Beanz on Toast

The one year myth and other stories

2011-08-02T21:16:00.005+02:00

Wow, it turns out I was no good at blogging. October 2009 my last update. I would like to say that it is because I got a life and because I was healing, but the reality is that I just did not have the energy or the will.

My road has been long and complicated.

I guess I survived my first Christmas and New Year, so hard, starting a new year without him. No Christmas tree or presents, I rolled into 2010 feeling so hopeless and helpless and sad.

I went overseas, I now realise I was trying to run away, but of course my pain followed, I went to the UK, met some friends and family, felt very alone travelling without Brian, collapsed in a heap the last few days of my trip. It was an important step but a very hard one, and not at all what I expected. Thank goodness for good friends and an amazing cyber support group.

And then the dreaded one year mark. Not sure that I can remember what I did, I think I stayed in bed. One year, remember, everyone said the 1st year would be the hardest, remember that today is 1 year .... well surprise surprise day 366 is no different to day 365, there is no reward for reaching the 'magic' 1 year mark. I now refer to is as the one year myth. There is no such thing as the first year is the worst. No year is better, no year is worse, you do at some point start learning to live without your soul mate, but you don't get better, you don't get over it.

My birthday, exactly 2 weeks after his sadversary, I asked my BFF to come and visit, she arrived the of my birthday, I took my immediate family and her out for dinner, to thank them for their love and support. BFF and I went off for a day spa, it was a nice weekend, but I wonder if my birthday can ever have a glimmer of joy again.

May was a trip to Switzerland and Portugal to meet some of my cyber friends, it was good, but difficult and hard to be away from home. It was also the first time I had been in a crowd since Brian had left this world, it was a bit overwhelming.

I had been suffering with depression and overwhelming sadness (no shit sherlock) and my doctor had been adjusting my anti-depressants etc. and by August, for the first time, I thought I could breath again. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, I could see where I was going, I was sore, I was sad, but I had purpose in my step, though still no purpose in life.

TBC

Distractions don't always work

2009-10-22T06:53:00.003+02:00

I can't believe it has been so long since i update my blog.

Shortly after my last blog update, I decided to start tackling the task of planting Brian's memorial garden, this started out as a small section of garden where I could plant his favourite plants and a bench, where I could sit and contemplate, remember and be quiet with Brian. It turned into a rather large garden makeover project, which was way overdue. Very bitter-sweet, when we moved into our home July 2 years ago, the garden had been neglected and so we started removing the unloved, untended plants layer by layer. Then we started to plan our new garden. Only it is now my new garden and not our new garden. Many tears were shed, decisions that we would make as two now had to be made by me alone, and some of my ideas I just can't get to work. I know without a doubt that Brian would have found a way.

I have also had to make some financial decisions, rather big ones that affect the rest of my life, and I kept postponing my appointment with our financial advisor because I don't want to make these decisions, and I don't want this money. I know I am lucky that we had life insurance, I know that some are way worse off than I am, but really this money signifies what I have lost. In the same breath, thank goodness for life insurance, I am by no means wealthy and I will most definitely have to go back to work, but I know my home is safe and my future will be ok. Anyway, I eventually met with the financial advisor, but I am finding it so hard to commit to anything, I need my bouncing board, my go to guy, my sanity to help me make these decisions.

Then, not surprisingly, my grief has started to affect my health, I have been mildly unwell for the best part of 6 weeks, but about 2 weeks ago I just ached all over. So, I took myself to the doctor and I have developed a stomach ulcer, high blood pressure and a throat infection, amongst a few other niggly things. My throat was not even sore, but badly infected, I think the rest of me was too sore to notice that my throat hurt. So I am working on getting my health back on track.

My BFF and her two little bundles of energy and joy came to visit for a weekend, and we did lots of fun stuff with the kids, the Sunday that they were with me brought the 7 month mark, I had an off day, throat DID get sore, but being the wonderful friend (well really my sister from another mother) that she is, she took the kids out, let me rest and cry a bit and we took the kids to the movies in the afternoon.

And then 3 days later is was our wedding anniversary ..... I think this is one of the hardest of days to bear, it is a day that is uniquely special to you as a couple. I struggled a bit with what to do and eventually decided to invite my sister-in-law to go with me to a Day Spa. I woke in the morning and the tears flowed, I got ready for the day and by the time she arrived I had "pulled myself toward myself" but the tears flowed on and off during the day. By lunchtime I was feeling more at peace. We had a lovely day of bonding and I arrived home to the most beautiful red roses sent to me from Brian's sisters and their partners. A lovely surprise to come home to. I survived our first anniversary apart.

