Dear Darl, it’s 6 November, 2011. Dreaming again….

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.

XA

 

Dear Darl, it’s 12 October, 2011. Reaction to the coroner’s report…

Image via Wikipedia

 

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.

XA

Dear Darl, it’s 12 September, 2011

560 days….

Last week, I fell.

Emotionally.

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.

Please.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

Dear Darl, it’s 26 August, 2011

542 days or 1 year, 5 months, 24 days

Birthday week has come and gone in a blur of excitement and emotion.

Surprisingly, I was upbeat for both the kids’ birthdays because I had awesome presents and had planned The Best Party Ever (according to the kids and their friends).

K’s birthday was a school day (for her, not me – I had that week off ).  I had managed to buy a cheap laptop which is something that she’s wanted for over a year and something that she is beginning to need for school (and hey  – I’m NOT sharing mine).  She was completely bowled over.  She’s currently playing maths games on it so I count it as a resounding win.

H’s birthday was the same day as their shared party.  I had managed to pick up a second hand DSLite for him – also something he has begged for and would never had got aside from a friend selling her daughter’s unwanted one cheaply.  I have a photo of the instant he realised what it was that will make an appearance at his 21st.  His expression is priceless.

But the party was HUGE!! I had booked Professor Jellybean as the entertainment and it was hands-down THE best party I’ve ever seen.  She brought all the equipment with her including tables and chairs as well as the science equipment.
She had brought lab coats and safety glasses for all the kids and they looked adorably geeky.
She was patient and methodical with the kids’ experiments where they turned agar into goo worms and made artificial snow.  To end off the afternoon, they let of “rockets” (large air-filled bags).

….and I knew you were right there with us.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

Dear Darl, it’s 24 July, 2011. Satisfaction.

510 days….

After becoming increasingly frustrated with the other, young (stupid, insensitive) teacher last week, I decided that I. Was. Done. helping her out.

This came after she brought her class down to our (enormous) oval about 20 minutes after us and set up within 10 m of my class for her fitness session.

I was winding up our science experiment which involved an unfair relay (easiest way to show kids that we need to be fair when we test in science is to make a game unfair).

She starts shouting instructions to her class WHILE I am talking to mine.  THEN she told some boys in my class to move because they were in the way.

FUCK it love – you have an entire oval to do your shit on and you bring your class within a few metres of mine and THEN complain???

…when I went over to ask her to give us some space  to finish up (quietly so the kids couldn’t hear) she said “it doesn’t really matter what you get done because you are only the supply teacher”.

Rioght.  It’s on Biatch.

I was civil to her for the rest of the week, but also  supremely unhelpful.
“So sorry, we are still using that equipment (that I brought from home), you’ll have to find something else to use”.
“Oh darn it, we finished up the remaining (resource I brought from home), you’ll have to find your own”.
“So sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted that – I only photocopied enough copies for my class”.

All done in my patented passive-aggressive style.

While I hate having to work like that, I felt so much freer and better.  I wasn’t frustrated.  I wasn’t feeling angry.  I wasn’t feeling upset. I was feeling on top of everything and I was flying!

… meanwhile, my class shone like the diamonds that they are.

….meanwhile, my kids begged me to stay until the end of the year.

….meanwhile, we got on with the business of  teaching and learning.

…..and meanwhile, the special ed teacher who works with some students in my class casually mentioned that the spec. ed unit was really happy with the work I’ve been doing with their kids.

….and meanwhile the spec ed aide that works in my class mentioned my work with the head of spec ed.

…. and meanwhile, the head of spec ed has passed on his recommendation that I be given my own class next year to the principal.

 I know.!!!!!

Nothing is set in stone.

I still might not get the job I want.

I still might get stupid, nasty, bullshit crap pulled on me from young idiots who think they know it all.

But that doesn’t matter to me, because it feels like my work has been noticed.

It feels like I have come out shining despite what seemed to be two deliberate attempts to disrupt my teaching*.

…and it feels like you had a hand in this.

…. it feels like you did some whispering for me.

Thank you.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

 

*There was another incident earlier in the week involving a photocopier, me trying to be helpful, and a wild goose chase that could have put me in the wrong place at the wrong time were it not for a fabulous aide).

 

Dear Darl, it’s June 23, 2011. Sole parents are superheroes.

479 days….

I am so sick of putting up with idiots at work.

Specifically, one 20-somethings that knows EVERYTHING about kids.

She was in a flap because she had to look after her boyfriend’s 3 yo niece that evening and she was feeling ill.

So I suggested she use Mother’s Box-shaped Helper (TV) and some well placed DVDs while she reclined on the couch with a few advil and a box of tissues.

I’ve used this tactic many a time in the Before when Greg wasn’t home.

I remember being heavily pregnant with H, feverish with a cold and literally falling asleep on my feet whilst looking after a very adventurous 22 month old K.  Some well placed blocks and a Boo-Bah’s DVD bought me a little nap which got me through the day.

Well.

