Tumbling walls

I have better patches, I have worse patches. I mostly do best when I do my best not to think about ‘it’, or him, and keep busy. I’d been having a fairly good morning. The boss and I have things sorted for the time being. Things were going ok. And then I went into the office, and tried to download my photos of this weekend’s show. And there suddenly, in photos that clearly haven’t been downloaded since they were taken because I don’t recognise them, there he was.

There he was, standing on a coastal path on one of our weekend breaks somewhere, looking back at me and smiling at me in that straight at me and into me way he had, and every single brick in my carefully constructed walls collapsed. Just crumbled away. Coming out of the blue, it felt like being stabbed in the heart, and left me in uncontrollable floods of tears in the office, and then on and off for the rest of the day, through work, dinner, the cinema…

How can someone who looks so vibrant, so alive, so gorgeous, so mine, not be here any more? It’s not something my brain can rationalise. I don’t think I will ever get my head around how life has gone from being like that, being us, us being everything, to life being this. It’s just not fair. And I know I sound like a child throwing a tantrum, but it just isn’t.

I miss seeing him but I can’t yet bear having photos of him around the house, even though I’ve bought the frames for when I am. I know one day I’ll look back at them and smile, and remember happier times, and sometimes even now, when I’m prepared, I can do that a little bit. But out of the blue like that? Nope, not coping with that. Maybe he was just popping up to say hello. But a little warning would have been good… 💔😢

Do what?

I need to find something I actually enjoy. And things to look forward to. I’m just going through the motions at the moment. I’m trying to do my job, and I’m sort of getting there, but I’m not enjoying it like I did. As I’ve moaned before, there just doesn’t seem any point to it. Or anything else. But I don’t want life to carry on like this, it’s not living. But I can’t think of anything to fill the gaps with. Drinking is not a solution. Cycling is out of the question. I don’t really have hobbies and even those I used to have would still involve me sitting at home on my own. I guess I could try walking again, I used to do quite a lot of that in my own, but it just doesn’t appeal yet – my brain would think too much, and I’d just spend the miles crying.

Maybe I’m just asking for too much just yet. I’m like a stuck record I know, but I just miss him so much. It’s all encompassing. There are some lads doing some work on the church steps, and just for a second, out of the corner of my eye, one of them could have been Matt, in his battered old boots, scruffy work shorts, paint splattered layers and luminous gilet, and there he was vivid as anything in my head. Except it wasn’t, and he wasn’t bounding over to join me for a cheeky lunchtime pint, with a big grin on his face, and a hug ready for me, and it was just me sat there on my own again.

Baby steps. Hey at least I am going to work in a minute, and then I have plans for after work, so hopefully that will fill up the rest of today. One day at a time….


Everyone tells me it gets better with time. Everyone tells me there’s a point at which it gets easier. Except no one can tell me how or when.

He used to skip down the road holding my hand because he was just so pleased to finally be living here with me. He used to lie in bed grinning at at me, just cos he was so happy to be with me, until I had to ask him what the hell he was smiling at me for. Don’t worry, I got my revenge by doing the same to him. Because I was so happy to be with him.

Now I’m just miserable. Missing him twists my stomach into knots. So many many never ever agains and I don’t know how to live without them. I’m a never ending world of tears. I just want him back. i want my other half back. But I can’t have that and no-one can explain to me how I’m supposed to live without him. I know there are all those people out there who have found their way through. I just can’t see mine. Not without him. I had more than enough time on my own before to know I don’t want to do it again.

And it’s all irrelevant. I just want him back. Stuck in a world where I can’t have what I want, and where not having that hurts so much I don’t know how to cope or survive it. I love you my beautiful boy. Tell me why I should stay here without you?


