Exhaustion

Holding hands while practicing our vows at our wedding rehearsal (26th June, 2009)

I slept for 11 hours last night and am still well and truly exhausted.

Today is the 26th June, 2010. This time last year I felt exhausted too. It was the day before our wedding. After a week of getting 3 hours sleep a night and spending every waking minute preparing all the details, large and small, for our big day, I was exhausted. I almost passed out as my friend manicured my nails before our wedding rehearsal began. I'd been living on toast (another toast linked memory we shared!) and rushing around like crazy trying to make everything perfect. Who needed sleep when you were marrying the man you loved that weekend? Exhausted, yet full of excitement for the big day ahead and the beautiful days as a married couple that lay before us.

Today I am truly exhausted. I have been for weeks. It's not because I've been sleeping 3 hours a night. In fact, late nights aside, I sleep pretty well. It's not a lack of sleep that's tired me out.

It's that feeling when you leave the house and every day, feel that you've left something behind.

It's that longing to share the things that happen each day with someone you won't see again for all your days on earth.

It's the continual frustration of desires.

It's having had your other half, a part of your very self, die. There's only half of you left now to make it through each day.

It's beginning to do things that 'normal' people do with half the strength.

It's learning to walk again, to breathe again, to be again...no wonder babies sleep so much with all the learning they have to do.

With exhaustion comes a horrible sense of numbness. It's horrible. As much as at times in the past few months I have almost willed myself not to feel, that I might escape the heartache and frustrated longings for my sweet, darling boy, to feel numb is to not feel at all; And to not feel is perhaps the most tragic sense of being there is. We're designed with hearts that sense and feel, that love and hate. Feeling numb makes me feel inhuman. I feel detached not not just from the things that surround me in the present, but from my memories so full of feeling, too.

I've dreaded this weekend, our first wedding anniversary, so much because of the memories it brings (sweet memories of course but echoing Ems absence even louder). Yet somehow, I've longed for it, hoping that as I remember the huge excitement we shared in planning, and the memories of the sweetest day we could have hoped for, it would break this numbness that I've been experiencing.

To choose to feel too much or to not feel at all? Great as the pain may be, I could never choose to not feel. To choose to not feel and experience the love, however much it means the reality hurts, would be the most tragic choice of all. It's not even a choice we can make for ourselves - however hard some people try.

Even though the beautiful object of my affection is in beautiful pastures new, the love we shared can never die. Just like Ems, our love will never grow old. I choose to feel it with every ounce of my being because it was the sweetest human love I could ever have experienced and a love like that is not one you let go.

[Memory #19 the "lavender" episode

I can remember so clearly the week leading up to our wedding. It was frantic but we were both so excited that it didn't matter. We'd enjoyed suit fittings, marquee decorating, gift preparing, etc. Ems had been involved in every detail (dresses aside) before the big day, the most amazing partner and help, and now it really was all go. When we arrived at the 26th June (the day before the big day), we had most things covered and Ems and I met at the church to decorate and clean together. We managed to have a moment together before others arrived to help. We couldn't wait for the wedding. Everything felt, everything was, just right. Ems spent the next 2 hours scrubbing every nook of the church's toilets (so if you were a guest at our wedding and went to the loo that day you can thank Ems that it was so clean!). I'd given Ems a bowl of lavender to put in each of the toilets. A few weeks after the wedding, I noticed the bowl of lavender, hidden away in the ladies loo. I mentioned it to Ems, wondering why anyone would have hidden it since the wedding. Ems expression gave away immediately that he knew something about it (his transparency was beautiful). He said that he'd hidden both of them away from the start. When I'd given them to him and mentioned that they were to "make the place smell nice", he took it literally and so hadn't realised they were also decorative! I loved that day of preparations and excitement with my lovely boy. Battling with emotions at the wedding rehearsal, I had no idea how many tears were to come.]

6 months

Ok, so it's one o'clock in the morning. I'm heading to Denmark tomorrow and I haven't even packed yet but for some reason I'm here, blogging.

It's 6 months tomorrrow, no wait, today. It's 6 months ago today that I last saw my beautiful man. That I last held him in my arms, whispered "I love you", heard the words "I love you". It's 6 months since I lived the life I knew and loved with the man I knew and loved; With the man who knew and loved me. 6 months.

