Bare

My hair is long, it needs a cut. The red henna is fading and grey can be seen.

My eyebrows are bushy so I try to give them a pluck.

My eyelids have wrinkles and the eyeshadow falls into the creases.

I get spots, not like a pubescent teenager, but the odd one on my chin and nose.

My neck sags and with it a double-chin forms.

My upper arms flap like bats,

And my finger joints have painful stiff nodules.

My breasts droop slightly and one is better then the other.

Symmetrical boobs are a myth, but I still want them.

My belly gets bloated.

I’m too lazy to shave but I try to do it anyway.

I’ve cellulite, thread vines and hairy hobbit toes.

I’ve only ever had one pedicure in my life, this was on my wedding day.

I get grumpy.

When I’m tired I get really grumpy. When I’m drunk I swear a lot.

My heart feels damaged and I worried it will never heal.

At times I need to run, or hide, in order to escape the things that tries to hurt me.

Stress has completely exhausted me.

I still have grief…

Still.

It has stripped me bare.

I get so angry at the world and so fucking upset. I still can’t get my head round the unfairness of death. It’s random and cruel. It brings out the worst in me as it’s still overwhelming. It’s a never ending ticking time bomb, lying in wait for that trigger, for me to be at my most venerable.

Then boom!

Afterwards I look at my naked soul and see myself for whom I’ve become. The grey, the wrinkled, the bloated and the sagging included.

All of it.

And it’s not all bad.

I also have long hair and the flecks of natural gold & ageing silver light up in the sun.

My eyebrows are fair, so almost invisible.

I have big brown eyes and the skin around them creases when I laugh.

I’m blessed with good skin.

My arms are strong, and I’m still able to create art and stories with my hands.

My breasts are beautiful, and I’m curvy all over.

I’ve blonde hair on the small of my back that is light and fluffy.

My grumpiness is always replaced with a smile.

My heart is still beating and I love others with every inch of my soul.

I still have grief…

Yes, this part is true.

But it has also made me resilient. Death has not only shown me the fragility of life but also how precious it is too. I can have a hard exterior, but my emotions are there, just below the surface, ready to express my kindness.

I now value hope after feeling absolutely none, and I now strive onwards, with purpose, when I once felt there was no point.

I’m an ageing woman who has lost so much, but with my silver streaks, broken heart and everything laid bare I’ve so much more to give.

I am widow, hear me roar!

• 

Quite simply I miss you, Simon

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

Cosy at Christmas

My eyes are open but I don’t see the twinkling lights of Christmas. There’s a faint sound of bells far away in the midnight sky, but it’s difficult to hear them clearly. I do want to be a part of it again but there’s still too much pain. December is dark and cold when it use to be warm. My flat feels bare. I’ve stripped the many layers of wallpaper and took it back to its shell. I’ve step back and had a moment to think…

Will it ever feel like home and will I ever be cosy at Christmas again?

Perhaps I’m stuck, unable to ‘move on’ from the grief and loss? I apologise for using that term as I know you don’t truly get over it. It’s just as we plough towards Christmas I feel time is rewinding back to three years ago. I’m better at coping with it now but the festive season makes it feel as though no time has passed. I remember our last Christmas morning and Simon being so excited. He didn’t ask for much, just to laugh and share each others company. That’s all I want, so I’ve been surrounding myself with friends to try to fill the hole that death caused. Plus I’m angry as it’s so unfair to his life, my life and our life together. Simon didn’t need to go so soon.

I’ve also been particularly hard on myself since December arrived. It’s three Christmases ago so why hasn’t time healed me? Time has also brought the realisation that this is permanent, he isn’t coming back. Yet my new version of life isn’t all sad, in fact I’m quite happy. I spend a great deal of time with friends and I now look at the world with awe and appreciation. But with all I’m experiencing I want to tell Simon about it, and that’s when a wave of grief washes over me.

This December so far I’ve laughed and I’ve also cried. I’ve drank, eaten good food but I’ve also felt a knot in my stomach that has caused me to loose my appetite. I’ve danced around, sang on top note and hidden under the duvet. During all this it’s at the back of my mind that I still have to get through Christmas Day , the anniversary of Simon’s death and into another New Year without him.

