Some kind of normality

Ka's in Africa. That's the latest. One of the wee boys in Ka's Nursery turned round to one of her colleagues today and asked, "When's Ka coming back from Africa?".
This was after the kids had all been sat down last week and told the story of how Lucy went to Heaven. Obviously this particular little boy hadn't been paying much attention. Either that or he's under the impression Heaven is a northerly region of the second largest continent and Ka's joined Lucy over there for a safari.
It was back to some kind of normality this week as I went back to work for the first time since before the new year. It was harder than I thought, sitting at my computer, working on ads again after everything that has happened, so I was a little sluggish to begin with.
It just doesn't seem right. Ka and myself feel like we should be doing other things. Life should be more enjoyable, messier and more hectic after the build up of the past nine months. We should be getting used to a new way of life when, in reality, life is pretty much the same as it was nine months ago. Nothing has changed except the grief we will forever feel at the back of our minds, slowly sinking out of sight but never relieving it's weight.
Work, gym, cinema, shopping, meals at relatives. They have all been attempts at keeping us occupied but all seem vaguely different somehow. We can't escape the feeling that there should be more going on. Someone else around, keeping us occupied.
Yesterday morning I was on one of my many stridings through the wilderness that is the EK shopping centre, surroundings not unlike the wilds of Africa described by Ka's wee nursery pupil by the look of some of the folk that inhabit the place on a normal weekday morning as some of them look as if they've just escaped from cages.
Another trip to the dentist had been successfully accomplished on time with just moments to spare. After, once more, answering and grudgingly attempting to tell of recent events involving losing one's baby, in this instance to the friendly receptionist and our nice dentist, I went on my way through the mall with polished teeth..
Next stop, the post office and as I marched I spotted something whilst passing one of the larger charity shops that stopped me dead in my tracks. A large Yamaha keyboard, adorned with buttons, dials, screens and, well, keys, sat looking at me from within the Debra shop under the out of the question price tag of £35.
A hazey dream of reminiscence filtered into my mind. Back in the day, (cue Dvorak's Hovis music), during the High school years I always toyed with the idea of learning keyboard and piano. At the time, most of my mates could play some kind of instrument, to some kind of extent and were keen to form a band, of some kind. Colin sang and swung his guitar, whilst Nocker strummed and Bungle battered the drums.
The keyboard appealed to me. It made cool noises and played beats for you that you didn't have to spend hours making up yourself. I'd always thought it'd be quite cool to learn piano too. Stevie Wonder, Elton John, Barry Manilow, Rowlf the Dog, they'd all mastered the art before me. If a blind guy, a rocket with glasses, a grinning mannequin and a dog could do it, so could I.
Of course, I never did. Colin managed to teach me one song on the bass but that was about as far as my contribution to music went. I'm far better off merely listening.
Anyway, after seriously considering the prospects of buying the Yamaha for around five seconds I decided against it. I realised that if I brought that massive keyboard home to my one bedroom flat, Ka would probably take it and batter me over the head with it. The last thing she needs at the moment is me setting up a Yamaha in the middle of the living room, switching off all the lights, standing in my tie and going all Kraftwerk on her.
It's more like Kraft Foods in our house, the amount of cheese on crackers we're putting away. Great to have in the house for guests but not so great when your looking for nibbles whilst watching the telly. The calories I'm piling on must be immense!
Yes, the passing of Baby Lucy has left the two of us feeling at a loss and looking for more meaningful things to do to keep our minds busy, but I doubt bringing home a second hand Yamaha keyboard is an answer.
A break somewhere would be more worthwhile, probably not a trip to Africa though.