I still can’t make myself get it. I am trying to cope. But every now and then I just don’t see the point. Something or nothing will set me off, and I’ll be right back at the bottom of the well, where all I want is Matt back again, and where I can’t imagine the rest of my life without him and his grin and his support and his hand in mine, and his crazy matching mine, and all the things we were to each other, and the way we knew each other, and the life I’m living without him is just shitty and empty and lonely and marking time, and I just don’t see the point. This isn’t living, this is just existing, and I hate it.

What with the failed marriage, and the wasted time in between, and now the loss of those amazing years with Matt…? I know I’m not precisely old, but I feel like I’ve wasted this life, the one life I get to be given. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It all seems so unfair, but there’s no process for appeal, no redress. Life just sucks. There’s nothing I can do to bring him back. I’ll just have to hope he pops up in my dreams from time to time, even though it makes waking up afterwards even harder. It’s the best I can hope for.

Time to take the meds, to go to sleep, and to hope that tomorrow feels better, however marginally better that should be. I just doubt it will be. And yes I know, early days, as everyone keeps telling me.

Why did you have to go? Where have you gone? Wherever you are, I hope you know how much I love you and how much missing you is hurting not just me, but all of us. And I mean like literally. Love you so much hon 😭💔.


I am desperately looking around for things to fill my time with this week. And the next, and beyond. My calendar has tumbleweed blowing through it and a massive Matt shaped void stamped all over it. Plans we had that we won’t be doing. The gig that eldest is now taking me to instead of Matt. The time when eldest will be away for the best part of two days and I’m petrified about coping on my own. Being totally on my own. Which I know is ridiculous. But knowing that doesn’t make it go away.

At least we went and bought all the beasties bugs today. So they can eat, and be a bit less neglected, And I also got a chunk of work done, even if there is still just as much left to be done, I’d rather a weekday over a weekend these days. So I went, I worked, I left before I could be left behind again. Some stuff got done.

I’m trying really hard to do what I’m supposed to do. To keep it together. To keep the face on. But it’s a bit like Sisyphus rolling his boulder to the top…it always rolls back down again. And then there he isn’t again, and I’m missing him like hell again, and wishing it was time that was rolling back. I just want him back so badly and I still can’t really believe he’s gone for good. I keep finding things of his, that meant stuff to him, that will mean nothing to anyone else but him, or to me, or to us. What do you do with a life condensed into, and reduced to, photos and bits and pieces? It all feels like a such a waste, and every thing I find kicks off the next tsunami, and I’m in floods again. Someone asked me if I was ok today, and I just had to say that I have no idea what okay is anymore. I’m here. That’s all I am.


Bad day, good day, which I don’t feel like writing about now, since I’m not actually crying at the moment and I need the respite. I’ve only just managed to drag myself out of the doldrums thanks to a decent chat and cup of tea with Gary; who was the one person around who actually responded to a call for contact. I guess it’s my own fault for being me. People are probably used to thinking I’m antisocial, that or they think I’m hard as nails and don’t need support. Funny how wrong people can be isn’t it? Then again maybe they just plain don’t like me – I’m pretty sure I’m an acquired taste…

So I’m sat in our pub as usual, in a quiet corner out of the way, trying to read, and trying not to think, with headphones in and Deezer playing (the ‘next’ button is proving very helpful…) so I don’t have to hear either the dodgy pub soundtrack, or the sound of so many groups of people having a good night out. I just can’t imagine that ever being me again. Not in the carefree way such things were once done, when life was a thing taken for granted. A bit of me wants to shout at them, shake them, warn them to make the most of every second…

In the meantime, with the music thing, I’ve been trying to figure out quite what it is that is wrong with it. Took me a while but…  There are only two situations in which I have used headphones over the last 3 or 4 years. They have been in one ear for sportives or country walks, back in the day. And then…what with the long distance thing and even afterwards, if Matt and I weren’t together and there was no reason why we couldn’t be talking (like work, or such), then we were always on the phone to each other. While walking, driving, shopping, whatever. Which explains why this feels so f*cking weird and why I feel like I’m waiting for a conversation to continue. I’m waiting to hear his voice in my ear. It’s a bit like this is just the “on hold” music and he’ll be back on the line shortly. But he won’t, will he? Another ‘never again’.

