With the funeral out of the way, I was ready to go back to work. That is after all, what one does. It is the British way. I have lost my father, but there is not particular name for that, or concept of it when you are an adult. Your parents are expected to die, and as long as they are a decent age, we are not really expected to make a big deal about it. I didn't really want to talk to anyone at work about it either. That's not the point of being at work.
Plenty of people had hardly noticed my absence. My supervisor Kate went past my desk and wrapped her arms round my shoulder.
"Sorry about your Dad Claire." she said into my shoulder. I didn't mind the hug and even though she held on too long, at least I didn't have to look at her. "How was the funeral?"
"It was ..." I had no idea what the polite form of answer to that question was. "Fine." I settled on.
"And how's your mum?" Kate asked politely. She didn't know my mum, but she was a caring sort of person, who always asked the right questions and was always polite and thoughtful. All the things I was really bad at. I turned to face her.
"I don't really know yet..." I started, I wasn't prepared to say anything more. It made me seem heartless and horrible. I wanted to talk to someone but who would possibly be sympathetic? I couldn't talk to my mum, she had her own grief and how could I possibly talk to her without expressing my anger at her. I didn't hate her, I wasn't about to end up in some counselling, I just didn't know how to talk to her without making her feel worse.
"Are you alright lovey?" Kate reached for me again but I put my hand up to hair quickly to avoid her touch, I had been quiet a moment too long and I thought I might cry.
"I'm ok to be back." I said. After all what else would I do?
It didn't take me long to completely forget that anything had been wrong or that I had been off work. I made coffee and chatted to everyone else in the office and took phone calls and thought of ... nothing at all except work. At lunchtime I realised I had forgotten to make a sandwich. "That's alright," I told myself, "You're allowed to make mistakes right now." But why? Had I been ill? No, but there was something at the base of my throat, and a hollowness, an emptiness in my stomach, because, yes, because of Dad. And that was how it caught me, once or twice more throughout the day. There was something wrong, but I couldn't change it and there was no point being anxious about it. I hadn't forgotten something, I hadn't missed a deadline, I just had to get through this one. On my own.
There was a message on my phone from my sister. "Hope UR OK. Mum fine. Hope work is gd. <3 xx" "If you really want me to be ok, then don't message me to remind me that I'm not and don't use all those irritating abbreviations." I thought ungratefully. Mardy cow, I told myself. I felt so guilty I ended up ringing her.
"Hi" she whispered quietly.
"Hi, thanks for the message," I said.
"Oh you're welcome lovely. I'm just doing teas at church. Mum's here, thought it'd be good for her to get out."
"Oh, ok." I replied surprised. "It's Monday."
"Yes," she said, "Mums and tots."
"Oh, ok." I said again stupidly. Mum was neither a mum nor a tot in that context, nor for that matter was Ali. "I'll phone you later." I hadn't meant to say that.
"Later." She made a kiss noise down the phone. Maybe it was good for Mum to be somewhere else. But at church? At Ali's church? Ali had obviously had Dad down there before...well, before and now Mum as well? Where was my invitation? I didn't want one. But where was it? Aren't C of E churches over run with middle aged unmarried - spinsters - like me?
My irritation with Ali continued as I had phoned her instead of going out to buy lunch and had to settle with whatever was left in the snack bar. Not her fault, I told herself, mine. Anyway, where had my obsession with blaming everyone come from? This was new, but temporary, I told myself. I would stop. Soon.
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