17th April

After a sea swim, and going to my allotment to pick blousy yellow tulips, and wildflowers like marigolds, forget-me-nots, rosemary, borage and cow parsley, we put on our best clothes and waited for Vick to arrive in the car outside our house.   Our fantastic neighbours along the road stood outside to pay their respects and the female funeral directors looked smart and quirky, with Vick's cardboard coffin in the back all covered with everyone's cards.  My car did its naughty trick of not starting but we all got there in the end, and Vick would have laughed.  The service was lead by our beautiful sensitive Quaker woman friend, and I and our three daughters were the pallbearers.  We placed the flowers on top of the coffin.  One of my brothers chose lovely music; Corelli and Vaughan Williams.  Otherwise, the base was silence in the chapel, and most of us got up to say a poem or a personal tribute when we felt like it.  We cried and I found myself making involuntary whimpers like a wet dog.  Afterwards, we had apple pie and cream in the gentle rain outside.  The cherry trees were in full bloom and milky primroses were all over the place.  It was wonderful to know other friends and family were marking the moment in separate places.  Overall I think Vick would have approved, but I bet she is looking forward to her memorial with more mates around.
Josie 

14th April

This is the poem I will be reading at Vicky's cremation at 1.30pm on Friday.  It was written by David Scott, who is a good friend of Vicky's.

I love this, as it expresses Vick's sparkle.

For the past three days, I have felt awfully sad and my mouth has been a downwards smile.  My sister died 15 years ago yesterday, and I miss her as well as Vicky.  Due to lockdown, we have to face our difficulties in life more, without merry distractions of activities and friends, but perhaps that is good in the long run.
I am feeling brighter today and just enjoyed a hard-boiled egg for lunch.  I am so grateful for the many cards and letters. 
My friend recited me this incredible poem today, which sums up my feelings, but as Vicky would say,
I need to just go through it.
 Josie

There are no endings

I will not formally stop this blog.  As the title says, there are no endings, and I will put details of the memorial service on here when the COVID restrictions are lifted.  
I have found this blog so useful for updating people, and Vicky and I always loved writing it together and would have a laugh about it.  I would recommend writing a blog to anyone, and it helped me feel so much more connected when I was in isolation with Vick last week.
Thank you so much to everybody who has read it.
Here are a few jolly photos for the time being.
Josie

8th April

Our four children decorated Vick's white cardboard coffin with all the lovely cards people have sent over the past few weeks, and put letters and poems inside.  There was apparently exactly the right amount, with all the space covered but not overcrowded, so that was lucky.  
The cremation will be next Friday 17th April at 1.30 pm in Brighton, but sadly only ten of us can attend, so it will just be me and one of my brothers and our families, and we will have some Quaker silence and speak our own personal tributes as well as a few poems and pieces of music.
All are welcome to the memorial in the future at Brighton MH.  We will announce the date as soon as we can.  And Vicky wanted her ashes scattered on the southernmost point of the Isle of Wight so there will be an outing there once restrictions are lifted.
There will be a notice in The Friend and the Hampshire Chronicle, and hopefully, most of Vicky's friends are aware now.
I am so grateful for so many things, but grief is like the hospice leaflet says it is, a whole mixture of emotions.  My daughter and I have run into the sea every day at 5.15pm as it is low tide then and the water has been calm, like the motionless streets.  It is cruelly cold but somehow life-affirming. 
I have been occupied with much Admin, but I am happy to do it really.  

4th April 4.45 am

I sat with Vicky holding her hand for much of the evening last night as her breathing had changed and she looked closer to the end.  About 11 pm I fell asleep, listening to her breath, and the window was open with the cool breeze blowing over our faces.
The night nurses gently woke me just before 2 am and said she had just gone.  I sat with her for a while and played Lark Ascending on her iPad.
Then I carefully folded and packed up everything in her room.  I gave the nurses her new John Lewis nightie to put on, and all the fantastic cards and poems people have sent will stay with her.  I also left her pale blue blanket and a tasteful material garland of yellow flowers around her that someone must have given her for a present.
I drove home in the deserted streets over the misty beacon and it is nice to be sitting at my kitchen table as I haven't been here for a week.
Vicky will go to Arka, a lovely funeral director in Brighton run by two women.  I will phone them in the morning, and discuss everything, and try to keep everyone in the loop.  
Thanks for reading this, and sending lovely messages.  I feel surrounded by support.

This is a poem I wrote for Vicky for her last birthday.

My mum is a grapefruit
A splash of flavour.
She makes me feel better.

My mum is an amber necklace
Robust and resilient
With a story to tell.

