What Becomes Surreal

I had posted early this morning before Jackie and I twice attempted a drive. First we visited Barton on Sea where, at 10.30 a.m.,

the Isle of Wight looked as hazy as our minds.This, in fact, is the only photograph I took today as I could raise no enthusiasm.

This afternoon we travelled around the forest in glorious weather. It could have been dull and wet for all we knew. Between relevant telephone calls and our own reminiscences there was no respite from the thoughts of Michael’s death.

What we were experiencing was that, when locked in one of life’s time lapses, what becomes surreal is such as people walking their dogs along the coast or ponies cropping grass in their customary manner.

This evening we dined on Forest Tandoori’s excellent takeaway fare. My choice was king prawn Madras, while Jackie’s was chicken dopiaza. We shared poppadoms, a plain paratha, and special fried rice.

88 thoughts on “What Becomes Surreal

  1. So sorry Derrick. What you are going thru is real although it feels surreal. It s human nature to have you ups and downs right now. Opens up a lot of memories and wounds. Hang in there my friend. You son is happy and now in a better place.

  2. I understand that completely Derrick – I remember last year when my last brother passed suddenly looking at the world as I walked the dog that morning seeing how everything was the same but different – the world went on while I was locked in thoughts of other times and places and situations. Grief and shock takes us someplace else doesn’t it. Eventually of course we return, but we are changed. I’m stupidly glad to hear that you two are taking your daily drives still, holding onto a little bit of normality through this somehow helps doesn’t it. xoxo

  3. Don’t bother yourself with us, Derrick. You and Jackie need to deal with this tragic episode together. If you want us involved, so be it, but don’t feel you need to include us.

  4. You describe this well, Derrick. Many of us have been through the experience of losing someone close. I’m glad you were able to get out, even if it all seemed surreal. I share the same thoughts Pauline shared above.

  5. Tragedy marks time, doesn’t it? Since what’s happened is so inconceivable and unreal, then it must seem like you’ve slipped into a parallel universe where even dog walking takes on a surreal sheen. Like GP I hope this is all helping; everyone would quite understand you wanting to step back, but since you are a daily blogger you may prefer the routine. We’ll be here, that you can be sure.

  6. I feel for you in your grief. I felt the same way when my husband died. The photo you took says it all really. I hope you and Jackie find some solace in the coming days.

  7. Yes, surreal. But it sounds as though you are doing exactly what you need to be doing as you mourn the passing of your beloved son. You talk, you write, you feel, you wander. It seems to me that the picture of the mist and water is a perfect representation of the fog of grief. Hugs to you and all your family.

  8. Those first few days to months after you loose an immediate family member is foggy and very numb times. Hope the easier days come quickly. But you will miss your son no matter what time goes by.

  9. Mourning is part of the process of healing Derrick. It might take sometime, it might take years but we will always remember those good times we spent with them.

  10. It’s quite understandable to feel that although life does go on, it’s not going on as normal. When we suffer such a tragedy as you have, your life can never be the same again. Your mind now has to process what’s happened and somehow weave it into the tapestry which is your life up to this point. As this happens and the healing process begins, you’ll gradually return to some sense of normality which factors in your sad loss. This is what happened to me after the loss of my darling mom. Now I can look at her photo and smile because I’m just remembering the happy times we had together. I hope this makes sense to you.

  11. I can only imagine what caused you to have to try twice before you got your drive in. But, like others, I think that it’s great that you kept you your routine. I know your heart wasn’t there – or your mind, but there is consolation in a little normality. Another day, another hug from New Jersey for both of you.

  12. I don’t understand why these things happen. I do agree with what you said to someone else that this suffering has caused their compassion. This is true with you. But I would never wish any of this upon you.

  13. And most of what you two shared this evening, were the silent glances and quiet thoughts – knowing, wondering and trying to understand. I’m very sorry Derrick to learn of Michael’s passing, my condolences.

  14. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers, Derrick. I know the surreal feeling. I agree with Mary that it is good you and Jackie found each other again, and can be a comfort to one another.

  15. So many of us can relate to what you are thinking and feeling.

    When I’ve had close family members die, it always bothered me that the world took little notice and moved on. I wanted to shout, “Please stop for a moment and acknowledge what has happened…please see my pain and loss…please don’t forget my loved one!”

    Grieve in your way and in your time…no matter what others think you should do.

    We are here if you need to share, cry, vent…and if you need to be silent, we will understand.

    (((HUGS))) for all of your family

  16. It’s very hard when the whole world goes about its usual business. Part of me wants to scream “Please stop! I’ve lost part of my heart here.” The ache is overwhelming. You and Jackie are loved. And those who love you are keeping you close in our thoughts.

  17. I remember walking on the beach the day after my mother died experiencing very similar thoughts. And there were many rainbows. Like the mist and pink light over the Isle of Wight, surreal. But calming somehow.

  18. Life is like that, one who has come to this earth, has to go one day, now or someday afterwards,the date and time is not known to us but it is certain that we’ve to depart for our final destination. But we feel when somebody of ours goes away for good from us. In everybody’s life, it happens, I too lost my parents and two brothers, their memories still remains. Can’t do anything, whatever happens, happens. We are left with no alternative but to make sincere adjustment and live life and perform our Karmic deeds as good as we can.

    I’ve penned a write-up on HEAVEN AND HELL – OUR OWN CREATION, your much needed comments are welcome and indeed very inspiration.

    WITH BEST REGARDS,

    HARBANS

  19. The fog will lift and things will be seen again, but in a renewed light. It takes time but there are valid reasons for that. I hope and pray for a steady and lasting recovery to full health in body and soul.

  20. I second Pauline and Laurie, and very much remember the haze of grief. It’s not something I felt I could move through the way I would move through other difficult situations. It demanded that I sit with it. But it’s different each time, because it’s a different person being grieved for and you’re a different person yourself. It’s always a tough time. Sending virtual hugs.

  21. I know that surreal feeling well. A blow like what you’re now reeling from is so devastating that you would think the world would change – because your world just collapsed. And yet it doesn’t. It’s how you see and experience the world that does. With all that pain, it’s unthinkable that others can’t feel it. Which is what makes the outside world feel so foreign and surreal.
    Like someone upstream remarked, I too am glad you are able to take your daily trips, be they surreal, or not. Even with the daily change in surroundings, I do hope you can allow yourself to cry. It takes a while, but it helps. Hugs to you both.

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