Category: Updates
Love is…
Love is…
This post has the possibility to be cataclysmicly misinterpreted, but I’m going to write it anyway because I want to document how I feel and I know others feel the same way when they have lost partners.
Words can’t express how lonely I feel at the moment, and that is very definitely ‘lonely’ and not ‘alone’. Those two words seem to have the same meaning on the face of it but they are so completely different, I’m surrounded by wonderful kids, supportive family and amazing friends who are doing everything they can (for which I am truly and eternally grateful) but it doesn’t matter what anyone does there is no substitute for the love that is shared between partners.
There is something about the love of a partner that is so very different from anyone else. There are conditions to the love from a partner, it’s not handed out because they are family or because they feel sorry for someone, the love from family and friends is unconditional, it’s kind of compulsory because of the relationship. But the love of a partner is conditional, conditional upon that love being reciprocated and it feels very different to all the other kinds of love.
The Love of a partner has to be worked at, it has to be noticed every day and it is completely two-way, and because it has to be worked at you feel it every time the other person extends their love towards you – and right now that love is missing. Not only missing from being given to me but missing in that I can’t hand it out, and that feels cold… so very cold.
There’s nothing that can replace noticing how beautiful Claire was, stroking her hair, giving her a peck on the cheek and then getting on with what ever I was doing. Even hearing the jingling of another woman’s jewellery brings those emotions flooding back, or seeing someone wearing some clothes similar to what Claire wore reminds me that I can’t just tell her I love her, give her a peck on the cheek – giving love and feeling love!
I posted this on Facebook last night, and I really mean it…
“If you have a partner, please go and hug them right now and notice how wonderful it feels to be so close to the one you love. I’m wishing I could do the same.”
I’m writing a book
I’m writing a book
I’ve decided to write a book. A few people have suggested to me over the past couple of months and I have been resisting as it seems like a lot of work! So what has changed my mind?
Looking around the Internet I’ve come across several similar blogs to this one, I’ve also been on several discussion forums for people that have lost their partners and one thing that stands out in all of these places is the incredible pain that is being suffered by so many people. I’ve also had countless e-mails from people that have read my own blog on grief so I know that there are lots of people out there suffering in similar ways.
I’m not suggesting I know best or even that I have the answer, but reading about what other people are going through makes my heart bleed, they are punishing themselves unnecessarily with negative emotions such as anger and one that so many people mention often is guilt. The pain of losing our partners is bad enough without adding to it by punishing ourselves with unnecessary emotions such as anger and guilt.
I just feel that if I could get my own thoughts down onto paper it would give me an avenue to begin to reach out to these people – a way of doing my own little bit to help other people in so much pain.
I know what that pain is like, I experience it often in huge waves, however what I have come to realise is that I have a choice.
When the grief hits me in a big wave I let it, I allow it to happen and do nothing to resist. It’s a natural process and its part of the healing which has to go on, and I know that as I allow the grief to hit me in a wave I have made a choice. Making that choice is empowering, I am not at the mercy of an uncontrollable emotion… If I feel a wave of grief arriving then so be it, I have a choice – let it in or fight it.
And if I genuinely have a choice I can choose to get back to doing what I was doing when the wave of grief subsides. Another empowering thought.
Listening to other people’s stories brings to my attention that people believe they don’t have a choice. Many people believe that the external world ‘makes’ them do things, many people believe that their responses to things happen automatically as an ‘effect’ of what is going on around them. I do not believe this to be true. I believe that what is going on around me happens, and I have a choice as to how I respond.
If those people that were punishing themselves with anger and grief understood that they had a choice too then their lives would change, dramatically!
The Plan
Of course the very act of writing I find therapeutic in itself and I know that I will come to new realisations as the book takes shape over the next year. My plan is to publish in November 2014 and at the moment I just have a broad outline (which I wrote this morning as part of my plan for this year), this outline will then form the basis of the chapters.
I’ve contacted a self publishing house and intend to publish the book with them, but if you know of any good contacts that could help in this venture please do feel free to comment at the foot of this blog post.
One of the things I’ve been struggling with since Claire died is finding out what my life is for again, everything I did I did for her, this book is part of my refocusing on what life is about and am looking forward to sharing it with you…
What does it mean?
What does it mean?
It’s so easy to attribute meaning to things isn’t it? The things we wear, the things we say and the things we do mean different things to different people and it’s often hard to separate out the truth from the fiction. Does it REALLY mean that!
