Sad

What a terrible couple of days. Mr G seemed to be getting progressively worse after his jab, and in the early hours of Monday morning he woke me up just before three, feeling sick, his entire right side of his body was burning and this awful backache that he'd had for the last few days. I dosed him with painkillers, brought his pillows through, covered him with fleecy blankets and took his temperature. I had a couple of hours sleep in my chair, and a couple of hours in the afternoon. I felt like I'd been crushed like a scrapyard car. There was no cooking, no Slimming World, no nothing.

I saw a quote online and it really hit me in the feels. Desperate times call for desperate pleasures. This echoed something I had said to him previously about happiness, you take it where you find it. Especially so in the middle of this shitstorm. And if that's collecting rocks, catching Pokemon, feeding the birds in the garden, listening to K Pop. Whatever it is, it's going to be individual, and you just need to do it. 

So, come yesterday he felt a little better and dragged me out, claiming that he needed fresh air. Every step was a chore but we had been stuck in for days and days, with the exception of going to see my mother on Mother's Day, we've been in since last Wednesday. We ended up getting fish and chips from the chippy and eating them on the bowling green, which wasn't planned and really good. It also meant I had two less to cook for last night. He found six painted rocks on our walk, which was a record. I caught a shiny Magneton. See? Remember my previous statement the other day, that we would ruin another couple? Desperate times. Desperate pleasures. Knocked a few more kilometres off my second walking challenge. Hopefully add to that today. 

Only 44 km to go, which averages out at just over 3 km a day, which is doable considering that when we do walk, we tend to do a minimum of 5 km. That's on a bad day. 

We decided to settle down for a peaceful night, I was doing some editing, he was going to finish the book that he is currently engrossed in, Gareth Thomas's autobiography and then listen to some music on his iPod. I decided to go for a long hot bath, slathered my face in my favourite Body Shop face mask, and then put my nightie on and opened the bottle of wine he'd bought me for Mother's Day. He was just flicking through Facebook and he called me over. Another of our friends in Wrexham has passed away. We were only in the Zoom party with him on Friday night. Andy was only 54 and one of the genuinely nicest guys that I had ever met. I know that's the sort of thing that everyone says when someone dies, but no. He was another level nice. Never heard him utter a bad word about anyone, always had a smile on his face, always had a hug for me when he saw me, always shook Mr G's hand and asked him how the journey down had been. He was a talented musician, a really talented guitarist and so funny. 

That's two of our lovely friends that we have lost in just over a month. So cue phone calls and instant messages between us and our friends in Wrexham then for hours. 

I don't know what's happening. This is all hitting different right now. We all know loss of some sort. I've experienced it from old, sick family members where you knew it was coming, to young children of friends of mine, where you didn't. I lost my own best friend to cancer, at the age of 33. But this is hitting different. This isn't Covid, this is as well as. This is going on as well as Covid. I don't know if it's because we are such a small close knit group. One loss is bound to be felt, but two in such a short space of time? We could all spread out and become a little closer, and try and fill the void that our friends have left, but right now, it feels more like a gaping chasm. I just feel so sad, that I didn't know the last time that I saw them, that it would be the last time. It's unreal. And we are all so desperate to get back together, and I don't think it's even so much to do with the rugby any more. We just all want to touch base, to see each other again. It's just so bloody awful. 

We all knew to some extent about taking life for granted, taking our freedoms for granted, taking people for granted. We lose someone and we vow never again, we are going to live life to the fullest, keep in touch with our friends, get out more, travel the world, tick those things off the bucket list. And a year later, you're still a hermit, watching Netflix, cancelling plans and ignoring phone calls because... people. Ugh. It's not just me, right? 

We understood this on some basic level, but when these things are taken away from you, properly, permanently - even if only semi-permanently as hopefully this turns out to be, it makes every loss just that little more painful. Every wedding, funeral, special occasion, birth, death. Every person you know who could just use a hug, or a face to face chat. And of course, once our freedoms are returned, there are going to be some people missing. I'm just gutted, properly bloody gutted. I've been done with this bullshit for a long time, but you can stick a bloody fork in me right now.