Power over Life & Death

As I look up from my laptop, I take a moment to watch my cat. He’s on guard duty, surveying his domain from the perch of the windowsill. I don’t know what he sees, whether he’s given any thought about what he’s doing. I only see the odd head movement he makes as he catches a leaf drifting passed. I only know when he’s sees a bird, because he makes the chirping sound of a frustrated hunter. When he sees another cat there is a blur of brown fur as he zooms across the room to the cat flap. What he thinks and feels is a puzzle, but I bet it’s a lot more simpler than the complexities of the human mind.

Simpler would be nice as I return to reflecting on the year just passed. I’ve not done much journaling of late, so I’m trying to put my thoughts and emotions in some sort of order, to gain some clarity for the new year. I’ve been disappearing into a fantasy world these last few months. Writing fiction is my escapism when reality gets too hard and opting to this safe place, where I’m in control, is far easier to deal with.

I’m glad to see the back of 2023 as there was never a pause to take a breath. The health of my parents was paramount, which led to burnout as I tried to take charge. At the time I didn’t realise what I was doing, and that I don’t have the power to control or change what life dishes out.

At this time of year my thoughts go back to Simon. This will always happen, no matter how much time has gone. I found myself thinking about the 1st January 2017. I can still remember the room as I walked in, it was quiet, sterile and completely surreal. This was different from the noise of machines and people during his final days. I touched his warm body and I knew his turmoil was over. I whispered to him that it was alright, he could go now.

I should have known back then I didn’t have any power over life and death, but when it’s someone you love then you will do all you can to keep them alive. It’s not ego or arrogance at play but a deep belief I can stop bad things from happening to others if I take the burden off them. Thinking I had the ability to prevent or even change major life events and failing, only created a feeling of helplessness. It’s this I’ve been carrying ever since, that it’s my responsibility to keep those I love safe and happy. It took a stranger to say, You don’t have that kind of power.

New Year weekend at work was busy as there was a large amount of people who needed help. Some I found frustrating, as no matter what you did it wasn’t enough. Then I took a call and straight away I knew something was really wrong. Before I has a chance to get their names, I’d already began to instruct a woman in giving CPR on her husband. She rang because she couldn’t wake him. She thought he was snoring, but even when giving compression he remained unresponsive. The snoring was more likely to be agonal breathing, which is not good news. The paramedics were there within minutes and my part was done.

I hope I made a difference to their lives. Keeping Simon alive whilst waiting for help to come was the most terrifying situation I’ve ever been in. I had no control over what was happening to him, but I did have a certain level of ability to do what I could to help him. I’ve never put this in to content before, knowing the difference between doing your best to help, rather than taking full responsibility for what happens to others.

It’s going to take time for me to realise I don’t have that level of power, so until it fully sinks in I’m not going to beat myself up for not doing more, for not spotting the signs, for not having the ability to prevent his death. I’m just one human on this very vast planet, but hopefully I do make a difference to the lives of those around me, and with whom I come into contact with.

I don’t do New Year Resolutions as to me they’re only good intentions which are either broken or not follow through. I do, however, have a few New Year Eve traditions and these little acts give me the comfort I need to prepare for year ahead.

It doesn’t help to dwell on what has gone, and who is no longer here but we can remember absent friends & loved ones with fondness, and hold them in our hearts.

Simon,

I remember you with love

You are never forgotten

Love your hermit

xxx

Individual You

Dear Simon,

It’s getting to the time of year when my thoughts turn to you. In fairness you’re never far from my mind when it’s a frosty winter’s morning and I’m all wrapped up in a scarf, hat and gloves. Your presence is with me when the first buds appear on the trees and birdsong is spring excitement. I’m reminded of you when the red summer sun is slowly setting in the blue sky, another long day done. But it is Autumn which hits me the most, with its crisp mornings, the nights drawing in and a feeling of wanting to hibernate.

As spiders spin their webs that sparkle in the morning dew, and the squirrels frantically bury as many acorns as they can, unaware they won’t find them all, I find myself smiling at autumn’s beauty once again. I’m here to experience the trees changing from green to red brown, and I try not to feel the sadness which comes with knowing you’re no longer here to see it. I really appreciate, after grieving for 5.5 years, that life is valuable and precious, but it’s also cruel when it decides to stops. I’m not sure if I’ve made complete peace with death as it took you away from me too early. I’ve accepted it only in the terms of the grieving process, but it is and always will be unfair.