I read an excellent blog post recently by another widower named Michael Adams where he talks about the meaning behind whether guys in our situation should wear a wedding ring or not. You see a wedding ring means I am married, and yet as Michael explains the truth is I’m not. However for me I feel like I still am and so I continue to wear my wedding ring. Wearing a ring means one thing to one person and another to someone else.
Another one of these ‘means’ problems has being moving through the grieving process. On the one hand I know it’s good to begin to rebuild my life but on the other hand it means I’m moving further away from Claire and the life that we had. But does it really mean that? Is it possible to rebuild and draw closer to her? Does rebuilding genuinely mean moving further away?
It’s so easy to link the two halves of a ‘means’ statement and act out as if X truly does mean Y, when in reality it is just a sentence we have used to describe something and there is no real relationship between X and Y.
Of course I can rebuild my life and it is in no way connected with how close I feel to Claire.
Of course, whether I choose to wear my wedding ring or not is in no way connected with moving further away from Claire.
I may wear my wedding ring for ever, or I may not. I’m at the stage now where I can choose to do what I want and be happy with it – and that ‘means’ whatever I want it to mean – or perhaps it means nothing at all!
It’s been 6 months
It’s been 6 months
It’s six months today since my beautiful Claire left us, so I have decided to read back through this blog at some of the old posts. When I set this website up I did it because I wanted to keep a record of how far I’d come, I knew it would be easy to spend my whole life wallowing in six months seems like a good time to reflect a little on how things are going.
The pain
On 21 April I wrote a post and it simply said ” I slept last night and got some respite from the pain” – I remember that pain, it was that sharp excruciating kind of pain that comes from a deep cut or broken bone. It was the kind of pain that I can imagine people banging their head against a wall to stop. That raw pain has stopped, it’s now a dull ache, the kind of ache that we get in our knees or back as we get older. The kind of continuous pain that we get used to living with, but is actually liveable with.
Days of firsts
On 29th of April I talked about a day of firsts. There are still many more ‘firsts’ to come which I know may be challenging. Christmas is the obvious big one but what I have realised is that the things we miss so much are the old habits, the way we used to do things, the things we used to say or the routines that we had got into. And what I know for sure is that Claire is not those routines – she is far more than that.
Knowing that means that I can remove the meaning to those routines and begin to look for new routines and habits to create a new vision of things like Christmas.
Moving house as been a big help in this, it has forced us to create some new routines and habits in a completely different environment. It has allowed us to separate the things around us from the memory of Claire and find a way to bring her memory into a new environment with our new routines and habits.
Feeling connected again
In May I wrote about feeling disconnected, I commented that it felt as though I have had something amputated. Oddly that feeling has completely gone now and I feel very much connected to my Claire. I still miss her terribly and sometimes the slightest thing sets me off.. When I have one of those moments it can feel like I haven’t come very far at all, but reading back to how I felt helps me to realise how much progress I’ve made.
Grief is a journey
I think what I have come to be aware of is that grief is an absolute journey. But it seems as though it’s a journey without an end.
I’ve recently joined an excellent Private group on Facebook made up exclusively of men that have lost their wives recently. It has been enormously helpful in being able to share my thoughts with a group of people that truly understand. A common theme with grief though seems to be the need to return to ‘normal’.
What I know for sure is that I need to let go of that terrible label ‘normal’. It’s simply a way of describing how things used to be and clearly they aren’t like that any more, so the idea of ‘normal’ actually has no meaning at all.
My challenge for the next six months is to work on accepting our new ‘normal’. Life is totally different now and it always will be which I guess is why grief is such a journey. As a family we need to continue to build our new habits and routines and find ways to include the memory of Claire so that this becomes our new, and perfectly acceptable ‘normal’.
The grief jungle
I feel like someone on a journey hacking a path through the jungle, with absolutely no idea where I’m going and even struggling at times to keep going. Yet I can also imagine that if I were to take a moment and just look back at where I had come from I would see it clearly worn path which is clear and ready for the kids to tread.
I’ve still no idea where I’m going, but I’m going to keep on hacking as at least I’m making progress!
Wine Glasses, George Benson and Tears
Wine Glasses, George Benson and Tears
I’ve been a bit up and down this weekend. I need some new wine glasses as most of ours had smashed so when I was in Morrisons I picked up a new set, you know those enormous ones that can fit half a bottle in each class. We’ve got a set like that in the caravan that the two of us used to share when we went away and little trips, and drinking a glass of wine on Saturday night from my new mega-wineglass reminded me so much of what I was missing with Claire. A simple wineglass moved me to tears.
