I’m home now.  

For me, it was not an easy, look-forward-to holiday. At least not the first part of our two-part, England and Scotland, holiday.

It started long before my husband and I landed in England. I kept thinking of being in Ightham Road. And, how I was going to deal with not having my Sinnavan next door to my mum-in-law’s house, where we had to be, at least for a few days, of our two-week holiday.

Memories.

My sister would wait for me in her kitchen every morning, and wave me in. Hug first, and all enquiries if I had slept well. She’d always comment about how she couldn’t believe that I was just next door. What a treat it was to have me there.

She would’ve prepared breakfast, which was a buffet of fruits, washed, cut and neatly arranged, for me. Why? Because I’ve IBS and diarrhoea. And constipation issues, in parallel. Go figure.

Anyways, no one in my life has done that for me. To be fair, hotels that offer buffet breakfast do. It’s obviously not the same, although they serve a pretty good selection of local and imported fruits. I don’t usually gravitate to them when there are more tempting options to be had. 

Back to my Sinnavan. She’d also comment that although I was next door, she didn’t get to see me all the time, while I was there. Why?  Mainly because my husband and I would do a sort of week’s holiday, and day trips with my mum-in-law.

That said, she’d still see me in the mornings, and anytime in-between when I got back from wherever. And, in the evenings. I practically squatted in her home. I had my shower, dinner and watched TV or just spent time with her and brother-in-law number 3.

Memories.

She and I also went shopping together to Aldi, Asda, Tesco and/or Sainsbury. We loaded up the shopping trolley no matter what we had said about not wanting or needing things. We’d also go to the card shops, and sometimes browse in some of the clothes stores in Bexleyheath. We both never failed to have desserts, mainly ice-cream and cakes, at cafes along the High Street. Kaspa was the one where she had a little nap, in-between, our two courses of ice-cream😊.

We did day trips to London. During my visit two years ago, we stayed in the city. I’m so glad we did as that was our time together. We traipsed around all over the place, discovering and rediscovering places of interest and impressive architecture, and we also managed to watch a musical. And, of course, we visited Chinatown for the egg tarts and ‘kuihs’.

Memories.

We loved and cared for each other. She and I always had lots of laughs. She was funny, quick witted and full of life. In my family, she was my confidante, like my mum was. She was an integral part of my support system, like my mum was. I turned to her, like I did with my mum, when things overwhelmed like they did in the course of our lives.

And, she me. She told me how she appreciated the fact that I listened, and I did listen. Didn’t necessarily have answers or solutions, but I listened and I asked relevant follow-up questions. Sometimes, that’s all we need. Someone to listen.

The thing was we spoke about everything and everybody. She was a sharer. Yes, she was. She would readily and easily tell me stuff (except when she was really ill, and when it mattered the most). I’ve always felt we had a ‘special’ relationship. So, how did I not know? An unrelenting question that plagues me.

I’ve lost my Sinnavan. Her love, her presence. How was I to deal with this very sad and painful situation when I was next door to where she should be? Always, alive and well.

People say I should move on. I know it’s sensible advice. I understand the theory. It’s the practise that’s less straight forward. Particularly as I was in a, ‘I wish I was somewhere else’ situation. Everything was loaded with memories of my Sinnavan. It was hard to shake, and just sad.

I know I’m not getting any younger. My days are finite. I know I should live in the moment, and enjoy life as best I can. I know. I know.

Thankfully, spending as little time as possible next door did help some. My husband, mum-in-law and I had a nice time at Maresfield; a village located on the southern edge of the Ashdown Forest. Yes, the same Ashdown Forest that was A.A. Milne’s inspiration for the Winnie-the-Pooh stories.

The second week, I was mostly with sister number 1 and family. It was fun, happy and a little heavy-hearted. Also, it was an especially precious time with sister number 1.

Memories.