And then there was you

In memory of my valentine.

I wrote and gave this poem to my beautiful Ems a couple of months after our relationship began. The words got truer with every new day. 

'And then there was you'
A poem (written for Ems by Ruthie, February 2008)

I was always told I had a good imagination…
I used to imagine what it would be like to be in love.
I used to imagine holding someone’s hand like you didn’t want to ever let it go.
I used to imagine caring for someone so much that their needs became yours.
I used to imagine what it might be like to feel so at ease with someone, they felt like home.
I used to imagine what it would be like to feel safe even though your whole life was in their arms.
I used to imagine staring silently, deeply, searchingly, knowingly, into someone’s eyes and for a moment forget the rest of the world existed.
I used to imagine what it might be like to let go and have someone else let go of themselves back.
I used to imagine what it might be like to find a human love that added something to me and drew new things out of me.
I used to imagine what it might be like to be with someone and know there was nowhere else in the whole universe I’d rather be.
I used to imagine…
And then there was you,
And suddenly all my wildest dreams and deepest imaginations couldn’t come close to the overwhelming wonder of being in love with you, of being loved by you.
I used to imagine but it didn’t come close.
“Are you sure you’re not dreaming?” you asked me,
Only because this is way beyond anything I could have imagined in my dreams. 

He really did ask me if I was sure I wasn't dreaming, telling me he could hardly believe the beauty of our love was real himself. 

He's still, and what we had is still, way beyond anything I could ever have imagined. 

Love eternally x

For valentine memories, see my blog entry from a year ago - 'More than a day'

Normal

I am aching incredibly right now. Just over 10 months ago I never wanted to be normal. Just over 10 months ago I wanted to go against the flow, to make a difference.

Right now in this moment, I would give anything be 'normal'.

I don't even know what 'normal' is and am pretty sure no such thing exists but I want to stop this rollercoaster that keeps speeding round; that just when I think I'm starting to climb, I'm suddenly hurtling down with uncontrollable speed.

I do still yearn to make a difference. And to make a difference, we have to be different. No one ever changed the world by being like it after all. 

I am grateful that my mind is continuously aware of a bigger picture that I can't yet see. Nothing like tragedy can make you so acutely sensitive to how truly fragile life truly is; to how little control we really have. I don't want to be complacent; I don't want to be so at ease with what's around me that I forget that there is more: More to life, more to give, more to receive.

But I am also human. I am fragile. I am easily thrust into moments that leave me crying out for 'normality'.

Sometimes when I am alone I can begin to think that this...that this is normal! I pop to our house to check the post as though everyone has a home they don't live in right now. I smile at memories or photos as though that is the way every 27 year old thinks on their spouse.

And then suddenly there I am, taking a call outside church from friends with good news, and suddenly I'm all too aware that I'm standing in the graveyard where my husband's body lies. And in moments like that I know this isn't how it was meant to be. For a moment I want to be someone in hope of sharing such news myself one day or of turning to my husband to share the good news I've just heard, rather than knowing that I will never be that person.

And even though it hurts, I still know that all I am called to be is me. This is the lot I've been assigned. 11 months ago, I thought it was the most beautiful lot imaginable. When I look forward, I know it is going to be even more beautiful. So right now, I have to just be.

I may want to be 'normal' but I have to be me.

And it's ok for me to get lost in thinking that my situation is normal sometimes. I have to run the race without looking to the right or the left, without looking at those around me. I may have lost the thing most dear to me but if I keep focusing on the goal ahead, I can still win my race. When I stop comparing myself to others, I don't think about normal, about what I don't have. And if I really think about it, even though I'd do anything to have Ems here to live our lives out together as was normal to us; looking back I know that we had so much, so much more than 'normal'. Looking ahead, I know that just as our story together way exceeded anything I could have imagined, I'll one day have way beyond it. It's just right now that hurts so much. And 'right now' will one day be history. Oh help me to realise that. One day at a time.

My heart breaking for 'normality' feels a little foolish considering this poem I wrote this morning.

I would rather be me

Despite the pain,
I would rather be me.
Despite the fact that you're not here,
I would rather be me.

I would rather be me
with all my battles,
all my wounds.

With all my memories.
With all the love I have for you in my heart.
With your love's fingerprints tattooed upon my soul.

Others' climbs may seem less steep, their roads more smooth,
their hearts less scarred, their hands more full.
But I would rather be me,
empty handed,
with memories of holding your sweet hand,
than to be another that had never felt your touch.

I would rather be me,
grief my constant companion
and my heart bursting with the love you lavished upon me,
than to take the burden of being another.

