February 2011
One step forward, two steps back.
47 days.
47 of the longest days of my life.
I keep writing here, keep blogging- it feels like I keep saying the same thing.
This hurts. I miss Tony. My life truly, truly sucks at the moment.
But I feel like I can’t quite… this pain, this stifling, all consuming, dementing pain. It’s too awful to capture in words, on a screen, out loud.
Just too huge. There are no words, in the English language at least, to describe this.
The finality of it.
How someone can be there, one minute, filling up space, making noise, living life.. making the world turn.
And then… just… not.
Four and a half years, Tony and I were together for. After six weeks together, we bought a bought a house. After three months, we were living in it. Two months after that, I was pregnant.
And then we were engaged.. then pregnant again… then married.
And then he died.
We laughed about it, often, how quickly it all happened, how we just knew it was meant to be. It was tough sometimes, especially with a squalling newborn and two people who really didn’t know each other that well, but we made it.
Time and time again. We made it. We worked through problems and stayed together. Because, deep down, that was what we both knew.
That we were in love. that, to each other, we felt like family, even before we were married. That were in it for the long haul. there would be no divorce here. We would work things out.
And we were looking forward to the rest of our lives together.
We were looking forward to, one day,w hen our kids were a bit older, having a proper honeymoon. We were planning on a few holidays, a new house, to watch our kids grow up.
Not a whole lot to ask for. Simple dreams.
Why are they so fucking difficult now, when it was so simple? When we had all we wanted. Each other. Kids. Happy, normal little life.
It hurts, and I feel cheated. That what I wanted was so simple, that I was easily pleased. That it was taken away so horribly, so violently.
This really is as bad as it seems.
My head struggles to wrap itself around the fact that Tony, who seemed so immortal to me, who was the strength of this family…. that he’s gone. That the trials and tribulations of raising two children under four years old fall to me, and only to me, for the rest of their lives.
That I’ll never talk to him again. That I’ll never see him again. That his body, his physical presence, doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s ash. Trying to imagine that transformation, of skin and tattoo and solid reliability to flakes of white and grey ash, with pieces of pearly green scattered through… it feels like my mind may turn inside out, from the weight of that concept.
I was so secure in my life. I was so happy, so confident that we were blessed, that we would always be happy.
Maybe that is why my mind is finding it so difficult to do this final shift, to let go of the tiny subconscious strings of memory in the back of my mind that keep tricking me into thinking I will talk to him again soon.
I don’t trust my own mind anymore.
I don’t know who I am.
I read drafts of blog posts from Before, and remember sitting every afternoon in my sunny kitchen, waiting for Tony to return home from work, loving our simple little laugh and relishing in finding the humour in it.
I read those posts… she’s gone, the Lori that wrote them. The Lori who’s head was a place of jellybeans and sunshine and fairies and all that good crap, she’s been exploded, left as the core of herself.
Some days, the reality of this just… it feels like it’s frying my mind.
Some days, I wonder if I’m going insane too.
The old Lori, she was terrified of flying.
Tony was always badgering me to fly. I always said no.
I promised him, in the ICU, that if he came out of this, we’d fly. We’d go whereever he wanted.
And now… I’m flying anyway, without him. Part of me thinks he’d be so proud of me. Another part thinks, maybe, he’s just pissed, because it took him dieing for me to fly- I couldn’t do it for him when he was alive.
Oddly- or maybe not so much- I’m not afraid of flying, right now. If the plane starting going down, if the oxygen masks fell from the roof… the relief would be palpable. Thank God. It’s over. Bring it on. I won’t have to wake up tomorrow morning and do this again.
And I may just get to see my Man again, too.
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There comes a point, I think, when you know the worst of it is over.
It’s always going to hurt. We’ve established that. But, for some reason, it feels like there is a tiny little bit of sunshine.
The season has changed. Quite literally. It’s gone from Summer, to Autumn, overnight.
