Category: despair

882 days

I almost drove past the accident site yesterday.

I haven’t even been to that side of town since The Accident.

But yesterday, the freeway was closed and so I went the old way we used to go to work.

I had thought there would be more distance between The Bad Place and the turn-off.

I didn’t realise I could see The Bad Place from the traffic lights.

I didn’t realised I could see the black mark on the wall.  Still.

….and I am right back in the hell of feeling your loss in everything, every minute, every day.


I don’t want to live for much longer.

I am not suicidal, I just don’t want a long life.

I can only stand this one for as long as it takes the kids to grow up.

After that, all bets are off.

Work gives me some relief – I am so much better for working every day, doing something I am good at.
But work for next year is so uncertain due to the new Queensland Government’s job cuts. (On a side note – I wonder how many suicides those job cuts are responsible for??)

People don’t get the difference between feeling suicidal and just not wanting to live a long life – it is different.

I remember feeling angry at your mother for not getting a lump on her breast checked until after it had metastasised and abscessed.

But now I get it – your father  had died and this was her “out”.

She wasn’t suicidal, but she was done with life.

It makes so much sense now….

I miss you,

I love you.




Dear Darl, I’m 21 again.

761 days.

My birthday again today.

I did not want to celebrate.

I did not want to do anything but have a non-day.

A doona-day.

A day of not talking to anyone or even getting out of bed.

I think I am depressed.

If you can get intense depression that seems to last a single day every so often when life just sucks beyond the telling of it.

But in other ways, I started falling when you died and I’ve not stopped since.

There are just some days when it hits hard, and today is one of those days.


I used to look forward to my birthday.

When I was little I would get so mad because Dad’s birthday was 2 days before mine and that middle day just dragged on and on while the anticipation built and built.

…and then you came along and you were my birthday present.  Seriously  how lucky was I to have you 🙂  I used to pinch myself that I had the best present of all “forever”. I used to think how lucky I was to have found you so I’d never be sad or lonely ever again.

Boy was I counting some unhatched chickens there huh?

But now, I just see an endless stream of birthdays stretching out in front of me.  Another 21 years … and then another …and probably half that again (if you use a prediction based on the average ages of the women in my family when they died).

…and that’s too much for anyone.

I know I have to stop looking at the distance and just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.  staying upright.  shuffling along.

But it’s hard not to count those lonely birthdays ahead of me.

I miss you

I love you.


Day 615…

I had the clearest dream about you last night.

You weren’t dead but had been away working for the past year and a bit.

…and I mean *away*.

You were on the moon or in Africa or something.

…and you came home and we were all over you.

…and you told us how much you missed us and love us.

…and I felt safe at last.

But then I half woke up in the early dawn light and reached for you in that half-asleep / half-awake state and couldn’t figure out why you weren’t lying next to me in our bed.

… and I searched the house for you before remembering.

….before remembering that you weren’t here at all.

…and I crumpled to the floor with  gasping sobs – the kind that suck the air from my chest and double me over.

Part of me still doesn’t accept that you are gone forever, and that part will keep waking me up in cold sweats for the rest of my life.

…part of me will always be searching for you.

…never understanding that you are gone.

I miss you.

I love you.



Sadness: Table (oil)

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it’s been 19 months and 11 days since my life ended.

when my REAL life ended and this slide into insanity began.

I hate this life.

It is wrong.

You are not here when you should be.

I am not meant to be doing this shit by myself.


You were my best friend.

My husband.

My partner in crime.

….and you were meant to live with me until we were old and senile and a burden to our children.


This life … it is just wrong and I hate it.

I want to have a tantrum and kick and scream and hit and yell and Make Things Go Back To How They Were.

I want to pick and choose who lives and who dies … why is my tool of a boss alive and kicking and you are dead?
Why wasn’t my beautiful friend’s cheating husband the one smashed to pieces by a truck?
Why are YOU the one that had to die?
Why am I the one that has to live?

I want to punch and kick and scream and stab and reverse time to the Before through the Sheer. Force. Of. My. Will.

…and when I am spent I want to cry and sob and shake every person whose life is still whole and make them understand how completely and utterly horrible this life is.

this half-life.

this wasted life.

I died on March 1, 2010 and I just have to keep breathing in and out until my body gets the message that its heart is dead.

…and I got the coroner’s report in the mail yesterday and it doesn’t change a fucking thing.  Life still sucks and I still don’t have a reason for it….

I miss you more than ever.

I love you.