I had a flash of a memory of you the other day and it literally stopped me dead in my tracks. In the memory you were expressing your love for me in the silly way you did, which included you moving around the room with your arms out stretched. Remembering it took my breath away and in that moment my body ached for you. Not in the same touch deprived intensity when I first lost you, but missing individual you, your touch and your laughter. It was missing how special you made me feel with just your eyes. It was us both wrapping up in warm clothing and heading into the autumn trees, sharing this season with all its browns and golds. It was, for a brief moment, feeling you in the room but within seconds you were gone again. The warm and loving memory is replaced with a dull emptiness when reality strikes.

I pause…

As suddenly guilt comes after expressing loss. I’m putting all this on you and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t cause me miss you and you didn’t choose I go into this autumn without you. As quick as I pour out my grief I want to cover it up with words of joy.

So I will.

I am happy and grateful. I’m experience life and it’s so much fun. I’m meeting new people and spending time with those who really matter. Solo, our naughty little cat, is still loud and constantly demanding attention. I’m safe, secure and have shelter. I’ve even danced all night, playing air guitar to Bon Jovi and drank gin until the early hours. More importantly I am loved and I love too. Autumn will be here in a few days and already it’s cooler in the morning. Soon I’ll get my winter hats and gloves out and the fairy lights will be switched on earlier. Your cider apples trees are doing well. Not sure if I’m ready for the summer to end but I can’t stop it moving on. It is with smiles for life and sadness to do it without you, wonderful individual you.

Simon

I’ll make cider and call it Si D’oh

Love your autumn hermit

X X X

Never Be Separate

Taken from the charity Widowed & Young who have helped me so much in the last 4 years. Thank you

I turn over in bed, feeling the space next to me. It never goes away, the empty feeling you’re no longer here. Being submerged in darkness is the perfect way to describe grief, as the colours of life are suddenly absorbed by the black. When in deep grief there is no orange in the sunset, no purple in a flower and no green in a field that’s teaming with colourless butterflies. I couldn’t see any of it, as I was stuck in a dark tunnel feeling no hope of ever getting out…

This is because you were a vibrate energy and there’s many times when I simply miss you being around. I miss taking this for granted. You made me smile with your infectious enthusiasm and the world is a dull palette without you. You will always be a part of me and

I miss your colour in this world.

Widowhood has become a heavy grey cloak, one I wear very well. I didn’t think happiness could ever thrive in the same space as sadness. It didn’t seem possible but at some point, slowly and undetected, a tiny speck of light started to glow from the black, getting bigger and brighter. It began to fill my world with colour and

Within the colour came you, my lovely blue.

I compare the warmth of your body to the early golden sun as it gently caresses my skin. Your breath is comforting, as I know you are here with me. With your touch my heart leaps high and dances with the stars in the navy sky. You love me with a strong intensity and it balances beautifully with your gentle kindness. You are my love and

The colour you bring to my world makes me feel alive.

I have two loves,

One will always be frozen in time, I can’t alter this. I have a love in my present and he’s wonderful. When I’m happy I forget my past, when I remember the sadness comes. Lately my grief has been triggered quite a few times. I’ve felt loss when I should be concentrating on what I’ve got. Then I laugh, I enjoy and I love.. It’s like being at a festival, a band you love is playing your favourite ballad. You’re so happy to be there, experiencing the moment but the song provokes all your emotions at once – euphoria, sadness, joy, and loss. That’s how I feel and it can be confusing.

But then I discovered that I don’t have to make the choice to be just one emotion at any one time. My love doesn’t work that way as it’s not singular. Emerging out of the black I now see the orange in the sunset, but I also see the dark indigo blended behind it. I’ve awaken to the green in the field, now has shadowed areas – the colourful butterflies giddily fluttering from one luminous flower to another. This is the nature of grief and as long as I can love with every ounce of my being, I can live in harmony with my mixed emotions.

