As a follow-up to my previous post, there was one outstanding task which I had not been able to deal with since my mum passed away: the Thursday night food shopping for the week ahead. Over the past year and 4 months, I went food shopping in the mornings, at lunchtime, at weekends - anything but go back to that weekly routine, because it was something we did together, for many, many years, and I couldn't face doing it on my own.
It is quite strange really, as I've had to come to terms with much, much bigger stuff over the past year which I've dealt with whilst adjusting to the 'new normal' of living on my own. Yet sometimes the smallest, most insignificant things are often the hardest to achieve.
It was only with the change in my working pattern that I had to re-examine my weekly routines and so I decided that it was time to return to Morrisons on Thursday night. It was strange, but yet somehow familiar and reassuring, and I coped well with it.
But I cried when I got home.
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