When grief strikes your whole world comes to a complete standstill. It feels like you're in this bubble, while everything around you moves on – relentless and unabated. There's so much pressure to keep on top of things and no respite to give you that much-needed breathing space. You still need to pay the rent, council tax, utility bills, and credit card bills. Then there’s the home insurance, dog insurance, car insurance, Disney +, etc. You can’t pause any of the above to fully process events because life goes on – as the tired old cliche dictates. It all gets a tad overwhelming.
Disclaimer: That bit about Disney + being an essential expense was a joke. I often litter my blogs with dry humour as it forms part of my unhealthy coping mechanisms. If I couldn’t laugh occasionally, I’d cry every single day. Also, for the record, I binned Disney+ as I no longer have time for TV and it was just going to waste.
Losing your parents is the natural order of life and death, and I'm extremely thankful I had them in my life for almost 50 years – and even lived with them for the best part of 40 years [Yes, they deserved medals]. I'm just sad they were both inflicted with Alzheimer's and died within 15 days of each other. Having said that, at least they were spared grieving for one another.
Six months on I find grief still hits at random moments – as well as significant occasions. So far this year we've had Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Dad’s birthday, my 50th birthday, their wedding anniversary and Mum's birthday without them in this world.
My brain is refusing to process the impending spectre of Christmas as that's when the nightmare began last year – but we'll take it one day at a time. In hindsight I know I did the right thing by locking myself away in a hotel room on Boxing Day, but it still saddens me that I didn't see them together one last time. I had Covid and wanted to keep my vulnerable parents safe – but the universe had much darker, non-Covid related plans and they were both in hospital within days anyway.
I’m praying their ashes can be interned into their final resting place by Christmas, so at least we’ll have somewhere to go and lay flowers. We’re still waiting for the solicitors to release some funds, but I understand these things take time (as frustrating as that may be). It just doesn't seem right that they were cremated in March and it feels like we're in limbo until their memorial tablet is in place. Once the funds are released it could take another few months, so I'd say it will be a miracle if we can "visit" them at Christmas. Failing that, hopefully the first anniversary of their deaths.
Literally every time I receive an email I pray it's from the crematorium saying the solicitors have paid the invoice or it's the solicitors saying they will pay the invoice. Either works for me. Unfortunately, work aside, most of my emails are junk from Linkedin or Disney+ trying to coax me back for £1.99 a month for three months.
As I write this, in September 2024, I realise there’s been no respite or moment of reflection on the events of this year as there’s been no time. I haven’t taken a single full day of rest since the funeral, and that’s not a boast – more a confession. After barely working for three months I was falling behind on dozens of bills/payments so life had to become all about work, work, work – like that song by Rihanna.
Disclaimer: As a rule, I don’t listen to songs by Rihanna.
Having said that, Umbrella is damn fine pop song.
Thankfully I'm not juggling two jobs anymore, but my work schedule still has to be at least six days a week for the foreseeable future.
So why did I start a new job with Pets at Home in April, over 100 miles from my home, only to resign a few months later? A stranger might say “That didn’t last long!” when anyone who knows the full story knows it probably lasted too long.
In January I made the decision to leave my rented home in Suffolk and move back into my parents’ house in Essex. Although at the time it was more of a no-brainer than something that required a great deal of thought. Both my parents were in hospital, with Mum in the final stages of Alzheimer’s and Dad destined to live out his days in a care home (or so we thought).
I never made the move "official" by giving notice or moving my belongings, I just knew I had to be back in Harlow full time. Even if Dad was able to stay at home he would need 24/7 supervision. Obviously I had no idea how that would work with Luna (my 10-year-old Staffordshire Bull Terrier X Akita) but I didn’t really get time to think that one through.
Once we got the green light for the care home I began the process of seeking employment in the area. As although I wouldn’t need to pay rent on my parents’ house we would need an astronomical sum of money to cover the care home fees. Obviously my contribution would barely make a dent, but it could cover a few days each month – perhaps a week. It’d be something.
On 23rd February 2024 I applied for the position of Store Colleague at the Bishop’s Stortford branch of Pets at Home.
Two days later I received a phone call while I was at work in Suffolk. Mum had deteriorated quite badly, so I needed to make the 100 mile journey back to Essex immediately.
Mum passed away shortly before I arrived.
Obviously the job wasn’t at the forefront of my mind, but when I was invited for an interview a few days later I realised I had nothing to lose. Dad still needed me around and he’d require a lot of care.
On Tuesday 5th March 2024 I returned to Suffolk as I had another shift at Mountain Warehouse the following day. Apart from the day I received the phone call about Mum I'd been absent from my job for two months, so thought I'd best show willing. I mean, there's no way the universe is vindictive enough to dish out more bad news, right?
On Wednesday 6th March 2024, while at work, I received a call to say I’d got the job with Pets at Home. I accepted the position and was extremely thankful for a “good news” telephone call for once.
Sadly, less than an hour later I received another call.
Dad had deteriorated quite badly, so I needed to leave work in Suffolk and make the 100 mile journey back to Essex immediately. Again.
History seemed to be repeating itself, and in a pretty sadistic way. I'd spent 99% of my time in Essex and both bad news calls came while I was at work in Suffolk.
Five days later Dad passed away.
The following day I resigned from my job at Mountain Warehouse in Suffolk. I’d been absent since Christmas, so they could certainly survive without me.
In hindsight, perhaps I could have contacted Pets at Home to say I didn’t want to work there anymore. After all, both my parents had died so they’d obviously understand. Although grief really engulfs your life and I didn’t really give the job or the move too much thought until after the joint funeral at the end of March.
On 10th April 2024 I left my job at Mountain Warehouse. On 11th April, 2024, I started my job with Pets at Home. Things seemed to move so quickly I didn’t really stop to think about the logistics.
The alternative (in this reality) was losing my rented home in Suffolk and moving to Harlow full time – into my parent's vacant house. On paper it sounds completely sensible and logical – and I’d save a huge amount of money in rent each month.
Mentally, I’m not so sure it would have been a good idea. My home in Suffolk soon became my refuge and it just feels like I’ve already lost too much this year. I moved in 2020, I moved in 2022, and I didn't like this pattern. We're not keeping my parents' home so if I moved back in 2024 I'd be moving back to Suffolk in 2025 anyway.
Equally, Luna would be spitting feathers if we relocated to Harlow from Suffolk. By that I mean she’d be livid – not eating her own bed. Although, probably that too. She's been a bit stressed this year, which is quite understandable.
As the constant back and forth (and working seven days a week alongside my main job) became too much I decided it was in my best interest to resign from Pets at Home. Everyone completely understood, with my manager saying "The only surprise is you lasted this long."
There’s only a few months left of 2024. Nothing can save it from being the worst year of my life (so far) but there’s still time to pull a few good memories out of the bag.
Finally, I want to thank my family, who have been amazing. My former places of work – Mountain Warehouse, who gave me time off... and Pets at Home, who reduced my hours when I had a meltdown. Also, 99% of my friends have been very helpful and supportive. The other 1%? Well, that's another blog...
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