Thank God. Summer, it felt like hell. Again, quite literally. The pain, the shock, the trauma.. and the heat, the oppressive humidity.
If there is a Hell on Earth, maybe I’ve been there.
Or maybe I should not be so cocky. They say God punishes us for what we can not imagine.
He most certainly does.
But….
There comes a point, I think, where you get busy living.. or you get busy dieing.
Living. Sorting out the kinks in your life. Making limbo an OK place to be, where you have some control, until you know, financially, what is going on.
The next few months will be spent waiting.
But that’s OK.
I think we need time here, to grieve, to heal. In our Gingerbread House, which is still the Purple House underneath.
So… Lori. Of her essence.
Redefining my whole life.
Redefining what I thought about Tony, what I thought about me. Redefining my ideas on raising children, on dealing with raising a boy-child, on schools and locations and all those other little things I never thought I would be working out for myself. Redefining who I am…
Taking the bits of me, and sticking them back together. Incorporating this new person, this strong, sad person, into the rest of me. What’s left of me.
So,I gather up the pieces. The part of Lori that I left, screaming “He’s dead, he’s dead”, clutching her daughter in our back laneway… she’s back now, somewhere deep inside, being comforted by a part of my soul that makes cups of tea and teaches yoga and reads stories about fairies before bed.
In fact, it’s not just her. There’s quite a few pieces of me- a piece I left behind in the ER at the hospital, a piece I left behind in the ICU. A piece of me that grieves for my husband, another that weeps for the sunshine of my purple life. And another that is bitter and jealous, and misses being a ‘wife’, when she loved being married so.
All of them, gathered up. Along with five year old Lori, gobsmacked that her fairytale has come to end. Comforting each other, receiving comfort from the strength I never knew I had.
I’m stronger than I thought I was, I think.
Or maybe not. Strength isn’t optional, sometimes. Sometimes, you just have to keep going.
Because what else can you do?
Except hope, that if you keep going enough, keep pushing through the pain, eventually you are going to want to move forward… not just have to.
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Blog like no one is reading…
It always going to hurt.
That’s the thing, I think, that my brain doesn’t quite get. That it’s always going to hurt.
Because I feel like I’m waiting.
I’m not sure what for.
Tony, perhaps. that’s what it feels like. Like I’m waiting for Tony to come home.
I guess I am.
I don’t want to live here, in this house, anymore.
I can’t handle it. The shattered happy ever after.
But I can’t move. Not yet, not until Something happens with the finances.
Waiting.
For it to hurt less?
For my mind to process it a bit more?
I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s too sad, and it hurts too much, and my brain plays tricks on me every time I wake up. Every time, especially here, at home. I wake up and just for a second, half a second, I’m happy.
And then I remember.
What the fuck is going on here? How was it Christmas less than two months ago?
It feels like a lifetime.
I guess it is.
If someone had told me, at Christmas, that this would happen, I would never have believed them. Never. I would have laughed.
My whole basis of life, it’s gone.
How do I do this, without Tony? He protected us. Now I’m in charge, of two tiny people. That was always something we joked about- we couldn’t have another child, it would leave us outnumbered. And now I feel outnumbered.
Capable. It’s auto-pilot- nappy change, water, food, sleep. It’s the rest of their lives I worry about.
Because this is it. Single parenting, sole parenting, in it’s essence. All by myself.
I’m terrified.
How did this happen? We had plans. Tony was my life, from the second we had our first date- that was it. We were meant to be.
It was never supposed to end like this. We had plans, a whole life mapped out. A new house, in a year or two. A holiday, this year. Our kids in the local public school. Us growing old together.
We planned to retire to a lighthouse by the coast. And live out the last of our days, together, by the ocean.
I still can’t quite believe he’s gone.
I know, of course- I’ve been living with that reality for weeks now, although it feels like years.
I keep waiting for that exquisite purple happiness to come back. So I can grieve it, maybe.
Maybe it’s less painful if it doesn’t.