It’s not just me. I know many people who are grieving and finding Christmas very difficult. I want to wrap my arms around them and tell them they’re not alone. I want to take their pain away so they can enjoy Christmas once more. I want to tell them it does get better to cope with. I want to reassure them that it’s ok to cry instead of pretending to be jolly. But it’s also ok to be jolly. Wonderful guilt free joy and laughter.

So if you’re hurting this Christmas please don’t suffer alone, as you’re not. It’s also ok for Christmas not to be the most wonderful time of year for you. Feel and do whatever it takes to get through.

You never know, maybe one day you’ll find yourself not turning the radio off because yet another Christmas song is playing. Maybe one Christmas you’ll see the beauty in the twinkling lights and hear the distance sleigh bells echoing across the winter sky. Until then give yourself lots of kindest this Christmas.

Much love to you all x

Simon,

Bah Humbug!

Love Hermit

x x x

Open Up to Grief

I’m naked and cold.

The dark night is all around me, no stars to be seen.

I’m stood in the sea watching the luminous white waves crash into one another.

The water hits my body and I feel its turmoil.

I’m one with the sea and in conflict with it.

I feel its emotions and know it’s him.

 

His anger is great,

a torment with no control, no choice and no hope.

Unable to move I’m completely lost in the intensity of it.

There is no other light except for the glow of water,

on my skin, a salt taste on my lips.

 

I’m flooded

so I let him take me

 

I wrote this in July 2017, just seven months after Simon’s death. Back then my grief was very intense but I was also cocooned in denial. My whole life suddenly stopped. This was extremely distressing as I felt stuck, unable to find a path or purpose and all the while the world dashed onwards. For the first year I was soulless, not caring what happened to me one moment, only to feel rage the next. I had permanent brain fog, no concentration and little ability to help others. My anger was so immense I once described it as a thousand wailing banshees in the fire pits of hell. The five stages of grief were not in any order but a tangled mess with no end. Everything I did was an effort and I use to put pressure on myself to achieve more. The only strength I had was to get up and face the day.

The first year’s deathiversary was an emotional mess. Flashbacks of the night I lost Simon and the days that followed were dominating my headspace. I couldn’t get the image of him laying in the hospital bed on New Year Eve, knowing I’ll never talk to him again. No emotion acceptance was present as how could this beautiful life cease to exist? I couldn’t remember the life we had shared before death. How could I forget 10 years? Why couldn’t I see his face or hear his voice in my mind? A year to ‘progress’ and ‘get over it’ and yet I felt unable to move on and so very devastated with the loss.

Six months later, during the hot summer of 2018, I moved out of the last place we had together. I went back to my home town, one where I had family & friends to connect with. I’d been self caring for a few months and it helped me enormously. Eating healthily, no alcohol in the house, pilates, writing about my grief and going to bed early all nourished my body and mind. But moving in with my parents proved difficult to continually do this. I can now write about how tough this was, as my mum has recently been diagnosed with dementia. As a consequence I shelved my grief as I couldn’t cope with the emotional pain of both. I had no space to feel the loss of Simon and no control over the progressive disease my mum was unknowingly suffering from.

The two year anniversary of his death came and went. Denial had mainly worn off and acceptance was trying to creep in. I write the latter with hesitation, as part of me still doesn’t totally believe Simon isn’t walking this earth. I felt purpose once again and, dare I say it, hope for a future. My anger had nearly gone and I was enjoying life once more. But emotionally I wasn’t feeling anything. When stress did call I automatically went into robotic mode, to protect myself from pain.

Two and half years later I was use to living with my grief but emotionally unavailable. At the time I wasn’t sure of the biggest culprit of my shutdown, ignoring Simon or my living circumstances, probably both. I was resilient and in control, but also hardened to anything that life threw at me…

But to feel and connect, to laugh and cry, to talk and listen and to hold and belong is everything in life. I was just surviving but I needed to thrive.

