Back to work

Ok, so I wasn't going to blog tonight but in the interest of following my journey with honesty, I feel like I should.

Tomorrow, I go back to work. Woah. Never has the thought of a day in work seemed so big. Not even those days that involved interviews or presentations or facing the fact you didn't get everything you had to do done the day before.

Tomorrow is big. The first day back since Ems died.

If one more person tells me that going back to work will be 'good' for me, or that it'll be 'good' to get 'back to normal', to 'get some routine', I swear I'll hurt somebody (or probably I won't seeing as I'm a bit of a softie but I'll certainly blow up internally!).

See, there is no 'back to normal'. Sure, the office hasn't changed (I went in for an hour a few weeks ago - emotional, oh yes!). But everything has changed. I am not the same me that left the office on the 30th November to grab half an hour with my lovely hubbie before heading out for a youth committee meeting. The Ruth that brought her world in to the office with her will bring a completely different world in tomorrow.

I remember people commenting on how I was like a breath of fresh air. Now I'm the one with the dark cloud hovering ahead.

I will sit in front of my computer but there'll never be a 'message from Emrys Davies' pop up in my inbox (not that there were many before as he was a very conscientious young man!). Never will my phone vibrate with a call from Ems to say he's on the way to pick me up. I'll never leave the office to see his smiling face waiting for me as he sat in reception. I'll never be rushing down that corridor ringing him to apologise that I'm leaving later than planned to pick him up.

My journey to work, which used to be filled with morning chit chat and commentary on the Radio 2 programme that was playing as we travelled along in his little Clio. My journey from work where we chatted over the events of one another's days, and went over the plans for the evening (most importantly what we'd eat!). My lunch break, which would often be blessed with the privilege of his company as we graced the canteen together and walked about the site. Being in work and just knowing he's there...Oh how different work can be.

And then, there's the purpose. Work was to pay the bills. The mortgage for our home together, the bills to keep our home warm and light, to pay for weekend trips to buy paint testers and one coat plaster, to fund days out or evenings in. The purpose now? To pay bills. They're just bills now.

Meaningless. It feels meaningless.

Meaningless and yet I'm sitting crying, all because I'm heading to work tomorrow. If it's that meaningless why am I so upset?

Oh boy will I miss you tomorrow Ems. God help me. God guide me. GOD HELP ME!

I'm just reminded again that he's not here. That I really am doing life without him. And I don't like it at all.
[Memory #16 the "side of the road" episode
Ems & his colleagues were moving offices. We hadn't long been married and were slightly late leaving the house that morning for work...most probably my fault. Ems was usually in the office for 8am and we were probably on track for 8.10am. The wheel bearing on the car had been playing up so we'd had that fixed over the weekend. I was driving us to work and all of a sudden I felt the steering go before we noticed smoke coming from the front right hand wheel. As we were driving along in the outside lane of the dual carriageway I made a careful but quick manouvere into the inside lane & then into a layby that was up ahead. We ended up on the side of the road for some time. Seems there was still some problem with the wheel bearing after all. Ems couldn't get hold of any of his colleagues to let them know either because he'd forgotten his phone which had colleagues mobile numbers in it and I only had his old office number which hadn't yet been transferred. An internet search (on my phone) and a HQ number later and he'd managed to contact someone to let the Carmarthen office know. We just soaked up the sun (with coats on) for an hour or so until the RAC man came to our rescue (for the first of two occasions that month - the second of which was ALL my fault - putting petrol into a diesel car is not recommended!). We always enjoyed our journeys together though and even those that were brought to a sudden stop allowed us extra time in one another's company. Who needs to rush when the one you love is at your side? Amazingly the N-reg clio is still going strong, all its memories intact!]

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.

Easter, birthday & ash clouds

I should really stop beginning my blog entries with explanations or apologies about the gap in time since the last one.The last few weeks have given me plenty of opportunity to blog. I haven't though.

There was Easter weekend. The most significant weekend in the Christian calendar. The celebrations of which provide me with amazing hope in things unseen. That aside, Easter weekend was always an immense weekend with Ems too. 4 whole days off in a row. 1 for family. 1 for friends. 1 for church. 1 for us. I have some amazing memories from Easter weekends. So much quality time provided us with many phenomenal moments.

