Sweetheart

The rain is relentlessly hammering down against the roof.

Relentless. This grief seems relentless.

There are never moments when it isn't there. With each new day I still feel so much heavier than I used to. But there are days when that load feels slightly more bearable, where the light breaks through a little more than usual, where the emotional muscle ache isn't quite so overwhelming - even if it's just because I'm numb.

Today though, it feels relentless. Today is a relentless day.

There are some better days but there are others when the load seems too heavy; weeks when the darkness hovers closer; moments when the ache doesn't fade at all.

I am surrounded by love. The memories of Ems' love engulf me at times, bringing warmth to my soul as I recall our love with one another. I am still as crazily in love with that boy as the last time I saw him; as moved by his words as I was that last night as I read his last text message - 'ok my lovely sweetheart, I love you x'.

I regularly whisper 'sweetheart' as I look at his photo. The photos of Ems on my dashboard continuously remind me of journeys we took together. When I get in the car I love seeing those photos.

Sometimes I warmly whisper 'sweetheart' at his smiling, loving face - the natural reaction to the sight of the man I love. Other times, I cry 'sweetheart' in desperation, yearning for him, desperate for him, frustrated at taking another journey without him. My prayer life follows the same pattern - love, gratitude and desperation.

I remember the love and feel tender. I remember the loss, the great ever-deepening loss, and I yearn. There is no better word for it. I yearn for him; for my sweetheart.

Today is a relentless day. Today is a day where I'll utter 'sweetheart' in pure desperation. I have driven his car, frustrated that he isn't in it. I have met with our friends, painfully aware that he 'should' be a part of it. I have trawled through the loneliness, needing just his hand to take it all away, yet knowing it won't ever reach out to me again this side of heaven.

I can't wait to see him again one day. And till then, whether softly wistful or in aching desperation, I will never fail to whisper 'sweetheart'.

Rain & rights of passage

It's raining outside and it sure is raining inside.

Ouch.

I guess the thing about taking baby steps is that you can fall down on your bum. It's better than continuously crawling around on the floor but the fall back down hits hard.

This time last year I'd never have realised what an achievement cooking for friends, planning to go to work, thinking about decorating the house, or maintaining conversation could be. They were all simply aspects of my life that were normal or even enjoyable. Oh so different now. The weird thing is they don't even look like achievements to anyone else while I know in my heart how much of a struggle is going on inside me to get these things off the ground.

I was screaming inside last night 'what are you doing God?'
I wasn't looking for an answer. It isn't even for me to know the answer.
It's not about what I do or don't deserve. One day beyond everything I can see, it will be about justice. But on that day, by amazing grace, I won't be surrounded by grey.

I guess I am missing Ems even more, not just with each new day as it creeps cruelly longer from the last time I saw him, but as I feel able to do a bit more, because all those things are things I want to share with him. All these things are things that he should be here to experience.

Everyone seems to be pregnant or having babies right now (congratulations to those that are) . Whereas some of our dreams were personal or unique to Ems and I though, having children is something that I will see many do. Each one not just reminding me that we'll never get to share that experience, but also reminding me of all those other dreams, personal and unique, that remain just that, dreams. Unfulfilled.

I know I'm not the only one with these unfulfilled dreams either. We seem to grow up thinking we have certain 'rights of passage'. Anyone seen the 'John Lewis' advert? That's how life's supposed to be huh? We get so sucked in. We have a right to it, don't we?
I know I'm not the only one who knows otherwise.

This walk seems so cruel and lonely. I don't know 'why me?'. I don't know why I have to look around and see the things we should or could be doing while I'm wondering about sorting through his belongings or writing a blog to his memory.

I can see all about me that many seem to suffer undeservingly and others who seem puffed up with pride seem to get all they want. I guess that's why the 'unseen' is so important. Not only do I need to focus on the unseen, knowing one day, all this will work out justly, but to know that there are great things we cannot see that can be ours when we stop looking at those things we can see that we don't and never will have.

It really isn't easy.