This hurts, dammit. This is beyond pain, beyond rage, beyond disbelief. This is everything I ever wanted, gone.
I was so easily pleased. I had my husband, my house, my kids. The only thing to cross off my list of Stuff I Wanted To Do With My Life was learn to ride a motorbike.
And now it’s gone. I had it all, and lost it a huge chunk of it. All before I turned thirty.
The future scares the shit out of me. Day after day after day stretches out before me. Endless. Painful.
I’m missing him so much, it’s driving me insane.
The image of him, slipping the rope on his neck, then hanging, lifeless, it burns into me, hurts me, hates me, every second of the day. And there is nothing I can do to escape it.
I feel like it’s going to drive me insane. There is only so much stress the human mind can take.
And my kids… I can barely speak about them. Especially my son. His pain, and mine, they reverberate against each other. I dread putting him to bed, as much as I love it. Because there is always a conversation about daddy, especially now that we send rainbows, from our heart to his in Heaven. Chop is so confused, hurting so much. Missing his best mate desperately.
And he checks with me, every time “Daddy’s in Heaven, up with the stars, Mummy? And he can’t come back?”
And I reply that no, he can’t, and we all miss him very much.
Just tonight, my little man continued to talk, sharing memories of his time with daddy that I can’t even recall now, it hurts too much. And he looked at me and said “No, Mummy!! Just talk to me, don’t be sad!!”.
And I realised I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
We’re lost without him. All three of us. The big kahuna, the protective, guiding, strong force in our lives is gone.
My children are without a father.
Forever.
I am raising two little people by myself, for the rest of my life. I never planned to do this by myself. I need Tony, who calmed me, who picked up the slack and smoothed out the stress.
What am I going to do? I know, it’s one day at a time, one foot in front of another, and time is the only thing that will heal it.
But it’s just so hard to keep going. When every day is so, so long, and it hurts so much. And the little things that made up our lives have just vanished.
No more beers with neighbours out in the street. No more beers in general. No more roast dinners, no more ironing his shirts at night. No more curling up on the lounge and watching movies together. No more weekend trips with the kids to the markets, to the beach, just out for a drive.
How could he do this? How could he just go and leave all this? We were so happy, fuck it. That what makes it worse. Just four days Before this happened, we were talking about how happy we were, how lucky we were, how good life was. We had our house, our cars, our pigeon pair of gorgeous children, our dog. A stable, suburban, happy family life. That was all either of us ever really wanted.
Why did he leave me? How could he do this? What am I going to do, without him?
The rest of my life. The rest of my kid’s lives. Without the man who was our rudder, our rock, our strength.
I’m terrified. Exhausted. And desperately lonely without my soul mate, without the company of a man. I miss having adult conversation. I miss having someone to nurture and take care who actually appreciates it. I miss cooking for him. I miss him teasing me.
I miss hearing him make our children laugh.
I thought it would be better, by now… I thought I’d be starting to feel better, glimpse some kind of light at the end of the tunnel.
I’m even sure what I’m searching for, what the light at the end of the tunnel should look like. Is it someone else who’ll love me, tell me I’m beautiful and take care of me? To wake up and not think everything is OK, for that one horrid second?
Or just to have a few hours a day where I feel normal, where I’m not just killing time, killing minutes, slaying seconds..?
I don’t know. I feel like I need a miracle.
Something, anything, to take the pressure off. To make me feel just that little bit better. Just for a moment.
Please.
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wish I wasn't moving soon. I'd love to explore some of the area with you.
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Well, fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!!!! Bugger and damn it to hell!! Poor little George; he was such a sweet little cutie. Nope, no need to tell Chop & Bump about George. They've had enough as have you.
Chop's had his 5th birthday?? Well then ♫♪♫♪♫ to Chop ♫♪♫♪♫…HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHOP!!!