Oh, I don't recommend that any other be me right now.
But I wouldn't have wanted to be any other back then.
I won't want to be any other when I join you in endless light.
And so it is.
Past beauty.
Future gain.
I can't want to be anyone else in this present.

For your love is ever with me,
and though I walk the shady valley of death,
the same light that shined for us, shines for me,
and the light always wins.

I would rather be your me.

Just when you think...

I am missing Ems so much right now. I cannot emphasise how much. It has been the hardest 5 consecutive days since he left for heaven in every possible way.

I'm so grateful for everyone's prayers and support and for the most amazing colleagues (or should that be counsellors) who have helped me get through 2 days of work (1 day a week so far - 2 days a week for the next 2 weeks and so on). Going back to work has been inevitably tough (the last blog explains the tip of the iceberg) but looking back, my first day back (Thursday) was the easiest of the last 5 days - well, the hours between 9 and 5 were anyway. It truly has been a miracle that I've survived 2 whole days in the office and I am so very grateful.

Outside of work though, the true darkness of Ems not being here has never been more tangible. Everything has cried out 'he's not here'. The loneliness, him not being here after work, not being 'up' to going out with good friends, crying on a friend's bathroom floor, the hurts, the darkness.

Someone told me it got harder from 6 months in and I couldn't believe that it could be true but 2 weeks yesterday the 6 month mark will hit and I can honestly say, if these last 5 days are anything to go by, I believe them wholeheartedly.

I'VE BEEN A WIDOW LONGER THAN I WAS A WIFE NOW. That's wrong in every possible way. I hate it. It hurts so much because the wife bit is the significant bit. Without it I wouldn't have known such an amazing joy and fullness with my beloved Ems. Without being the wife, I wouldn't have become the widow. Being a wife was a natural adjustment for me - what a true blessing! Being a widow is not so natural - the battle is accute. It is daily. You don't prepare for it or slot into it. You don't choose it. You don't share it. Where once I was half of one, now I am half. Though our marriage was short in days, it couldn't have been bigger in significance. It was the beautiful path that lead me to this darkest of places.

I am in sheer agony this evening. I don't think the pain has been greater at any given time. I wrote a poem earlier...

Just when you think it can't get any darker.
Just when you think you can't miss him any more.
Just when you think your heart can't be any more broken.
Just when you think the road can't get any more narrow.
Just when you think there can't be any more closed doors.
Just when you think you can't feel any colder.
Just when you think you can't lose anything more.
Just when you think you couldn't hurt further.
Just when you think you couldn't feel more alone.
Just when you think it couldn't get harder.
Just when you think things cannot get worse.
Just when you think all the tears have been cried.
Just when you think it can't go on any longer.
Just when you think the mountain can't get steeper.
Just when you think it couldn't be more exhausting.
Just when you think ... It can. It does.

Just when you think there's no way out... There is.
But it's not an emergency exit. It's a long, long way ahead.
When I finally get there it'll be bright but right now it really isn't.

Thank you God for being with me in this total darkness and for the family and friends you send to help me along my way.

[Memory #17 the "mascara" episode
I remembered this story while talking with friends in the office earlier. I mentioned the fact I hadn't worn any mascara since Ems died (when you're crying an absolute minimum of twice a day it isn't really a practical idea!) and it triggered my memory. One of our best friends was getting ordained as a pastor and we went along to his ordination just after we got back from honeymoon. I was incredibly moved by the whole service. Wiping tears from my face I noticed some (supposed to be waterproof) mascara on my hand & turned to Ems to ask him "is there mascara all over my face?", "no" he replied sweetly. A few minutes & tears later, when wiping again I saw more mascara on my hand. Suddenly remembering how literally Ems could take things, I turned and asked "is there any mascara on my face?" to which he replied confidently "yes" and proceeded to point out where it was! I laughed so much with him about that conversation - so cute!]

MY SWEET DARLING BOY SUFFERED FROM THE HORRIBLE 'SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER', A DEPRESSION THAT ATTACKS IN WINTER MONTHS. MY DEAR COUSIN & HER BOYFRIEND ARE RUNNING THE EDINBURGH MARATHON THIS SATURDAY & ONE OF THEIR 2 CHARITIES IS THE MENTAL HEALTH FOUNDATION IN MEMORY OF EMS. EVERY SORT OF MENTAL ILLNESS IS SERIOUS AND CRUEL & MANY WHO SUFFER LIVE LIVES OF AGONY & MISUNDERSTANDING. PLEASE SPONSOR THEM THIS WEEK, IN MEMORY OF EMS, WHO ALWAYS FOUGHT WITH COURAGE AND NEVER LET IT WIN. SPONSOR THEM AT: http://www.justgiving.com/rhodandrhi