As I write this I know Christmas and the third anniversary of losing Simon is approaching. I’ve moved into my flat and I have feelings for someone else. The combination of having my own space and an emotional release has resulted in feeling grief once more. I can no longer ignore Simon and the many boxes I still have to unpack. The hermit in me is demanding I run and hide. My socialite side wants me to live. Part of me wishes I could go back to numbness but my hard shell is cracked. I can’t stop my emotions from seeping out as I…

love a living being but I also love a ghost.

It’s grief awareness week and I’ve always tried to be open about my grief, even when it’s painful. Most of us have lost someone close to us and we don’t always talk about it. Grief can be confusing and we believe that it should be dealt with in order to have closure. Unfortunately it’s not a straightforward line with an end to it. It’s an emotional rollacoaster with no timeline. What I am able to do, three years on, is cope better with it for longer periods of time. It doesn’t go away, I’ve just learn to live around it. My heart has a piece missing that is forever lost, but it’s still beating. Even when I falter, I’m still able to love again.

#OpenUptoGrief

Simon,

You would be so upset to know the pain death has caused.

It wasn’t your fault. You had no choice.

I’m happy again but I also feel sadness.

Both are okay.

Love your hermit

x x x

My Hero

“Forgive me if I stumble and fall for I know not how to love too well.

I am clumsy and my words do not form as I wish.

So let me kiss you instead

and let my lips paint for you all the pictures that my clumsy heart cannot.”

By Atticus

There’s no time for grief, as the earth rolls forward. I do wish my grief didn’t exist or, if possible, I’m able leave it behind. But it doesn’t work that way. It messes with my head filling it with fog and affecting decisions I make. It’s moulded onto my soul and my life has had to wrap around it.

I’ve got no choice but to take it with me. Most days I can ignore it or find a distraction. On rare occasions I don’t even mind it, but then something happens and it appears with its evil grin. The hermit in me cries out and I listen to her. I feel her pain, her anxiety to be in a world that hides from death, afraid of its role. I know some understand when the grief monster takes command but for how long will it have such an influence over me? I guess with time I’ll find out?

Last weekend I danced in a room with 80 other widows and widowers. It was full of life, people chatting, singing and dancing. They hadn’t forgot what they’d lost, far from it. We knew the only reason we were all in the same room was due to losing our partners. Our husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. We were in a place where we could feel exactly how we wanted and everyone there understood.

At one point I felt like an imposter. A fake, as I’ve been so busy moving forward in life I’ve had little time to grieve. I don’t talk to Simon like I use to and I don’t hear his voice answering back. I want be enjoy life but I also feel the love and heartbreak for Simon. I can’t ignore what once was so real and now has gone but I can’t deny myself feeling life again, no matter how hard it is for me to cope with death.

The reality of moving into my flat is here, but it comes with the many boxes of my past. The truth of seeing someone other than Simon is real, but the joy is with overwhelming mixed emotions. The diagnosis of a disease of a loved one is here. Someone who has been with me my whole life and has nurtured, supported and loved me. It’s with a heavy broken heart to know there is no cure.

Living life whilst wearing a cloak of grief is conflicting and painful. Sometimes life rules and sometimes grief wins. There is no solution to it, but if I could talk to Simon I know what he would do. He would listen to every word I say, take me in his arms and whisper,

‘Do whatever makes you happy. Love without shame and live each day as though it’s your last. You’re strong and can cope with anything, but don’t be afraid to falter. You are my hero.’

He was my strength and biggest fan. I didn’t think I could do this without him but here I am. I’ve realised that it’s not just grief I take forward but it’s the empowerment he gave me to be my own best friend.

I’m forever grateful to him for that.

Simon,

thank you

Love your 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

Four – Here Come’s the Sun

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right

by George Harrison

 

My darling,

It’s seems a long time since I saw you. I don’t know where the time has gone, yet it has taken me a while to get to this okay place I now find myself in. The dark cloak of grief that was heavy on my back is lighter now, but it’s still very much present. I know how to wear it well.

I took an early morning flight and saw the sunrise from high above the clouds. I held my breath when I caught a glimpse of the island I’d gone to visit. The sun glistened on the blue water and the landscape was thick with pine trees. I let my breath out slowly and I felt a sense of belonging to return. I’m sure you would have loved it but death called time up before you could. I try not to have regrets on the many things we didn’t get round to do, as it was an endless list, and instead try to experience as much as I can.

