The grief monster has reared its head once again, grabbing me by the throat, pinned me to the wall, saying: “you will grieve...”
I wrote this post on 29 January 2017, but never published it, it was too raw, too difficult for me to read back, let alone to allow it to be read by people out there in the ether of the online world. I have done a lot of personal healing and growing since this very bleak day earlier this year, so now I feel I am ready to let it go and allow others to see the raw emotions that made me write it in the first place.
An ode to life and sticking two fingers up to cancer...warning contains explicit language
Eighteen months after the death of my husband, I look back at what my life has been, is now and hope will be, grateful that despite all the pain his illness and death has caused me and my children, I feel as if I have wings in my heart once again...
Twelve months have passed since you, my love, took your last breath. I thought in my naivety that, because I'd known for a long time that you were going to die, I was ready to face life without you. How wrong! You brought light into my life, you always had laughter on your face and … Continue reading Twelve months
Christmas has been cancelled in our home. There are no decorations, at the specific request of my children, we're not having the traditional Christmas meal...
Finally today has also been a reminder of how awful this grieving process is. If the only way people can understand grief is to experience the loss of a loved one I wish I had a superpower that allowed me to stop anyone ever to have to go through it.
...the Rio Olympics have brought home how different our lives are, without Michael here to watch the whole range of events, the little enjoyment I have experienced is always tinged with the acute sadness of his absence.
Brave are the refugees fleeing war-torn countries, risking life and limb in the hope they will carve out a better life for their families in a far away land. Brave are the doctors and nurses...
Friday 17th June is "wear something yellow day" to raise awareness of the great work hospices do in looking after patients with life limiting and terminal illnesses as well as their families. I will be doing my bit by wearing something yellow; watch this space!