Living in South Africa, I am very blessed and lucky to have a full time live in helper. Koena has been my rock for me over these last few months. She has really kept the house running, made sure I go shopping when there is no more food in the cupboard and gently entices me to eat. I decided it would be good for us to have a holiday. (Another blog entry with the story of our holiday).

So all in all it has been a busy time, with some major milestones survived, so why does it not feel better?

A fellow widow (a lot further along in her journey) told me one that the second 6 months are harder than the first and the second year is harder than the first. At the time I wondered how anything could be harder than the first 6 months of living without Brian.

The first 6 months you are protected by shock and deep, overwhelming grief. You have permission to sit in a chair and just feel the pain all day long. You don't have to put on your pretend face and pretend that you are "moving forward" you just have to get out of bed each day. I also spent the best part of the first 6 months convinced that I was going to die too, how could I possibly survive loosing my love, my soulmate?

Somehow as you pass that 6 month mark, people seem to think that it is now time to "start getting over it", and in a way, they are correct, not so much about getting over it, but that is when you realise that you have to start building a new life. I realised that in fact I am not going to die, I am going to go on living and I am going to have to learn to build a new life, a life without Brian, a life that works for me, not us. I have to make decisions on my own. I have to start picking myself up and starting to forge forward.

This is almost more heartbreaking than Brian dying, because this is now the new reality, and this new reality takes almost every opportunity to slap you in your face. To remind you that you are alone now, to remind you that what your life was is no longer and it will never be. The life we worked so hard to build together, our little bubble of joy and love is REALLY never coming back.

So the next 6 month, I guess I will spend coming to terms with reality and start to try and lay the foundation of what my new life will look like. And this withouth the protection of shock and numbness.

I have also come to the realisation that I cannot wait to stop grieving before I start to rebuild this new life, because grief IS a lifelong process and I will never start to rebuild if I wait for that magical moment when I am "finished" grieving.

She was right, the second 6 months are much harder (in a different way) to the first 6 months.

I miss you my love, forever in my heart.

On growing up

2009-09-15T16:34:00.002+02:00

Last night as I let the dogs out for last "call", made sure windows and doors were locked, lights were off etc. I suddenly felt "all grown up". I have always felt "younger" than my peers, Brian too, we always felt it was because we did not have the responsibility of children. We would often do things and afterwards comment on the fact that it was such a grown up thing to do.

I have let the dogs out for last "call", made sure windows and doors were locked, lights were off etc. many times before, but last night, it just struck me that I am the grown up now. Widowhood has stolen my eternal childhood from me.

Then I got to pondering about the ways that widowhood has changed me physically

1. I weigh 15 kgs lighter
2. My hair has fallen out
3. My body aches all over, all the time
4. My eyes no longer have any kind of spark or life, a smile does not reach my eyes.
5. I have constant dark rings under my eyes
6. My skin looks dry and dehydrated, I cannot keep the intake of fluids equal to the output of tears.
7. My hair has greyed significantly.

I am sure if I gave it any more thought this list would just go on and on.

So, not only have I grown up emotionally, I have aged physically.

Death came like a thief in the night and stole my love, my soulmate, my friend, my playmate, my sanity and then it went on to steal my youth.

This is not what I ordered.

And the tsunami rolls in

2009-09-10T10:58:00.002+02:00

In the last few weeks I have achieved so much, I finished work, closed down the office, did my first trip away since Brian died and have generally been feeling like I am starting to function rather than just existing.

My trip to my BFF was very good, a safe place with the most caring people to surround me. She spoilt me to a Spa Day, massaged and scrubbed and oiled from head to toe. Just the 2 of us catching up, shedding a few tears and remembering good times. I cried all the way there and as soon as I saw her I started sobbing, but once I was there, I was "good". There were tears but there was laughter too, as we remembered times that we had shared together. I was ready to come home and the 3 day trip was just what I needed to show that I could do it!!

Luc and I have been going to dog training once a week and I am very impressed with the progress that we have made. I feel more confident with him and he obviously feels more secure knowing that I am more confident. Also, he gets lots of praise at school and the trainer is very good and knows what Luc's strengths and weaknesses are and she makes sure that we do a lot more stuff that he is good at and sneaks in a bit of the other stuff when he has just done very well at another excercise. I think Brian would be so proud of his boy (and me I suppose).

So, I have been moving forward and re-building this new, unwanted life of mine.

