Mr P walked out of his job as an electrician two weeks ago. Since then, we have been building a website for him to sell his artwork on and pursuing that avenue. He hated being a sparky and now he finally has the opportunity to do something that makes him happy. I’m pleased for him but obviously it means that money is tight when we’re depending on one salary.
We’ve been living on student food and even downgraded from lovely, lovely Marlboro Lights to rolling tobacco. Rent day is looming, as is a stag do which is mainly paid for but which will still require spending money. Don’t even mention council tax, bills and general, you know, eating and stuff.
The other day, whilst frantically searching the internet for proofreading / virtual assistant jobs, I cracked. The worry had got on top of me and taken over.
Yesterday, I heard some terrible news. One of our friends, Mr R, suffered an aneurysm on Monday night and yesterday morning, his wife had to make the heartrending decision to turn his life support machine off. He leaves behind a wife, Mrs R, and their three-year-old son as well as a 10-year-old son from a pervious marriage and countless family members and friends.
I’m still a little bit numb at the moment, like it hasn’t really hit me yet. I’m already dreading the funeral though and knowing what I can say to the bereft Mrs R – what comfort can I possibly give? I just keep thinking of the times when you wake up from a horrible dream about your partner having been killed and that wonderful moment of relief when you see him sleeping peacefully next to you and you realise that, thank fuck, it was just a dream. For Mrs R, she won’t see her husband’s head on the pillow next to her. The nightmare will extend on into her days for months to come.
It’s such a tragic, tragic loss and my heart goes out to Mrs R and the two boys. And it sure gives me moaning about having to buy baccy a whole different spin.