.....catching up....so sorry it has been so long xx

8 months

I write that down as a marker in time - because it is important to take a snapshot here and there of a journey which is going to take a while to get where it is going. The time of year has been challenging - Christmas and New Year - Christmas went much better than I had anticipated. I spent 3 days with my daughter, son in law and grandaughter and it was good - I used all the discipline I could muster - not to get into feeling sorry or sad and it worked. New Year was a different kettle of fish. I had it all planned - I went to the home of my friend and her husband who had invited along two other couples - lovely, lovely people all of them. It must have been awkward for them - saying the right things and avoiding inadvertently saying the wrong things but still I felt like a square peg in a round hole - I missed my man, I missed being part of a couple, I missed the intimacy of shared experience and the stark reality that I would never again experience thest things was brutal. I had not envisaged nor expected the sense of absolute isolation that came upon me. On that particular night I felt lonelier in company than I have ever felt alone and I was absolutely bereft and a wave of grief came upon me which took me off my feet for 2 or 3 days. I left the gathering early before I lost control but not many minutes down the road I screamed in absolute despair and anguish - and that is about the worst that I have felt since Steve died.

Its been a week now and a sense of equilibrium has now returned and I think that I have turned a bit of a corner. I went forward for prayer at church this morning and the pastor anointed me with oil. I felt a release in my spirit - I do believe that, at time, grief can grip you tighter than it should and maybe the intensity of the season of 'firsts without Steve' had placed me under my circumstances - and even more introverted than I normally am. This last week I could have quite happily closed the door on the world - and that isn't a healthy place to be. So, this afternoon, because I feel lighter in myself I have been to visit Steve's mum who is suffering so badly herself and we have been able to encourage each other along the road a little more.

I am undergoing a gradual personal transition - it is painful - but I am redefining my boundaries as a 'singled out' person. I have had one or two incidents where I have found myself demolished by uncaring attitudes and hurtful words - and have concluded that I must toughen up. I have no-one now to pick me up after such incidents - so I absolutely cannot let people have that sort of influence over me or I will be developing a victim mentality. I realise also that I must now be more pro-active in my dealings with people - be they family, friends, plumbers, builders or whosoever - I can no longer take a back seat and let Steve deal, and my goodness that is going to be hard because it means I have to develop that characteristic which has lain dormant all my life. Change is painful and out of current character. I dont like it - but whether I like it or not the process has to be gone through.

Fear and anxiety have laid me low too these last months - thinking too far ahead doesn't help matters. I have had a couple of people knocking at my door and in my soft and vulnerable state I have laid myself more open than I should. Steve would have sent them packing but I found myself stuck inside their honey trap of words - that too has to alter. So another rule I have made for myself is never to do business on the doorstep FULL STOP! These are all learning curves - I could have really done without having to learn these lessons at this stage - I am just to wounded really - but the world doesn't stop out of respect for me and my feelings whether or not I think it should!

My head still gets very foggy at times - not every day - but on those stressful days I cannot think straight. My memory seems to elude me - names, dates, etc. etc. it is getting better but there are days it seems worse than it has ever been. Fatigue comes and goes and is related to the level of pressure I am under or the amount of grief I am experiencing on any given day. I still cannot raise any enthusiasm to go back out to work (not that there are any jobs around at the moment). I would just rather economise and take my time until desire motivates me.

I still cry most days and generally I feel better after doing so - in fact when I start to feel ill I know it is because I am need of a good cry and think about Steve for a while - that seems to ground me.

I guess this is a progress report....

Still, I am so interested to hear from other widows on how they were at any given stage of their grief - it is just so important to know where I am along the grid. I know we are all different but there are still general trends - it is really helpful to me.

Anyway my friends.........
I will try not to be so long next time in making a post....
... just be aware that I may not be writing many posts - but I do read yours!

love to you all.......

I had a dream .....

In a deep time with the Lord this week I took opportunity to talk things through with Him - I told Him that although I do trust that He has my future in His hand - and although I do believe (by faith) that it will be a good future - that I would still, at this time, choose to have Steve back with me now. Straight away I felt a check in my spirit as if what I was saying did not line up with God's heart - it was an honest interaction - but I knew that, in His time, He would give me His perspective.

...and he did - last night - through a dream.

In the dream
Steve came back from the dead. We were absolutely ecstatic at seeing each other again and could not find words to express to each other what we felt - I was full of questions but, as we settled down, it soon became apparent that there was a gulf between us. Not a gulf created by anything that either of us had done or said to each other - just a gulf which emphasised a difference between us which had come about since his death. Somehow I knew that Steve had travelled many eons into a world of which I was not a part and had no comprehension - and he wasn't the same person that I knew before he died. More suprisingly - on the other hand, neither was I the same - and I could see that, even at this early stage, my first independent steps into my God ordained future had set us apart - and my world, like it or not, was not a world where Steve was included.

Another incident during the week highlighted another feature of my reluctant 'pilgrimage'.... I was reading Steve's log which he kept to keep track of his treatment/side effects, how he was feeling, how he had slept and general comments on day to day stuff - and it was as if he was with me again - he became so real. I could see him in my minds eye so clearly, his gestures, his quips... just the very presence of him filled my spirit. It was so beautiful and I missed him so strongly - it took me into a level of grief akin to week 1. Having said that, I just hadn't realised, until that point, that my general awareness of him had been lessening - by default I am being distanced from him even though it is neither by design nor choice.