However, the whole week I have been aware that tomorrow (11 Sept) I will reach the 6 month milestone. But not with panic or anxiety, just aware that it is coming. And today I started to feel the wave of grief roll in, I was vaguely aware of feeling a little more tearful. And then! I turned on the radio in my car for the first time since he died and "our" song was playing. This is the song we played at our wedding, this is the song we would play on our anniversary and other days that we just wanted to connect, this is the song that we would start dancing to in the middle of the mall if it came on:

Here I am - this is me
There's no where else on earth I'd rather be
Here I am - it's just me and you
And tonight we make our dreams come true

It's a new world - it's a new start
It's alive with the beating of young hearts
It's a new day - it's a new plan
I've been waiting for you
Here I am

Here we are - we've just begun
And after all this time - our time has come
Ya here we are - still goin' strong
Right here in the place where we belong

Chorus X1

Here I am - this is me
There's no where else on earth I'd rather be
Here I am - it's just me and you
And tonight we make our dreams come true

Chorus X2

Here I am - next to you
And suddenly the world is all brand new
Here I am - where I'm gonna stay
Now there's nothin standin in our way
Here I am - this is me

And these are the words that have opened the water works and have the tears flowing and have me just wanting to curl up in a ball until the pain subsides.

I also cannot believe that tomorrow is half a year that he has been gone, half a year since I last saw, touched, kissed, hugged him, half a year of crying, half a year of wondering what I could have done differently to make the outcome differnt, only to realise that there was nothing I could have done only to start wondering again. Half a year of wishing him back, half a year of knowing that no matter what I do, I cannot have him back. Half a year that has gone by in a flash and has dragged by like an eternity and finally realising that half a year is nothing compared to the life time ahead of me without my beloved Brian.

I miss him so much, everything I do and everything I am has been profoundly changed by living with him and by living through his death without him. He is so much of who I am today, his death has changed me in ways I could never have imagined.

Brian and I often had this conversation (borrowed from The Grand Adventures of Winnie the Pooh)

Me: I will love you forever
Him: Forever is a long time
Me: Forever is not long enough with you

Well I was with him for his forever and it was not long enough.

I miss you my love!

Brian's memory quilt

2009-08-26T19:08:00.003+02:00

Within 2 weeks afer Brian died I felt I needed to sort his clothing, I knew I needed to do it when the pain was so new and so raw otherwise it would never get done. I needed to do it before I had time to think about it otherwise it would have hung in his cupboard forever. I also know that he would have wanted someone who was less fortunate than us to get value from his clothes.

A very special cyber friend suggested that I keep some of his favourite shirts and have a quilt made. I will be forever grateful to her because this is the end result of a labour of love.

I contacted my local quilters guild looking for someone to do this for me, the lady that undertook the project wanted no money or reward, a lady I have never met in my life before, undertook this task as a labour of love. There are good people in the world.

Brian's Memory Quilt really bring me huge amounts of comfort and love.

