I Don’t Want To Die

I feel like I’ve written this post before.

How do I reach out and say to someone… I’m hurting. It’s nothing new. It’s the same pain. But I’m hurting. And all I can see is a razor blade cutting into my skin… and I know it will pass but dammit I’m glad there’s no available razor blades or box cutters nearby…

How do I express to people that despite being with ALL my children, and despite witnessing my grandson’s birth, I still want to curl up into a ball and cry until I can’t breathe?  That despite KNOWING that it will get better, I still have this part of my brain that says “nope, it won’t.  there’s no point.  no one needs you.  no one will miss you”

How do you tell that part of your brain to stfu?

How do you work through those thoughts?

I know… I know without a shadow of a doubt… that when I’m in a panick, when I’m depressed (in general, not like right now) that when I’m mad, that when I’m frustrated, I have to own the feelings.  Feel the feelings. Let the feelings wash through me and then let them go.

I get that.

But when the feelings are telling me that death is an option?  WT everloving F do I do with THAT? I’m terrified to move into them and feel them because what if I can’t get OUT of them?

I know they’ll pass.  My next blog post will be a gratitude post.

But for now… I’m sitting here and wishing I had a razor blade.  I won’t cut too deeply… just enough.  Just enough to focus the pain.

Because I don’t want to die.

Makes Me Sad… but you are not alone

I know how big our widowed community is.

I also know how many more don’t have someone to reach out to or choose not to.

I know how many people are alone…

But it still makes me sad to see my blog stats spike in views around Christmas.  Because I know that there’s that many more people who are lonely and missing their other half and don’t know how the future without them is going to look.

For those of you just finding my blog:

You are not alone.   You are welcome to contact me (sunnyjaneis at gmail dot com) if you need someone to talk to or listen or to just be on the other end of the phone with.

Some websites that have helped me:


Christmas without the person you were supposed to spend your life with is lonely and sad and overwhelming.  But you are not alone.

Reach out.  I have made some amazing friends because I did.

Love you all.  Have a Christmas… it may not be happy, it may not be merry, but it exists… and you’ll make it through.  I promise.  Just keep going… it does get different.  Not necessarily better, but different and easier.

IMGP5737My children and I, Christmas 2012; 6 months after Mark died.

JeremyJeremy James – grandson #1 – born January 2014 – a year and half after Mark died

Zeddicus Wellington – grandson #2 – born Dec 21 – three and half years after his death.

Life is beautiful.  Just wait for it… it may not be today… but it will be…

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to the newest member of my family!!

My daughter gave birth to a beautiful little man on December 21. He is my second grandchild.

This is also my fourth Christmas without him.

It seems so unreal that he’s not here for his grandsons…

I don’t even know how to fathom that.  He wanted grandkids. I wanted more kids, he kept saying that we’d wait for grandkids.

He’d play Santa.

He’d play with them.

He wanted grandkids so very badly.   And he’s not here… Zeddicus Wellington


I’m told there will come a point where the pain, the stabbing reminders that he’s NOT HERE will eventually subside and be replaced with joyful memories and gratitude for a happy life shared.

I’d like that for Christmas this year please.

That’s all.  All I want is to smile because it happened, not cry because it’s over.

I want to remember him and honour him and be joyful in the life we shared… while I’m living an amazing life I’ve built.

It hurts… as much as I am joyful, as much as I am in love with my grandsons, it hurts that I can’t share them with him…

I am a Grandma without a Grandpa.

At some point, I’d really like to have my life be about all the things it IS, not what is NOT.


I am not at peace… not yet… not all the time…

But it is a happy beautiful Christmas this year.  I got a grandson. I got to be there for his birth.  I got to be with all of my children, and my children’s grandparents for “our” Christmas – which we did 2 days early – and I got to see my older grandson over Skype.  And I’ve found 2 dimes from him these last few days.  So I know he’s been around.

It is, it was a beautiful Christmas.

I still miss him.  I still miss our life. And I miss the Metalhead Poet.

But it is an amazing Christmas – even if it didn’t feel very Christmas-y.

The Curse of Conflicting Emotions

It’s been 3 1/2 years.  Almost exactly.

He’s dead.  He’s not coming back.  They took his body, stuck it in an incinerator and presented me with a very lovely, beautifully decorated box of what remained of him.

Some of his cremains are in the Squamish River.

Some of them are in various other rivers.

Some of them are in my skin.

Some of them sit on a shelf in my living room.

Some of them travel with me as I go to various places.

But he’s GONE.

And his absence leaves a hole in my heart that I don’t know how to heal.  Every new thing, every milestone that hits the wound rips open and bleeds a little more.

At the same time, I can’t live in constant pain.  I get told by people that I am grieving too hard, having a pity party, holding on to the past.

I get ripped open by people because I still love a dead guy and the dead guy’s absensce still causes me enormous amounts of pain.

How do I live with both? I thought it was going to be a matter of I fell in love again, the new love would give me joy, the joy would buffer me against the sadness but when the sadness hit, the new love would be the blanket I would wrap myself in while the pain washed over me.

The new love didn’t see it that way, and that fell apart, and now I live with loving a dead guy AND a live guy, neither of whom I can lean on, neither of whom I have a promise of growing old with.

I want to be happy again. I have been. I am.  But I want to be HAPPY.  I want to be sitting in my own living room, not dragged down by depression and sadness and grief.  I want to be as ok alone as I am when I’m snuggled up to someone.

I wonder; am I holding on too hard, missing him too much, trying to be the “perfect” widow? ?

Or am I just feeling, just loving, just being?

Someone said it’s at least 5 years before the pain won’t rip me apart anymore.  And then I read from other widows who are STILL going through pain as fresh and acute as it was 3 1/2 years ago, 2 1/2 years ago, a year and a half ago, 6 months ago… it still hurts.  It’s still painful and lonely and sad for them.