X X X

Walking for WAY (and me)

It’s now only 6 weeks before I walk around the island of Ibiza. I’m really looking forward to it but also feeling a bit overwhelmed. The total walk is between 250-280 km’s over 12 days. I’ve been told to expect different terrains from cliffs to beaches, forests to built up towns. I’ll be walking between 18-32 km per day depending on where we are on the island. Ibiza is hilly and will complete over 8000m of total climb. It will also be wild camping so no toilets or showers, but the tents will be pitched in lovely locations with stunning views.

This is what I’ve been sent

The Good: Amazing experience, New Friends, Detaching from so called normal life for 12 day, Wonderful homemade food, Keeping warm by the camp-fire, Being in nature, Going to the toilet in nature, Smelling natural, Swimming in the sea to keep clean, connecting with nature, enjoying the journey, laughing, seeing the real Ibiza, the smells of the island, learning about yourself.

The Bad: Not liking someone in the group, Getting wet if it rains, Getting sunburnt, Phone running out so not able to take photos, Going to the toilet in nature, Getting very sweaty and dirty. Bad Pillow choices, Feeling tired and still many km’s to walk.

The Ugly: Feeling crap, No energy, Blisters, Heavy backpack, Not sleeping well.

I’m doing the good, the bad and the ugly for a few reasons. Anyone reading this who has lost a partner to death knows the devastating impact this has on their life. For the first two years I was frozen and lost; grief was all consuming but slowly I’ve learnt how to cope and function again. Now I’ve got a lot in my life that gives me purpose. I don’t just want to survive anymore, but I want to thrive. I want to see the world and have many adventures. I want to love, be loved and interact with amazing people. I want to continue to work on the person that Simon once fell in love with, and not just be his widow. I want challenges and feel resilience to something other than grief. So with all this I physically, mentally and emotionally walk for myself.

I’m walking for Simon, in order to see this world because he can’t. There was a time when I couldn’t look on a sunset, or see a flower in full bloom. I had the attitude of ‘what’s the point’ if Simon wasn’t here to see it too. I’m still angry at death for choosing to take him, but I’ve made my peace with the lack of control I had. Simon loved the outdoors and valued the beauty in even the smallest things. I owe it to myself and him to fall in love with nature again. 

I’m also walking for WAY (widowed & young). 

WAY is the only national charity in the UK for people aged 50 or under when their partner died. It’s a peer-to-peer support group operating with a network of volunteers who have been bereaved at a young age themselves, so they understand exactly what other members are going through.

WAY was founded in 1997 and now has more than 3,400 members across England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. WAY aims to provide peer-to-peer emotional and practical support to young widowed people – married or not, with or without children, whatever their sexual orientation – as they adjust to life after the death of their partner.

From the WAY website

WAY has been a constant support to me over the last 3 years and continue to do so. The charity has helped so many bereaved people and families. Our current system is broken leaving a lot of widows and widowers without the support they need, emotionally, practically and financially. We also live in a culture where we shy away from death and grief. We put on a brave face and believe, when sufficient time has passed, there is closure. This attitude leaves those widowed feeling isolated and hurt. I’ve discovered we are not stuck or being awkward for not moving on, nor can we put grief in a box marked ‘dealt with’. The best we can do is learn from each other, in order to learn to live around it. Communicating with widows & widowers has provided me with a greater understanding of grief. Simon is never forgotten, he’ll always be with me and I now know I can be happy despite carrying sadness. 

WAY is a lifeline community to those who suddenly find themselves coping with loss and life alone. There isn’t a day goes by where I don’t have some contact with WAY; be it in a group chat, an event, or a quick check with a friend. None of us want to be members of this exclusive group but we’re so very glad we have each other.

It is a charity, relying on donations, so if you can please support me in this worthy cause. I didn’t expect to lose Simon so prematurely and it was reassuring to find out I wasn’t such a freak in my reaction to grief. WAY has helped me get through the worse and in doing so brought me so much love and friendship.

Thank you WAY x

Please click on the links below for my fundraising page and for more information on WAY.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/julie-clitheroe 

https://www.widowedandyoung.org.uk

Simon, 

I was born under a wandering star..

Love your Hermit 

x x x

 

Green Heart

My heart is big,

it knows no bounds.

It has grown from the nurture of my family,

and the love of friends.

As an adult it’s known unconditional love,

and because of this

it grew strong.

 

It also knows loss,

and carries the ache wherever it goes.

During my darkest hours

my heart stopped and turned cold.

