Usually I wake up at around 10am. I leave it as late as possible, anyway. There's no point in getting up earlier because even if I do the temptation will be to go back to bed straight away. So I snooze through the early morning and into mid-morning until I am satisfied that I have occupied as much time as possible in this relatively pain-free manner. Sleep is the preferred solution for those who are coping with a crisis like grief.
And I have an overwhelming desire to talk with people about mum. Especially as she was in those last weeks when the infections were becoming overwhelming. Those days when I would visit every day, instead of every two or three days, because I knew the time was limited. I knew that there was not much time left for mum. I could sense it even though noone told me anything like that. It was my intuition - this approach of the final crisis out of the minor crises of recent weeks - and it guided me in my actions during those last weeks. I stopped buying food because I was spending so much time visiting mum, and started eating at restaurants in the evenings. I still haven't gone back to regularly buying food again, except for bread and milk, which I need for breakfasts.
Outside the window the scaffolding is still in place. The workmen have been through with their drills and other equipment, preparing the balcony to receive its new balustrade. The construction crews have been moving through doing their various tasks. They have drilled holes to receive the new balustrade's upright supports. Right now the balcony is empty, but at night I still listen for intruders when I wake up in sleep because my brain is restless and unquiet. There have been no intruders of course, but the fears remain after the lights go out. I will be glad when they have packed up their tools and taken away the scaffolding so things can get back to normal. It's not the sounds they make so much as the anxiety the scaffolding creates, which, late at night, cannot be helped.