I am really glad that I did sort his clothes when I did, I have kept some shirts that i wear myself, a few nice warm tops, socks and a few other items that I hold dear and wear often. I now realise, even more so, how difficult it would have been to do it later. I am unable to sort through any of Brian's other things, his bedside table remains untouched, his CD's (and there are a lot of them) I open the drawer and touch his CD's but I can't bring myself to listen to them. His desk drawers also remain untouched, though I do open them and stare at them for what seems like hours on end.

~~~~~~~

This last week has been a tough one, I am finishing my work contract on Monday, so I am busy shutting down office (I had a home office) and packing boxes to be sent to Head Office for archiving. Brian was such a big part of me setting up a home office, he helped me with all my IT needs, so as I dismantle the wiring and all the bits and bobs I remember him setting it all up for me, just because he loved me and wanted to make things smoother for me.

Also, as much as I have wanted this contract to come to an end, it has been a very stressful project and I have really given it lots of blood, sweat and tears, as the end comes, I am starting to panic about the change that is about to happen. I am going to have time on my hands that I am going to need to fill. I am planning to do some travelling, but will do short trips at first (baby steps) but in one year I would have lost my husband and my job and a whole lot of other stuff.

I remember when Brian finished up at his previous job in September last year, he had been there for 11 years, he came home on his last day and said he started at the company as a single person with a girlfriend and not much else; and when he left he was married, owned his own property sold it and bought new property, had two dogs and so much more to live for. That was 11 months ago, how little did we know how much would change.

This is not what I ordered!!

That feeling in the pit of my stomach and other ramblings

2009-08-19T21:01:00.003+02:00

Over the last few days I have realised that I have been constantly nauseous since the 11th of March. I could not even swallow food in the first 3 or 4 weeks, but eventually started forcing myself to eat. Then I got a craving for smoked salmon and avocado and I ate more food in one day than I had eaten in the past 3 months. No matter what I do, starve it, feed it, the sick feeling remains.

Last week was a tough week as I reached the 5 month milestone, but I have entered a numb stage again, but the sick feeling continues. I wonder if this is something I will just have to get used to, or when it will go away.

I have booked my airticket for my first trip away since Brian died, I have mixed feelings, I am looking forward to seeing my friend, I am looking forward to a long walk on the beach and maybe even some peace from the sea, but I am also slightly freaked out about leaving home, about travelling without Brian. The weird thing is, I travelled a fair amount without Brian, both before we met and after we met, but this is so different and such a big step for me.

Brian had been meaning to take Luc, our troubled Brittany Spaniel for training (we had tried previously with little success) at a new trainer, he never got around to it, so I decided to take the dog by the lead and do it. So, Luc and I started training last night. I know he picks up on my emotions and feelings so it is going ot be good for me to establish myself as "top dog" in the house, a position previously held by Brian.

I miss Brian so much, there are so many things I want to tell him, so many things that only he would get. I am finishing work at the end of August and I need to either buy my work laptop or buy myself a new one, this was Brian's department, not mine, I don't even know where to start with making this decision.

I don't want to carry on, I just have to.
(hmm, this seems to be all over the place, I guess that is me at the moment, all over the place!)

Missing

2009-08-01T12:19:00.003+02:00

I miss Brian. I miss his laugh, I miss his smile, I miss his voice, I miss him cheering me on, I miss his hugs, I miss his farts and burps, I miss the way he grounded me, I miss the sense of security and certainty he gave my world, I miss his hair, I miss him snoring, I miss the little grains of sugar that were always on the counter where he made tea, I miss him bringing me tea in bed. I could make a long long list.

But added to that I miss us,

I miss who I am with him, I miss the emotional intimacy that we had, I miss the half of me that made me smile when I didn't feel like it, I miss planning holidays that we would like, I miss having someone to make decisions with.

But I really really miss that emotional intimacy, that person that knew me better than I knew myself, that knew without asking when things were not going well and could see if my smile was real or fake. I miss private jokes, I miss candelit baths discussing the world and how we would fix it. Without him I feel empty, invisible, irrelevant.

I have never felt so alone in this world as I do now, even in a room full of people that care.

I miss me, when I look in the mirror, I don't recognise the person looking back, I miss having a smile that carries to my eyes, I miss having eyes without rings and that are not puffy, I miss being able to go out without sunglasses on. I miss the fact that the things that used to make laugh have no effect and the same with the things that made me angry, they just don't matter anymore.

I miss Brian, I miss us and I miss me.

Learning to live in my skin alone

2009-07-30T10:20:00.002+02:00

I am slowly trying to learn how to be "single", I am slowly trying to learn how to rebuild a life for myself. Since Brian died, I just do not feel like I belong here, I really have no sense of purpose or reason, I am really not sure why I would even want to learn how to do this alone.

Brian was my world, he was my saviour and I often used to say "I am nothing without you", mostly in jest, but in the last months I have realised how true those words are. How utterly senseless my world is without him.

I have really not had the courage to socialise, to do anything other than deal with the endless paperwork, stare at the walls and watch mindless TV. I am in awe of my fellow widow/ers who have the "fake it, till you make it" attitude.

