Sunshine, glorious sunshine. Makes such a difference to the world. Am going to go and sit outside and take in some of that vitamin D and hope it works at lifting the spirits.
Heard from my friend and fellow soldier's Mum and she summed the whole thing up when she said she just feels so weird all the time. It's like you do normal one minute and then suddenly you're back in the semi-detached world of not belonging. It can hit you at any time, making a cup of tea, having a bath, emptying the recycling and then crash - you're no longer in your own life but removed into misery. And all this when everything's OK, heaven only knows how the kith and kin of the lost or injured handle it all.
Saw the beautiful grieving widow of the bomb disposal sergeant on the News last night. She was speaking at his funeral and she did so with such grace and dignity. It was his sixty-fifth device and it should have been his last, in the sense that he was scheduled to have returned home the next day alive and not to be 'repatriated'. She made the plea that we support these 'warriors' and not judge them because they did not seek the cause, they merely follow our instructions unfailingly and without question. Although I often hear people challenge the justification of the Afghanistan campaign, I have not heard one word of condemnation for those fighting it - they are definitely 'our' boys and girls and never 'them'. As she so clearly made the point, support from home really does make all the difference.
Convalescence is a strange experience. Everything stops. The merry-go-round of routine is shunted into a corner and small things become gigantic tasks. I have three medical appointments over the coming three days and anyone would think I had to sail single-handedly around the world for all the stress they're causing. The less you do, the less you want to do. I remember my poor mother towards the end of her life, and she would become so distressed over the slightest inconsequential incident, and I'd be so fed up with her. But obviously it was because her razor blade mind couldn't handle the fact that she was really existing and not living. Minutia becomes the gargantuan.
The Queen has issued a new medal for anyone killed in action since the Second World War and it's called the Elizabeth Cross. I'm sure it must provide great comfort and pride for those receiving it but I just hope and pray I never get to see one.
Paid off this month's outstanding accounts for C - still can't be cross with him though.
H in good form and hoping he doesn't blow things at the last hurdle. Unfortunately he seems to have inherited my tendency towards seeing disaster where hopefully there is none. R enjoying uni and hopefully fine. And I'm off into the front garden with my folding chair and leg stuck in the air.
Lots of love and prayers.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
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