by Lori Dwyer on March 30, 2011 · 28 comments

Being away, being Home, it feels like bleeding poison from a wound.

I spend most of my days still in some kind of fog…. I’m there, as Mum, but for anything else… I am on the outside, looking in.

It’s not a nice feeling. Sometimes I wonder if this is how Tony felt, just Before.

I think I’m OK. I marvel at myself sometimes, at what I’ve been through, and I’m amazed that I’m still able to act like a normal person.

But then I look at myself, at how disconnected I still I am, at how different I feel from the rest of the world. It occurs to me how much I think about dieing, and death, and I wonder if I’m normal at all.

I stood, two or three times, on a chair in my backyard. Stretched myself on my tippy toes.

So I could see what he saw, last. Before….

Me, I think. Me leaning down to scoop up in the Bump, who was standing in the back doorway, between Tony and I. I leant down to pick her up, I broke eye contact for a second…

And it was Over.

Some days, I wonder how close to pyschosis I am. Not so much, now I’m back Home… but especially when I was living in the Purple House that was not purpke anymore, but still felt purple.

My mind would snap at me, play tricks on me. I would see Tony from the corner of my eye.

It’s a relief to grieve. I feel like my mind finally started to wrap around this, seep it in.

Take the poison from my blood, and wrap it around my soul.

But I’m grieving, normally. I’m remembering Tony, and absorbing those memories, rather than pushing them away. I can talk about him now, think abiut him… approach his memory in conversation with my son, rather than the other way round.

I help him create a book of memories of his father, as we all struggle to forget the pyshicality of him. The space he no longer fills.

It’s easier, when we’re not filling that space too.

But it’s so hard, when he was so big and strong, and dependable. How can you not ache for the pyshical presence of someone who was more than twice your size?


In the days just after Tony died, in the days he was in the ICU, I felt him everywhere.

Things would happen, that were too much of a coincidence to be one. I felt him, there, I felt the shadow of his atoms, as he ran his hand down my face and kissed me goodbye.

Logically, my mind tells me that this is a socially acceptable borderline pyschosis. That this is what the mind does, when confronted with such suffocatin, shattering pain.

Surely that’s more than possible. The hormones released in the body during childbirth… the body’s own euphoria makers, to deal with the pain you go through. People with brain tumours report religious euphoria, brilliant visions of gods….

Surely, logically, this is the same? I asked my pyschiatrist- does this make me pyschotic? Does this make me crazy? Because I feel crazy.

No, she assured me. This is normal. Normal, acceptable. Healthy.

But then there other things… the ring in toaster. A message from a friend, which came from a pyschic, that used a phrase that only Tony would use, and made perfect sense to me…

Those kind of things… they make me wonder.

I’ve been nominated as one of the Aussie Mummy Bloggers with the X Factor. And, hey, I’d love an iPad. You can vote here…. believe me, it’s worth it just to see all of us in cartoon form…
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{ 28 comments… read them below or add one }

Karen April 1, 2011 at 2:02 pm

You're peeling away the layers of who you are…at your essence…and are keenly aware of the stuff most of us don't 'feel' or are 'aware' of. It's awesome! Embrace it.

I too have had strange, unexplained experiences with those who are dead, and other every day "stuff" that defies explanation. Don't question anything, just accept that and go with the flow.

Hugs to you. xo


Melissa March 31, 2011 at 9:50 pm

I, too, don't think you're "crazy" though the horror of what you're going through has certainly rearranged reality for you – and it may take some crazy feeling times in order for you to adjust to the new reality. Hang in there – I think (for what it's worth) that just going through the motions of daily life is one of the many ways to find your way back to feeling better. thinking of you.


Alienne April 1, 2011 at 7:46 am

I chose my blogging name because I felt like I was on the outside looking in – and that was a year after my husband's suicide. It fades, though I still feel it sometimes. There's no fixed way of grieving, or adjusting and you are not crazy. Stop worrying, Just let yourself be, let the feelings wash over you, give in if you need to. It will hurt less, gradually. You are a lot stronger than you think.


Cate March 31, 2011 at 7:50 pm

Not crazy and sooo deserving of an i-pad <3


Sam-O March 31, 2011 at 6:05 pm

To me you seem to be going down the road that is right for you.

Keep on going forward.

You are very inspirational. Thanks for keeping up the posts, even when they were hard and people were being crappy. They are little offerings of hope to yourself and many others.


Donna March 31, 2011 at 2:29 pm

Everything you have sensed, thought you've seen, the coincidences – its all true. I've had far too many spooky occurrences in my world to know that our departed loved ones are never too far away. Heartbreakingly they are NEVER close as you want, but for me its in my dreams where I can reconnect. I hope this happens to you – it is an amazing experience x


molly March 31, 2011 at 2:27 pm

I believe that what you are describing is what Jesus has told us is possible. I am sure Tony did stop by to say good bye and the ring…if that doesn't have the hand of a merciful God all over it..I don't know what does :)

Glad you are in a place where you feel like you can heal!


bloodsigns March 31, 2011 at 12:42 pm

I am here Lori. I just wanted you to know that. You have such a gift in your writing — I hope you know that.