To know this helps neither the pain nor the suffering experienced in this transitional period - but I increasingly am aware that in order to move forward it is absolutely necessary to fully accept there is no going back. I am not there yet - but I am thinking that, when journeying along with the Lord, that the outcome is inevitable.

As weeks go, I have had my 'up days' and my 'down days'. The down days have been laden with grief, pain and tears - the up days have held times of joy and I have even felt a stirring of vision and creativity - but accompanied at all times by a dull ache in my solar plexus. Oh Steve.... Oh Lord?

the goodbyes do not end with the funeral......

I would never have anticipated how grief is working through me - a conclusion I have come to with the discovery that even after the 'final goodbye' to my dear husband, I am still saying goodbye to him each and every day - sometimes many times a day.

Today has been full of anguish as I have finally bit the bullet and started to empty and clean our caravan in preparation for its sale. Steve was in my every breath inside that caravan - and as I emptied the cupboards it seemed that every item brought into sharp focus our last summer together - the wee caravan had been our home on our travels and we had spent as much time in it as we had our house between May and September 2010. Even the sand on the floor spoke of our long, leisurely walks along the beach and the final fun filled hours he spent with both me and our grandaughter on our first and, sadly, last Mamma/Grandpa/Bella caravan holiday together. The truth is that his illness became evident just 8 weeks after our final caravan jaunt - when the time bomb that had been silently ticking away in his chest made itself known. It has been a hard day - and I am emotionally drained. While emptying that caravan I have been saying goodbye to all the plans we had made for our retirement and saying goodbye to Steve all over again in a very personal and profound way. So the tears have flowed and the pain has taken my breath away at times.

I suppose it will be many, many months - even years - if ever... before I say my final goodbye to Steve - but hey!, I look forward to the day that I say 'hello' to him again when he comes with Jesus to fetch me home.

Just a quickie.....

My 5 year old grandaughter said today...

Mama - on happy days my heart is sad inside me.....

bless her
she was telling me how she felt about her Grandpa dying.

Pushing out

So, here I am - funeral over, shock receding, concerned family and friends now easing back into their own lives - with the hours stretching before me - endless solitary hours. It is Spring Bank Holiday here in the UK and families are doing their thing - whether it is relaxing at home or busy with hobbies and activities. I have just taken the dog for a walk and driveways are full of cars as families come together for rest and relaxation - all of this is good but oh how it accentuates my solitary status. My own grown and flown children are busy with their own lives, and so they should be - and I must now forge a new path - but there is an overwhelming sense of pointlessness that I must first overcome. I have always loved my hobbies - reading, painting, ceramics - and, when Steve was alive - it was always great to have some 'me' time for these solitary pursuits, in fact there never seemed to be enough 'me' time as we were always so active as a 'couple'. No more. More than enough time but no motivation.

Earlier today that same pointless apathy threatened to overwhelm me - but rather than give way to it I picked up my bible and started to read - I was soon transported into a different realm and was really rewarded for my efforts. Having had this experience, I know on the inside of me that I can turn my mind away from my grief to other things and that I will feel better - but it takes a real effort - and sometimes the effort is too great - and I slip into that awful pit of despair. It is so self defeating - but it seems to be a betrayal of Steve to feel anything other than anguish and loss. None of it makes sense but I am beginning to see that any progress is going 'character building' to say the least and that most of the progress will be bourne out of my efforts to avoid pain.

Whilst walking the dog I felt very, very lonely for Steve (no-one else could have relieved the ache) - but I started to reflect back - you know, I do remember times of loneliness even in the midst of a loving, happy and fulfilling marriage - so the feeling isn't new - and I mustn't attribute these feelings solely to my being without Steve.

Just thoughts...

He loved me

Today I have worked myself weary - oh how I ache - only myself to blame!  I made a frenzied attack on the back lawn with a reluctant lawn mower and gritted my teeth and waded into the mountain of paperwork which needs to be sorted out.  On rising this morning I knew that I had to lift myself up and over my emotions and start to put one foot in front of the other.  The overriding feeling these last few weeks since Steve died is one of being overwhelmed.  Some days I can barely co-ordinate my thoughts let alone apply myself to the jobs which are mounting steadily.  At a time when I am least able to cope it seems that there is the most work to do - it is absolutely merciless.  The telephone calls are the most agonising - I phoned the Automobile Association and the Caravan Club to amend/cancel membership - "Hello, my name is JB and I am ringing to inform you that my husband died on 26th April....."  NO, NO, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..... heartache, anguish, reality check - no it can't be real - Lord, wake me up - surely it is just a nightmare and things are going to return to how they were...

The unimaginable ache in my heart and the sense of loneliness is absolutely awful - so I start to think about Steve and bring him into heart focus and the bleakness which comes from looking too far into the future starts to subside.  The thought that came to me was just how much Steve loved me - and he did - he told me just days before he died that no-one could have loved me more than he did - and it was true - and I shall miss that immensely. Warts and all he thought that I was the bees' knees - and I thought that he was too.  He would have defended me to the hilt and was so faithful.   My anguish as I write is, that for the rest of my earthly life, no-one else will have that same love for me - that wonderful love borne of years together, shared experiences, mountains and valleys.  Oh dear....

Don't get me wrong my dear sisters - I know how much God loves me and when I am before Him he is the greatest of comforters and I am sure that He will be the best of husbands - our relationship is growing all the time - but you know what |I mean - it is those earthly arms, at this time, that I long for and nothing else quite hits the spot.

My Art......

Acrylic Painting - He carried me  copyright Jacquie Boyles 

Acrylic Painting - ...For Me  copyright Jacquie Boyles