So here I sit on a Saturday night, on my own because that seems to be my lot, as it was before and as it is again, in the usual place hiding from reality, and waiting to talk to someone who will never talk to me again. All tragic on so many levels…

Ok, so keeping the tears at bay appears to have failed somewhat. It’s just that so many phrases and words and ’in jokes’ have gone along with him and his voice. There’s no point me telling you about them or sharing them, you wouldn’t get them anyway. Often we barely needed to talk anyway, because whatever one of us said, the other had just been thinking, which made us laugh all the time…

That given though, what I wouldn’t give to hear his voice again.

Hello Mr Magpie… 😥💔⭐️

Wherefore art thou?

So I had been feeling a tiny bit better, but thanks to the shit storm of the last couple of days, it’s fair to say I’ve slipped backwards a considerable amount. Luckily today I had a catch-up appointment with the doctor, who has now upped the dose of my antidepressants, to what is still a low dose to be fair, in order to try and help me cope. At the moment every time I nearly get it together something else just comes along to knock me sideways again. Having only recently ceased to feel seriously suicidal, neither of us want me to end up back down there again. Which would seem reasonable, at least when I’m being logical and sensible and so forth.

Still, there’s been a lot of crying today. More than I expected. I guess the last few days have taken their toll. I managed to get lots of work done through the tears, but somehow still didn’t seem to scratch the surface of all there still seems to need to be done. Eldest had to come and sit in the office and read a book just to be there to help me hold it together and provide hugs when necessary, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stay there.

Even with so much work to do, I couldn’t stay late, or even be the last to leave, because knowing that Matt wasn’t about to come and meet me, and/or sit with me while I worked late, was just too much for me. It’s the ’never agains’ that get me. All the time. How did forever turn into never? How do I do all of this without him?

It’s all feeling a bit overwhelming again. And that’s before I even start on anything house/paperwork related. Which all makes me feel worse because I hate letting people/work down. The piles of paperwork at home are making me panicky, and I hate this broad spectrum out of control feeling, but I don’t seem to be able to do anything about it either. I’m just at the mercy of the rollercoaster of my emotions.

None of which is helped by the fact that it’s a Friday. I hate Fridays. I hate weekends. I have plans up until Saturday evening but after that…nothing. My bro is down tonight and we all went out, and had food, and hung out and chatted, which was all very lovely. And then we came home and attempted to watch a film, which was a good idea in theory…but I’ve had to bail. I can still only hold it together for so long, and that’s not long on a bad day. It doesn’t matter what I do or where I go, I can only run away from ‘it‘ for so long. I just needed to be back on my own, in our room, to cry a lot, and then in a minute I can take the shiny pills and go back to hide in the land of dreams.

Tomorrow we have lunch plans with the folks, which will be nice, although we’ve chosen the Sheppey, which was one of our favourite places, so there will inevitably be tears. Again. Rach and I went there post visit to the crematorium, and it’s still a lovely place, even without him. I can’t let his absence stop me from going to places I love. Or should I? I guess we’ll see how it goes…

Then everyone will go away and it will be just me again. Eldest will be working, and Sunday is currently empty. And yes, I’ve made it through the last few weekends, so why should this one be any different? Not the point. It still scares me, and those empty days were hell. I could just use a little more support to get through the empty patches without having to lean so heavily on eldest. As time goes by, the network of people who swore they’d be there for me is shrinking, as people quite reasonably get back to their own lives. And yes, I’m sure I’ll learn to be on my own again eventually. But as I keep being reminded, it’s still early days. Just 9 weeks. 9 weeks since I lost my beautiful boy 😥.

So many whys. So many questions. So much ‘I wish’… and none of it makes a blind bit of difference. This is how it is now. I will never be who I was before and life will never be what it was.

