So, I was sitting staring at a blank screen with its unrelenting blinking cursor, which I have to say is more than a tad mocking, maybe even bordering on threatening, at the very least I get a distinct whiff of ridicule from that cursed cursor. Okay maybe I’m anthropomorphising that stinking blinking line a bit too much, but I mean back off! Anyway, I was trying to figure out the topic for this blog, when I decided to go through some of my old notebooks to see if there was any forgotten gold lurking in there, and I can say without a doubt, YES! But here’s the problem with the way I write idea notes, a lot of them are just single words, and if I managed to write full sentences, they’re mostly illegible, because I scribbled it down way too fast and/or may have been having a small stroke at the time. I might have written the world’s funniest joke, but when I try to decipher it now, it looks like What’s in this music bread?
Being able to read the words isn’t much help either. For example, on one page I just wrote ungulates. That’s it. I have no idea if there was an idea because I cunningly wrote nothing else. Now, on any given day the word ungulates just by itself is pretty funny. But put it in a sentence…
Doctor, these ungulates are really bothering me.”
“Well change to cotton underwear.”
Yeh, it makes absolutely no sense, but those ungulates are hilarious, am I right?
Here’s a joke I did manage to decipher: I saw a Smart Car going through a carwash and I thought, why don’t they save the money and just put it in the dishwasher?
That’s a small car joke. Or maybe a small joke about a car.
But as I was flipping through these pages filled with my nonsense, it suddenly occurred to me that it was Bob’s birthday. September 19th. If you’ve read my previous blogs, you know that Bob is my late husband. It’s been about six and a half years since he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge and I thought perhaps I needed to pause and think about how this all has progressed since he escaped my clutches. I guess I would say for the most part, this process has unfolded the way it does for most people. For the first few years it was like the absolute worst ride at Disneyland, the only difference being at the happiest place on earth, you can get off the ride, and they give you a barf bag. It’s not as intense as that now, but there are moments. Let’s review the stats for, say, the last 6 months- 4 Bob dreams. 1 crying spell in yoga. Countless streamer binges. 137 large bags of Boom Chicka Pop. I’d call that progress.
Here’s where I think I am a bit stuck; I’m still struggling with getting rid of some of his things. Of course, everybody has to deal with this in their own time and when they feel comfortable. I did a lot of clearing out of his clothes maybe by the end of the first year. But what I’ve had trouble with are the things that really defined him. We all have those things. With my Mother, it’s her handbag. I think in all of her life, she was never more than 3 feet away from her bag. Years ago, when she came to stay with us for a few days, she moved around that house with her handbag stuck to her, as if Bob and I were ex-cons, terrified we might grab it one day and finally rob her of all her Kleenex and Ricola cough drops. So, almost five years later, I still have her handbag in my closet.
But with Bob? Well okay, I still have a few Hawaii shirts, because he loved them and Hawaii. And I have a few ball caps that he liked to wear. But what’s the thing that absolutely one hundred percent defines him? Ointment. That’s right. Ointment. Not one particular ointment. ALL of them. And not just ointments. Creams too, if it didn’t come in an ointment. Or if the cream was absorbed better than the ointment. I still have cupboards filled with these various and sundry tubes and I can’t bring myself to dump them because I feel like I’m throwing Bob away. But also, I might cut myself or burn my hand on the stove, and then I’ll really need an ointment and I won’t have any.
Bob was always prepared and so the other item that I still can’t part with is his travel kit, or toiletry bag. This thing probably weighs ten pounds, or in metric a thousand kilos! Do I need to tell you that it is filled with ointments of every kind, but also just about everything else you might need while travelling; a manicure set, bandages, oral wound cleaner, glasses repair kit, sewing kit, can opener. Of course, this wasn’t a bad thing. He and I travelled a lot and as you can imagine, my toiletry kit consisted entirely of make-up and Smarties. So, I relied on him a lot. Headache? He’s got Advil. I can’t get this bag of Oreos open? He’s got a Swiss Army Knife. I mean, he could quite literally have performed open-heart surgery if necessary, and I guarantee there would have been NO infection, thanks to his array of ointments! That’s how well equipped that kit was. And I just can’t let it go…yet.
Happy Birthday Bob. I hope wherever you are, you have ointment to your heart’s content. xx
In his favourite of all places. Ointments may have been applied.