Today I have invited my beautiful friend Amanda to get something off her chest that she can’t do on her own blog/s. I have a billion drafts of my own Emo shite so I thought I would change it up a bit with some different Emo. I am always thinking of your entertainment.
Email me if you want to take a dump on my blog. Heh
It’s hard for those who are leaving and it’s hard for those of us who have to stay behind.
Next week, my husband should be celebrating his 49th birthday
But he will forever be 47 and 6 days old.
You see, he was killed in a car accident in March, 2010.
And that was the day my life changed forever.
I have had to tell my then 5 year old son and 7 year old daughter that their beloved Daddy was dead.
I’ve had to hold their hands and walk behind his coffin. Not glancing up. Not wanting to see anyone. Not wanting anyone to see me in my misery.
I visit my own burial plot and I’ve designed my own headstone.
I’ve spent nights mired in depression; trying to work out how I could leave this life, this pain without hurting anyone (I can’t because there isn’t a way).
I have spent nights contemplating drinking myself into oblivion (I can’t because somebody here has to be the parent). ….anything to stop that incessant screaming in my head “he is dead”.
I am anxious and fearful where once I was strong and invincible.
And perhaps hardest of all was that I never saw my husband after I kissed him as he left for work that day.
I never got to say goodbye.
It was decided that he was too badly disfigured for me to see him (really? My nightmares are so vivid and horrific; I doubt it could have been worse than what I’ve dreamed).
But I live on.
I have to for my children.
At first, grief and depression were inextricably linked.
And I lost if for a while there….would have lost if completely bit for two of Greg’s many, many mates who stuck around to help me; my parents and my best friend (and you, dear Internetz – one of whom is the remarkable lady whose blog I write on today).
But slowly, the depression lifted. It comes back at times and I wallow in it, but for the most part, I can deal with it: a wound which has started to scar over so I can touch it in places without screaming in agony, but raw and angry in other places where the wound just won’t heal.
Grief …. well that’s a different thing.
Grief will stay with me for the rest of my life: contrary to popular opinion, it is not something you “get over” – rather, you learn to live with it.
…and live with it I do. I find joy in so many places I’d never looked at before. I have found compassion beyond what I ever thought myself capable of. I’ve laughed harder than ever and then cried my heart out.
Every emotion seems more real – the highs and the lows.
People say “you are so strong”.
I *am* strong: I am still here.
I am the strongest (stubbornest?) person I know.
(But I still cry in the shower every night.)
…and part of what helps me stay strong is the people I have met online: people like Kelley who has often held back my hair while I vomited the bile of my pain onto the page.
Bloggers and blogging connected me to the world when all I wanted to do was disappear into the blackness.
…and part of why I keep writing out my pain is to shine a light in the darkness for others who must walk this same road after me.
Amanda writes about life as a widow and lets the demons out on her personal blogs (along with other topics that amuse her such as photography (deardarl.wordpress.com and corymbia.wordpress.com) and is the Tuesday writer on Widow’s Voice – a great resource for people who’ve lost their spouse widowsvoice-sslf.blogspot.com.au