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The moments that matter

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Thursday June 2nd. The final goodbye. So many people. Friends old and new. Family travelled from far and wide all together for you. To celebrate you, to cherish you. To say a last goodbye. 

As painful as these moments in life are, I know I have so much to be thankful for. I look around me at all these faces, all brought together for you. Each one holding memories, stories and loving thoughts of you. You are part of them, as you are me. Still living and breathing through us. 

I watched with sadness and huge pride as the new men of the family, your wonderful grandsons carry you up high. Arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, with steady, lovingly placed strides they accompany you to your final sleep. 

My boy O, only 14 years old, would not be turned. Try as I might to convince him that he didn’t have to do it, he was as determined as you would have been… carry he would! And you know what, I’m so glad he did. 

I have always been proud of my boys (of all the boys), but in that moment my heart was truly overwhelmed with such love for that young man. Stoic, composed, mature, and looking oh so handsome in his new black suit. He took his responsibilty seriously, lavishing all his attention and focus to ensure the proper delivery of the task in hand. 

He did you proud. They did you proud. 

It’s these moments that matter. When we are all together. Crying, laughing, hugging, caring and sharing. This is what life is all about. 

Family. 

Love. 

United in you. 

So now what? Life goes on…

Harsh but true. 

But know this little one; you will never be forgotten because you will live on; in those boys, in me, in your children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and friends. As long as there is breath in our bodies we will share our stories of you and you will live on X 

Good night God bless X 

Sad times

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Today I’m writing from a deck chair in my back garden. The sun is bursting the sky. O is out with his friends and the baby is fast asleep. You would be forgiven for thinking that right about now life sounds good.

Sadly that is not the case. For the past two weeks my heart has been heavy. Sad. Broken. Yet strangely calm. 

I have put off writing this post for days now in fear that I wouldn’t find the words to say what I truly feel. Yet, I also cannot let this time past unnoticed. Unrecognised. So here it is. 

On Monday May 16th, whilst sat in London at a conference with work I received a message from my mother that shattered my life as I know it. My darling Nanna who has been sick in hospital since Christmas wasn’t expected to last the night. 

My gasp at seeing this news combined with my instantaneously welling eyes, alerted my boss that something was wrong. I showed the message to him and was immediately bundled out of the room and sent home. Once outside and away from the curious eyes of the other participants I broke into uncontrolled sobs. 

I had to see her. I had to say goodbye. To tell her “I love you”. 

The train ride home, looking back now was a bit of a blur. I just recall checking my phone a million times dreading another message saying she had gone. That I was too late. She would never know!! 

Thankfully that message never came. 

Nothing ever prepares one to say goodbye; no pain felt before, no matter how hard you think you’ve had it previously, no matter how old or experienced. It’s horrible. Truly, madly stomach turning horrible. 

She looked so tiny, so frail. Half the magnificent woman I knew her to be. Gaunt and still. Try as she might to talk to us her body just wouldn’t comply. And her words were silent. 

I mustered everything inside of me to fight back the tears from forming but they were rebellious in their escape. My efforts were wasted. We sat. All of us. Aunties, uncles, cousins, grandchildren and mum, trying to be calm, to not scare her. No idea between us if she knew what was ahead. If she had any level of comprehension of the hand she had been dealt. That soon she and my granddad would be reunited in eternal peace. 

The feeling was somber but I don’t think I would be wrong to say that it was somewhat conflicted. We we watching her suffer more and more every day, and had been for such a long time. Her mind active but body weak. Her frustration growing daily at her inability to jump outa bed and just get on with life. Her pain and suffering literally shrinking her before our very eyes. No one wanted her to go, but we also knew that she didn’t want this. Such a lively woman, sharp, whitty, independent, proud. She was also (god awful) stubborn and always right (even when so wrong)! But that was who she was and we loved her despite it. Now here she was almost lifeless before us. We hoped for her that the suffering would end soon. But feeling like that is so hard when you selfishly don’t want them to go.

In her typical way, she had other ideas. She clung on for 6 more agonising days, finally passing peacefully in her sleep on Saturday May 21st.

I had been to see her that morning. I sat holding her hand and watched as she slept. When it was time to go, as I had done each time I had left her side the days before, I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. Not knowing if it would be the last time. So as I gave her a soft but lingering kiss on the forehead I said “Goodnight, God bless. I love you” and each time without fail the tears would form as I glanced behind me before my exit.