Dear Darl, it’s 12 September, 2011

560 days….

Last week, I fell.


Too many stressors on top of an already stressful life.

…and then the person who keeps work flowing my way resigned.

and I panicked.

Because she is the only person in admin who gets it.

But I met with her, and while she isn’t able to give me more long-term certainty, she moved mountains to keep me employed for most of next term.

….and instantly, my spirits lifted.


I’m happy that I am employed until December, but I’m scared that my emotional health swings so wildly around having job security.


In the past, I’ve never had job security.

I’ve only ever had contract work.

But  it’s been OK because  a) I’ve never been out of work, and b) I’ve always had you there  earning an income to provide for us if I couldn’t.

Now, I need that security.


I miss you.

I love you.



468 days…

I’ve felt you around a lot lately … maybe that’s why I haven’t felt the need to blog so much.

Little things.

Happy things.

Sad things.

Sobbing in the shower things.

… I felt it all and cried for me.

For ME!

Your life is over and so is mine.  I just have to keep alive for another 50 or so years.

All that potential.

All that positivity.

It’s finally broken.

I have always tried so hard … worked hard, studied hard, loved hard.

…and yet it has amounted to this life.

this life.

This life that had so much potential but now lies in tatters at my feet.


…and in the middle of all this self-pity, a girl you used to work with sent me this:

 It’s so hard to explain, I have lost my grandpa, my aunty, my uncle and my baby cousin and losing Greg and J was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. I cannot even begin to feel what you and your family must go through every day, you are all truly in my thoughts all the time. I only worked with Greg for just over a year but I totally get it when you say he was a force of nature. I am glad that you still talk about him and you have your precious memories. He helped me in so many ways at [work] and I considered him a great friend. I am sure you have been told this by so many people but he was always talking about you and the kids and I guess that is why I wanted to let you know that you’re always in my heart because even though I have only seen you a few brief times I feel as though I know you a little better through all of his stories that he shared – I don’t think there was ever a day he didn’t come and tell me a story about you, K,  H or the farm.

I can’t picture this girl.  I don’t recall you talking about her that much… and yet she sent flowers on the anniversary of your death and then this message.

…. and instantly I  got this message in my head…

this message:

I am loved beyond measure.

…and the crushing sadness was chased away.


433 days…

Another celebration day we have endured.

I hate these days.  Birthdays.  Easter. Christmas.

They just pour salt on the wound of your absence.

It was most definitely worse that last year’s mother’s day when we were still in a fog, still surrounded by people desperately trying to make it OK.

I read the facebook entries of Mums who were pampered today.
Loving husbands who have taken up the slack and cooked and cleaned.
who selected gorgeous gifts of jewellery or chocolates with the kids to go with the hideous hats and toxic-waste-masquerading-as-“luxury”-body-lotion that the kids picked out from the school Mother’s Day stall.

…and I felt sad a lonely.

until I remembered that you were complete crap at any and all presents anyway, and as for being pampered, the most  I could have hoped for was a coffee brought to me at morning tea.


and I realised something about K today….

Each time she leaves my side, be it to go to bed or to go to class…. she says:

“Goodbye Mummy.  I love you.”

She often adds “Sweet Dreams” no matter the circumstance.

and it hit me like a punch in the gut that she does this because of the morning of March 1, 2010.

She was not having a good Monday morning that day, and instead of hugging you and telling you she loved you during family cuddle time, she was grumpy and stormed off.

… and THAT is the last time she spoke to you.


and she’ll never forget that.

I asked her about that just now and she said she thinks your death is her fault.  She promised God she’d be good for a whole year if he kept her family safe.

and according to her, she WAS good for a whole year.

but her family weren’t safe.

I tried to explain that it’s not her fault.

That it’s nobody’s fault.

but I don’t think she believed me.

We miss you.

We love you.


428-429 days….

Back at work – hurrah!  I do better when I’m at work.

…and I was relieved to find that the kids (mostly) hadn’t lost “it” over the holidays and we were basically able to pick up where we left off.  Not bad for a 3 week break from literacy groups.

Of course that also meant the resumption of staff stop meetings.  Most boring waste of an hour I know of….On the up side, we ate the fish we caught on Monday and they were yummeh.


… and then I got petrol and checked the air in the tyres and had a vision of you checking the tyres and burst into uncontrollable tears.

It’s weird the things that set me off.  I cried in target last week because I wanted to go and buy you a new t-shirt.

These little things catch me off-guard and send me spinning back into despair.

