Es Vedra Will Have to Wait

It’s 8 in the morning and I’m already on my second mug of coffee. It’s been a strange and tiring week. There’s a hint of spring on the way, as the weak yellow sun rises in the pale blue sky, and small chirping birds hop from one branch to another. The frequent bouts of snow and ice seem to have stopped, for now, to make way for a crisp new season.

I’ve been feeling a little lost of late. Over the last four years February has developed into a reflective month. At this time of year I find myself taking stock of December and January. I’m always surprised, and a little reassured, to have made it through fairly unscathed. Even more so with the pandemic because, like everyone else, I’ve not been able to go out and do whatever activity I’d need to do in order to thrive. I’ve not had the social healing that enables me to feel connected to my community. This not only nourishes my everyday soul but temporarily fills the hole that has been permanently carved in my heart by death.

But apparently there is a potential light at the end of the covid tunnel, even though it still feels a long way off. I want to be excited but the skeptic in me is reluctant to do so. You see, in my hometown we’ve had little lift in the restrictions for nearly a year now and we’ve also had many let downs. Like a lot of you I’m fed up but I do my best, and I’m thankful I’ve not lived through this last year alone.

The chance of my adventure to walk around the island of Ibiza has now gone 😞 This wasn’t just a holiday and challenge but a chance for personal growth. It was also to ground me, to shake my grief web for a while and to breath the earth again. In addition, it was supposes to be during a time of significance, our wedding anniversary and Simon’s Birthday. He should have been 49 and we should be celebrating 9 married years together. He should be here to celebrate and I shouldn’t be dwelling on it…

But it is reflective February after all.

I don’t know what this year holds for me as there is still too much uncertainty. I find myself in perpetual doubt, ever since the pandemic began, and this has an impact on every aspect of my life. I just want to go to work and not have to constantly wear a mask for an eight hour shift. I want my dad to message and not say he is bored of the same four walls and that it’s not helping my mum’s mental health. I want to experience more outdoor activities then my cat. I want to hug someone else other then my partner. Sorry love, no offence as your warm hugs are wonderful and I am forever grateful for your love and company.

I want to get on a plane, fly to Ibiza, sit on the edge of a cliff, look out to Es Vedra rock and watch the sun slowly setting across the sea.

One day I’ll get to do it… One day, hopefully soon, but until then Es Vedra will have to wait…

Dear Simon

I want to say that I’m glad you’re not here to see the world in its current poor state,

but I’m not glad.

I’m not glad because I want to hear you moaning, ranting and getting frustrated with the restrictions.

I want to feel your sadness towards the many people this has affected.

I want to see you make the most of it, wandering the countryside, using the time to read and laughing together.

I want to look forward to us going away, eating at a restaurant, and drinking at the pub.

I want you to feel it all because

I simply want you here.

Love Your, Hermit

X x X

Soft Inside

I hold my breath and whisper, ‘go lightly’. That’s all I need to do now, as the significant sad dates have passed again. I let the lightness take hold, enabling me to break free of the chains of loss. My soul skipped in time with my steps and I felt as bright as the blue sky. I value these moments, as they’re so precious and don’t last. This particular day I was content and a truce was declared with grief. But the next day the thick clouds creeped in, and the wind became so strong it knocked me off my feet. The lightness became weighed as I heard the screams and the desperate anxiety. My body went straight to crisis mode, with no time to think or feel.

All is stone.

It took all my strength to keep upright but I didn’t flinch or crumble. I didn’t want the dark to see what I was hiding, to feel the knot in my winter soul. I push against it, protecting myself from the pain that was about to come.

Once dealt with I retreated and tried to calm my flight or fight mode. I was too far gone to achieve an instant response as my head had returned to the traumatic time when Simon fell ill. The following day I try to take my protective armour off but it remained welded tight. It wasn’t until a few days later that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t stop crying and I didn’t want to go out in a world that delivers pain.