In this week, I have been out twice once to dinner with my boss from Washington and then last night out with a group of people and their dogs who are being trained, in some instances already trained, as therapy dogs. These dogs visit hospitals, old age homes, childrens homes etc. it has been proven than interacting with animals helps with healing and sometimes just brings a bit of joy to an otherwise lonely day. Last night the dogs were taken to a local mall and were presented with different situations to train them in how to respond, I was a volunteer distraction, throwing a blanket over the dogs, running up to them and making a big fuss of them etc. Afterwards, dogs, handlers and volunteers went out for coffee. It was an OK evening. Walking through the mall brought back memories of some of our nights out, we would go for dinner and then walk the length of the mall and back and then go for desert, I also got to see that our favourite restaurant has been closed and replaced by Mac Donalds. A bit like my life, a wonderful restaurant with lovely food and deserts to die for and now I am a Mac Donalds, nothing much to offer. I felt a bit like the universe was poking fun at me.

I also walked by the jewellery shop where we bought my engagement and wedding ring, which I have walked by hundreds of times since we got married but never has it stood so big as I realised that Brian will never buy me jewellery again, no more walking through the mall pointing to things that I like in the hope that my next birthday, Christmas anniversary, or, just because, I may get said piece of jewellery.*

When I got back out to my car, I realised there was no-one to phone to say, I am on my way home, no-one to tell about the night I had just had or to joke about our own dogs reaction to me having played with 15 other dogs. And it was like a punch in my solar plexus all over again...

This IS my new life. Like it or not, want it or not, I have no choice, THIS is what I have to learn to get used to. I feel like a 2 year old laying on the floor in the midst of a temper tantrum screaming "I don't want to" but I don't really have any choice at all, do I?

I don't want to, I have to.

*on reflection, Brian had bought me more jewellery in the 6 months before his death than in our entire 13 years together.

Disclaimer: I write my posts and post them, I do not re-read for grammar or spelling mistakes, I prefer to just let the words be as they have flowed.

HIghs, lows and in betweens

2009-07-25T15:37:00.003+02:00

Brian's memorial dinner was really good, it went off well, the food was great and it was good to hear laughter in the house again. The days leading up to his dinner were very hard and as people started to arrive I really questioned my decision, it was so hard seeing everyone again. We released the balloons before everyone arrived because it was getting dark and I really wanted photographs of the balloons being released.

Releasing 50 balloons with messages for Brian was such a cathartic experience, I could almost imagine him bouncing from cloud to cloud to catch his balloons. Of course I know it is not quite like that, but I love the image.

After the dinner I had a few days that were a little more bearbale than the ones that have gone before, it was almost like the dinner had given me nourishment for the next part of this unwanted journey.

By Sunday I could feel the blues starting to roll in, and it all fell apart on Tuesday morning, I had worked late the night before, up early on Tuesday morning and I was not feeling well, coughing, sore throat and a blocked nose. By the time I got out of the shower, I could hardly breathe. In hindsight, I think this was all sparked by a panic attack, knowing that I would be receiving Brian's autopsy report later in the day.

I took myself to the doctor and by the time I got there I was crying, coughing and throwing up. Luckily the reception staff at he doctors rooms know me and knew Brian and know of my loss and the gently led me through to casualty and gave me a little cubicle to continue my meltdown in private. My doctor came to see me, and of course my BP was elevated and I have bronchitis. So after about 3 hours on a drip and being nebulised and given 100% oxygen, I headed home. It really sucks to be sick alone, Brian was such a good nurse, he always cared for me so lovingly. And so another first gets ticked off that long list of firsts, being sick alone.

When I got home, the envelope with Brian's autopsy report was waiting for me. I tried to ignore that it was there, I tried not to open it. But, it was the proverbial elephant in the room. So I made a cup of tea and sat down to read the report. I really don't want to share the horrid details here, but I know without a doubt that Brian was dead before he knew what was happening. That bring me some comfort, I had wondered if they told me he died on impact just to make it easier for me to hear, but having read the report, there is no doubt.

Since then, this strange thing seems to have happened, I have this salty water that just seems to keep pouring out my eyes. So the next grief tsunami hit and I am riding this wave the best I possibly can.

I have also gone from not being able to sleep to doing hardly anything besides sleep and cry, I am just trying to listen to my body and give it the rest it needs.

I still wonder how this can possibly be my new reality, I still wonder how I have survived 4 1/2 months. I read somewhere a mother had lost a child and when asked how she coped she said "I did not mean to, I just woke up each day" and I guess that pretty much sums it up for me.

I don't mean to, I just wake up each day.

Passive suicide and other ramblings

2009-07-08T13:35:00.000+02:00

Every single night when I go to sleep at night, I ask and I hope that I will not wake up tomorrow, when I wake up each morning, I curse the fact that I have woken up. I am not suicidal, I just wish I was dead. I wish I could escape the pain. I wish I could escape the reality of my life. I wish I did not have to learn how to live without him.

