No Recipe for Grief

There was supposed to be a big storm last night. Torrential rain, high winds and flooding were expected in much of the Far North and the East Coast of the North Island of NZ. Local council crews and fire crews were on standby for the imminent disaster. But guess what? It didn’t eventuate.

It has been showery with a few good wind gusts but not much more, anywhere. The sun does it’s best to kid us it is still good weather, but it can only outrun the clouds for intermittent periods. The resultant days have been very mixed, sunny one minute; huge black thundery clouds the next with a few showers in-between. Unpredictable sums it up accurately.

The rain means that I am not able to continue with my painting project. I have kept myself busy, very busy. I only realize the effort I have been putting in to keeping busy, when the enforced stillness comes. I have been avoiding stillness. With it comes the deep knowing of the loss. The gut knowing, heart knowing, soul knowing, all encompassing, knowing – that Shelley is dead.

I can’t argue with nature, I have to give into it and work with whatever it throws me. I have to adapt.

It is the same with Shelley’s death. An unnatural process, an act of terrorism/murder, call it what you like - the unlawful taking of another’s life. The title doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that Shelley is no longer here to enjoy her life. Shelley is no longer physically here in my life.

The busyness (not sure that is even a word but business spells business as in mind your own, or commercial activity!!) continues despite the inclement weather. I have adapted and redirected my energy into my writing and trying to create delicious vegetarian winter-type meals, comfort food for us all. This seems right and I am enjoying the creative nature of both of these tasks

Shelley had heaps of great vegetarian recipes and she had lovingly hand written them all into a notebook. I found her recipe book when we were sorting through her meagre belongings. I photocopied the recipes and gave one of her best friends, the original copy. That was all she wanted. It was the right thing to do.

I thought I might make a Shelley recipe for dinner tonight. I got out the folder with the photocopies in it and started sifting through the pages. Suddenly, I was crying again. Unable to contain my feelings, the tears just poured and poured out of me. I had thought I had done all the crying I could do in a lifetime – but that is not the case. The recipes will have to wait a while before I can delve into the precious words Shelley put down along with a tick or two beside her favourite and I imagine, most successful recipes.

It is a peaceful kind of grieving, if there is such a thing. The stillness and quietness somehow brings me closer to Shelley. She is in my heart and soul as I work at my computer on the poems for my second book and this blog. It feels good.

Today is the 37th alcohol free day. I think I might even stop counting them shortly. It is so strange that it doesn’t seem to be an issue any more. I don’t want to drink. I have far too much to do. I have to learn how to work through the grief that I had submerged. I have to learn to embrace the stillness and not be afraid of the feelings that emerge.

I used to worry about what I would do instead of drinking. No I wonder how I had the time to bother drinking and worry about running out of life before I get all the things done that I want to do. It is a very odd feeling.

Arohanui,

KG
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