All is soft inside.

Despite feeling like I couldn’t cope I’m a different person compared to three years ago. The softness inside won’t let me go back to a place of stone. Losing Simon and surviving it has taught me that self care is not just about physical wellness, but mental and emotional too.

I stood up and with each self care action I shed a piece of my invisible forcefield. I had breakfast and took a shower. I got dressed and tidied up. Not only did I acknowledge the state of my emotions but I accepted them too. I gained clarity and wasn’t harsh with myself that I didn’t bounce back straight away. I was then able to go out into the big bad world.

A week later I’m back to my normal self, even though it still hurts. I know there will be other times when the world dishes out stress, but life also provides times of lightness too. I am resilient, I’ve learnt to be and have the ability to get myself back on track. Once I’ve done this I can truly enbrace those moments of happiness.

I am stone but I am also soft inside

Simon,

You knew I would cope,

but it’s not enough anymore to just survive.

I need to also feel alive.

Love your soft hermit

x x x

A Shared Life

I’m stood on a narrow rocky path, high up on the side of a cliff. The beach below has a feeling of significance, not just for me but also for Simon. My best friend is next to me and she’s tired. She wants to sleep as the journey has been an exhausting one. I set an alarm so that she doesn’t sleep too long. She might as well rest as we can’t go any further. There are hundreds of four inch nails sticking out of the rock and I’m puzzled how we are going to passed without getting hurt. I’m carrying a homemade cake with delicate piped icing. This is a precious gift for someone special and I have to keep it safe.

Down on the beach Simon is at the water’s edge looking up at me. If I can find a way down I can be with him. Seeing my frustration my friend grabs my arm and floats us both to the sandy ground.  Simon smiles and I feel the strength of his love once more. I hold the cake out for him but it’s snatched away by a shadow being. I watch it go and turn back to Simon, but he has gone. I go after the shadow, as it guzzles down my cake, and I punch it in the face. The cake falls to the ground, the icing is spoiled and the insides are exposed to the salty sea and course sand.

Now I’m facing the shadow monster alone. It grabs me and its strength is immense. It has the power to control my every movement, my every thought. I manage to push it back but it wraps around my body and I become immobile.

Suddenly its blasted back by another friend and I watch how he wrestles with the dark shadow. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and a third friend is next to me. I look at him and notice he has a plaster cast on his arm. It needs removing so I cut it off and he is relieved. My sleeping friend is now awake and well rested. My fighting friend has won the battle with the shadow monster. We stand together. We are one.

It was a dream, a weird depiction of my life. It mirrors how I’m stumbling forward, watching out for the sharp nails and the monster that stole my heart. I’ve been trying to make sense of Simon’s death, why did it have to happen and what did he do to deserve such a punishment? But over analysing it doesn’t help me. Besides, can any explanation be satisfactory?

Over the last 2 and a half years I’ve had lots of dreams that have involved battling with grief. The difference with this dream is I wasn’t on my own. I had friends fighting my corner and I have their back too. In reality I don’t want to deal with life alone and I’ve spent time building a community of friends.

This is my shared life.

It can no longer be with Simon but that doesn’t means it can’t be with others. It’s about friendship, love, support, guidance, kindest, help, and empathy. I’m broken, but many people are. I’ve come to accept that I’m not unusual in this. I’ve got bruises on the outside from the bumps of general nothingness. I’ve got deep wounds on the inside from those significant ill-fated events. The causes of the pain may never be okay but I’ve accepted that the scars I carry are.

Simon was such an important person to share my life with and I miss him every day. He also shared his life with others and I see the pain of missing him in their faces too. Whatever breaks us, be it a loss of loved ones, a fractured bone, physical and mental exhaustion, grief and a spoiled cake that symbolises my heart, I know I can cope with life because I’ve got friends.

My life is not my own, it never has been. It’s a life shared with others.

Simon,

Kind of goes against my hermit persona

doesn’t it?

