by Lori Dwyer on August 4, 2011 · 40 comments

I’m not sure if it’s the effect of Melbourne, making me feel like myself again, or if it’s the weather…

Spring has sprung here, it seems. A false spring, I think- I could not be that lucky. It’s going to get cold again. That’s the way life works.

Whatever it is, the numb bubble I’ve been living in since January has popped, leaving sticky shreds of sadness over everything that close to me.

The beach is no comfort, it justs hurts my heart. All I can think is there is someone missing here, someone who should be feeling the sunshine on his back and the wrmth in the air.

Instead, he’s out there, floating, in the ocean. And it’s cold out there, I know, I dipped my feet in the water just today…. somewher out there, it’s always cold.

Suddenly, all these things I was afraid of forgetting…. I can not get away from them.

I hear Tony’s voice in my head, talking to me, talking to our children. I heard him today, so proud of his son, who is toilet training hiself with minimal assistance from his mother….

It takes me by surprise, my children growing. Time passing.

The things Tony has not born witness to, piling up.

Why can I feel him so close, suddenly? It hurts. This hurts, more than being numb.

I’ve gone from months of not crying, a dry spell, to crying every day.

My internal voice has changed. Up until now, when I thought about my husband, a little voice in my head would scream to stop, that he was dead and he meant to leave me, he never loved me at all.

Something has changed. Now, I think of my husband and that little voice still screams ‘Stop!’, but only because it hurts. Because he loved us, and he should be here, watching his children grow… we should be a family still.

My Plan B, it’s not working. I am so desperately lonely here. When I came here, it was craving solitary healing and time away from everyone.

And now, I’m craving family and freinds and familiarity. To be closer to the people who love me, and my children, to be cosseted, if people will cosset me….

The anxiety attacks I used to suffer from, the hyperventilating, whooping panic attacks that have been so strangely absent since Tony passed away… they are back, almost every afternoon at 3 o’clock….

It’s the time of day Tony would have been home, you see. Would have walked in through our sunny back kitchen doors and given me a kiss and a hug, and I would have asked him about his day. We’d discuss the beautiful weather, how nice it was, how much we were looking forward to warmer nights and later daylight… our favorite time of year, when we’d sit together in our backyard courtyard and discuss our lives and kids….

And he’d delight in his children waking, take them swimming in our spa while I took an hour or so to myself.

And spring, this weather… it makes the memories so damn real, I can cut myself with them.


Right now… maybe the shock is wearing off. Maybe I’ve just un-numbed myself. Whatever.

But right now, I miss everything so much- my husband, my friends, my family, my life as it was…. I’m bleeding on the inside.

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{ 40 comments… read them below or add one }

Watercolor August 7, 2011 at 2:55 am

hugs and love


Hear Mum Roar August 6, 2011 at 11:03 pm

Do you think you're ready to make connections, where you weren't before? I mean, I have no idea, but I'm wondering if it'd help?


Miss Pink August 5, 2011 at 6:03 pm

Fucked if you do, fucked if you don't huh?


Tina Gray August 5, 2011 at 4:38 pm

no words, just a big squishy hug xx


Sophie August 5, 2011 at 4:23 pm

I'm so sorry Lori. Grief is fucking hard work and there is little anyone can do but wade through it. Urrrgh. Sending you hugs.


bigwords is… August 5, 2011 at 4:07 pm

Two things. Firstly, big big big LOVE to you. Secondly, I have no idea what cossetting means so am off to find out. xxxxxx


Brenda August 5, 2011 at 4:06 pm

Sending warmth and love to you, Lori.xxxx


edenland August 5, 2011 at 3:58 pm

Sweetheart. Love love love, cossetting, love and more love. Wrapped up tight. XOXOX


deardarl August 5, 2011 at 3:58 pm

The bottom fell out of my world between 8-12 months after Greg died. I went from coping to not coping. REALLY not coping. and I'm a coper. I have A1 mental health according to my psych, but I was a borderline D last summer.
I still hate birthdays and Christmas because they are just wrong and my mood takes a dive near those days. …
But that passed as well. I'm at 17 months out and life is …. OK. Not numb. Not crying ALL the time. But OK.


petajo August 5, 2011 at 3:58 pm

"Big squeeze" is how my daughter cheers me up. Here's a cyber squeeze for you… wish we could do more. PJ..xx


Fi August 5, 2011 at 3:55 pm

I'm sorry I haven't commented for a long while.
I'm reading, every post, every step of the way – just not feeling like I have anything helpful to say.

