The Mystery Of Other People's Lives

[poliphilo]

I carried a box of old photos in from the garage this morning. I'd put it there last week to make elbow room for ambulance men and carers.

The pictures fall into three broad categories: 
Family
Holidays
Masonic dinners.

Me :What a lot of dinners.

Ailz: That could be why he lost interest in eating.  Eating was about conviviality. He couldn't see the point of doing it for its own sake.

Me: I hate eating with other people.

Ailz: Me too. 

Comments

[sorenr.livejournal.com]

I think I just love eating in any setting. I tell you, it's a miracle I'm not severely obese! (Okay, so maybe it's because I'm somewhat ditzy; I'm a glutton when I eat, but I regularly forget to do so and only realise I've skipped dinner when I'm brushing my teeth to go to bed...)

It is always strange when people die after protracted illness; in a way it's nice that they don't have to cope with the ordeal of pain and exhaustion any more, but of course even when there's no shocking grief there will always be a sense of melancholy sadness. A remembrance of things past.

Is Ailz okay? I remember how tough it was on my Mum when her father died, and I hope Ailz is coping better. (I'm quite sure she is, actually; she seems such a robust person.)

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

I think of eating as a chore. I hate having to spend so much time planning for and then consuming meals.

Ailz is managing really well. We spent this morning making funeral arrangements and this afternoon she's back round at her mother's doing whatever it is that needs doing.