Long and empty

We have to fill in a form which we received from the crematorium. A form in which we will instruct the crematorium what we want done with our son's ashes. We want to keep them of course, until we go back to Australia. Then we will bury them with Freyja and Kees. But they need to know that now - that Jet's ashes will go back to Australia - because they will need to seal Jet's ashes in a special container. And provide us with the appropriate paperwork.

What a thing to have to organise. Of course, we've organised two other funerals, so we do have some experience.

But still.

:::

We need to pick up a plaster cast of Jet's feet from our local framing shop.

Our nurse at the hospital where Jet was born - she took the plaster cast. She'd never done it before, so it's not perfect, but it is a cast of our son's feet.

I'm a bit worried about it. The cast that is. The plaster wasn't great - not good quality. It's entirely possible that the cast disintegrated when they tried to frame it.

I've been putting off collecting it.

But I can't put it off forever.

:::

I spend my days sitting around. I have nothing to do. Except think about death and babies. And remember those awful events - those discovering dead baby moments.

I have no idea what I will do today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. Or next year. I have no idea.

There is nothing to do. I honestly can't think of what I could possibly do. I'm really not capable of working ... of doing my old job. My mind isn't capable of that at the moment, and (if I'm really honest) my mind hasn't been capable of doing my old job since Kees died.

I've suffered so much grief and pain and trauma, and my mind is so busy protecting itself, that there's not a whole lot left to work with. And certainly not enough to actually do my old job.

So every day I think, "what will I do today?"

And I never know.

I never have an answer.

I simply don't know.

Life looks long and empty from here.