Today I feel especially grateful to my therapist, J, for suggesting a different way of thinking about Sam, by pointing out what it is that I’m actually doing now. It’s around this photo of Sam, which was taken by someone at the second, wonderful, care home, framed and hung on the wall in the dining room there, alongside photos of the other residents. At the time I hated it - it shows so clearly how much Sam had been affected by the progress of the disease, but after she died and the photo was given to me I saw it in a new light. Suddenly it was her happiness that shone through - at last I could see her smile - not the big grin of her earlier years but still a smile. But J pointed out that this is the biggest photo in her shrine, dominating the space, influencing how she’s held in my thoughts and that I don’t have to keep it that way. This photo served us well for a while - we loved her in all the ways she was, but we can let that part slip away and focus more on who she was before. Not “poor Sam” but Mrs bloody Gobby, our clever clogs, big mouth darling daughter, sister, mother, cousin, niece, friend. The fucking MS doesn’t control her now. So thank you J for that.
What I'm going to do is sort through the old photos and probably write about them too. Starting Friday, probably.
I have cracked on with things a bit, made a Christmas pud as well as a cake, bought a tree, some presents. I've been struggling with what to get Bloke but have had a brainwave - an apple tree. He loves apples, we have a big garden - why aren't we growing apples? I don't know what kind - there's all complicated stuff about root stock, like with roses but different. But I'll go and ask at the nursery and if I can't make sense of it I'll buy him a voucher and he can get it himself.