My mum is a squirrel
Sharp and so deft
Alert and able to think

My mum is a fleecy blanket
Smiling and clean
Cosy and warm.

My mum is my moon and sun
Always there in my universe.

Josie

3rd April

I have had a strange day today after a wakeful night drinking tea and reading and listening alertly to Vick's breathing which I thought might stop any minute.
Vick's 89-year-old heart carries on though and I am still here.  One of the health care assistants said it is too full of love to stop.
One thing I forgot to put on the list yesterday, was Write A List Every Day.
I wanted to share the small things that have affected me in the past 24 hours.

1.  I walked out in the twilight last night when the nurses were turning Vicky and an owl swooped right past me, looking at me with its face.
2.  I watched the bats flittering under the trees.
3.  The fat old sheep are having their lambs.  I feel a kinship with them as I am also surrounded by the gentle company of women.
4.  All the nurses and I had a good old clap for the NHS last night, and nurses are a funny breed but I love em.  Vick and I know about nurses as we were nurses.
5.  I had the ingenious idea of soaking my feet once a day in a bowl of scalding hot water then using Vick's lily of the valley talc on them.  
6.  I enjoy washing Vick's face and hands twice a day and smothering posh cream into her skin.
7.  There was a mouse under my bed last night and the night staff were not in the least bit surprised.  It's not too clinical here.
8.  I've always been terrified of rats and mice but I'm overcoming it.  I am studying a family of rats under the bird hide in the wood and they are rather sweet.  Always so busy.
9.  Although I've listened to the book of the week about Dickens, I've just slept this afternoon and haven't done any virtuous yoga or anything much today.  I feel I'm in another dimension and so is Vick.
10.  The bluebells are starting to appear and my lifelong phobia must be due to both my mother and sister dying at this time of year.  Elizabeth Strout writes about "horrifying gorgeousness" and I know what she means.
Josie

2nd April

I like the soft still weather today, with occasional milky sunlight; less cruel than the glaring bright sun.  Vicky's steady heart carries on, despite her unconscious state.  I am allowed out of the room now when they turn her, and the staff have stopped wearing masks, gloves and aprons.  Like a little rabbit in a hutch though, I find the big wide world a bit scary and don't go far.  I tried running around the wood again and felt so unfit.  
I wrote a list of 12 things Vicky taught me.  There are lots more things but these are the main ones.

1. Never be without a notebook, pen and a good novel.
2.  Get up early.  Have a Badedas bubbly bath, put clean clothes on, enjoy your breakfast.  Whatever is going on, keep your standards up.
3.  Choosing the right card and present for someone is important.
4.  Never keep manky flannels, dishcloths, towels or bedding.
5.  Seize the day.  Get on with it.  No point saying "Ain't it awful".  No point dancing with tears in your eyes as no one cares.
6.  Love, light, peace and comfort can be found in stillness, especially Quaker silence, but all religion/spirituality is interesting.
7.  Food must be taken seriously and decent food really helps.  Plan each meal well in advance.  Spread butter and marmalade thickly.
8.  Celebrate the English countryside.  And poetry.
9.  Make your home welcoming.
10.  Keep away from airports.  
11.  Change your mind if you want.  It doesn't matter.  Accept things and don't make a big fuss.
12.  Friends, family, creativity, conversation, laughter, being kind; those things are what matter.
Josie

1st April

Vicky has not woken up or taken any sips today.  I wonder if she can hear music playing or sniff the lavender oil I sprinkle about the place.  She looks very sweet and serene and I can sense the nurses and carers are genuinely fond of her.  They are attentive to all the details and kind to me.  One young carer told me she read Vicky all the poems sent to her last week, and for some reason it made me weep.  She doesn't normally read any poems she said.
When the night nurses were doing the last turn of the night this morning at 6 am I slipped outside the French windows for the first time since Saturday. I solemnly agreed I would not leave the room due to COVID 19 when I arrived, but there was no one about at all and frost on the fields and exciting first light.  I quickly ran around the small woodland nearby which is carpeted with white wood anemones and I felt like a startled deer in a shopping mall.  I was only gone for five minutes but it was amazing to leave the room and get out of breath.  I even saw cold looking lambs standing nearby with their mothers.  
What is it about birds?  I am getting more and more obsessed with watching them.  A male and three female pheasants pecked about outside the window today.  The male looked like he was in fancy dress.  Birdwatching is definitely an interest that grows with age.  Their spindly legs and fast-beating hearts remind me how fragile everything is.  I feel they are going through this experience with me.
Josie