Update

Hello …. helloo…??

It’s been a while.

….a long while.

I’m not even sure if anyone is even here anymore…..

That’s OK though, because I’m barely here anymore.

….and by that I mean that the kids and I have been off trying to live a big, juicy life.

Both kids are relatively healthy and happy (as far as 13 and 11 year olds can be). Both are doing well at school and have nice friends and are growing into decent, clever, loving, funny and kind humans.

I’m working full time: as of a couple of years ago, I’ve been a permanent employee of the education department.
I love my job and it makes me so very tired….

Our family has been joined by a gorgeous pup who should’ve come to live with us much sooner than he did as he soothes jangled nerves instantly.

…..and

and….

I’ve met a lovely guy.
We’ve been together for a year now.
He’s the man who came After.
….and we were meant to be.

We still miss Greg.

Every day.

But my story didn’t end when he died.
I wanted it to end for a long time after he died.
But I’m still writing it as best I can…..

….and I’m loving my story again….

 

Happy Unbirthday

Not our picnic, but one nearby.

Last  Saturday, we had a picnic for Greg’s Should Have Been 50th birthday.

In a miracle of the Climate Gods, the weather was perfect even though it had rained solidly for the weeks beforehand and every day since (and up to 150mm / 6 inches last night alone).

I am glad we did it.

I’d forgotten who I’d invited, so as more and more people turned up, I was genuinely surprised and glad to see them.  Old friends and workmates gathered and remembered in just the sort of relaxed chat-fest that was Greg’s style.

I saw some people who came to the funeral and then disappeared so I’m hoping that this has reset their minds so they know they can talk to me.

The kids had a great time and I enjoyed seeing everyone.

But by the next day I was a wreck….

…and then today I walked downstairs to find my garage and store room sitting in 2 inches of (thankfully clean) water.

and I broke.

I feel like I’m 100 years old, everything is heavy, I am so tired, the kids are moody and I don’t feel like doing anything.
…except I have had to throw away waterlogged things and try to move things out of the water.

I want to sleep for a week.

Yep – death week is here 😦

… but I know it will pass and while I don’t expect things to be “good”, I know they will be OK again.

Am I done yet?

 

This week, bang in the middle of death-march month, has seen me BEG Greg to come back more than once.
Many times in fact.

Seriously, I have coped with this shizzle for almost 3 years.
I have worked, I have kept the kids on an even keel, I have hit rock bottom on more than one occasion and I have stood up again.
Can I have my medal now?

I am tired of grief.
I am tired of being alone in THIS month …. the month that contains the 20th anniversary of that birthday party where we first met.
That first date.
Valentines Day (and the single time Greg bought me flowers without laughing that you’d swung by the 7-11 on the way home.
His birthday.
….and finally, his death day.

I just want to be done with this and go back to how life was Before.
.
.
.
…..but I can’t go back.

I must go forward, even though I hate every year that passes without Greg in it.
I have to ensure I experience joy each day so that yawning black hole of grief is held at bay.
I will move forward in a ways I have never dreamed of.
Grief will not define me.
I will rise again.

The Death March

5 First bars of Beethovens Funeral March (Sonata 12) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

5 First bars of Beethovens Funeral March (Sonata 12) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

….. is here.
Its now February – less than a month until the 1st of March.
The last few weeks of year 3 are here before we tick of the 3rd Sadiversary and enter year 4 of this madness.

My internal monologue is stuck on repeat: “He’s dead.  Can you believe he is dead?  This makes no sense.  How could GREG be dead?  He is so alive.  So young and fit and healthy.  So adventurous.  So full of energy.  How can he not be here?”

February is the month Greg should have turned 50.
I’ve just invited a bunch of people to mark the occasion with an informal picnic at the beach.

I had to track down the e-mails of the men he had been friends with since his university days.
Funny – Before, when life was good, I thought I would be able to count on these blokes if I needed them for any reason.
They were Greg’s oldest mates.
They were solid.
But they turned to dust within 6 months of Greg’s death and have rarely, if ever phoned.
Maybe they don’t know what to say to me …. but anything would have been better than the complete silence of the last 2+ years.

But.

On the other hand, other people have been here the whole time.
The friends who had Greg as their Best Man at their wedding – always checking on us, and coming over to help with those handyman jobs that are beyond me.
Greg’s workmates – phoning, facebooking, sending through new photos as they are found.
My friends who have always been there, never drifting away from me and my grief.

….and my family.  My family are awesome.  They make life good.

…and as I look back over the past year’s death marches, I think (hope) I can say that  – so far – this one is a little bit brighter than the last two.

An odd kind of celebration

Picnic (Photo credit: Carlos López Molina)

When Greg died, I had just printed out invitations to my 40th birthday party which was supposed to be held 31 days later …. but wasn’t…. for obvious reasons.

I am not a person who likes to host parties.  I think the last birthday party I helped organise for myself was my 30th birthday when we lived in a small country town and all but one of the party-goers walked to out house.

This time, we had booked a few tables at a local restaurant that overlooked the bay and had a dance floor and live band. I had bought an outfit and was getting excited to see all my friends.

… I still got to wear that outfit and see all my friends though.
Just not for my party.
There was no dancing.
Instead, there were lots of tears.

Anyway, my 50th is still over 7 years away and I am thinking I still need to finally have that party that I didn’t get to have …. but not for me.

…This coming February, Greg SHOULD have turned 50.
It seems such a surprise to say that number in the same breath as his name.  He always looked and acted much younger than his age.  He was such a fit, vibrant, adventurous, funny soul and he loved a good party.

I don’t want to replicate the wake where nobody could meet my eyes … when they rose from the floor that is.  Where everyone spoke softly and drank cups of tea.  Where the world had turned slightly foggy and surreal and I was there without really being there.

I want to have a party that celebrates the bloke that he was.  I want his old friends to come and I want the stories to flow.  I want the kids to meet some of his old friends and hear what an amazing Dad they had.

At the moment, I am leaning towards a general invitation for friends and family to meet us down at the beach for fish and chips – something we used to do as a family.
Informal.
Come as you are.
BYO folding chairs, kite and frisbee.
Picnic-style.

Just like he used to love doing.

Maybe I am odd for wanting to mark a birthday for someone who can’t be there.
Maybe this will seem inappropriate to some people.
Maybe I am asking for the grief monster to rear its ugly head and smack me back down.
But maybe I am onto something that will help us all.

I don’t really know.
But it feels right to me.