Arrival

My flight was thankfully uneventful, though I didn't sleep more than an hour or two.  I was surprisingly wide awake when I finally came through customs and found The Brit and his dad.  Words cannot express how good it was to see them both and to finally feel like I was where I was supposed to be. 

The flip side of that is that reality set in with me relatively quickly.  Where back at home, my mind would not accept Daphne's passing, here there is no choice but to realize it is indeed true.  Spending most of the day here at the house in England, remembering the last time I was here back in 2002, and I feel as if she is around every corner.  But she isn't.

As soon as I entered the house, my mind's memory could hear her voice.

"Cuppa tea, Kim?"

I have wandered around the house, seeing undoubtedly many things, exactly where she left them.  Part of me wants to speak of her continuously, but I try to take my cues from my FIL.  It's funny how quickly the small but sweet memories spin through my mind.  Small conversations, the way she would sing to herself, simply looking outside at her lovely flower garden; it all makes it feel like I should turn around and find her standing right there behind me. 

The reality seems cruel and unfair.  Death is a natural thing; I know that, but the grieving process of those who remain behind is also natural.  It's hard and painful and difficult.  It's the difference between having two years to prepare like we did with my dad, and being side-swiped by something you never saw coming. It causes grief to come in completely different ways; to manifest itself in the most simplest of situations. 

I know that Daphne is well where she is now.  She is catching up with Nan and her father and others who have gone before.  She is no longer having any pain caused by hips or knees or cancer.  She is well and safe and whole.

And eventually, with time, we will be too.