel outside tells me a car has arrived. Mum. Amy is excited.

Nanny! Nanny! We are at MyNanny’s house!

Yes. We are.

Amy doesn’t quite understand the concept of death. She’s been told that MyNanny died, but she doesn’t understand what that means. She just knows that MyNanny is no longer here, in her house.

I know this too.

Mum and I look at each other, understanding without words. This is not easy for us, to work methodically through Nan’s house packing things up. It’s not a small job either.

Grab a garbage bag. We’ll do the closet.

Okay.

Vinnies*?

Yes.

Yes.

No. I’ll take that.

You sort, I’ll fold.

Okay.

It feels a little morbid as I pick items from Nan’s closet to go into mine. We’d talked about this, in the before. I knew that she wanted me to have her clothes that I would wear. Hell, I’d been borrowing her clothes since I was 10. It was what we did.

I take a deep breath and pick through.

Emptying clothes hangers.

One.

By.

One.

I stroke things. Remembering things I’d borrowed previously. Remembering things Nan used to wear often. Some things I can’t bear the thought of.

Vinnies. Please. I couldn’t wear it.

I know.

Okay.

It smells of Nan here still. In the silence, it almost feels like she is watching me. I know she is not. She swore she wouldn’t haunt her house and I believe that if she’s watching me, here is not the place to find her.

I’ll fall apart later. Not now, not here. Panic attacks when people are watching are awful.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Slowly we’re emptying things. Packing them up. Leaving them empty.

A person lived here once. Not anymore.

Here, there are just broken hearts and silence.

A lifetime, being packed into boxes and carted away.

***

*St Vincent de Paul Society. Second hand shops.

I’ve been staring at this blank page all day, trying to think up something to write about. Playing the amusing moments with Amy over in my head and despairing of ever sleeping again with Isaac.

Amy is … challenging. She’s almost three. I expect it from her, pushing the boundaries and being consistently naughty to see if my reaction is the same each time. For the record, it is.

Isaac? Well he’s just not sleeping. I’m awake with him every hour or so overnight and then up for the day around 4-5am. By the time I get him back to sleep Amy is awake. I’m a little bit of a wreck.

I should be telling you a story.

I should be pulling out the funny bits from my day and stringing them together into something cohesive.

I should be writing.

Instead I’m stagnating. I can’t get the words to flow properly out of my fingertips.

I feel sad.

Very very sad.

Mum said it’s been 42 days.

Forty-two days.

Isn’t 42 the answer to life, the universe and everything?

42 days has not held any answers for me.

I’m still heartbroken.

***

When we moved into this house, Nan helped me pack everything. She came around with boxes and bags, brought morning tea and helped me pack the entire contents of my rental house. She played with Amy and helped move things. When she left that night, my sun room was full of boxes and we were ready to move.

When this house we bought was filthy, she came up with rags and cleaning supplies and helped Nathan and I [and Nat’s family] scrub this house top to bottom. Nan remembered things that we’d forgotten, like big gloves and a thermos full of hot coffee.

Nan was the only visitor I didn’t mind just dropping in. She didn’t care if the house was messy. She’d play with Amy while I tidied.

I miss her.

So much.

***

We walked this path together.

We three.

Mum, Nan and me.

We held hands.

We discussed details.

We held each other up,

With chocolate;

Coffee;

And cake.

We walked this path together.

Through the good news and the very worst news.

When there was nothing more that they could do.

We three. Together.

***

I’m all out of funny lately.

Oh I smile and I laugh. But I’m still so awfully sad.

This is not easy.

I feel broken.

We called into Nan’s house today to pick up some things I had left behind when I was living there.

Coat hangers.

Some books.

My leaver’s dinner dress.

As we pulled into the driveway and parked, Amy looked at me happily.

‘YAY! YAY! MyNanny is not died! We go visit!’

I looked at her, with tears in my eyes.

‘I’m sorry sweetheart. MyNanny did die. We’re all still very sad.’

‘Oh.’ She said and went quiet.

She didn’t ask to come inside. She didn’t ask where MyNanny was.

(MyNanny was Amy’s name for Nan. Nan was chuffed, she was the only Nanny with a special name)

For the first fortnight after Nan died, Amy told us that MyNanny is in St Johns. We corrected her, saying that MyNanny died and we were all very sad.

She doesn’t mention St Johns anymore. Today was the first time she had mentioned anything about dying.

I know that it’s turning around in her brain as she makes sense of what died and dead mean. I know that we’ll probably be having plenty of conversations about Nan in the future, as Amy works it out.

It doesn’t make me any less heartbroken though to have to tell my baby girl that her Nanny is not going to come back. I cry every time I think of the joy on Amy’s face when she thought we were going to visit Nan. I cry that Amy went silent so fast and that she understood in her own way.

I cried a lot this afternoon.

It’s been a month.