Love your social one.

x x x

Loving a Widow

Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear

Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go

By The Cure

Do you remember the first time you looked at someone and thought they were the most amazing person you’d ever seen? Or maybe it wasn’t instant, instead a fondness grew when you got to know them better? Remember the excitement of wanting to see them again. Maybe you’ve kissed, feeling their warm lips on yours? Their touch sends you zooming through the clouds and into space. Their smell, not of perfume but familiarity, a primeval scent of belonging. Remember their love with all conditions and judgements removed. A pure euphoric emotion so powerful it cannot be suppress or destroyed. Remember all this, then add the pain of losing it and you’re left with a longing for that love. This is what widowhood is like. It comes with deep sorrow for what is lost but a desire to express the trapped love inside.

Loving a widow is difficult.

As I have a scar in my heart that will never fully mend. Don’t ask it too. Widows/widowers never choose for their love to end, it was taken from them. Society doesn’t teach that death can happen so early to love. I’ve always believed I would meet my prince, get married and live happily ever old. Only then – when our bodies are too frail to go on – does death come. This is Disney’s version, but reality doesn’t always play by Walter’s rules.

A widow’s love is with mixed emotions.

Of guilt, passion, confusion, joy and sadness. Some widow’s* may take a long time to let someone else in, whilst others may do it sooner. Few may never. A widow’s life after death is like putting on new skin that doesn’t quite fit. It feels tight, awkward and even though we slowly learn to tailor it, the badly stitched seams are always there.

Loving a widow is pure fire.

It’s a fierce hot flame of shameless pleasure. I’ll not beat around the burning bush here, it’s clothes ripping, hearts pounding, skin all sweaty Sex. My desire didn’t get extinguish by the grief hydrant. Yet it’s not just about the raw act of sex, it’s having a connection with another. It’s not a one night stand with a stranger but trusting the person and feeling secure in their company. A widow’s heart can either just exist or it can beat again with the energy of its flame.

A widow’s love is strong,

Through knowing Simon my love is now limitless. When I lost his love it strengthened what it truly means to me. Even though I’ve become more resilient and independent, I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I’ve an appreciation for the little things that sometimes are taken for granted. It’s the idiosyncrasies of every day life that make a relationship between two people totally unique. A widow values love because time is so precious and shouldn’t be wasted. Simon loved me for the whole of his life. I’m very blessed that he did, but sad it wasn’t for the whole of mine.

A widow’s heart is epic.

Despite being broken I feel I’m growing the ability to let love in again. During my darkest days I didn’t think this would ever be possible. Back then it was all about existing and getting through each moment of each day. To live this way is very lonely and sad, but it’s also necessary. Slowly, I’ve adapted around grief and began to breath again. My love for Simon is still with me but it has changed, as it’s impossible to have present love with a dead person. Besides, my heart didn’t die when he did, despite it sometimes feeling this way. It has enough room for the heartbreak and for potential future love.

A widow’s love is totally unique.

It’s courageous and knows no bounds.

When ready, it asks you for one thing…

You just have to love it back.

 

 

Simon,

You would have understood

Love your Hermit

X X X

 

 

*for ease of writing widows also stands for widowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

Second Christmas

To my friends at Christmas

I’ve been struggling to write these past few weeks, even though I’ve so much I want to express. But it’s all mixed up in a well of varied emotions. I’m still here and I’m still doing this living thing, day after day. The truth is I’m out in a world that no longer has Simon and that is a hard to accept, especially at this time of year. I’ve said that before, I know, and I’ve expressed my grief and loss so many times. So when it comes to writing something new what really is there left to say?

