I know your life is not perfect.
But some days, right now, when I picture the look of shock on your face as you read this blog…. I wish your life were mine.
I’ve read stories before, real stories that happened to real people, and recoiled at the horror of them, and selfishly, ashamedly felt so glad that it was someone’s else’s life, not mine.
I know, there are so many people so far worse off them me…
But I can picture you, right now. I can almost taste the bitter sweetness as you go to home to your partner, your loved ones, and hug them and be so grateful, in reflection of my story, that they are still there to hold.
I had moments like that, with Tony.Where I cherished everything we had, every moment of sweetness. Recognised how divinely lucky I was.
I’m so glad I did.
I wish I was still on your side of the wall, to feel that way.
Take those moments, run with them, if sometimes that is what this blog inspires in you.
I’ll be happy for you, I promise. Every time I hear that, that my writing has had that effect, it takes the sting off my grief, just the tiniest bit. It brings me comfort to know that love is blooming from here, from something so horrible…
Lilies growing from water.
The squelchy mud of this winter, drying into the dust of a summer that hasn’t happened yet.
An email, from a reader of mine named Jo….
“Please know that I haven’t stood by staring, but for want of a better word “abided” with you, head bowed respectfully, whispering a prayer for mercy from the universe for you and your bubba’s.”
I’m more than OK with that. Thank you Jo.
{ 26 comments… read them below or add one }
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Eeep, Lori! I just read this and blushed and then cried and then blushed again at my terrible sentence structure.
I so needed a reminder to be grateful. Thank you, Lori.
I'm never sure if I should admit to this, but ever since your tragedy has unfurled, it has made me look at my own life and issues through new eyes. You, and your nightmare is often my yardstick of how I know I should be feeling blessed, instead of feeling sorry for myself… And everytime I think this way I always finish it with "I wish Lori never had to go through this pain." It is beyond unfair.
Lori, I think about you and your little family so often, and because of you I am FIERCELY grateful for mine. Every afternoon my husband walks through the door is another day I consider myself the luckiest woman in the world, for his very presence.
Because.of.you.
xLL
I am with Jo on this one. xx
Lori, know that you are held up to the healing power of the universe and joined in heartache by so many who have lost dear ones. May each step we take lead the way to peace.
Meanwhile, I stand with you shoulder to shoulder on this side of the wall.
It sucks, but we are not alone…
You really are a gorgeous lady. x
Beautiful, stunning post. And I've had many of the same thoughts myself. Though the monumental tragedy to strike my own life was vastly different to yours, I can still relate to this post so much. You lost a husband, me my first born daughter at birth in completely unfathomable circumstances. I wouldn't wish my life or your life upon anyone, but I do wish things could be different for us both. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wished this happened to someone else, not me.
I just wish he were here, Lori. Like so many others here, I only started reading in The After. I for one am grateful to have another blogger around who isn't afraid to speak the absolute truth of grief. It is painful, ugly and just fucking awful and there is no point trying to sugar coat any of it or hide away for the sake of common decency. This is what it is. Because of people like you, I feel less alone.
Abiding always.
xo
Hello, I just discovered your blog this week, was taken aback at what I had stumbled upon, and I absolutely had to pay attention. See, I do still have my husband, but I'm scared as hell of losing him. He has several health problems. Last September he had double heart bypass surgery and that night his heart stopped 3 times. So I won't just be sitting back and watching, I will be absorbing whatever it is you can impart to me. I'm glad I found you.
& I quote:
"i feel like jo spoke for all of us, who check here daily, who think about you during our every day lives, who have sobbed while reading your posts and prayed for you. you are a light lori- a beautiful glowing light, and there are thousands of us standing around you, holding hands and just hoping for you. "
This. So perfectly, honestly, utterly how I feel as well.
Well said.
We stand by you, Lori.
Ah, my love. I don't wish for you my life (no one wants it right now!), but I wish for you to find joy and love again. I feel that you will because you live so head on, so without compromise. I don't know how you could not find it. xx
I never know what to say when I read your posts. I don't want to be that "I'm sorry" person who doesn't know what to say and then feels like a complete arsehole for not saying something more to remove the pain you feel, if it were possible, so I just follow, read, absorbe your words, pain, longing, and hide.
If I could trade places with you for 24 hours, to spare you the grief, loneliness, pain you have for one day, I would do it x
Thank you for this.
And for the reminders that in an instant my life could look utterly different. It's 10:30a my time, and I have already complained about three things that are objectively far from complaint worthy. I'm embarrassed about that.
This isn't the first time that I've read your words and been moved to let some things go, to love people a little better. But I think it is the first time I've thanked you for it. (I'm embarrassed about that too.)