And I don’t want to be there.  But how to live with both?  The joy of a future being built as the pain of a future lost?

I don’t know.  I don’t know the answer.

Just as I can’t act my age because I’ve never been this old before, I can’t manage my grief because I’ve never been 3 1/2 years a widow before…

It's Going to be Ok Someday

Christmas Sucks

The good things about this Christmas:

  1. My daughter
  2. My daughter’s baby that’s due a few days ago and will be induced in 2 days.
  3. My sons.
  4. Most of my family together (only one missing is my grandson)

Things that suck about this Christmas:

  1. Lack of decorations
  2. Lack of places for me to be (and by that, I mean have privacy, have time for me, have time to grieve or cry or be angry.
  3. Sleeping on a couch, in a living room, when everyone gets up stupidly early.
  4. It doesn’t feel like Christmas.  At all.  None of it.

I wake up in a mood every morning.  I wake up teary and full of emotion and full of grief and I have to swallow it down because I have no where to express it.

I can’t cry in privacy.

I can’t grieve in privacy.

I’m with people from the moment I open my eyes until the moment I shut them.

I’m around people all. freaking. day.

There’s no where, not really even the bathroom (only one bathroom, pregnant person in the house and 3 other boys/men) so no extended time in there – and besides, no bathtub to just relax in.

I can’t curl up on a bed – the only one here belongs to my very pregnant daughte.r

I can’t curl up on a couch or a chair and have no one sitting with me, there’s one couch and that’s it for seating.

So I’m awake, with insomnia, at 2am.   She’s probably going to go into labour tomorrow, if not, she’ll be induced the next day, and I’m going to be exhausted.

This Christmas feels wrong on so many levels – I don’t even know how to express it.   I am doing nothing in terms of what I normally do.  There are no traditions.  There is no Christmas joy.  Just people going to work and waiting for a baby.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for the baby… but I feel lost without Christmas.   And he’s dead and he’s not here and so this Christmas the absence is felt SO much more strongly.

I get a grandbaby.  I have to trade my Christmas traditions and my Christmas joy for that.  And that’s mostly ok.  But it’s not.

And for the first time I can’t articulate clearly how I feel.  Because I KNOW I should just be happy and grateful for the things I have – but FUCK!  Christmas joy is what keeps me from wanting to die from missing him so much.


The baby’s not here yet.  Maybe that will change after baby gets here.


Still Grieving

I’m sorta dating a new person who is big on open & honest communication.  Who doesn’t get easily offended at me saying no or telling her how I feel.

We haven’t had sex.   There’s some discussion around sex that we had to have, so I brought them up.

After a while, December hit me.  If you’re a widow, you get it.  The “fuck he’s not here, my life isn’t what it’s supposed to be, I miss him, I miss the traditions, I miss being part of a ‘couple’ and this fucking HURTS” feeling.

So middle? Towards the end? of the sex conversation I pop up with:

Topic change… December sucks. In general. used to be my favourite holiday season, but now it’s not. It is, but it’s laced with pain and memories and sadness. and to top it off – the day he made the decision to turn off the machines was the 25th of June, and he died on the 26th. which means Dec 25/26 is exactly 6 months. So alway reminds me of 1.5 years, 2.5 years and in this case… 3.5 years. So my emotions are all over the place, one moment I’m feeling fantastic and sexy and flirty and the next, without warning, I feel like I’m back at square one again… except now I know that it won’t last for weeks on end and eventually I’ll feel good again. But December sucks because of all the all over emotions that show up at random times and in random situations.

Most people… a lot of people? I don’t know how many people.   But Death is an awkward subject for society in general.  And so there’s a lot of people who would run at that point.  Or change the subject.  Or blow it off with a “yeah that sucks”  “sorry to hear”  “it’ll be ok – you’ll get through it” offhand comment that would invite no further conversations.

However, this incredibly lovely person responded with:

My friend, you are still in the active grieving process – something that can take up to 5 years for a major loss such as yours. he was your world. He was your partner. You had a good relationship from what you’ve told me. up to 5 years for the grief to ease and move into the background. It will never completely go away – there will be moments, days, special dates, that will catch you again – moments that know the wind out of you or threaten to drown you in another wave. And then it will leave you as it found you. But you aren’t there yet. You are still moving through the process of profound grief. be patient. Ride the f’n ride and know that this sucky shitty icky place isn’t forever. Continue to tell his stories. Continue to honor him in whatever ways feel right for you. Allow yourself to be right where you are – don’t fight it or judge it. embrace the ride. it is necessary to get to the place where he becomes a comforting presence in the background of your life. One that brings you warmth and fuels the smile in your eyes adn you can feel the joy for having loved and known him.

Which set off a grief storm.

My silence (we were on text, I had put my computer away, can’t type on my phone when I can’t see, can type with my eyes closed on my computer) prompted another message where she apologized, thought she might have overstepped.   She hadn’t.

She did something that I wish society would do:  She validated my ongoing grief.

I’ve been told that I’m grieving too hard still.  That I need to let go of my past.  That because I’ve been with someone new, that I love again that I should be “over” it.

But I’m not.  I loved him for 14 years.  I was his wife.  I am his widow. He is not replaceable and I will not just put him on a shelf in the back corner of my closet and forget about him like a doll I loved when I was a child.

Regardless of where this relationship goes, where it takes me (we’ve already discussed that we’re on different paths in life) I am going to revel in the fact that I can just be me… in all it’s happy, in all it’s sad, in any confusions I may have… and that I can talk about those things without fear.

And that.. that is the most amazing gift.

Turn On the Light