Obviously I know sweet FA about kids compared to a 26 yo childless teacher because, and I quote, she has been “teaching for longer” than me.

Yup.

Suffer in your Kleenex then love…..

…and I hope to God that she never has to learn the hard way that sole parenting requires a few tricks and compromises to get through the day.

It’s NOT the same as single parenting.

Nobody else can rescue you from your children’s exuberance when you are too  sick to care for them.

Twice the work on half the income…

Literally.

Sole parents are Superheroes.

~~~~~~~

I miss you

I love you.

XA

PS – big things are happening in blog land.  Tonight, my first guest post should appear on Widow’s Voice.  Exciting!

Dear Darl, it’s June 12, 2011. The kindness of strangers

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.

 

Dear Darl, it’s June 5, 2011.

461 days…

Cousin S joined the kids and I for soccer this morning.

Which was lucky because “Craig” was back and even though he looked at me every time I seemed to raise my head, he didn’t come near us.

…and for that I thank Cousin S.

Given that S used to coach kid’s soccer and plays quite well himself, it was good to have him there this morning – he put the kids through a few drills before they started which was fun for all.

~~~~~~~~~

K was sick all last week.  I took her to the Dr on Friday as her cough was quite bad, and came away with a script for antibiotics which I didn’t need to fill because she’d started to get better by herself.

But I also asked for a repeat script for H’s reflux … and this lovely new Dr stopped and told me that we really should check H’s problem out a bit more as it should have gone away by now….

she mentioned paediatric gastros and further testing.

Fuck.

Why didn’t the first Dr tell me this?

Please let it not be anything serious.

Please.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

Dear Darl, it’s June 1 2011. Winter.

457 days…

First day of winter.

It was cold …. 19 degrees (shaddup – you know how I consider anything below 20 degrees to be cold).

So cold I actually put the heater on!  I know!

K was sick again … she hasn’t been to school all week as she has been this  croaky, coughing mess all week.

Yesterday morning, she came to me and said: “Mummy, I feel like mud.  Can you do anything to make me feel better – like kill me or something”.

She wasn’t being funny.

So I had to have the day off yesterday with her.

Poor kiddo.

~~~~~~~~

I worked all day today – my normal groups this morning and year 1 this arvo.

Gorgeous kids.  ..

.including one little girl whose father died a week or so ago.

I met her mother as well and she almost hugged me when I told her that I knew a little about how she was feeling.  I knew.

This forced solo-parent family deal is getting ridiculous.  There’s an epidemic at our school.

It has to stop.

Or at least we need to do more than throw the guidance counsellor in their general direction and watch as she yet again tests every conceivable childhood ‘test” (from IQ to EQ to trauma to ASD … Whipsi Whispy Whapsi Whatever)  and talks a bit  and then recommends extra TLC because the kid is basically just sad.

Which is great, but there’s only so much TLC time you can devote to any one kid, given that each of the 26 classes has about 5 kids that need various levels of TLC for dead parents, dead aunties and uncles, sick parents, separated parents, mentally unwell parents….. and since none of things is an official “diagnosis” of anything other than pervasive sadness, there’s no extra TLC suppliers (ie teachers and aids) employed.

We so need a chaplain.

Now.

Please.

Talk to your people and I’ll talk to mine …

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

Dear Darl, it’s May 29, 2011. Some days I think I’ve come a long way….

454 days….

The kids had a ball at soccer again today (yes, I do crack myself up).

“Craig” wasn’t there so I had a good day too.

K actually *played* today and in the shoot out, it was discovered that not only is she the fastest runner, but she can also kick the ball the furthest of anyone on the team.

She just doesn’t like taking the ball away from someone else …. she is my daughter after all 😉

I was just looking back over some old posts and looked up the entry from a year ago….

 

89 days…

and I’m exhausted.  I’m sick of this shit.  I hate it.

I’m sorry for whatever I did that pissed God off so much that he had to take you away.    God definitely sent me more grief than I can cope with.  That or he’s got Fuck All idea of what “coping” looks like and has confused it with “crazy”. Its only through sheer willpower that I haven’t driven us all off to the funny farm today.  Well, willpower and the fact that I don’t quite know where the funny farm is anyway.

I need a day of to myself with some peace and quiet, with no kids fighting or whining, no sister-in-laws phoning me for a “chat” at 7am or 10pm (WTF is with that???), with a clean house, laundry done and put away, no more forms or new people I have to send certified copies of the death certificate to ….  and with lots of rainbows and the odd unicorn shooting glitter out of its arse.

A hotline to Heaven wouldn’t go astray either as would a day where I don’t cry so much my eyes and face ache with the pain of tears.

I miss you so bad I have a permanent ache in my chest.
I can see how it is possible to die from a broken heart…

 

While I still have days like this, it’s no longer all the time or even every day.

Now it’s more of a permeating sadness.

A functional sadness.

Less acute.

But still there.

….and I can see the progress I’ve made.

Go me!

Can I have a prize now???

I miss you.  That’s really the big thing right now.

Nobody else can fill your shoes.

I love you.

XA