Well, an awful lot and yet nothing at all. I feel I’ve two options, either progress or get left behind. I’m trying to get on with things and I know Simon would want this. I’m looking to a future that has a new home and career. I’ve activities planned and will spend time with family & friends. There’s a lot to be thankful for and I’m trying to not take life for granted. I have all this and yet there’s a giant ‘but’ coming and it has Simon’s name all over it. The ‘but’ is I have the good of life, the bad of death and the very ugly grief. I’ve optimism with a dollop of fear, joy with a backdrop of sadness, and purpose with a hint of apathy. I’m the hermit that is fighting the extrovert.

If I was to describe my state of mind then it’s a cold exhausted soldier, who’s already fought a long hard war but still has to continue fighting. I’m probably being too harsh and dramatic on myself but that’s how I feel. I’m tired and it’s bloody Christmas FFS. I can’t find the enthusiasm to be jolly on that one day that’s over in a glint of a bauble. When I think about Christmas my thoughts turn to him. He is not here and I miss him more then ever…

Is it possible to really feel the strength of his absent with nearly two years gone? The endless swiping hours have turned the days into years. Surely time has enabled me to adapt to life without him? Yes it has, and yet with another year comes an awakening of my actual reality. Death took Simon, it really did happen, but I’m so desperate to deny this.

There are many moments in my day when I forget him, or even force him out of my head. It’s no good interacting with people and having Simon on my mind. When a grief trigger happens I usually freeze and just ride it out, as I know it will pass. The more time goes by the better I am at faking it, even though the grief is always lurking in the background. I take it wherever I go and wear an internal scar of widowhood. I know I’ll always be Simon’s widow. I was one hundred and three weeks ago, I still am as I write this today, and no matter what happens in the future I always will be…

Even at fucking Christmas!

So I write to you as I approach two years to Simon’s death. I want to let you know that I’ll go a little quiet. I’ve done my best so far and this festive season was better, in some ways, to last year. I’ve managed to get through the shopping crowds and even have a mulled wine or two at the Christmas markets. I’ve be able to work and serve customers, all deciding on gifts for their loved ones. I’ve bought presents too but the whole panic buy stills eludes me. I’ve dedicated a tree to Simon, instead of sending cards. This isn’t laziness but my gift to him. I’ve even been caught singing a Christmas song, even if it was just a few lines…

So my family & friends, thank you for your support and friendship. It’s such a blessing to have you all in my life. Christmas should be about love and kindness, not stress and gluttony. Don’t loose sight of what’s important. Be happy, be jolly, be good, even be bad as there is no one judging you, not even Santa. Most importantly please love with every millimetre of your being, as there is no greater gift in life then this.

With love and best wishes this Bah Hum…Sorry, I mean this Christmas x x x

My Simon

Merry Christmas

Love your Hermit

x x x

 

Shining Souls

Before you my soul was adrift,

 from a broken past,

and a future unknown.

My soul found yours,

which was equally lost,

and they fused as one.

 

Our souls danced with the white light of life,

and my heart was fulfilled.

I became part of something more then just existing,

as when you ignited my soul

it began to shine…

 

I know you’re no longer here,

but that doesn’t stop my soul from searching for yours,

on an endless futile quest.

Its haunted by our past,

and yearning for a future that will never be.

As what is a life without love?

And what is heart without a shared soul?

 

My soul aches for its lost partner, and it’s confused to be on its own. It’s fragile, disconnected and not accepting death. But reality shakes my soul, shouting the truth at it. Reality doesn’t care whether the truth is good or bad, as reality is just fact.

I, like many others, use to believe that the meaning of ‘soulmate’ is to have that one perfect partner. A mate where the bond and connection is so strong nothing can ever break it. Simon was a soulmate and he had the capability to give limitless unconditional love. It’s hard now to accept that I’ve got to go on without his beautiful soul.

Losing him was and still is devastating, but surprisingly it didn’t fully break me. The reason for this is I still have soulmates in my life. I’ve got soul friends who make me laugh and hold me up when the grief waves get high. I don’t believe I would have progressed so well without them. Through these past 23 months I’m reminded of the kindness and love from my soul friends.