This scares people, but speaking to other widows, it is not an uncommon feeling, a lot of us seem to wish that every headache was an annurism, constipation a very advanced stage of cancer that is going to take us overnight and an anxiety attack a fatal heart attack. But somehow, we all know that tomorrow we will still be alive, no matter how we wish it to be different.

This week has been a particularly difficult week as I plan a memorial dinner for what would have been Brian's 50th birthday. Somehow, it is making me face the reality of my loss, not that I ever thought it was not real, but "the widow fog" somehow protects us from truly understanding the reality all at once. The reality and the enormity of our loss, becomes more real in different ways each day.

In those first days and weeks after Brian died, I was intensly sad and I had a clear understanding of how this was going to be. I was going to grieve and I was going to miss him forever, but I would eventually see the light and I would be finished grieving, and of course I could do this. I have lived alone before, how hard can it be. How wrong I was. I had no idea how hard, and I had no idea that grief is not a linear path and I had NO idea what was in store for me. And each day brings new challenges, new revelations and a new understanding of grief.

Winnie the Pooh

2009-07-07T16:01:00.001+02:00

Brian was mad about Pooh, Pooh stickers, Pooh books, Pooh dvds etc. I found comfort in some of these quotes.

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. i'll always be with you.” Christopher Robin

“Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave.” Winnie the Pooh

“I used to believe in forever, but forever is too good to be true.”
Winnie the Pooh

Fact: We got married on Pooh Bear's Birthday, 14th of October

A Bill of Rights for the Bereaved

2009-07-07T16:00:00.001+02:00

Facing the loss of a spouse or life-partner is heartbreaking because loving is all-encompassing; love took most of our emotional energy as we embraced our spouse or partner. We cared that they were fulfilled and well. We wanted to protect them and make them happy. We were devoted, so much so, that losing this loved one, feels crippling. And so, when they are gone, we need to learn how to transform this energy into something positive. Not a "substitute," but a conversion, from a "we" to an "I".

During this important journey, the first idea we need to fully embrace is that you, the mourner, have rights. What are they?

You have the right to express your grieving in your own way.

You have the right to know that grieving is slow, hard work and to move through it at your own pace.

You have the right to express your feelings about grief and to explore them.

You have the right to forgive yourself for the things you think you “should” have done or “might” have done and realize that what you did in that moment of time was based on the information at hand and that you did the best that you could with the knowledge you had.

You have the right to be yourself and to recognize your strengths and your limitations.

You have the right to participate actively in your mourning, to remember the past with fond memories and to allow yourself to enjoy your life again.

You have the right to move forward and to speak of your pain, whether that makes people uncomfortable or not.

You have the right to go back and forth in your grieving; some days making progress and other days slipping back.

You have a right to express your emotions and to have others bear witness to your story.

You have the right to believe that you will have a whole life again!

(c) 2007, THE HEALING POWER OF GRIEF: Transcending the Loss of a Spouse to Life and Laughter

Widows - Who we are

2009-07-07T15:58:00.000+02:00

We are women left.
We experienced the best of times; The worst of times. And survived.
We discovered the meaning of life — Nothing like the loss of a spouse to wake us up to that.
We gained some; We lost some — Friends and pounds.
We had friends run out on us. We understood they just couldn’t take it. At least, we tried to.
We lost appetites, and we lost weight. And in the spirit of true friendship, we watched true friends reappear, and the pounds.
We discovered life as a widow is different than being married, but trying to explain it to anyone is like describing the color orange to a blind man. We know it’s best to change the subject. We train our eyes to look away.
We spend endless sleepless nights pondering the future. We wonder — Can we meet this months mortgage payment, next months electric bill. Even if we know we are able, we worry, What if?
We daydream — Consider moving to an island someplace in the South Pacific; sailing off into the horizon; peddling into traffic on a bicycle, motoring cross-country on a motorcycle, blazing a trail on horseback. We contemplate running away every minute of every day. We will do anything to escape the pain, but we dont. Because we know, deep inside, there is no place to run away to.
We contemplate entering the convent. We think, Maybe there is peace there.
Every morning, we get out of bed. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
Every evening, we turn out the light. And we remember — Hes gone. Hes not coming back.
We love our sons, our daughters; We love your sons, your daughters. Heck, we love everyone! We love grandkids, most especially our own.
We eat meals standing up, usually over the kitchen sink.
We eat cold pasta for breakfast out of a container. We use our fingers. We think, Why dirty a fork?
We traded lacy lingerie for flannel pajamas; silk robes for cotton terry cloth, and candlelight dinners for an open refrigerator door.
We identify red wires, white wires, and yellow wires inside a gem box in a wall when the ceiling fan switch in the master bedroom doesnt work. And we fix it.
We know which circuit breaker shuts the current in every room of the house; when to change the battery in the smoke detector; how to plunge a stopped toilet; how to snake a clogged drain.
We keep a supply of Draino under every sink in the house, because we swear to God we'll never let that happen again!
We know where the water main is; what number to call for the garage door repairman, and when to use it.
We know how to read a tire gauge, check the oil, change a flat.
We rake leaves, we hoe peas, we plant corn, tomatoes, and celery. We reap the harvest. And we cook and eat it, too.
We paint the house; Outside and in.