Hugs from across the ocean, as always.
i feel like jo spoke for all of us, who check here daily, who think about you during our every day lives, who have sobbed while reading your posts and prayed for you. you are a light lori- a beautiful glowing light, and there are thousands of us standing around you, holding hands and just hoping for you.
i dont recoil when i read your entries. you make me look at my life and the world in a different way. and i know its accurate to say you have touched and changed my life, just as i know you have so many others. you have done so much good out of so much pain, lori. and for that, i think we all cant help but love you.
i wish so much that this had never happened, to you, to tony, to your babies, to everyone. my heart aches for you. you are in my thoughts, prayers and heart.
Hi Lori,
I have no idea if I have ever commented on any of your posts as normally I write huge long ones and then my stupid computer crashes! Anyway I just wanted to say that I have been reading your blog since "The After" and have also went back and read a lot of "The Before". I wanted to say a few things, the first being I know that you got upset as a lot of your "so called friends" did not think it appropriate what you were writing and saying it showed Tony in a bad light. If they had read the posts properly they would have realised that you were hurting and had to let it out somewhere. In all your posts that you wrote you always explained that the Tony that did this is not the Tony that you knew and loved. He was ill and unfortunately (as we all know) when someone is like that unless they admit they need help there is nothing any of us can do. I appreciated (and I know by reading your comments that most of your readers agree) you putting this out in the open and talking about it from the person who is left behind point of view. I have known a few people who committed suicide and although none of them were close close (and certainly not someone who I loved enough to marry and have children with) it hurt a lot and we all go through the mind set where you think is there anything we could have done. The bottom line is no there wasn't and we shouldn't punish ourselves. The other thing I wanted to say was I think you are very brave to have kept going not just for your childrens sakes but also for your own. Reading your blogs I understand that you have been through mental illness in the past (sorry I have misunderstood what you have written) and having been there myself I know how easy it is to slip back under when the proverbial hits the fan. I hope that you keep being as strong and asking for help if and when required. Keep using your blog as an outlet (remember it is ALWAYS better out than in) and remember that there are a lot of good people out there who do care about you. Even random people like me from Scotland who has never met you and probably never will but check in everyday just to see how you are doing. To finish off I would like to tell you something that my friend told me when my dad died and I was in absolute despair "the pain we are feeling now is the price we pay for all the good times we shared with him. If they weren't so good it wouldn't hurt so much" and it is so true. Take care of yourself and your children and keep writing. Aileen xxx
Funny you should say that. I read your blog so i don't feel so alone. I always know where you are coming from and it gives me comfort to know that i am not the only person to experience / think these things.
You don't know how deeply i've ached for you to have him back. Hearing stories of Tony from others, reading your blogs and feeling like I know you.
This is all so deeply fucked up. Not a part of me feels ok about it, feels like there is a "right" in this. I just wish i knew some words that could help you right now, even if it just gives you one hour of peace.
Lori, so much is so trivial in many of our lives. Yes, your blog reminds so many of us of just that. When times have been gut-wrenchingly painful in my journey with my kids – I have wanted others to feel my pain and experience what I have experienced so they could relate. So I can relate.
I pray for you – for you to have peace – and your babes too. I pray for your mind to have peace and joy and this grieving process will come as it should and bring you healing through the waves of sadness. That the tide of sadness will go out, and in will come the tide of peace. xxx
I read every word, but sometimes don't leave a comment because I just feel too much.
I wish you were, too, so many times. Just for you to have it all back
Lori, you're devine. You give me goosebumps. You're such a strong woman. An amazing writer, if anyone's story needs to be heard, it's yours. X
Lori, what an eloquent writer you are. Everything you say packs so much power, not just because of the road you are travelling but because of the way you think it through, the way you say it. I am not standing by staring either…i guess I think that in some small way I honour the love you and Tony share by bearing witness to what you have to say and by offering whatever support I can by being here to comment. So much love to you and your beautiful children xx
Such beautiful writing, Lori.
I read your blog and don't recoil. Rather, I am drawn because here someone who knows the depths of pain I've been in. Probably knows a lot more. And copes. And it helps me to keep going…
I know what you mean. Honestly, I'm so grateful for people like you who are brave enough to speak your truth, even if parts of it are raw and ugly. It gives me the courage I need to speak mine, and it helps me not take all that I've been given for granted.
I, too, am 'abiding' here with you, imploring the universe to give you and your babies a better day.
Dear Lori, Jo has "spoken" from her heart, the words that we all have whispered, so eloquently and accurately. I have wept with you and your babies, wishing that there was something more that could have been done to keep you all safe from this tragedy. I found your blog only a short time ago, so I was not privy to the Before until I had read the After. I have also laughed at yours & Tony's silliness in the Before and know that you carry that with you. You are always in my thoughts. Continue to be strong & remember to allow yourself to be sad when you are. You & your babies will be alright (X)