I’ve rebuilt my community soul and now find it essential for my well being. Functioning in general society can be difficult, and being with like-minded groups nourishes my soul. These groups don’t need to relate to my grief, or even know about it, they just need to give friendship and belonging. Community soul gives me the connection for my soul to not just exist but thrive.

There has been times when I’ve felt that everything was pointless, and when I’m too far in the black void of grief it’s hard to see a way out. Thankfully I now have purpose in my life, and it’s through soul-caring that I can be productive in the present. When the grief monster pokes at the wound that death branded on my soul, the only thing I can do is self care. I’ve got to look after my soul as it now needs me more then ever.

I can’t forget one other small soul in my life. Solo is my soul cat, greeting me when I get in, following me around and sleeping next to me at night. We both lost Simon and his brother, Loki, last year which halved our small family. His needs are simple but his soul is great.

Simon was my significant soulmate, who helped me to appreciate life and showed me how to love. I shouldn’t see the scar on my soul as something that death did, but instead see it as the imprint left by his soul. Souls are made from the white light energy that’s all around us. When Simon’s soul left his body it went back to the earth. This bright scar on my soul can never be removed as its now a part of me. I shall wear it with pride, as it’s a testament to our love and the fact that Simon hasn’t truly gone from this world.

His soul is forever shining.

My Soul Simon

Love your soul hermit

x x x

The Essence of You

Dear Simon, I dreamt about you, the first in a while. We didn’t have much time, but I’ll take you being there above not at all. We were trying to live together but our new home wasn’t ready. There were so many changes going on, and so much to do. We wanted it to be perfect but time was against us. In the end you said to me,

It doesn’t matter what state it’s in, or what we do, as long as we’re together. We shouldn’t waste the precious time that we have left…

I then woke…

You were right, time is so valuable and I wouldn’t swap it for all the material items or money in the world. We did try to not take each other for granted, but the restraints of society got in the way. I understand that’s life and we didn’t know you were going to die. Fuck hindsight, as it doesn’t make me feel any better.

The sad part of my dream is it was just a dream. What’s even sadder is that I’m use to knowing this fact. I’m use to the warm fuzzy feeling of seeing you in my sleeping state. When I wake I’m use to my mind trying to sort fact from fiction, in preparation to function in the real world. I’m use to feeling the lunge of loss in the pit of my soul, but even then I know I’ll soon recover. I’m use to the essence of you hanging around for hours afterwards, as though we actually talked and shared a real moment together. I’m use to absolutely loving our dream time and, on waking, tolerating the loss of you.

Simon, it’s no wonder that I recently dreamt of you, as there’s so much change happening in my life. I’m working hard in a new job, feeling purpose and a sense of belonging.  You’d be pleased to know I’m enjoying my new role and it’s gives me the confidence to be out in society. I’m also buying a flat, a place I can really make my own. But that’s just it, it’s my first adult home without you. Of course I’ll take your items and photos but it’s with a heavy heart to know your presence has never walked the floors. I suppose I’m taking your ashes with me but is this the same as the echos of your essence in a place? A friend once told me that ghosts attach themselves to people, not places. If this is true are you always with me wherever I go? I’m sure you’re laughing at this idea as you were always the skeptic, but then again I’ve caught you talking to your decease mother on many occasions. A comforting habit, one I’ve adopted with you.

But what if dreams are real? What if our astral body is another level of reality, and not just where our minds go to sort out? What if this is the only way you can help, support and be with me now? If this is true then you’ll know about my anxiety of starting a new job? You’ll know my worries and indecisiveness to renovate this flat. If you’re real in my dreams, be it an essence of you, then are you my guardian watching over me?

I like to think so but then again…

I dreamt about you the following night too. This time I was only informed of your death, and your body was in a prison far away. I needed to get to you but there were lots of obstacles in my way. I spent most of the dream confused, upset and fighting monsters. I didn’t get to you and woke with a fuzzy and disconnected feeling. This time your essence was tainted with death and as a result my surreal world took over, dulling my mind and senses. I can’t really function when I feel like this and get so angry and frustrated with the living world. The first dream made me a believer in your spirit, but the second just sent me back to the depressive reality of death. Do I want to dream of you at all, knowing one gives me comfort and the other despair?