Ems and I planned our whole wedding from engagement in 6 months (including buying a house). It was the same time of year. He got down on one knee in December. We married in June. What a contrast the first 6 months of 2010 have been to those in 2009. It really is another world away.

I found myself, quite unexpectedly, at the place where Ems died tonight. A few of us were gathered at a friend's house and as I travelled out to get some munchies with one of my best friends, I suddenly found myself asking "Is this the road to the station?". I knew the answer before it came and my friend knew why I was asking immediately. It was one of those moments of realisation where the craziness of the last 6 months is so apparent. It just hits you. It's real.
Driving towards the spot where Ems died. Passing the spot where he'd parked his car to head over to the works. Driving the roads that he last drove on earth. Ems died there. What? Ems died? It's all too real and yet at times it feels so unreal, like another world; like it's someone else this has happened to and I'm just a bit lost in reflecting on it all.

How can it be 6 months since I last saw him? Yet in other ways it feels like forever.
What life is this where I'm heading out for munchies and I'm passing the spot where my lovely man died? It just feels so unreal. It shocked rather than upset me. It just feels so crazy. I guess everything does.

So it's 6 months. I'm not sure how that's supposed to feel. I don't think there are many 'supposed to's in this journey. I thought the shock had just about worn off - the reality of my widowhood certainly hits me all too often. I didn't think anything could feel that unreal anymore. There are lots of things I didn't think. I didn't think it was possible to cry at least once a day for 6 months.

I miss him insanely. I can't even begin to put it into words.

He was in my dream lastnight. It was a good dream. He held me close and we wouldn't let each other go. We were so together. That tangible feeling of being in love was so real. Even though we were surrounded by friends and enjoying with them, it was like we couldn't let each other go. It was a lovely dream. It made a nice change. So many dreams involving Ems have involved him not being able to hear me or not being able to say anything. I even had dreams at the start where he was telling me "it's not what it looks like"...how true that statement turned out to be following the inquest.

I can't and won't live in my dreams though. This is life. This is different, very different, to the life I once walked. My perspective has totally changed. Pain is a constant part of my life and yet so is faith. I just can't let it go. Mark Hall put it into words when he described what it's like when tragedy hits a life - 'faith isn't life enhancement anymore. Faith is life'.

A good friend asked me if I ever get angry. I certainly get frustrated, massively frustrated. I ask why this had to happen several times through my tears (I know I can't get an answer to this).

But angry? Being an accident, the only ones I could only get angry at are either Ems himself or God.

I never was very good at getting angry at Ems and that's not about to change - he's gone, I love him just as much as the day he left, and while at times I whisper to myself "you stupid boy" at the absentmindedness that may well have resulted in the accident, it's never in anger. I remember how endearing that trait was to me. He never meant harm to anyone.
And to get angry at God? I guess I could. He has everything in His control doesn't He? Well, the thing is, I completely believe that He does. And if I were to get angry at Him, I'd just be cutting myself off from the only source that can lift me from this mess, the One who Ems is enjoying right now, the only One who can make things right for me, when they feel so terribly wrong so much of the time.

I guess there's nothing wrong with getting angry, it's what you do with it that matters. I certainly don't need anything else consuming me.

And Denmark? Yes, I'm off to Denmark for 5 days with our favourite identical twins (see photo) - one of them lives out there. Nothing is an escape, but it'll be really nice to spend quality time with them both. Holidays (I'd probably rather the term 'breaks') are different now, but so is everything else.

6 months. I love him more than ever and I'm petrified of the thought of another 6 months without him but I can't do anything about it and I pray to God He'll help me through.

[Memory #18 the "I forgot it" episode
Seeing as I've mentioned Ems absentmindedness in my blog, I've been reminded of some occasions of it in our time together. One in particular was when we were heading up to my Mum's church to take part in a special meeting. Ems was playing the guitar there. We headed off on our journey from my parent's house. Half way there I asked him if his guitar was in the carboot (it wasn't on the back seat). He said "yes" quickly before questionning himself. He'd actually forgotten it! He was going somewhere purely to play his guitar & he'd forgotten his guitar! It was one of many such occasions where Ems would forget something obvious & something that we'd all have described as "typical Ems". It usually induced smiles rather than frustration in people though as we explained our late arriving! I personally really miss his forgetful ways & the laughs that would come with them.]

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!]

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