My Godmother passed away on Saturday evening. I’m incredibly sad, but relieved at the same time that she’s no longer in pain and can now rest in peace. I sat and held her hand for the last three days of her life, which has been both harrowing and comforting all rolled into one. She didn’t have any family of her own, but we were her family through choice, and with a bond every bit as strong.
Always one to have the last word, she waited until I’d nipped home to grab a shower and some food before she drew her last breath and left this world behind.
I thought I’d feel guilty that she died alone, but actually I don’t. I see it as glorious affirmation that she lived life on her terms to the very end and there’s no doubt in my mind that had she wanted to die with her hand in mine she would have done so, and that actually makes me smile.
I think I’m still processing the fact that I’ll no longer be able to pick up the phone for a chat, you know? It doesn’t quite seem real. Hi, it’s me! Hello me… every conversation we had started that way, for as far back as I remember. It was our thing. And breaking the news to my mum that her closest lifelong friend had passed was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It’s going to be a period of adjustment for all of us as we navigate our way around the massive hole which has opened up in our lives.
When I walked the green mile to the Shitbird Scale yesterday morning, my heart was heavy and the Asshole voice was positively bristling with advice. Skip the weigh-in Dee, your thoughts should be elsewhere…you’re grieving and now isn’t the time to think about dieting. In the grand scheme of things what does it matter today what the number says…take a few days off, just until you’ve got your head around everything…
Now, I’m not suggesting that when my Godmother’s spirit soared on Saturday she had a quiet word with the Gods of Skinny on her way up that stairway to heaven…I mean, I wouldn’t be so bold.
However.
I did step on the scales, and somehow, despite meals snatched at odd hours and a lack of exercise this last week as I’ve kept my vigil, I’d bagged a 4lb loss. Are you serious?
I have no idea how it happened, and actually I don’t feel like I deserve it this week but what I do know is this…if the needle hadn’t moved, or worse than that if it’d gone in the wrong direction, I reckon I’d be midway through the mother and father of all binges right now. I was emotionally fragile, and the Asshole voice was seductive and persistent. Plus, he had a point. In the grand scheme of things does it really matter?
Yes. Of course it fucking matters, because I matter. And whether skinny divine intervention was in play or not, that number kicked the Asshole voice hard in the nicky nacky noos and I didn’t hear another peep out of him all day. No binges, no going off the rails. Just a quiet sense of satisfaction that I’ve taken care of business even in the midst of one of the single most difficult weeks of my life.
Sometimes, when you need it the most, help comes from unexpected quarters, right? I’m just sayin’ 🙂