My darling,

This new life isn’t the one I choose but I do want to enjoy it. I want to see this world and its amazing places and sunrises. It’s not just the wonder of nature but it’s also spending time with friends, old & new. It’s hard to carry on with each day and missing you at the same time, but I’m not doing this journey alone.

I woke before another day’s sunrise, and with a friend we walked along the coast. The energy of morning sun beckoned for our attention and so I scattered some of your ashes on the rocks. I sat for a while and watched the island and sea fully light up.

My darling,

You are missed but I also feel you’re a part of everything I see and do. This island has magical energy that is in the water that laps the rocks. It’s present in the land and the people that walk on it. Its vibrant in the sun.

Now that I’ve left you there I shall always return to walk on the red soil, breath in the rich air and see the sun come up for a new day.

My darling,

Here comes the sun,

and it’s alright.

Your Hermit

x x x

 

Moon of Dreams

It’s 5.18am.

It was 5.10am yesterday and 5.20am the day before that. Waking early has become such a habit that it now feels normal. The only sound I hear is a blackbird singing outside. My only company is my cat. If I’m honest I’d rather be up this early, so I can prepare for the busy world before it wakes.

A big change is coming and even though it’s exciting I also feel overwhelmed. I’m doing too much, I know. I’m like the twitching muscles fibres of the body with their ‘all or nothing’ response. I know I can’t go backwards and I can’t stay put. All I can do is move forward. It’s exciting, liberating and purposeful. It’s also scary, stressful and sad without Simon.

Every morning I get up and go about my day as though nothing has happened. This is my new normal, one of self routine and choice. But something did happen and every so often I’m caught in a moment, a glimpse of a what my life should have been, and I quiver. It can be fleeting – blink and it’s gone – or it lingers for a while until I find stable footing again.

I choose, I change, I quiver and I cope.

Yesterday the quiver became a rumble and I felt the ground beneath me shake. This has been building up for a few days, a feeling of no control and lack of confidence. To put it simply I don’t want to do this without Simon. Why the fuck should I? Oh, that’s right because death dictated that I do. Luckily I was with a friend, so we sat for a while and chatted. Then I took ‘time out’ in the place where I met Simon. I played music and I drank wine. I talked bollocks and with it the struggle with self belief disappeared.

Simon was so confident in what I could achieve that he made it seem so easy. When I was with him I could reach up, grab the moon of dreams and bring it down from space. I didn’t just lose my best friend but I also lost my mentor, my Obi One. Now all the decisions, right or wrong, are mine. It’s an independent place to be in but a scary one.

The grief monster got me yesterday and I didn’t have the strength to tell it to fuck off. It attacked me because I want a home of my own. It suck the life out of me because I want to be happy and find enjoyment. It mocked me for even thinking about liking another…

A lady sat next to me and she appeared to be a hundred and five years old. We chatted for a short while before her rum-fuelled legs tootled her out for her bus home. I watched her go and thought I could be her in a few decades time. On one hand it’s good to think I could live to her age and still be drinking rum, whilst perched on a very high stool. But on the other I thought about whether I want to live another fifty years alone, going back to an empty flat and eating my fish meal for one? I’m not saying this is an accurate depiction of this lady’s life. She may have had a partner and is now content to be on her own. I’m just too young and have too much love to spend the rest of my days alone. Besides…

Simon would want me to be happy.

Yes, he always did. He knew what to say in times of doubt. He knew how to act when I stumbled and he knew how to love me when I fell. He had faith in me and all I could achieve. I own it to him…No, I owe it to myself to be the best version of me and to lift the moon of dreams right out its black sky. I need to hold it in my hands, see it shinning and realise that its not the one that’s glowing but it’s my brilliant soul reflecting back.

Simon,

We gazed at the moon together,

and saw the possibilities life had to hold.

Now I need to do it without you

but I’ll always have the memories of your love

to show me the way.