But please know that I am sending thoughts, and love, and healing energy your way. And wishing you peace, even for a little while, in this living nightmare you are surviving.



Donna August 5, 2011 at 3:49 pm

New seasons can bring with them the sharpest of memories. Can only imagine the jarring hurt, the fears, the pain. Only hope is that losing the numbness is making way to baby steps onwards, scary as that may be. And as always your blogging friends walk along side you every step of the way x


Mum’s the word August 5, 2011 at 3:48 pm

just big hugs and lots of prayers xx


Sarah August 5, 2011 at 3:29 pm

Still here, still loving you & still willing to cosset as much as you need.

Love, love & more love xxx


TheUrbanMum August 5, 2011 at 1:33 pm

Your story is a very sad one. In reading all the above comments you are showered in love and concern. May that help you in some small way…


Lynda Halliger-Otvos August 5, 2011 at 11:27 am

Echoing the others in the comment thread who express the love and caring that may help you when you feel rotten, I am so sorry this happened to you. It was a horrible event for which you will pay your whole life; I wish that weren’t so but the truth is that you will never forget. Hopefully the ups and downs will smooth out a bit as time passes. If I could reach you I would hug you and the kids.


Melissa August 5, 2011 at 8:29 am

I didn't lose a husband Lori, so this may mean nothing. But I lost a 43 year old mother who lived with us, so a part of our everyday life.

And for me, it was around the 7 or 8 month mark that the shock wore off and the real pain set in for a while. The reality.

And the milestones. Every new thing Alexander learned (she died when he was 11 weeks old), every single thing, in the back (or not so far back) of my head was accompanied with "Stop. That's another thing she's missing".

This isn't advice or helpful or comforting. Just saying I understand, at least a tiny bit. I wish I had something better for you. I wish I could tell you it's ok. But it's not. There's nothing ok about Tony being gone, so there's no comfort.

So all I have is an "I'm so sorry. I think about you every single day, without fail. I have thought about you every single day since that first plea on your blog. I will continue to think about you every single day. I have no doubt of that".

My love to you, Lori. xxxx


In Real Life August 5, 2011 at 4:28 am



Good Golly Miss Holly! August 5, 2011 at 1:50 pm

Oh Lori, I am so torn for you – To be numb mean to get through each day but to feel again, process it all may mean that you are another step forward in the grief process. I have no wisdom for you but I am here for you in any way you may need, even if just for a visit one day to break the loneliness for a little while x


Kerry August 5, 2011 at 3:21 am

Hi Lori,

I just recently found your blog, though now I can't remember through which other blog or maybe randomly, who knows, and I've now read almost every post you've written, and this is my first comment to you. I'm happy to finally speak to you.
I have never been through anything like this and cannot say that I understand or know what it feels like, but my heart goes out to you.

Although, as I understand it, grief takes on many forms, and to me, you're allowed to feel and express anything and everything you want. I hope you don't feel ashamed for you ups and downs of emotions and contradictory feelings about your new home, your family, or anything else. Feel free to let the tears run, as long as you'd like.

I wish there were words to comfort you, but know that I am sending love from the good ol' U.S. of A., chock full of hugs and warmth. xoxo


The Hand of a Jeanie August 5, 2011 at 11:48 am

Like some of your readers have said, crying is good for you. Think of yourself as a flower and your tears are watering the flower so you can blossom and bloom.

If that doesn't ease your pain, your bleeding, just keep breathing. In and out, in and out….

Thinking of you often and send you loads of love. Lori, you are worthy of being happy. xx


Wanderlust August 5, 2011 at 1:05 am

Love, love and more love. xoxoxoxo


Melissa August 5, 2011 at 12:14 am

Lori, maybe the reason you can suddenly feel him close by you now is that he is? I've heard that when a person passes there's a period of healing time for them and then they return to watch over you….I like to believe this is true. So please, in your heart, believe that your Tony is still with you in spirit, watching you and your babies and everything they do and learn. He might not be there physically and that hurts so much, but I'm sure he's there in spirit and not missing a single thing.

HTH *hugs*


Shellye August 5, 2011 at 12:14 am

Oh Lori, I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I wish there was more I could do. I feel so helpless and my heart breaks for you. What I do know is that believe it or not, you will get through this. I know it's hard, but keep going. If you have to cry, just cry. If you're going to have a panic attack, prepare for it.