I believe that our energy transmutes and …when its strong as yours was with Tony … I believe it.

As I've said here before I know, absolutely and without doubt that my father was with me for over thirty years until he knew that things were okay — that he could go.

Watching over.

With love,



Marianna Annadanna March 31, 2011 at 10:49 am

Beautifully written Lori, as always. Feeling Tony's presense is not crazy. It is real. Trust your heart.
Sending love,


Miss Pink March 31, 2011 at 10:41 am

I absolutely believe in other life forms. Idk why, i just, i know. When i used to live athome with my parents things would happen all the time. Blinds flick up, taps would turn ON. Not just start dripping but they would be running water.
And i haven't experienced a loss as great as yours. So if that makes you crazy, well welcome to the club!


Kelloggsville March 31, 2011 at 8:53 am

After I had my daughter I was very ill, my father came to visit me, he had been dead 7 years already, was it the stress and illness or was he really there talking to me? I don't think I'm mad, it all seemed and seems perfectly right and ok but I'm not sure. Does the mind play tricks on us or do all these things happen? So many people find feathers, I believe in the feathers. I think it is ok just to accept that we maybe will never fully understand anything. I also think it was ok to try to experience it from Tony's view to help you. It is a strange feeling when you have that "I wonder" and there is no answer really, you sort of just have to 'let it be'. It's a strange world. I wonder what is normal.


Lucy March 31, 2011 at 7:24 am

Not crazy. At all.


Toots March 31, 2011 at 6:42 am

Oh god Lori, who's normal? I couldn't name one single person I know who fits that godawful word. And I've seen a few too many things to think that no one ever tries to communicate After; not the easily-dismissible stuff, but actual people right there, objects moving with no physical interaction, smells, footsteps….

If you felt it, then it's real, it's your truth and to hell with 'normal'.

Love you dear girl. Keep being Mum and you're already 9/10s of the way there.

Sophie xxx


Wendy March 31, 2011 at 3:27 pm

A normal reaction to an abnormal situation – or that's what my shrink told me.

You aren't crazy, you are doing exactly what you need to do.

Hang in there girl, you have a lot of people pulling for you.


rageagainsttheblackdog March 31, 2011 at 2:58 am

I'll add my voice to those who are saying that you are not crazy.

There is so much that we don't know about our souls and I don't think it is the least bit implausible that Tony was reaching out to you to remind you that he did love you and that he still does.

I'm glad that you are grieving the way that you feel is right for you.



cassey March 31, 2011 at 1:31 am

Lady you be awesome, that is all.
Hugs, and I hope you win.


Mommisaurus Rex March 30, 2011 at 11:50 pm

I am so thankful that you are doing what is right for you, where it is right for you. I will continue to keep you close in thought each day. Big hugs from America. Oh yeah, I also voted for you. Hope you win that iPad!


JulieCottle March 30, 2011 at 11:41 pm

You're not crazy and they are probably not coincidences. I believe definitely not coincidences, but I like to like to keep an open mind ;-)I had many of them when my Dad died. Even before I knew it had happened.


A Daft Scots Lass March 30, 2011 at 11:40 pm

I love reading your blog. It almost feels as if we're there for you – by just reading your words you choose to share.


Michael March 30, 2011 at 10:19 pm

You're not crazy- no crazier than the rest of us, anyway.


thatblogyoudo March 31, 2011 at 8:59 am

What's normal? Big Hugs… love ya.


mamabred March 30, 2011 at 9:59 pm

I am in total awe reading your posts as you process all that has happened and is happening around and within you. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. Your words are incredibly original and comfortably familiar all at once. Sending trust to know that you can trust what you know. You know?



Doodah March 30, 2011 at 9:36 pm

Beautiful post. A little while after my father died, I made a decision to not be sad that he was gone but instead be happy to have had him in my life for as long as I did.
I think you're getting to a stage where you can do that too, kinda.


Hear Mum Roar March 30, 2011 at 9:25 pm

I don't think you're normal at all. I think you're extraordinary. You are turning into something, someone, above average.

I'm so glad you have the space and the (for want of a better word) comfort to breathe and grieve.

I don't think anything you've said sounds crazy at all.


Being Me March 30, 2011 at 9:16 pm

I felt the shadow of his atoms
That literally made me catch my breath. Lori, this is a beautifully written post.

And if you know just a little smidgeon about me, you'll know that I know those things aren't crazy. Otherwise, that makes me crazy too. And I know I'm not ;) Don't be afraid to go with what you've seen, heard, sensed, felt. Don't be afraid to not call it crazy. Know what I'm saying?


Glowless @ Where’s My Glow March 30, 2011 at 9:13 pm

I'm so happy you were able to move from the Purple House that wasn't purple any more. Because, literally and metaphorically, if you scratch the surface, the purple is still there, just covered up with paint.
And definitely way too many things to be a coincidence xxx


Tara @ Our Whirlwind Adventures March 30, 2011 at 11:35 pm

A beautiful post Lori.
And, I voted for all you ladies in the hopes you'll all tie & win an iPad x
Tara @ Our Whirlwind Adventures.


Good Golly Miss Holly! March 30, 2011 at 10:30 pm


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