An apology (and probably too much information)

I’m really sorry if this is TMI…

My nonagenarian Mum passed away last month. She did so on my birthday, guaranteeing that I’ll never, ever be able to forget her (not that I ever could, nor want to, anyway). I figure her choice of departure date into The Great Adventure was her revenge for all the arguments she lost.

Dr McCoy (after Kirk tells him that Spock has embedded his Katra within him): “That green-blooded son of a bitch. It’s his revenge for all the arguments he lost.”

For the last few weeks I’ve been pretty much cobbling together posts to maintain the illusion that all is well Chez Wibble. The truth, however, is rather different. As those of you who have been kind enough to comment on my recent wiblettes may have noticed, I’ve not been responding as I would normally. And I have not read any of your recent posts, nor have I responded to the several reports submitted by fellow ?Random Raiders!. I’m sorry for all of that, but I hope you’ll understand, as I’ve had rather a lot on my plate. And the meal’s not over yet.

In retrospect, it would perhaps have been better to have taken a leaf out of Esme’s book and set each post in advance to moderate all comments until I had time to attend to them. Doing so, however, would have required a degree of forethought and preparation that has been evading me of late; my thoughts have been scattering like leaves in a gale.

I’m finding ‘post-mum life’ really, really strange. For years, I’ve been convinced that I would, in her stubbornness to deny her own God’s allotment of ‘three score years and ten’, be trapped here looking after her until I was driven totally, completely and utterly insane (and then, in all likelihood, be carted off to the funny farm). At times, I even thought she might outlive me. Now that she has shuffled off the mortal coil, gone to join the bleeding choir invisibule and is pushing up the daisies, I am, at last, finally free. And pondering what to do without having to constantly consider Mum is not something I’ve spent any time doing. At all. It’s an intensely odd feeling. I feel a little like Howard Wolowitz from the Big Bang Theory, as he prepares himself mentally for his trip to the International Space Station…

The Big Bang Theory – Howard goes to space

I hope to be able to resume normality soon. Perhaps I may have managed that by then, although it currently seems unlikely as that will entail determining what my ‘new normal’ actually looks like, and I’m still wrestling that into focus.

So, I thank you for your recent visits, likes and comments. I hope you’re well. Stay safe, and speak soon.

Best wishes,
peNdantry