So I'm there

So I'm there, charging around with a juggernaut brow. The whole day I've been rushing, what can be the perfect antidote for a relaxed evening's entertainment?

That's right, Elbow. On entering the 02 Arena you can feel the anticipation. You're met by the dangling lights and pictures of the five piece band behind the stage. There is not a centimetre of available floor space that I can see. Seated and with my neck craned slightly to the left in the lower tier (Row V), I am with my Old Man and my L'il Sis. The demographic is mixed, old and young alike are fans, "Everyone's here".

Magically the band leaves the pictures and enters the stage to rapturous applause. They kick off with Birds, the first song on the new album, and with a fabulous walking beat throughout that has you hooked. Even my Dad (who only knows the hits!) is tapping along. The sound is superb.

We are truly off and running, Lippy Kids is marvellous. "We shouldn't be afraid of our young, we should nurture them" states Garvey as an intro, almost as if delivering a sermon. Typically, the audience cheers!

The Bones of You instantly reminds me of my Mum, so I'm holding back tears as Guy swoons through the lyrics, some are so poignant and close to home that often you are transfixed on Guy's stance, especially during the slower tracks like Mirrorball. He rocks backward and forward like a darts player, delivering the words.

A special nod must go to Garvey's crowd interaction. He is so warm towards the audience, and you can tell he absolutely revels in it. He constantly shifts his position and must have shaken every hand surrounding the smaller stage. Guy thanked Block 142 Row U for their support, the furthest people away in the venue. A standing ovation for them from the crowd followed. Also, his relationship with the other members means that you almost want to be in Elbow. I've never been to a concert where the band treats themselves to a half-time gig cocktail either.

Great Expectations, Grounds For Divorce and the beautiful Tower Crane Driver step the gig up into overdrive. My Sis turns and nods at me knowing this is our favourite Elbow song. I have goosebumps as Guy wails "Send up a prayer in my name.." with the terrific key change.

They do the intimate songs well. This is a massive arena, but they still manage to pull it off. The Night Will Always Win, with the four band members huddled over four keyboards and Guy singing is so haunting. You contrast that to the smashing, jangling Neat Little Rows and you'd be forgiven if you thought a different band had walked on stage. My Dad tapped along as a vast rate of knots for that one! They bow out once with Open Arms, then the inevitable encore One Day Like This concludes the show. A glorious finale.

That sums Elbow up for me, just like the body part it's just out of reach to actually define. Some of their songs are anthemic, some are joyous, some are melancholy, some you can join in with, some are slightly odd, some are beautiful. What is certainly true is that all songs are highly addictive.

Then again, I might be slightly biased!

Show some emotion

So yes, I'm, er.. how can I put this without sounding all too sad? I'm missing my Mum.

I'm not the best at conveying my emotions and I tend to be quite reserved in my opinions. One of my Twitter pals encouraged me to "chuck out my chintz"; so that's what I'm doing.

My Mum. She's in my head, my heart and my soul, but she's just not there any more. In front of me. I feel empty without her. This feeling of emptiness and numbness has been explained to me as grief.

I am a Mummy's Boy you see. I was so fond of her ways and loved her to bits. We got on like a house of fire and really she was my best friend. We still lived together under the same roof when she passed so I saw her every day for 22 years before she took to the skies.

The moment those curtains closed at the funeral, I was at a loss. She was no longer a name in my birthday card, and there was suddenly an empty place at the dinner table. Her mobile number in my mobile phone book was redundant (I called it plenty of times after, just to hear her voice on the Answer Message). Our house phone stopped ringing. My Dad, Sis and I realised that the only people who rang the house phone wanted to speak to our Mum. Letters continued to hit our doormat addressed to Mrs Fox. When the Funeral was over, and you try to resume normal life, is when the loss and the grief hits you most.

This is the hurdle I've found most tricky. Life has a massive Mum shaped hole in it. When I finish work there's one less person to ask me how my day has gone. She always seemed interested in what I had to say, so I used to tell her all my secrets. I bottle them all up now.

Since she's gone I've massively lost my confidence, and now I don't say boo to a goose. I want to emulate my Mum's 'joie de vivre' but at times I'm still a little jaded and low. I hope that I can get a bit of good news from somewhere which will boost my self-esteem.

I still live at home with Dad and Sis but our house feels different now. Its a shrine to my Mum; her pictures and mementos are everywhere. I don't know if this is any good for me to see these day in and day out.

Before my Mum got ill I was seriously looking at moving out to my own place. When my Mum was diagnosed everything was paused. Now that the trauma is over and my Mum's in a better place I have pressed play again on my life, but currently life seems like its just creaking along. Its been eighteen months since she passed but it feels just like yesterday. I'm doing a lot of reminiscing about the past, but I don't know whether that's because I'm reminded all the time. I think I need to get on with that plan to move out.

I must point out that I do have good days too, and I'm relatively happy in general. Its just at certain times I feel at loss. I have been going to counselling sessions, and must admit that it helps as the woman who I talk to does not judge me at all.

She has pointed out that I should cry. I'm not really a crier, but I have cried a few times in the last eighteen months. At these sad moments I can't really turn to my friends and tell them how sad I feel, or at work, because I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't do feelings with my Dad, and my Sister is often wrapped up away with her boyfriend. The only people who I can talk openly too is my lovely Nan and my Aunt (my Mum's sister), who I rarely see. So at times the only person I talk to is myself!

I see things which make me upset; even watching the lambs and sheep in the field was sad. The baby lamb was sheltered, safe and tucked in next to its Mummy, and I recognised that that was what I missed. I ended up crying at some sheep for goodness sake!

The Kate Bush song "Wow" also caught me unaware (one of Mum's favourite records) and I burst into tears the other week.

So, yes. That's my grief that I'm currently dealing with. I've probably said way too much however I felt I needed to write this down. In truth, the reason I've probably wrote this is because I've actually had a few days off over Easter with nothing to do. Keeping myself busy is good, but I think subconsciously I did keep myself busy on purpose to avoid thinking about the past.

If you read this and you can relate to what I've said, do get in touch. It would be nice to know if there are others who have felt or are feeling the same. Is it OK to cry at sheep?! I just hope at some point soon I can move on, things will get better, right?

Have a happy Easter, and make sure you speak to your loved ones during this time. Life is too short for squabbles and arguments; slow down and take stock of what's good in your life. The good I have learnt through what's happened is that I realise how much I love the people in my life and my family (past and present).

Rich. x

ps. I think I chucked out a lot of chintz here!

pps. You can probably tell I'm still talking to myself!