(I used to have really bad panic attacks that would last for hours, and I could sometimes pinpoint when they were going to happen, like a feeling or an aura would indicate that it was going to happen shortly. I would call my pastor or a friend that I could count on to talk me through it. Sometimes, I would have them in public. One time, I was in a restaurant, and ran and sat by the doors, leaving my family at the table, and a young man at the counter where people paid upon leaving talked me through it, just told me stories and got my mind off of what was happening to me. I was so thankful.)

Call someone you can count on to talk with you during the episode. Another tactic that can help during a panic attack is to focus on something. Some people concentrate on a scent (something you like, but not anything that will stimulate nervousness, such as coffee).

A smooth stone is another technique that can help. It will give you something to do with your hands.

When I panic, I usually try to lay down in a cool and comfortable area of my house. If there's a place you feel more safe or comfortable inside your home, if you can, go in that room or area, and take your phone or whatever else you need. (Sometimes during a panic attack, I'm afraid to leave the area I'm in. One time, this happened without my phone and I couldn't call for help. Very bad feeling.)

If all else fails, know that you have a network of friends here at rrsahm who care about you and who have been there through each and every post at one time or another. We're all here for you if you need us.


Once A Mother August 4, 2011 at 11:16 pm

it is so hard when the numb fades and you can feel your grief, your loss, your pain so strongly. i am so sorry :(


Kymmie August 4, 2011 at 10:48 pm

And the next stage of mourning begins… Hugs to you Lori. xx


Salamander August 4, 2011 at 10:27 pm

I wish I could cosset you. I mean properly, not this cyber-cossetting business that feels quite inadequate. xxxxxx


Sharon August 4, 2011 at 9:09 pm

Its the pendulum swinging wildly babe. One extreme and then the other, on and on until with time it inevitably slows and finds its equilibrium.

Eventually you will find your equilibrium. In the meantime I think that feeling this is far preferable in the long run than feeling numb. If you are numb, you cant process your feelings and you cant move forward.

As much as it hurts, I think this un-numbing is a positive thing. 6 months after a trauma is a fairly standard time for feelings surfacing, triggers appearing and lots of self-questioning.

I'm so sorry you are missing everyone and feeling so alone. I hope you remember that you are not alone, you can get on the intertubes and there will always be someone here who will cosset you, from a distance.


Veronica August 4, 2011 at 9:06 pm

Sending love. xxxx


Melissa August 4, 2011 at 9:00 pm

oh Lori – hold on. I think grief ebbs and flows. Crashes and then recedes. I'm afraid changes (even just the change of season) will be hard for awhile – but I know you'll get through. hold on.
lots of love.


Aileen August 4, 2011 at 8:46 pm

Hiya, I know it feels like utter shit at the moment but the unnumbing (is that actually word?!) is good. I like what your friend Vicky has said and it is all to true. The emotions are better out than in and you will get through it. You have got this far already. Take care of yourself xxx


Vicky August 4, 2011 at 8:44 pm

In my time of the great sadness my best friend said to me, as I cried yet another bucket load of tears,

"Salt water is healing, be it from swimming in the sea or the tears that you shed."

Cry darling, let the tears flow, let them wash over you.

While we – your cyber family- aren't there with you physically, I know that we are there with you in spirit, wrapping our arms around you, holding you while you shed those tears. you are not alone.



Miss Cinders August 4, 2011 at 8:43 pm

Big fat squishy hairy hugs Lori xxx


Watershedd August 4, 2011 at 8:37 pm

Still wishing you peace. Still my … our wish for you. always an ear here, even if I'm silent.


Suz @ Segovia and The I Love You Song August 4, 2011 at 8:34 pm

I wish I knew something useful to say Lori xx


Grace August 4, 2011 at 8:33 pm

Ironic how beautiful warm weather can be such a bitch for memories.
Sending you love, Lori x


Glowless @ Where’s My Glow August 4, 2011 at 8:27 pm

Numb can be a blessing xxx


Veggie Mama August 4, 2011 at 8:27 pm

We're right here with you xo


phonakins August 4, 2011 at 8:26 pm

Oh hun.


Crystal Cheverie August 4, 2011 at 9:49 pm

I'm going to go ahead and agree with some of your other commenters here – your numbness going away isn't a bad thing. It's the first step to bringing the real Lori back. I can only imagine how much it must hurt, though. Just remember – you're never truly alone. We're all here, doing our best to bear witness and to help you through. Eventually the bleeding will stop. It has to.



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