third anniversary

Not a huge amount going on in my part of the world.  We’re still waiting to hear if our latest loan will be approved.  I’m a bit concerned - we had the valuer out looking at our house the other day, and when he asked us what we thought it was worth, we told him, and he kind of went, ‘Oh‘ in an ominous tone of voice.  So now we have probably about another week’s wait until we find out if we qualify for finance or not.

I hate this part.  I start looking for furniture, then realise there’s not a huge point in buying it.  What would we do with it if we didn’t get finance?!  And there are always fantastic deals happening which I can’t bear to pass up.

Coincidentally, my little brother is also looking to buy a place.  He’d prefer inner city (as in, in the CBD) as he works there.  I’ve been suggesting some stuff to him as well, and have volunteered to go with him to check out places.  I hope he does go ahead with it, I really think it’s the ideal time to buy.  Plus, the lease on his place runs out soon, and the unit is on the market, so he’d have to find somewhere else to live anyway.  It may as well be his own place, right?

We were talking about this earlier in the week.  We were actually at my mother’s place.  Every year, on February 9, the three of us get together for lunch or dinner.  This was the third anniversary of my dad’s death.  It doesn’t feel like it’s three years ago that he died.  Anyhow, Mum had decided what she wanted to do with his ashes.  She lives a short walk away from a river, and she and dad used to go for walks there.  There’s a little jetty that he loved going to the end of and just looking out at the view.  Mum had decided that she wanted to scatter his ashes off the jetty, as it was his favourite place. 

So we went out for dinner first, then back to Mum’s house.  We got the dogs and the ashes, and went along and scattered them at the end of the jetty.  It was beautiful; there was a full moon, the water had even waves washing up against the shore, and there was a light breeze.  Even the dogs didn’t make a sound.  It was really nice, or at least as nice as ash-scattering can be.  My brother did the honours, and we sat there for a bit before the mosquitos drove us away.  (Even typing this, I’m scratching a couple of bites absent-mindedly.)

So yes, that was Monday night.  I think it’s taken me all week to really absorb and digest how I felt about it, the recurring sense of loss, and for it all to take its proper place in my mind – not put away, not forgotten, but receding into the background of everyday life.  I still love and miss my dad, but it’s not the heart-rending agony any longer.