The grief battle isn’t just about coping in this waking life alone, but it’s dealing with the knowledge that you’re permanently absent. The hard part is this wasn’t my choice, or yours. I can make decisions the whole day long, what to wear, what to eat, where I work and what colours to paint my new flat. I can choose how to interpret my dreams, and whether I believe that you’re real in them. I can do all this but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have you. All I have are my dreams and the essence of you.

Simon, I hold you in my heart

As that is all I’ve left of you

Love your hermit

x x x

 

 

 

Winter is Coming

Winter is coming…

In the chill of an early Autumn morning. Daylight makes a pastel pink appearance in the sky, but the cold keeps me under the covers. My cat, who’s wedged against my legs, is not in any hurry to stretch and make his demands for breakfast. I want a hot drink but that means moving from the warmth of my bed. The heating starts to make a clicking sound, a sign its also slow to wake up. I close my eyes for a second and I hear his voice…

‘Jeeves, make us a brew,‘

He doesn’t get an answer so Simon concludes that our imaginary butler is still away on R&R. I suddenly open my eyes and I’m back in the room. A snippet of my past forced its way in and made me remember…

Winter is on its way…

Which means a second Christmas without Simon. I can’t do anything to stop this except push the thought away. If I let the grief in then I’d question everything. For example, did last Christmas really happen without him? How can time move forward yet he is frozen in the past? Did I even celebrate a decade of Christmases with him? If this is my reality now then how in the hell am I supposes to response to another festive season?

Last year was fucking horrible, it really was, but to be fair it wasn’t even 12 months to his death. I’ve had another 10 months to recoup and adjust. I’ve had more time to process, reflect, analyse and, dare I say it, move on. I shudder with the latter as this widow doesn’t believe in the concept of moving on. It’s not because I’m stuck but experience has taught me that so called ‘moving on’ doesn’t cure grief. I can’t keep approaching this time of year with a bah humbug attitude, but the candy-cane jolliness isn’t there either. It’s only October, I know, but this is when the commercial bullshit starts.

There’s no stopping winter…

And with it more changes in my life. The next big one is to move house. I know this will be good as it will get me out of this transitional place and provide the breathing space to…well breathe. I’m also going to be working somewhere new and I know I’ll need to have an element of ho ho ho in my performance. Perhaps it will enable my internal bad-tempered elf to be positive again? Who knows, maybe I’ll once again sing carols around the piano whilst drinking eggnog, as the reflections from the roaring fire glitter off the baubles on the giant tree…Yeah, fucked that!

Winter will be in full force…

And a New Year will arrive. 2019 will mark two years to his death. This is so fucking unbelievable, as I live in a world where he no longer exists. I’ve got to function and allow myself to enjoy, whilst trying not feeling guilty that I’m the one alive. To cope with the new year I’ll be going away, to my place of solace. The biggest question is what the fuck do I do with the lead up to it? Last year I wore a soulless black heart and had to hide myself away, but I don’t want to do that this year. I want to be with friends, old and new, and feel connected once again. I want to smile, laugh, dance, and feel the many wonderful exciting emotions I’ve got trapped inside. I also have to accept my limitations and be at peace with my sadness. I want Christmas to be ok again because…

Then winter will be over…

And it will be spring, summer will follow and with autumn not far behind. Then it’s back full circle to winter again. Time passes and nothing can stop it, but do I really want to stand still anymore? If you had asked me only a year ago I would have said yes, as it’s with a heavy heart to know that each minute, hour, day, month and year I’m always moving away from the life I once had with Simon…

So ask me this question now?

Do I want to be stay stagnant in time?