I hadn’t been home long when the call came. I saw “mum” appear on my phone and I knew. I sat to answer. She was gone. I literally broke. Right there and then the flood gates opened. Even now writing this my eyes are streaming recalling that moment. 

So now I sit today in my garden two weeks on, waiting to visit her in the chapel of rest before she is laid to ground on Thursday. 

The time has passed so slowly since. In an odd way life moves on. Things seem normal and then there are moments when it hits me all over again. She’s gone. Never again will she share stories of me as a toddler waving around her priceless Royal Albert dinner service. Or the time I got my granddad drunk on 2 hot toddies. Never again will I jump from sitting on her finger whilst she rolls around in hysterics laughing- (that one never got old for her)! 

There were so, so many great times we shared, and too many tears along the way. But regardless of the situation she was, and always will be a formidable woman. A force to be reckoned with. A trait that I hope to have inherited from her. 

But now she sleeps. 

To my Nanna always and forever my inspiration, I will love you with every breath in me. 

Rest in peace my darling X

Sky’s above

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Up here in this moment all is calm. Pastel blue sky’s as far as the eye can see. The only mark on this vast mass of Mother Nature at her best are the mallow clouds backlight by the early spring sun. 

I can breath. Up here away from it all I can relax take a moment to just sit. Not to think. Not worry. Not fret. None of it matters, not up here. 

But soon I will be on the ground again. And the troubles will return. My inner turmoil will rise up once more like soldiers on the front line ready for the next phase of battle to commence. Always alert, always on guard. 

For some time I have said that I know he won’t let me get away with beating him in the divorce; that this war was far from over.  I may just be about to deal him his next hand.

My boo and I are en route to our beloved Germany. And although I’m hugely, overwhelmingly excited to see my friends, to date my beautiful city of Nuremberg, to be alone in this familiar space. I am petrified to my core. 

My last contact with him (via the lawyers) resulted in another round of threats against me. Threats from him to take Legal action against me in some vain attempt to scare me, to make me the bad guy, to justify his own behaviour.  No basis, no reason, no provocation or cause just because he can and he has before.  And it worked then. Why wouldn’t he try again?  Now he has no control nor has he had any reaction from me and he just can’t stand it. He will do all he can to cause me pain to make his own feel less isolated, he knows no different. 

I try where I can, up here to empty my mind if these thoughts.  It’s impossible. As we fly closer and closer to our destination my pulse starts to gain pace. The anticipation of passport control, the how do I protect my son from seeing this happen, the embarrassment of being hauled away by the German airport police for some crime I never committed- I’ll spend months and thousands of euros to fight nothing more than an outlandish allegation, well it literally brings my heart out of my chest – bile boiling up in my throat. 

So why am I going? Feeling like this why on earth would I do this to myself?  

My boo needs this. Deserves this. So do I. We were forced out of a life we loved, a life we created. Gone forever through no fault of our own, and I need to claim it back for him.  

Secondly I refuse to let this fear hold me back. If that’s what happens it happens. I have no control. But neither will he. He will take joy, pleasure no doubt that his latest plan worked but he will see that no matter what he does I will stand back up again. It may take a while but I will.

I have to show him that I won’t continue to live in the shadows of his darkness. I won’t allow him to cast his depression over me, his grief and his pain is his to keep and I refuse to allow him to inflict it upon me.

Yet here I am writing this. With no plan to actually post until we are safely back in Great Bretannia- just in case! 

Well maybe I’m not that brave… Or possibly I’m just being sensible… Yes that’s it. I’ll go and enjoy myself safe in knowledge that he has no clue.. Simply I’m not going to kick the hornets nest. 

Written in the sky’s above on March 18th on the way to Munich. Posted upon return on Sunday 20th

 

I’m here!

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Wow. I’m here, I did it! I finally claimed my own little corner of the virtual world.

After almost 12 months of thinking and dreaming about what this could look like, where it might lead I’m here and I’m doing it.  One small step at a time I’m doing it. On my own. For me! And my god it feels good!

This little blog ‘o’ mine is the first brave step I have made in defining the new me. Who is the new Jen? The Jen who will no longer be known as the one who lost her husband, best friend, home, life, job, career, mental well being and financial security at the hands of those closest to her??

I don’t know at this point who this new me is but what I can tell you is this; this ride is bound to be crazy and hectic and scary and thrilling and overwhelming all rolled into one. I’m going to want to run and cry and laugh and scream everyday, and some days I will. But no matter what I’ll march on. After all I have two amazing boys who need me.

So so stop by, say hi or simply be a spectator either way come along and enjoy the ride!