Yesterday, we had a meeting with my boss to discuss work. The pressure I have felt to get back up to speed and operating as normal has been immense. I hadn’t realised just how much I was worrying about it but as we talked, it hit me that the pressure was permeating through everything I did at work. We eventually concluded that the situation is bigger than I, or my close colleague, had realised and so booked another meeting for early in the New Year. And already my boss talked about placing someone for a few hours per week to relieve some of the pressure. I’m feeling far more supported than previously.
On the way home, I got a call from R, the FLO trainer. She said that the trainees were all very positive and complimentary about the info I’d given. They said it had given them lots of food for thought about how NOT to manage things and she wanted me back for more trainings.
I’m so pleased about it. I really felt that I did some good. Just the thought of other families being spared what I was put through is enough to lighten my load. It won’t bring Al back – nothing will. But it means that other families won’t be treated in the same horrific way that I was.
Last night I went out to a Tapas bar with some work colleagues - past and present. It was planned several weeks ago and ostensibly, I’d agreed to go. But privately I’d decided to simply make up my mind on the night. In the end, I went because I’d foolishly agreed to give lifts to others who wanted a glass or two of wine and so felt unable to back out.
However, I’m glad I went. They’re all lovely people and it was good to enjoy their company in a relaxed atmosphere. With them, I feel able to talk about Al and I don’t feel that I am merely being tolerated or, even worse, watching people try to find ways to extricate themselves from the conversation. So we talked about all kinds of things and when the conversation drifted towards the silly things our kids have got up to, I contributed with a couple of Al’s as well as some about the girls.
As with almost everyone I know, none of those colleagues would directly ask me about him or introduce his name into a conversation but then, with these people, neither would they shy away if I were to mention him. I think that’s about as much as I can ask for really. It would be nice if people did feel able to do that but I understand that they might worry about it.
As I sit typing, it’s only just hit me that it all felt so natural and accepted. No awkward silences, no changing of the subject - just a swapping of mumsy anecdotes. I can’t even remember which anecdotes I shared as the conversation meandered over all kinds of topics. Fancy that – I was so relaxed when talking about my boy that I can’t even remember what I said. Normally, each word stings me and I play them over and over again in my mind but last night ... just felt right. And although I’m a little tearful just realising it, I feel calm.
I miss him – as always, I miss him - it never goes away but tonight, it all feels a bit easier to manage.
It's those moments when we can talk naturally about our kids that matter. Maybe for a few brief moments we can put the horror away and pretend that all is ok.
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