There are words, screaming in my head, wanting to get out.
I sit down to type them out and find that I’ve lost them. They used to fall from my brain to my fingertips effortlessly. I think they’re getting lost in there somewhere now. Maybe I’m crying them out? Maybe there is a backlog in around my heart somewhere and one day the dam will break and you’ll find yourself reading five posts in a day.
Who knows.
I know that I used to use my blog as a dumping ground, write it out and move on.
I want to write about how heavy my heart feels when I help Mum clean Nan’s house. How possessions of hers weigh heavily on my chest. I wish she’d been able to give more things away herself like she wanted to, rather than the sorting process we’ve got going on.
There are words in my head screaming to get out.
***
A few days after Nan died, I had a dream. We were sitting at Mum’s talking, as we used to do often.
Nan said ‘You need to come down and help me get things organised.’
‘Okay.’
‘The cupboards need sorting. You’ve got to be careful of all the lids though.’
Nan had a cupboard filled with all her plastic containers. Ever single bit of plastic she owned went in that cupboard. When I woke from the dream, I assumed that Nan saying ‘be careful of all the lids’ meant ‘for the love of god don’t lose my lids!’.
I was wrong.
When Mum and I sorted that cupboard? We found lids. And more lids. And then some more lids. Most of them without the accompaning containers.
I should have known. It wasn’t ‘be careful of all the lids so none get lost‘ it was actually ‘be careful you don’t drown in lids while you’re sitting on the floor sorting things.’
Thanks for the warning Nan.