Worm farm (compost heap). You can breed them & feed them, & little kids don't mind holding them. And they do good deeds in the garden. And they all look the same. Maybe some bird feeders in the back garden and you could teach the kidlets how to hand feed?? I don't know, I'm trying to think of something that won't get squished or run away. Something that you won't/can't become emotionally attached to.
Christmas … Bah Humbug!!!
Hugs to you all. I've loved reading about your big road trip with Chop the budding photographer… he's so cool!!! lol ((xx))
'TonyTrainHouse'
<3
I suggest a ferret. Mine are amazing, and so much fun for small children. Get one at a pet store, it'll be fixed and de-scented; and if you can get one that is still only a few months old, get two. I got one and he got fat and seemingly depressed. Ever since we brought home the second one, I have never seen a happier animal. So playful!
I know I already commented on the whole George fiasco, but I just want to say again – you and your kidlets are in my heart. (((HUG)))
Happy 5th to the Chop, and I hope you guys still manage to have a really nice Christmas. I'm wishing for you, praying for you, hoping for you. You all deserve some major, MAJOR happiness and light.
– Crystal
I'm so sorry the universe has f@cked you guys over again.
So wrong.
So not fair.
Did you notice you call it Tony Train House in para 2…?
Appeals to me somehow…
He is still very much with you three.
Huge hugs – I shall be thinking of you often over the next six weeks…
Hope you make it through without any other new heartbreaks to add to your already unfair load.
Susan xx
PS: Happy 5th Birthday Chop!
Oh fuck Lori. That is just bullshit. Really? How the fuck does this keep happening? Just get some goldfish. Providing the kids don't find them dead, you can easily replace them for little expense. Maybe dig a little pond for them out the back?
Your description of your TDL is EXACTLY what I've been saying for a few months now. I thought moving at the start of November would be cool, a month to settle in and then start the Christmas thing. I don't understand why it's taken me this long when usually a week is plenty but I just can't seem to settle. I still don't feel like this is home. It's so nuts.
Skylanders are good like that. My kids even pretend to be certain skylanders when they're playing outside. I will admit I have brought my kids lego for Christmas. We have a tub for it, and they're pretty good about it, but they are a bit older. It's mostly for Bluey, but sometimes Greenie helps and he is old enough that he understands not to destroy it.
Ah shit. People drive like crazy out in TTT and surrounds.
I totally agree with the time poor issue. I'm currently planning a 5th birthday party for this Saturday at my house. Currently thinking a play centre party might have been a better idea!
Oh for fuck's sakes! I'm angry at the universe on your behalf re: your cat. Come on, give the woman a break here.
My three are all obsessed with skylanders as well. They're awesome, but oh god, if only I didn't have to hear about them so much!
Oh Lori that's such sad news. When I saw your FB status I immediately thought of Eden's story when their dog died around the same time as her step dad and had a lovely story about how animals go to watch over the humans (or something like that I have a terrible memory so would have to read the story again). I like to think that this is true. Great big squishees and happy belated birthday to chop x
I'm so, so sorry about your kitty. That is so sad. x
I'm a firm believer in God and yet I find as I read of your loss of yet another loved one in your family I find myself screaming, WTF!?!? It is NOT fair at all for your young ones to have so much exposure to death, for you to have to explain it to them YET AGAIN. My heart aches for you and your family. And for poor George.
As someone who owned just about every pet in existance as a child I would highly recommend rats. They are social animals that handle the unintentional torture that small children heap upon animals quite well. If you decide to purchase more than one, make sure to purchase them all of the same gender lest they multiply exponentially over a relatively short period of time.
Cheers, and great strength to you during this tough time of year for your family.
~ Jill
Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. Poor you & the kids & George. Thinking of you all.
Can't think of much else to say except "That fucking sucks". Worthy of screaming, and so much more. However, lizards are good. Go for Dragons. Sure, they aren't fluffy and cute, but they have a certain cool factor for boys (and some girls). Sinister had his first dragon at 4yo. Still going strong. Buzz me if you want more details.