No, I don’t.

I want to experience and feel each moment as though it’s my last. I want to see the crisp snow fall as I walk in a Christmas card wonderland. I want to be with friends, drink mulled wine and laugh at the mad things they say. I want to experience new activities and embrace my passions. I want to do it all, for Simon and for myself. I know I won’t always hold this attitude, for every moment of every day. Sometimes I will just exist whilst feeling the burden of loss, but my tiny Christmas sparkle is now slightly shining. I want to be able to say Merry Christmas this year and all the years I’m fortunate to have.

Christmas is coming…

And I do want to be ho ho happy, but I know it comes with a touch of scrooge.

Simon,

Bah Humbug!

To death, to fate,

And a little to Christmas too.

Love your Hermit

with only one jingle bell

x x x

 

 

 

I Wish You Were Here…

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

 

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

Did you exchange

A walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

 

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,

Running over the same old ground.

What have we found?

The same old fears.

Wish you were here.

David Gilmour and Roger Waters

Simon,

How I wish you were here…

To help me figure out this world I’m living in. This country, this town, this house… Oh, how I wish you were fucking here to figure out this house. I want you here to be my human again, to be my family, my significant other. I need you to know how I feel and understand whatever it is that is happening. I need you here to be fighting my corner, and to be on my side when the arse of life decides to call.

I wish you were here…

Here by my side… Correction, not just next to me, as this is not enough. I need you to be closer then that, so close I can feel the weight of your beating heart on mine, your breath on my skin, and your arms hugging my body. Our bodies so tangled that ‘invasion of personal body space’ is a positive action, one that we never want to unravel from.

I wish you were here…

As I’ve the same primeval drive as I did when you were alive, only now I don’t exactly know what to do with it. My dreams ignite the ‘widow’s fire’ in me and at times it’s so powerful I feel I’ll literally burst into flames. It’s a raw state of survival, to want to have connection to the earth and feel alive. To want to belong somewhere, to belong to someone but I want that to be you. This is not an option, yet the frustration is my love didn’t die when you did. I’m left with emptiness and longing.

I wish you were here…

So I can stop being in love with a dead man. These past few weeks I’ve felt a move towards my future, but it with a sadness not to have you to plan it with. I’ve shelved my grief and pain of losing you. I’m now solid rock, I’m cold hard stone, who refuses to show heartache and tears. I’ve had to as the stresses of my current life are too much to cope with grief as well. If you were here I wouldn’t have to be a pretender, who’s faking it until I figure out what to do.

I wish you were here…

So once again we can be two lost souls, stumbling around in this fucked-up world together. Life can throw shit at us and we just throw it straight back. We wouldn’t care, sticking two fingers up and shouting, ‘We are strong, because we have each other!’

If you were here we would shout ‘bolloxs’ to the world…

If you were here we can fight this war together…

If you were here we can be one again…

I wish you were here…

If only you were here…

Simon, I knew how to be lost in this world with you.

I don’t know how to do it alone,

and I don’t want to.

Wish you were here

Love your Hermit

x x x

 

 

 

A Shift in the Mind

It’s a shift in the mind,

that has come over time,

but that doesn’t mean it will always be here.

It’s the gift of truth and clarity,

and sheds some light on my actual reality.

I do not question its motive no more,

whether its progress or ignorance that is at its core.

It’s just a shift in the mind for better not worse,

and it gives me a release from this wretched grief curse…

By Simon’s Hermit

I’ve been on many journeys in my life. I’ve experienced and lived in other countries, mixed with various cultures and had different relationships. I’ve also been on quite a few emotional pathways whilst I figure out, not only who I currently am, but who I want to be. My journeys have enable me to feel joy and excitement, to laugh and be happy and also to know pain, sadness and heartbreak.

