As of 11.15pm March 8, 2013… I have 99 followers.

28,853 views on my blog.

236 posts (237 including this one)


517 views on my best day.

What does that all mean?

Sweet fuck all.

It means that I have written compellingly enough that those 236 posts have been viewed 28,853 times.

But it means nothing.  Because he’s still dead.

It has been suggested to me over and over that I write a book about the last 14 months.   I will… one day.  I will write the book for two reasons.

1. As a catharsis for me and my healing.
2. To inspire others and let them know they are NOT ALONE.

Everyone’s grief is different.  Everyone’s situation is different.

I’ve read about people losing their spouses from cancer.   The long illness that had the inevitable ending.

I’ve read about people losing their spouses suddenly.  A heart attack.  9/11.  A horrible accident.

I’ve read about people losing their spouses late in life.

I’ve read about people losing their spouses too soon.

Most recently, I’ve been reading about a widow who lost her spouse 11 days after they were married.  11 days!??!

I have not yet read about someone who watched their conscious spouse make the decision to turn off life support after a lengthy battle to get better.

I can’t be alone.  There MUST be another out there who gets it – who understands what it’s like to one day be fighting for their spouse to get better, and the next day be told there’s nothing more that can be done, and then the day after that he chooses to turn off the machines.

And so I will write the story of our love, our life, our fight to get him healthy and home, that last amazing night and how I’ve come to the other side of it…. the grief, the sadness, the depression, the rebuilding of my life without my spouse, but with my children.

But not yet.

Right now, I’m struggling to make it through each day.  I get to about 2.30 in the afternoon and I’m sad and trying not to cry because I’m around so many people.

Tonight – I was reading this blog – and P!nk’s “Beam Me Up” came on and I fell apart.   I curled up on the couch, very reminiscent of the first few days and sobbed.   I wish I had the words to describe how it feels.

Let me try here:

The agony of the grief claws its way up from my heart to my throat.  As it reaches my throat, it gets stuck. clawing and tearing and ripping at my insides, all the while I am rocking myself back and forth until I either manage to swallow it back down or find the trigger that will release it. 

If I am able to release it, tears run down my face, my sinuses clog up and the sobs come out in great gasping breaths… the grief and pain push their way out leaving me breathless and ragged.  I suck my breath in, try to vocalize the hurt and agony, only to have it escape in wordless, painful, heaving sobs.   

My throat is on fire, my chest is tight and painful, the weight of the loss sitting heavy on me, stealing my breath. Each cry out is razors on a bleeding wound, as I exhale and release some of the pain, the grief sits heavier making it harder to pull in air to give me the strength to cry further and let more of it out.

Finally, I run out of energy for the tears.  I can no longer push out the pain, it settles back into my chest, into my heart, into my soul, smouldering, crystalizing, creating a knot of grief and lonliness that weighs me down until the next time I am able to again release it, if only a little bit. 

I think that’s a fair approximation of my crying jags.  Very few people ever see me in them any more.  I had a lot of them when it was new and fresh – its still new and fresh – but not AS new and AS fresh.   I get the feeling people think I should be “over it’ or “moving on” by now – so I don’t let them see me cry.  I cry in private, and share my feelings with the world in blog.

I don’t expect the tears to stop anytime soon. I do have happy moments, happy days, but there’s been a lot of raw, painful days lately.

99 followers now know exactly how much it still hurts.   Plus whomever reads this when I post it on Facebook.

I know the song is about a relationship ending but I love the chorus from Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger”

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes you fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over ’cause you’re gone

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone

I’d like to get there.  Some days I am.  Some day’s I’m not.  Right now, I’m somewhere in the middle.

But every day, a little bit stronger.

I Miss You


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