Well, it went ok and not so ok. I suppose as best as I could expect.
I'm really fucked off with my husband. I am prepared to be told I have been a complete bitch, if indeed I have. I can't actually see the woods from the trees anymore, about anything.
My dad's friend basically latched on to me (she and I were both nervous), and because I tried to make her at ease, my husband and father just spoke to each other for the first hour. Great, thanks.
Then we moved on to the restaurant. Again, she and I were sat next to each other. She was nice, I liked her, and I certainly didn't envy being in her place tonight. Then things took a bit of an odd turn. I am totally prepared to take criticism for my take on this.......she started to remark about how old the people in the restaurant were and how they could cater to a younger audience. I just said she should tell the management that a younger crowd would love it too. She then tried to drag me up on the 'dance floor' (a 4 foot square in the middle of restaurant tables), my husband and dad just thought this was hilarious so I had no choice. I fucking hate this type of thing but can bite my lip and go along with things when I have to.
On the walk home (dad and her have got cab), we bump into a colleague of mine. He proceeds to tell me about his friend who's wife died of cancer 2 months before my mum did - he's gone and moved in with another woman. His 23 year old daughter is struggling........I know the situation, I know the family involved. Then I get told it's not the same for me. Because I'm 37.
Wow. Thank you. I didn't realise grief was age contained.
And then I get home, try to express to my husband just how difficult tonight has, been just to be told that I'm being awkward.
I just wanted a hug.
FUCK YOU LIFE.
(Love you mum xxx)