… which isn’t as deep as it was at first.

But it’s still deeper than I ever would have thought imaginable.

I miss you.

…and by that I mean I *miss* you.  Desperately.  I still can’t believe that you are gone.

I love you.


day 418-419…

A gorgeous day.

We lunched at my friend Michelle’s place.

Michelle is the aid I work with – she is teh awesomez.

and her hubby D is building the deck.

So I was Very pleased to visit their house and see D’s handiwork – he is an amazing builder: their house is a brilliant re-model of a post-war timber house.

The kids played with their kids while Michelle and I caught up having not seen each other for over a week.

But then I went to leave and the world started to spin and I thought I’d either fall down or throw up or both.

I made it to the lounge chair and sat down … and was OK within minutes.

So I got up again to leave and made it to the car and felt hot and dizzy and nauseous again … and Michelle decided that i shouldn’t drive home so she drove my car and D and their kids followed us back to our house (actually, D beat us because I couldn’t think of the quickest way to get there and he’s done the run between houses for a few days now).

…I thanked them and apologised again and again until Michelle told me she’d slap me if I said “sorry” again.

I crawled upstairs, turned the tv on for the kids and went to bed …. only to be woken up within 20 minutes by the folk partying (hard – at 4:30 pm) at the back.

You remember those parties that their daughter would have while her parents were away?

Well …. her parents were away.

I pulled myself together long enough to get the kids bathed and fed and into bed and then had to prize my eyes open whilst waiting for clearance for The Bunny.

Finally got to bed and realised that the party had turned into some sort of non-stop drinking-song football hooligan choir with 5 non-stop hours of  delights such as “chug, chug, chugchugchug” and “drink, drink, drink it down” and I believe something that went along the lines of “fuck, fuck, what the fuck”.

Every word shouted by 20-something blokes with surprisingly loud voices.

At 11pm, I gave up and crawled into H’s bed at the other end of the house.

After a while I realised that the noise had abated … or been muffled somehow (praise Santa) and finally at midnight I crawled into our bed and slept.  Any other night and I would have been OK, but  the fainty dizzy spell thing had made me feel Very tired and a little bit vomitous and all I wanted to do was sleep.


I was tired and grumpy Sunday morning and let the kids eat whatever they found on the floor for breakfast … not quite so evil as it sounds as the floor had a fairly good covering of eggs (in wrappers and the floor had been mopped the previous morning).

Then I dragged myself behind the kids who were eager to go us all to church where I maintained my non-participation role whilst allowing the kids to experience the religious service.   Which was surprisingly good, from the children’s story to the sermon (if only I believed any of it).

But the irony of the choir singing “death hath lost its sting” really got me though.  It’s complete bollocks.

Death stings.

A lot.

On the up side, I don’t’ cry in church anymore – nothing seems to touch the sides.  I can love all the beautiful  people there and let the message wash over me without analysing it or getting upset.  Progress!


So, we did it….

…  we got through another awful holiday without you.

I was cranky and mad and sad, but I didn’t permanently disfigure anyone or yell obscenities in the street so I count that as a win.

Hopefully, there isn’t a rugby team drinking in the backyard tonight and I will wake up in a better mood tomorrow.

I miss you.

I love you.


414 days…

A bit more of the same today.

I am stress cleaning… as much as I hate cleaning.

Emptying cupboards, purging, reorganising.

It feels quite good to have these things done, organised, clean ….  but while I am doing this, one of the kids will invariably coat the floor in melted chocolate or sprinkle weet-bix flakes from one end of the house to the other.

Still, it could be worse…

… they could be sprinkling Coco Pops from one end of the house to the other.


We went to the library this morning and then fluffed around for the rest of the day.

…and D came about the deck to explain he couldn’t start until the rain clears.  I like D. I am looking forward to having that deck.


By tonight, the stabby headache I’ve had for the past 2 days has become a dull thud at the back of my head… and I became Bad Shouty Mummy.

Because I am tired and my head hurts and there’s nobody else to step in.

… and I sit here, feeling sorry for myself and wondering where the hell you are.

I hate that you aren’t here.  That I can’t turn around and hug you.  Yell at you.  Ask you to make dinner … do the dishes .. something … anything.  To let me have a night off.

But mostly that you aren’t here for me to hug.  To run my hand over your scars.  To look into those blue eyes and see your soul.

…and just like that I’m right back at raging WHY you died.


It still makes no sense.

I miss you.

I love you.