Measures of time are a human invention.
I sent a message very similar to this to my mum on the very first Thursday… I was trying to make myself feel ok as I walked into the office to face the day.
It’s only a tough day if I say it’s a tough day, right? “weeks” meant nothing to Milly…. a week was an arbitrary number of days, where a “day” was just a period of nighttime spent asleep and a period of daytime spent mostly asleep
Tried reminding myself of this again this morning. On the fourth Thursday. And thanks to Julius Caesar and Pope Gregory XIII, also exactly one calendar month since we lost our girl. It didn’t seem to comfort me much today, and I feel like I’ve swung way back on my pendulum of grief. Empty, empty, sad, empty.
Thursdays were a bit different to every other weekday. Thursday was the set day that Papa Bear walked Milly in the morning, so Mumma Bear could go and train with the amazing Emily without ending up late for work. Every other day was a default Mumma day, unless pre-arranged, but in May 2015 Thursday became THE Papa day and all 3 of us knew the score.
Thursday training is rarely missed for ANYTHING. Rain, sleet, snow, work, tiredness, illness… nothing is allowed to mess with Thursday. Once I had an alarm fail and massively overslept .. somehow in 15mins flat I managed to get up, get dressed and get to the gym.. sprinting into the studio to take my place in perfect time for the very first beat. Very serious business.
We got married on a Thursday and I spent a long time deliberating whether or not I had time for Body Attack first. In the end it was decided a leisurely breakfast would be a better choice, plus give my gorgeous Soph maximum time to spruce me up ready.
What a perfect day that was #081015
Alas, back to now. I still don’t know how the universe intervened such that I decided to skip training that day…. it messes with my mind if I start thinking about it. The “what if” fear of not being here with her fills me with complete panic and terror. Can’t. Even.
But I did bail, and I was here. When she needed me most. And, when these measures of time creep up to rattle me, and nothing else seems to bring me comfort and peace, then that really should.
Grief is love not wanting to let go.