Grief was so powerful that

 I never thought it would survived

the onslaught,

the trauma

and overwhelming pain…

 

But my heart did.

 

What was hollow inside began to fill,

as the blood of life

flowed through its chambers.

 

Grief is still present and it still hurts,

but my heart doesn’t fear it no more.

As love has warmed its soul.

 

The energetic vibration that is heard deep within

is the only sound a green heart makes,

when it decides to take a chance

to beat again.

 

Three years ago I stood in front of Simon’s family & friends, and spoke words of love for him at his funeral. It was a Thursday and the weather was cold but dry. I remember the music I’d chosen, the echoing piano of Debussy and a friend playing a Beatles song beautifully on his guitar. Two photos of Simon were next to his coffin and I clutched his rugby shirt, whilst listening to the celebrant read a passage from his favourite book.

After the service each person came to me in turn, to pay their condolences. It was very humbling to see so much love for Simon and myself. It was also overwhelming, so I began to shut down. My heart couldn’t take anymore, but in those early days I had denial. It was like a drug, a wonderful numbing narcotic but denial didn’t last forever. It started to wean itself roughly around seven months and at two years it no longer protected me. I became aware of what had happened to Simon and our life together. My heart had still not recovered.

I kissed someone new but my heart didn’t want to know. I began like someone other than Simon, wanting to be in their arms. My heart remained still.

‘Come on heart,’ I gasped. ‘Please don’t let this be it?’ But it wasn’t listening.

I thought about how it had once danced in rhythm with love. It was green, the colour of Chaka love, yet now wasn’t responding and remained black. It took some time, with the guidance of another but I realised it wasn’t my heart stopping me, I was protecting it. I was afraid of losing love again and the pain that followed. I thought back to the love Simon had given me, and I to him. To not feel this again is equally tragic, so I took a risk. At first I was blissfully unaware of my feelings, and this allowed love to sneak up and jumped into my heart.

I felt panic and excitement rolled into one. Shit! I thought. What do I do now? Do I ignore it or take a chance? The latter won. It’s been wonderful so far but not always easy. How can I still love Simon and be with another? How can another love me when I can be so consumed with grief.

What I’ve discovered is it’s not a competition and I don’t have to choose. Love and loss are not separate, they never have been. Love doesn’t erase grief either, I truly wish it did, so instead both have got to live together. Love has given me to strength to not be afraid of grief anymore.

My heart is beating again, and has enough love to shine the brightest green.

Simon,

I’ve talked to you about my new love.

I see you smiling and nodding your head.

There will always be a place in my heart for you.

Love your green hermit

ps, I can hear you calling me a ‘goddam hippy’ 😉

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

 

 

Walk the WAY

I want to walk.

I want to put one foot in front of the other and not stop. I’ve got no destination, just endless gravel beneath my feet. The horizon is in sight, yet the more I walk the further it moves away. It’s not possible to reach it and I don’t know whether I want to. If I did, what then? What would I find there and what come’s next?

There was a time when I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot with grief and fear. The world whirled taking everyone forward and I just sat. I had to learn to pick myself up and move with it, even if this was at a snail’s pace. I didn’t do it alone as I had family and friends to walk with me. I rekindled old friendships and made new ones. I wouldn’t have got this far without them.

Part of my salvation was with unique people all belonging to a group that no one wants to be a member of. Widowed & Young (WAY) is the only national charity in the UK for people aged 50 or under when their partner died. We are the same, all walking the WAY, supporting each other and providing a lifeline against a backdrop of death. 

I’ve made some life long friends through this group. It’s bittersweet as we would have never known each other in the life before our partners died, yet I wouldn’t want to be without them now. They have helped me in my darkest days and taught me to laugh and enjoy life once more. I’ve been very lost and even though I still struggle, I know I’ve got hundreds hands holding me up and walking with me.

So I’m going to walk.

Walk an endless pathway to a horizon that can never be reached.

I’m going to walk, in preparation to walk 167 miles around Ibiza next year.

And I walk for WAY, a group I don’t want to belong to but glad I’ve found.

Please support me in preparing for this challenge and walk with me.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/julie-clitheroe

https://www.widowedandyoung.org.uk

Simon,

You walked for miles

to see this beautiful world.

I now walk for 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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

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