Then on Sunday night I fancied listening to some music whilst I cooked dinner, as I was browsing through the records I came across George Benson so on he went. Within a few minutes the music was cranked up loud and I was singing and dancing to “Love Times Love”, and then I caught myself. I caught myself singing and dancing and remembering that George Benson was the first CD I overbought twentysomething years ago just after we got married… And again I was in tears.
I think it’s the sharing of memories that is so difficult. We all have memories of things we’ve done in the past and normally I would have just said to Claire “Hey, these wineglasses remind me of the ones we’ve got in a caravan” or “wow, do you remember dancing around our tiny living room in our first house to this track 20 years ago” and the conversation would have been over. But it would have been a conversation, and now I have those things to say but there’s no one there to Say them to, it’s almost like they are pointless memories!
I get these ‘moments’ quite often. Moments of memories that are triggered by the most mundane things. Moment of complete sadness, complete loneliness and complete desperation. I so desperately want to have a conversation with her. Just to share those memories again… We were together for nearly 30 years so there are quite a lot of memories!
What I am very clear about however is that I’m not going to punish myself over it, I know she’s not coming back, I know that I have to find a way of coping with those memories (which are all good by the way).
![20131014_083928[1]](http://testlostwithout-com.stackstaging.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/20131014_08392811-300x224.jpg)
So here’s what I’m going to do.
At Claire’s funeral we had some memory cards printed and asked people to write down their fondest memory of Claire, I have them all treasured in a box in my wardrobe and from now on I’m going to add my own memories. Each time I have a ‘moment’ triggered by a memory I’ll write it down and add it to the collection and watch the collection of happy memories grow…
Absolute Clarity
Absolute Clarity
Well, I finally have an Internet connection in my own house and can now get back to posting. Since I last wrote an update we have moved 150 miles away to the beautiful Dorset coast – something Claire always wanted to do.
It’s been a mixed bag of emotions from absolute delight that we are living in such a gorgeous house in perfect surroundings to absolute dismay that Claire isn’t here to share it.
We are living the dream but unfortunately it was Claire’s dream too – I’m not sad for myself I’m just sad that Claire never got to see it. She was so close, she knew she would be moving, she chose this house with me and we decided to move here together… But she didn’t quite make it.
It just brings back the importance to me of living in the moment.
I have a wonderful coach and friend coming to stay with me for two days towards the end of October to unravel the tangled thoughts in my mind. I know it will be painful but I know it will be healing too. As part of that process I know she will ask me to set a goal for my new life, so I’ve been thinking, what should be in that goal what do I want to achieve?
Fast cars, fast living, lots of holidays, financially independent living and big houses are the first things which come into mind. But losing Claire has changed me fundamentally, as it will have changed everyone that knew her.
My goal now consists of working towards living each day with exquisite joy, living each moment so consciously that I can enjoy just being alive. It might sound silly but it occurs to me that we live life focusing so much on the things around us and planning for the future which might never happen. And this comes at the expense of enjoying the now.
It’s all still slightly tangled in my head, which I know is going to be Emma’s job to sort out at the end of October ( good luck gal!), so it doesn’t make complete sense yet but it will, and I’m looking forward to when it reaches absolute clarity.
I miss you Claire, I miss you, I miss you.
I miss you Claire, I miss you, I miss you.
I miss you Claire, I miss you, I miss you.
I miss holding you.
I miss seeing you.
I miss kissing you.
I miss the warmth of you next to me in bed at night.
I miss your kindness.
I miss your love.
I miss the feel of your skin.
I miss seeing you first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
I miss telling you about the day.
I miss hearing about your day.
I miss your guidance.
I miss your approval.
I miss your presence.
I miss hearing your voice.
I miss joking with you.
I miss you taking the mickey out of me.
I miss your laughing
I miss your crying.
I miss your comfort.
I miss comforting you.
I miss you Claire, I miss you, I miss you.
Her absence is absent
Her absence is absent
Its been a while since I posted. Life has taken over and we’ve moved temporarily to my lovely sister’s house in Devon whilst we wait for our house sale to exchange/complete, the kids are being settled in to their new school/college and I’ve moved my office down to my sister’s study so that I can at least work. Life has taken over.
I’ve not had time to think about Claire recently. Her birthday was on the 5th September which just came and went – another first I guess, but one that just slipped past without so much as a sidewards glance – I guess life just took over.
With the house move creating so much uncertainty and the practicalities of trying to organise so many things and juggle so many balls I’ve not had time to think. In some ways that’s a good thing.