Love Your Hermit

x x x

New Beginnings

I opened my eyes to the darkness of the room. I didn’t know what time it was or for how long I had slept. Turning my head, I saw lamplight sneaking in from under the door. I got up, feeling the cold floor under foot and opened the shutters on the windows. The indigo-blue sky had not found its sun yet, so I got back into bed and pulled the duvet up to my chin. I lay for a while whilst watching the sky turn from navy to cobalt, a mixture of pastel yellow, orange and red started to appear across the blue. The stars forever twinkling their dead light.

My dark room was in Morocco, a country of chaotic roads and busy souks, which clashed with the tranquil hotel oasis. This was my place of balance, as I needed calm to cope with the significant time of year, but I also didn’t want to be cut off from the real world. My ying & yang approach, because in order to find quiet there must have been noise. After a grief wave has struck it’s good to self-soothe, and it’s necessary to embrace joy when sadness has visited…

So to feel total loss I must have known true love.

The sun had now fully appeared but I remained in the comforting layers of my bed. I didn’t have to get up for anything or anyone. I tried not to think about what had already been, or what was yet to come. Besides the sunrise was beautiful and shouldn’t be ignore. Nature at its finest and so important to life, but it’s hard not to get caught up in a busy mind, just like the crowded roads of the souks. I was okay in my Moroccan cocoon except for one niggling thought. It was there in the back of my mind, wanting to be heard. It was a faint cry and it was wishing that someone else was also there, to watch this glorious day begin…

Simon loved the sun. He would bask in it and absorb its warmth. Many times he would go out to greet the sun, and later climb a hill to watch it set. He was my sun, a radiant energy that I never thought I’d be without, but as I look out to my present sunrise –as alive as it was –I knew he was no longer with me, and this new year it’s just mine, and mine alone.

I got up and took a shower, viewing the sun above the Atlas Mountains from the little window. Stepping out from my room’s isolation I felt good, as I was ready for some company. In particular five friends, whom I’d got to know in such a short space of time. They also know grief and loss, yet their energy for life is amazing. We bounced off each other, with laughter and tears, with the rawness of a past, the experiences of the present and the fears for our future.

These last two years I’ve managed everyday stress and experienced the unfairness of life, but through it all there was an energy that forced me to move forward. At times I’ve not liked it and have even fought against it, but nothing can stop it. Simon believed in it and he taught me to appreciate its impact on the earth. My belief in it has been covered in grief but I’m starting to connect to it once again. It’s the energy of life. It’s the magic we cannot see.

The magic creates all new beginnings. Morocco was inspiring and I feel blessed to have seen its magic, but my niggling grief whispered that I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t lost Simon. This fact is true but I’m tired of hearing this and fighting a past that can never be changed. Being constantly reminded that my future doesn’t have him in it is too painful. Besides Simon wouldn’t want me to think this, so instead of saying, ‘I’m in this world without him’, I’ve changed it to, ‘I’m living and he is smiling at this’. I accept there will always be an element of bittersweet, but I don’t want my new beginnings to be overshadowed by old endings…

I do wish he could see the woman I’ve become. I know I’m a better human for knowing him and a stronger one for surviving his death. I just wish he didn’t have to die for me to discover these inner qualities...

So new beginnings are ahead of me but I still wrestle with my grief. Whilst trying to decide whether to remove my wedding ring completely from my hand, I discovered it gone. I don’t know for how long, a few hours or even days. I searched but couldn’t find it, so accepted that it may never find it. During this time I started to dip into depressive grief but I really didn’t want this incident to undo what Morocco had given me. It’s just a ring, I know, but the significance goes way beyond that physical fact. Luckily it was found but this didn’t change my mind to put it away. A new beginning is to buy another ring, one which symbolises personal growth and strength for my future. I’m sure Simon would smile at this.

As I head into my future it is with an element of enthusiasm for what is to come. But with this I don’t deny or fight my grief, as it will always be a part of me. Sometimes my grief will be strong and other times it will be a whispering voice in the back of my head. Loving and losing Simon are one but I refuse to let his death dominate the love. It’s a balance, my ying & yang and I hope the progress I’ve made so far has given me enough resilience to have faith in my new beginnings.

 

 

Simon, I wish you were here,

to feel the sun’s rays on your skin.

To see it rise on New Years morning,

and to meet the lovely new people in my life.

It’s pure magical energy.

Love your hermit

x x x

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