I have had a number of sessions with a counsellor. She rarely speaks. She just sits and listens, only occasionally asking pointed questions. I spend the time recounting tales of how I felt when my father died, how I missed his funeral, when I visited his grave. I expect I will always feel guilty for not being there.
However, since my father in law has died, I have a new enthusiasm for life: I have my husband and his family to look after. I have a future to focus on – a living family that need me. I told my counsellor that I found it odd that with the death of one good man, I could drop into despair while with the death of another good man, I remembered my strength. My husband doesn’t need my strength – he just needs me to be there for him. Believe me, I am.
I’ve discovered, quite by accident, a metaphor. One of the few things I’ve enjoyed all along is taking photographs. I like seeing things from new perspectives and showing my perspective to anyone who would like to see. I try new angles. I look at colours.
Foxy
Foxy in the Waiting Room 