Journeys are part of us all, whether they take us physically from one place to another, or be it soul searching within ourselves. An inward journey tests our mental and emotional wellbeing, to hopefully make us more resilient. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that anything I do helps to improve my state of mind, and on these bleak days everything seems hopeless. But time educates me that intense negative emotions do eventually calm, and then like clouds in the sky they pass on.

I’ve been on a grief journey for nearly 20 months. In this time I’ve realised that grief doesn’t get boxed and shelved away. Losing Simon will always be with me because he is still a part of my life. So with no closure what is left is the ability to make grief fit into my life, in order to function everyday and to let peace and happiness in.

Since moving house this year I feel a new chapter has begun. It’s bittersweet, as it’s necessary to continue on but so very sad to do it without Simon. It’s been a really bumpy transition, as I struggled to live with family again and tolerate being in a noisy environment. I’m still coping with my new surroundings and even though it’s hard to see my future, I do want purpose in my life. I want to have friendships, be happy, have a career and to also feel all the emotions that make me human. I want to be more then someone’s widow.

So in order to begin again I recently went on another journey. I went away for 5 nights and the intention was to put me back in the real world. This in its self is quite ironic, as it was at a fantasy convention but the hermit went out to be with others. I knew I would be spending a long weekend doing strange activities with strangers, and my only retreat was 2 thin layers of canvas. In the end I didn’t even have this, as the blazing hot sun meant it was impossible to stay in the tent during the day.

As I travelled down on a packed train I silently questioned what the hell was I doing. This wasn’t in my comfort zone, as I wasn’t going with anyone, nor did I know a single person at the event. Have I finally lost the plot? I thought. Probably. Yet from the moment I got a ticket, a year ago, it felt right. It was scary to think about spending time with 800 strangers but I knew I had to do it. Besides…

What could be worse then Simon being dead?

So my weekend was fun, exciting and happy. It was also stressful, tiring and manic. The first day and night were okay, and moments locked in the toilet helped to calm me. Then on the second morning my emotions became mixed, and the depressive grief monster decided to call. I didn’t feel like I fitted in as groups, old and new, formed around me. I was mindful that these thoughts were not a true representation of my reality and I needed to stick it out. I sat at breakfast on my own, conflicted as I needed to eat but also needed time away from people. The tent was already hot at 8.30am.

As I stared out of the window, a man with weather beaten tanned skin sat down outside. He put his pint of lager on the table and took a drag of his cigarette. His actions remained me so much of Simon, as he would have done the exact thing – a roll up and a pint of ‘hair of the dog’ in the sunshine. What I didn’t need, at that moment, was a tigger for my grief to come out further. How was I ever to survive the weekend if I went to pieces in front of strangers? But the shift in my mind made me accept how I was feeling and told me it was okay. It’s okay to be sad and to miss Simon. It’s natural not to feel jolly all the time, and to not attempt to keep a constant pretence for the sake of others. I felt a shift… Slowly my confident, sociable self came out to play.

People didn’t ask if I had a partner and I didn’t volunteer the information. There was a time, mainly in the early stages of grief, when I thought the whole world should know about Simon dying, from my hairdresser to the postman. Now it’s all about a balance of speaking his name, so he’s not forgotten, against not being defined by his death. Simon would agree and wouldn’t want me to spend my time being consumed with grief.

I still have dark times down in the grief pit, but now I can see the blackness for what it really is, and as I look up I also see an opening…

I don’t know what the driving force is behind my change in attitude, or even how long it will last? Perhaps it really is a positive shift, or maybe I’m avoiding dealing with the trauma of it? After all, I still have frozen moments where I’m lost in a black memory, one where I’m trying to keep Simon alive, or at his funeral. If the ‘shift in my mind’ is just avoidance then I’m sure I’ll deal with it at some point. For now I’m content with feeling something more then grief.

And I’m coping with life without Simon the best way I can…

This is where you sat at the last convention in 2016.

Your place of solace.

I miss you but I’m still fighting on,

for your sake and mine.

Love your ‘getting out there’ Hermit

X X X