We tile the bathroom; grout it, too.
We know how to wash a floor on hands and knees.
We cry out loud when no one is looking. And don�t care if they are.
We are strong; we are weak.
We are big; we are small.
We are tall; we are short.
We are every color in the rainbow, different sizes, different shapes.
We are different; we are same.
We've been congratulated, applauded, patted on the back, hugged, French kissed, mentored, adored, and loved by the best.
We have loved and lost; buried and mourned.
If getting through a day without Him by our sides was an Olympic event, a role in a motion picture, a horse race at Hialeah, we'd own a Tony, an Emmy, an Oscar, and our hand prints and footprints would be stamped in a sidewalk outside a Chinese Restaurant on Hollywood and Vine. And the world would know us by the giant horseshoe of red and white carnations hanging around our necks.
We've made sense of the senseless, discovered the meaning of grief — insanity gone greased and wild. And, we've learned life's valuable lesson: When you lose a spouse, life goes on.
We remind the world that love is never having to say goodbye.

Congratulations, Widows! Take a bow.

What grieving people want you to know

2009-07-07T15:57:00.000+02:00

Through my work and the privilege of listening to so many stories, I have come to wonder where people get their ideas about how another person is supposed to grieve.

Here's a test for you:

1. How long does it take to recover after someone you love has died?
2. When should a person begin to "get on with their lives?"
3. Do you think it's better to mention the deceased's name to the grieving person or to avoid mentioning the name so that you won't make that person cry?
4. Do you think it's a good idea to tell a grieving person how strong they are?

You can figure out the answers to these questions by understanding what grieving people want you to know about them.

1. I am not strong. I'm just numb. When you tell me I am strong, I feel that you don't see me

2. I will not recover. This is not a cold or the flu. I'm not sick. I'm grieving and that's different. I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget my loved one and rather than recover, I want to incorporate his life and love into the rest of my life. That person is part of me and always will be, and sometimes I will remember him with joy and other times with a tear. Both are okay.

3. I don't have to accept the death. Yes, I have to understand that it has happened and it is real, but there are just some things in life that are not acceptable.

4. Please don't avoid me. You can't catch my grief. My world is painful, and when you are too afraid to call me or visit or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you don't know what to say, just come over, give me a hug or touch my arm, and gently say, "I'm sorry." You can even say, "I just don't know what to say, but I care, and want you to know that."

5. Please don't say, "Call me if you need anything." I'll never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance, let me give you some ideas:

(a) Bring food.
(b) Offer to take my children to a movie or game so that I have some moments to myself.
(c) Send me a card on special holidays, birthdays (mine, his or hers), or the anniversary of the death, and be sure and mention her name. You can't make me cry. The tears are here and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
(d) Ask me more than once to join you at a movie or lunch or dinner. I may say “no” at first or even for a while, but please don't give up on me because somewhere down the line, I may be ready, and if you've given up, then I really will be alone.

6. Try to understand that this is like I'm in a foreign country where I don't speak the language and have no map to tell me what to do. Even if there were a map, I'm not sure right now I could understand what it was saying. I'm lost and in a fog. I'm confused.

7. When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel bad enough that my loved one is dead, so please don’t make it worse by telling me I’m not doing this right.

8. Please don't call to complain about your husband, your wife, or your children. Right now, I'd be delighted to have my loved one here no matter what they were doing.

9. Please don't tell me I can have other children or need to start dating again. I'm not ready. And maybe I don't want to. And besides, what makes you think people are replaceable? They aren't. Whoever comes after, will always be someone different.

10. I don't even understand what you mean when you say, "You've got to get on with your life." My life is going on, but it may not look the way you think it should. This will take time and I never will be my old self again. So please, just love me as I am today, and know, that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.

©Virginia A. Simpson, Ph., CT, 2000

My tribute to Brian

2009-07-07T15:56:00.000+02:00

What can I say about the wonderful man who I loved from the day I set eyes on him? I remember the day so clearly and I will be forever grateful for the universe’s intervention to arrange our meeting.
Brian and I met at work and used to flirt incessantly, (i think he did that with all the girls), my heart used to skip a beat whenever I saw him. That never changed, to the very last time I saw him walk through the door, my heart skipped a beat because i was so happy to see him home again.
Shortly after we met, I went on my grand adventure to teach English in Taiwan, e-mail was very new and I had to walk miles to an internet cafe, so we mostly sent snail mail letters. And so our relationship developed via letters. Once a week we used to take turns in calling each other, and it was always very late at night in SA and very early in the morning in Taiwan, we so loved that time together, when the world around us was asleep and it seemed like it was just the two of us in the world. Through our life together, we continued to enjoy the very early morning, sometimes lying talking at 3 in the morning, solving the world’s problems.
I will always remember his consideration, his care and his humour. In all my pain and grief I still feel and see his humour around me. I will also remember his stubbornness and the other little quirks that I think only a wife gets to know. I will also never forget his great bear hugs and how safe I felt in his arms.
