The days are long and the nights are so hard

Is it wrong that I think every tick of the clock is counting down the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades until I see him again? Actually don’t answer that.
Everyone seems so freaked out by my crying at random moments … when the words of a song catch me off-guard, when someone is unexpectedly kind to me, when I’m making a cuppa and go to make him one as well…. I can’t help it and what’s more, I don’t think I should try.

I am sad.

Pretty much all of the time.

I’m OK with that.

After all, its only been 38 days since I kissed him goodbye and sent him off for work.  I’m barely getting my head around the fact that he isn’t coming home.  My fairytale didn’t have a happy ending.  We didn’t live happily ever after.
Evenings are the worst – I have to remind myself not to listen for his car in the driveway at ~6:30pm.

I have to remind myself that its all me right now … there are no nights off duty. There is no-one else to pick up bread or milk on the way home.

And there sure as hell isn’t a warm familiar body to curl up to in bed each night.


The anally-retentive part of me keeps wanting to write these posts in order and I’ve begun and scrapped a post on the funeral about four times now.  It just wont come out yet.  I feel the need to write it down – I’m so scared of forgetting something, anything that I need to do it.

Just not now.


16 thoughts on “The days are long and the nights are so hard

  1. Bush Babe says:

    I do think it’s important. Not the chronological bit. Write and add to it as you need. It’s a work in progress and will be an account of one of the most important events in your (and your kids) lives. I have numerous major life events still percolating on the blog burner… not QUITE cooked yet and ready to share with others. I love the idea that my blogging captures a little bit of me for my kids. It will (of you and Greg) for yours too.

    You are doing amazingly. Of course you are sad. Be weird if you weren’t. I think of you often and send warm bear hugs.

  2. Rhu says:

    I wish I had words to bring you comfort. I wish I had words to bring you calm.
    But it’s not my words that you are wanting, I know.

    Instead, I send silence. And warm hugs.

    I think of you everyday. x

  3. Fiona says:

    I won’t comment because you said not to, but…

    What a testament of the love you shared that you are feeling this way. You may post about anything you like whenever you like- I’ll still be here to read it.

    Hugs. Lots of hugs.

  4. Ceecee says:

    I’m here via Bush Babe’s site.
    I wish I could say something that could give you a moment of peace, but I don’t have the words. I just want to say that a complete stranger thinks about you because you need to be held up.
    A silent hug from Austin, TX.

  5. Karen says:

    I’ve read all of the above, and I can’t seem to find any other words except these: I’m sorry, and I do care.

    You are a strong woman, and I know that God has not left your side, even if it doesn’t feel that way. I’ll continue to pray for you all.

  6. Missy Boo says:

    Like BB, I think it’s important to write it, when and how it comes. It will stop it from burning inside you so much, it will help you remember, and it will help you see that even in tiny ways, each day is a little easier to bear.

    I think of you often, and send silent hugs xxx

  7. twangy says:

    They do say it’s “good” for you to externalize your feelings, don’t they? In my experience it does help – it gets it out of your head. But in your own time, of course.
    Thinking of you, and your family.

  8. Writing about the funeral is one thing. But, if I may be so bold, writing about Greg is really important. Not about the funeral but his life, and not necessarily as a blog. But those stories he told you about what he did at school, or his first girlfriend, or his favourite meal.

    These are the sort of things I want to know about my mum, there are things that I am sure knew about her when she was alive but have slipped out of my memory, and other things that I was too young to ask her but am now curious about. And you children will want to know, they will devour stories about their dad as they grow up. But it’ll be incredibly difficult.

    I’m so sorry Amanda, so sorry that you are having to cope with all this.

  9. Jayne says:

    Write what comes to mind, sort out the chronology later, it’s not important.
    Cry, it’s healthy, it’s natural, let it happen and don’t worry about what others think.
    Get it out, both the memories and the tears; the memories are to share and the tears are to wash them clean.
    You’re coping with a horribly unfair load, I only wish we could help you in some way.

  10. Chookie says:

    Is it wrong? No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d be the same. Sending you more hugs.

  11. Liz says:

    Cry when you want to. Feel sad when you want to. You have that right. Write down whatever you want to write. You don’t have to post it unless you want to. I am in agreement with WFI that you should tell Greg stories. He was obviously an amazing man and I would love to hear more if you want to tell us. I am also sure the children would love to have them too.

    I haven’t really experienced that all-encompassing grief in my life but with elderly much loved parents I know that day is coming. I think that you need to express your grief in whatever way it materialises itself. Sending hugs (((Amanda)))

  12. Ah Amanda while Greg was alive it was not appropriate to write of him, his life due to his right to privacy but I had always longed to read of him and your life together. I would love to hear of him, your special moments, when it is not too terribly painful to write about them.

    Your crying is really a rite of passage of the bereaved and much healthier for you than not doing so but I do know what you are saying. Tears make some people uncomfortable and quite often the one who is crying is the most uncomfortable as they feel a lack of control. Of not knowing what is going to spark that next painful event, like tea making that will trigger their tears.

    Like the others. you are never far from my thoughts. I wonder about your work and the kids, so many things. Thank you for being such a great blog friend in keeping us up to date. This is a weird medium, we cannot hug you or pop in to see how you are going but we are grateful for every painful word that you manage to write here.

  13. Kelley says:

    sweetie, this post broke my heart all over again.

    Keep writing as the mood strikes. We know the order, it doesn’t matter when (or if) you post them.

  14. debby says:

    It doesn’t even matter if you post it. It’s the writing that helps put things in perspective , not our reading. I don’t expect that it will happen overnight. There is no detour. There is no shortcut. It must be endured, and that is the hardest thing. I hate stupid cyber hugs. But, Corymbia, they are all I’ve got to offer. So, ((((((hugs))))))))~ for all of you.

  15. JENNY TALIA says:

    You may not know it now – but you’re doing such a great job
    Your way
    And that’s the best way
    There’s no right or wrong
    As always, I’m sending you all the love in the world
    Your friend (Even though we’re strangers x)

  16. Bee Bee says:

    I don’t think it is wrong that it seems you are counting each second and minute as they go by. I do the same thing. It seems like I am always looking at the calendar or the clock wondering where he would be that day, or wondering how long it has really been. You will get through this though, one day at a time. If you need to talk let me know. I haven’t been blogging much but I am trying to come back.

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