One of my favourite days of all time was spent last Easter Monday (2009). Ems and I had no set plans and just spent the day going from place to place as the wind took us. It turned into one of the best days. Kite flying, walking, exploring the neighbourhood near our house to be (we'd had our offer accepted), food, coffees, relaxing, talking, really talking. It was amazing.

4 days off. Always time for 'us'. I dreaded this Easter weekend and its length. I tried to find things to do on each of the days so that I could attempt to pretend he wasn't missing for a moment. As expected, the weekend was incredibly tough because there is just no getting away from the fact he is missing. Doing the same things, seeing the same people, but he's not there.

And the celebrations? They were even more important to me than ever, I was even more grateful for the gift of eternal life, heaven is even more real now that Ems is there. But the celebrations weren't accompanied by a personal joy right now. Right now is pain and sadness. I guess even when there isn't joy, at least there's hope. I'm beginning to realise how powerful hope really is. 'Hope deferred makes the heart sick'.

Then there was my birthday. This was another big 'first' to get over. Again, no celebrations. Family and friends showered me in their love and kindness but the one whose wishes I most wanted showered on me wasn't there. I'd asked that there be no fuss. I thanked God it fell on a Sunday so I could fill it with routine. I was dreading it and it's over with. God helped me through it somehow.

Perhaps the craziest thing about it was that I'm now 28. I always had a feeling that 27 was going to be a significant, life-changing year. I didn't know what. I didn't know how. I just knew it would be massive. When I met and then got engaged to Ems, I presumed the significance was positive - our wedding, and it was - massively significant and life-changing. Little did I know that his death would follow within that year. That too was painfully significant and enormously life-changing. 27 was a massive year - beyond anything I could have imagined. My best and my worst. I don't want to live a mediocre nothing life by any means but I certainly hope I don't get another year like that. 28 it is. It's not a new start, it's a continuation. I'm still here. He's still gone. Another year away from my entrance to this world. Another year closer to my exit from it.

Easter. Birthday. What else?

I'm in talks with occupational health to get a 'back to work' plan sorted. It's terrifying but essential. I'm hoping to be back on phased return in a few weeks. I am petrified though. Returning to something that hasn't changed when I have changed so much. Life as I knew it but not as I know it.

The general election looms. There's a lot of noise. I'm undecided.

Facebook on the other hand is remarkably silent about something I'm not so undecided about. I'm trying to get in contact with Facebook who have taken it upon themselves to delete Ems name from my page without any contact with me. Facebook aren't very good at relationships it seems. Not only do they apparently think they have the power to decide when someone is no longer your husband all of a sudden but they also appear to have the inability to respond to any (3 so far) emails that you send them. I hope this gets noticed. It's inhuman.

And then there's this volcano. I have to say that in a world which is so busy with its own business, in a country where politicians are fighting to be the next UK superpower, I'm glad it has taken something far more powerful to make us stop for a moment. Well done Eyjafjallajokull (the Icelandic volcano in case you haven't noticed by now) and your ash clouds. I am sorry for those who have been in critical situations because the airways were closed (those waiting to travel for life-saving operations, etc). But outside of those people, I'm glad that we've all had a chance to realise how small we really are, how it's really not just about us.

Because how often do we really stop and think about it?

[Memory #15 the "romantic stroll" episode

Talking about Easter weekends together took me back to the first one Ems and I shared. It was as full as any other and on the Sunday we both went back to his parents farm for lunch after church. Once lunch was over Ems suggested we go for a walk, as we often did, up on the fields around the farm. As we got to the highest point, the sun was shining brightly from behind the cloud, the Jack Russell terriers were running ahead, and it was what seemed a lovely moment, a romantic stroll between 2 people in love. Then, all of a sudden, Ems knocked my legs from behind and I was flat on my back in the mud before I even knew what was happening - in case you're wondering it WAS intentional! I can clearly remember him standing over me, double bent with laughter at the trick he'd just pulled. In total disbelief, I too was soon laughing hysterically with him.

I remember Ems telling me early on "I'm not a romantic". Perhaps he wasn't in terms of the idyllic scene we see in the films, but in terms of coming out with the unexpected and giving us opportunities to truly laugh together, the romance overflowed...even if it did result in hair caked in mud and the need to change! I think I'd prefer Ems version of romance any day.]