Brian supported worthy causes and was always trying to make a difference in the world, he shaved his hair every year for the CANSA Shave-a-thon, partly in memory of my father who died of cancer related complication and also to celebrate his mother’s triumph over the big C.
He was not only my husband and soul mate, lover and best friend, but he was my playmate too, we had such fun together, building sandcastles and flying kites, having pillow fights and dancing in the rain, driven for hours to find a little mound of snow and walking our dogs and I loved watching you doing cartwheels and handstands, though I was not brave enough to participate.
Brian my love, 13 short years yet we did so much, we had such wonderful times together and I can let you go with no regrets about the way we lived and loved each other. We loved each other completely and unconditionally.
Rosie, Lou, Carol and Michelle, thank you for Brian and thank you for accepting me as part of your family. It was a privilege to be his wife.
Go and find your CD shop in the sky and rest in peace, my love.
All my love is yours forever.
Beangirl

2009-07-07T15:48:00.000+02:00

(I posted this on a forum I frequent on the 11th of May)

This time 2 months ago (7:53am) my life was good, I was in some discomfort from the surgery I had had the day before, but my husband had sat by my side the whole day. When I started throwing up after the anaesthetic he was there mopping my brow and holding my barf bucket.

2 months ago, I woke up as he did, I was uncomfortable and wanted to take pain killers, but I needed to check to see if there were any work crisis before I could take pain meds and I had an appointment for the pest control chaps to come and evaluate the extent of our rodent problem.

I remember being groggy, Brian brought me my laptop, I checked mail, sorted out the very urgent things, logged off. I remember going to the kitchen to pack lunch for Brian, but he had done it already. I like to think I gave him a hug, but I can't really remember.

I came back to bed and was dozing when he came in to say goodbye. ANd I mumbled a goodbye and said "travel safe", he would have kissed me, but I can't remember. I like to think I also told him that I loved him, but I can't really remember.

The pest control guy arrived at 9 and gave me a quote and at 9:12 I called Brian and told him what the guy said and he said we should go ahead. I asked if I should ask my mom to go and get some mouse traps to speed up the process (the dogs had kept us up for about 3 nights due to rodent activity), he said yes.
I went to get money for my mom and hse asked what size trap should she get. I called him back and I could not get hold of him. And so my morning started, trying to get hold of him, leaving him messages, at first they were, hey babe please call me, eventually getting frantic, what the f*ck is going on, and when I realised that something was really wrong (I thought he may have been hi-jacked) I sent a message telling him that I loved him more than anything in the world and with all my heart, and that he had changed my life in so many ways, and that nothing else mattered, other than we loved each other.

I then went to the police station to register him as a missing person, so that they could be on the look out for his car and try and track his cellphone activity.

While I was at the police station, I got a call that I should come home immediately.

I arrived home and the chaplain was here to tell me that my husband had died in an car accident, he died on impact. And so my life changed in a split second, without having said good bye properly that morning.

And in a split second I became a widow, I lost half of my identity and I lost the person that I love most in this world. My soul mate, the very breath that made my heart beat, he was my reason and my purpose.

And so I have started trying to learn to live without him, the journey is hard and long and I would not wish this on my worst enemy. I can see that there are moments that are easier and I feel like I am going to get through this, and other times that I sit in a puddle of tears just wondering how the hell am I going to do this. But I always have a deep seated sense of loss.

I mostly still live in a fog, I still feel like I am in a foreign country without a map, I still fear the next 5/10/20/30/40/50 years without him. Actually, at times, I fear the next hour without him.

And now, as I will allow myself as long as neccesary, I will be having a bed day today, I will cry as I need to, listen to our favourite songs and generally have a pity party (very healthy in terms of grieving).

Short introduction

2009-07-07T15:38:00.000+02:00

I was widowed at 40, 3 weeks before my 41st birthday, 4 months and 4 days before my love would have turned 50. He died on a Wednesday, my birthday this year fell on a Wednesday and his (50th) birthday falls on a Wednesday. (I just checked and Brian was born on a Wednesday) Needless to say Wednesdays are not my favourite days. We have no children, except our 2 little furkids who, for now, keep me going.

On the 10th of March 2009 I went into hospital for minor surgery, my beloved Brian sat by my side the whole day, he brought me home, looked after me, mopped my brow and rubbed my back. On the 11th of March he went to work and never came home. He died in a car accident (you will note I never say killed in a car accident, one day I may be able to unpack that). The wheel of his car came off, he lost control and collided with a concrete pillar. Had his wheel come of 1 metre either side of that, he would still be alive today.

This blog is a little bit of therapy for myself and also a way to let those that care know how I am doing. I am really not doing well at returning calls, sending e-mails or letting people know how I am doing.
I have never blogged before, so who knows where this will take me. I am going to start my blog with some things that I have written or posted elsewhere before, so if you have seen them before, please just scroll on by.

Oh, and the name Beanz of Toast, well, our nickname for each other was Bean and as a couple we soon became Beanz and when things were not going well we would often say "Shit on toast" so it really seems an appropriate name for this blog.