A friendly face: Behind a mask…

It seems many people at work feel safe to confide in me. I’ve had several people over the last few weeks talk to me about some beef or another they have had with a colleague. Unfortunately for me, I like and respect both parties in all cases. It’s lovely they feel safe enough to share but I really don’t want to be piggy in the middle. I want to be a good friend to all. Can’t please them all though.

It is of course very flattering that they all feel safe enough to open up to me. Where, if anywhere, that leads I don’t know. More often than not, it’s the young lady’s that seem to share more than anyone else. Go figure. When I was younger, I would have totally misread the situation. That would have ended up so awkward! One thing I have consistently found during my life is that I’ve always been considered a friendly, likeable chap. So why I find this significant, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just the frequency ramping up recently. It’s not as if I spend a lot of time socialising with new people. I’m not sure I’d even know where to start when it comes to meeting new people.

Just had my break and I’m sat on the car park again. As much as I’m feeling stronger today, every moment not spent talking to patients and colleagues has me constantly thinking about how much I miss My Lady today. Over eighteen months since her passing, it still doesn’t feel real. I still haven’t touched any of her stuff. Apart from a tapestry I purchased last year, our bedroom is exactly how she left it. Her wardrobe is untouched and I have no intention of doing anything about it any time soon. Still can’t think of a good reason to tackle her clothes and so on. Even the shoe rack by the front door still has all of My Lady’s shoes in there, exactly how she left them. The only motivation to do anything about it is that Precious will always find it hard coming home to see her mothers stuff how she left it. My dear friend and adopted sister feels the same. It’s one reason she finds it really hard to come to ours.

I think I’ll tackle the shoes this week. Maybe even tonight. If only to make it easier when either of them come to visit. I still wonder how long I’ll leave My Lady’s things before I HAVE to deal with them, and yet, at the same time, I have no NEED to do anything with it at all. Yet another contradiction to my collection. How long is long enough/too long? The thought of taking her clothes out of the wardrobe and doing something with them still feels like a betrayal of sorts. Maybe it will be years, who knows? In the first month, Precious suggested making patchwork blankets from My Lady’s clothes. A lovely idea but that would surely horrifically traumatic for her. She would do an amazing job of it, but at what cost?

Sat in my car on my last break. I must have got enough sleep last night as I still feel ok. Makes a change. Just as well on a thirteen hour shift. I’ll have to go to bed shortly after I get home again tonight. Early finish tomorrow, so I’ll have the time to chase up job applications and so on.

So much for an early night… It’s eleven pm…