Remembering them 

I make a conscious decision to not mention his name too much throughout the year, (yes, I sometimes fail, it’s hard not to with a tiny version of him as my little shadow) but one month, I can’t help it. July has come around for the past almost 5 years now, and the second that month shows it’s face, I think of him more. I simply can’t help it. To me it doesn’t mean that I am slipping back into grief, (although some days I feel like I am) it doesn’t mean that I am dwelling on it, it just means, that for that one month, I feel it a little more, I remember dates, days, moments, even more than I normally do. 

I have also made a conscious decision to get on with things, to live my life as best as I can, to the “fullest” as I have now trained myself to do. You see, we didn’t break up…. he died. They are two very different things, two very different feelings. The love is still there, the nice memories, the feeling of loss, all still very strong in my mind. We all seem to be experts on how someone is meant to cope with such loss, we all like to tell people how to be, how to feel. The best way is to just forget, to get on with it, well that may be so in your mind, but not mine. I’m simply not able to. It’s not in my make up.

The best way I cope, is to allow myself to feel. I go through all the emotions, bit by bit. I often feel guilty. Guilty that I am here, but he’s not. Guilty that I have met a new man and feel happy with him, guilty when some days I moan because some days are just hard.

This year it’s especially pinchy on the heart strings. Due to 2 leap years, the date, the 31st, falls on the exact day, the Sunday. To most people that wouldn’t mean much, but until you’ve experienced it, please try not to tell me how to feel. 

I know I make people feel uncomfortable when I mention his name. I know I make people feel uncomfortable when I tell them I’m a widow. (My dark sense of humour does however keep me highly amused when I see their face). But I can’t help it. Just think for a moment of how hard it is to go from having someone in your life every single day, to feeling like you shouldn’t mention their name anymore. Even 5 years on. I would like to think that if I died, that you wouldn’t be afraid to talk about me, to remember me. I like to think I’ve “touched” all of the people who know me enough, that they wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when they mention my name because of what people will think of them. It’s like if you mention their name, you’re guilty of dwelling, of wallowing. I am not dwelling. I am living. But while I do that, I will remember my husband, the father of our daughter he never got to meet. I get out of bed every day, I work full time, I go for walks/events/weekends away with my boyfriend, tiny human & husky & family, I play hockey, I go out, I go on holidays (a lot, it’s what I look forward to!). Does that sound like someone who is wallowing? Nope, not to me!

So all I ask of you, is that you don’t waste another moment worrying about how I’m doing this, and just focus on the fact that I very much am, even if you don’t necessarily agree with how I go about it. 

Huss X 

A new sense of fear

After everything Ive experienced, I’m a little tougher than I used to be, a little more resilient. After having a sweet baby girl and getting her to 4 and a half without my hubby, I’m a little stronger. But lately I’ve felt less tough, less resilient, less strong. I am afraid for my tiny human, afraid of the world she is living in, the one I introduced her to. The one where people feel it’s “ok” to walk into a nightclub or concert and shoot innocent people. To drive down a promenade, knocking people over as they go. To walk into the departures lounge full of happy holiday makers and open fire. 

People’s husbands/wives/fathers/mothers/uncles/aunts/sons/daughters/friends/partners.

Just normal, unassuming people.  
I feel afraid. Afraid to visit my best friend in Turkey, afraid to fly on our annual trip to France, afraid to visit friends in London. 

What kind of a new world am I raising my tiny human in? One where travelling will no longer be something she can experience? One where anytime we step out of the house to go to a festival or concert or go on holidays I fear that something could happen? I am fully aware that by not living we are letting them win, but the more and more hateful things that happen, the more unnerved I become. You don’t need to tell me “sure you could get hit by a bus tomorrow!”. I am fully aware of how life can change in an instant, but these aren’t tragic accidents, these are all deliberate acts of disgusting hatred. Long gone are the days that all I needed to worry about was if I had enough baby wipes in my bag. There’s a new wave of worry, a new sense of fear. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. 

I cannot stop thinking about all of the families who woke up today with an ache in their chests, having to embrace their new life without their loved ones. My heart aches for them. I will be holding mine that little bit closer, as always. 

What have we done to this beautiful world of ours? We should be ashamed of ourselves 😢