The irony in this post is that life has taken over – life has taken over on a blog that is about the death of my wife.
I’m really looking forward to getting into our new house and beginning a new life. I want to include Claire in my life again as at the moment she seems so absent, no photographs on the wall, no familiar surroundings and none of those old routines.
All of this allows me to realise that whilst grieving is a painful thing to do it’s actually extremely healing, it’s progress, it’s moving forwards and it’s good to do. Because life is on hold at the moment I’ve had to put grieving on hold, and I miss it.
In an abstract way, her absence is absent and that feels really odd!
I’m living on the edge
I’m living on the edge
I’ve heard people say ” I’m on the edge…” before, but I never really knew what it meant.
I do now.
I get to the end of the day and I am shattered, the sheer mental and physical energy that is required to stay away from the edge is unbelievable. I’m on the edge of collapsing in a heap every second. I’m on the edge of breaking down every second. I’m on the edge of just giving up all the time.
I know what it’s like to live on the edge now.
As you may know I’m in the process of moving house, that is stressful enough in itself but trying to arrange for three children to start GCSE, A-level and college courses at the same time, sort out buses to school, uniforms & college equipment is insane.
Coupled with the fact that we have other ‘things’ going on in life which I’m not able to talk about at the moment makes for a very stressful time.
I can feel that permanent burden almost physically resting on my head, the pressure is behind my eyes and manifests as a permanent headache.
Yes, I know what it’s like to live on the edge.
The toughest thing is doing all this alone, not alone in the sense that there is no one around me, but alone in the sense that I’m not complete without Claire. We faced these trials in life together, it was always ‘Mark and Claire’ – that was how we lived. My coping habits and strategies involve Claire and have been very well rehearsed over the last 22 years together and it takes more than three months to break these habits and install new strategies.
I feel like an amputee, like there’s a part of my body missing. I feel like I’m the world’s most accomplished drummer and I’ve just had my arm amputated.
================oh my god, I’ve just remembered Rick Allen from Def Leppard==============
So after some YouTube-ing I’ve just found this video and I’m crying at it…
I remember seeing a TV show years ago about Rick when he lost his arm, he didn’t know how he would ever complete his passion and play drums again, how could he, he only had one arm and who has ever heard of a one armed drummer?
But he decided that he’d do it, he redesigned the drum kit… Now I am no drummer, but from what I understand he redesigned it to use the upstroke of his knees which had never been done before. The result of that tweak to the drum kit was that he was now able to play things that no other drummer could… All with one arm.
The video above is only 30 seconds long, but I have now watched it six times.
It inspires me, it motivates me and I’m now really glad I wrote this blog post, because I was on the edge of not bothering.
Is it a dream?
Is it a dream?
It still feels like this is a dream, like its happening to someone else, almost a complete existential experience somewhat like those dreams where you think you are dreaming, but aren’t quite sure and then wake up with a start and are grateful that what you just experienced wasn’t actually the truth.
I’m still living in a vague hope that this is actually a dream, I’m sure it’s part of the coping process that my unconscious mind allows me to believe that I might wake up. So in that sense I’m grateful for the protection.
My biggest challenge at the moment is working out what I want from life again. When Claire was alive I knew exactly what I wanted, I knew how many days a week we wanted to work, I knew what we wanted to do with our time off, I knew where we wanted to live and to support all of that I knew how much revenue I needed to be generating from my business, how I would go about doing that and what the profit would be in order to support what we wanted to do. Oh yes, I knew what I wanted.
Take Claire out of the equation and the entire thing falls apart. Claire was the WHY in my life, which gave me a clear sense of the WHAT I needed to do, all I did then was work out the HOW. Take away the ‘why’ and suddenly there’s no reason for the ‘what’.
Whether this is the actual truth or not doesn’t matter, what matters is that it is my truth.
I’ve spoken to a good friend who is trained in the same coaching style as me, she wants some coaching too and so we have agreed to beat each other up, sorry I mean coach each other for a couple of days in October (thanks Emma).
I’m really looking forward to it, I’m apprehensive at the same time but I know I need to rebuild my future taking everything that was good and create a new life. At this moment in time I know that the beliefs I held to be true have been shattered and the things I valued in life have changed incomprehensibly, Emma you have an enormous task ahead of you as you put me back together!
On the one hand I want to keep that old goal, Claire and I had spent 22 years working on it, like an exquisite oil painting of our lives together. But on the other hand I’ve lost the artist that helped me paint that picture, however what I can do is look at that picture and take everything that was good about it and use that learning to paint a new one.