Missing you hurts so much, and there’s just nothing that makes me feel better. Couldn’t I have just one more hug? Just one? So I could hold on to you forever and never let go again…  😭♥️💔


Never ending

On the upside the new meds seem to be helping. On the downside yesterday the Coroner rang me. Not my favourite way to be woken up, that’s for sure. Although sadly I can actually think of far worse these days… 😥

Apparently the tests revealed that the cause of death is probably related to a mix of alcohol and prescription drugs. Therefore they have to have an official coroner’s inquest to decide on the official cause of death to be recorded on the death certificate. Which just raised more questions and means yet more waiting. Hopefully (as if hope is a word that applies to any of this) the inquest will take place next month.

Then, as planned, eldest took me over to the undertakers to pick up my share of Matt’s ashes. Which came in a lovely simple little wooden box tied up with a purple ribbon. (I wonder if they knew that was his favourite colour?) And in there a part of him shall rest until I take him to one of our beaches, at whenever the right time turns out to be, and share him with the sea, so that whenever I go to a beach I can imagine that a little bit of him is there with me. Although at the moment I’m not sure I could ever face going to a beach without him…

Since my day had already gone to hell in a hand basket, eldest and I decided to have an afternoon off. We mooched around Wedmore, bought the odd thing, and had a couple of beers sat outside the Swan in the sun. I bought a lovely pair of simple silver star earrings which seemed right. Matt was my star and he always will be whether he’s here with me or not, and I’m trying really hard to cling on to that. ⭐️

It was as nice an afternoon as it could be really. As long as I didn’t sit in a chair with a back to it – falling down the stairs really did a number on my back! I even got some work done when we got back in to town, even if it did have to be at The Lamb as I still couldn’t face being at the house for hours. Then we headed back, I even ate dinner, and my new shiny pill made sure I drifted off to sleep nice and early. Apparently it’s a well known side effect of mirtazapine. Finally, a side effect to one of my drugs that’s helpful.

Today I woke up to the official letter from the coroner. Waking up is not going well this week…  There’s always something worse about seeing such things in black and white isn’t there? Turns out it was a mix of alcohol, tramadol, and morphine. I  don’t know whether that means too much of one or the other or what, or that there was some sort of bad interaction between them. Like I said, more questions…  I think the worst bit about that, and there are so so many, is that it feels like maybe none of this need have happened. He could still be here with me, with us. Which is the only thing I want in the world. So today has gone to rat shit too…

I’d give anything to have you back, my beautiful boy. Life will never be the same without you. Love you to the beach and back 😭💔


So the new pills are apparently not that good for balance. At c.2am this morning, on the way to the bathroom, I tripped over a book that has been lying around for ages on the landing for some reason, and ended up falling at least halfway down the stairs. Which would have been painful enough, but then the big metal stair ladder that lives there fell over and landed on top of me. No point in half measures right?

Apparently I nearly gave Austin a heart attack. Having woken him up with the commotion, not only was I not in a good place from a movement perspective when he found me, but he says my breathing was really weird and shallow too. However, I have survived, even if I have some amazing bruises developing all over, ripped off a finger nail, and have a long oozing graze all the way down the knobbly bones of my lower spine. Nice. He has however kindly requested that I not do it again…

Today was a tiny bit better though. Apart from the sore back of course.  I didn’t cry non-stop all day. I felt a bit more “me”, and also just occasionally like life might actually be liveable one day in the far distant future. And I actually went to work and got a decent chunk of work done. OK, so what passed for my “sang froid” only lasted until around mid afternoon, but…whether it’s the lack of the old meds or the start of the new ones, that’s something right?

But I’m here alone now, until eldest gets back from work. I decided to come home, try and be alone, try to eat something, and to cease hiding out up there. I’m not sure if I’m glad I did or not. I still cried my way all the way back to the house, to what was once a home. Our home. Which it isn’t now. And I’m still so sad he isn’t here now. I wanted to get home and tell him I’d been doing a bit better, and have him be proud of me. I wanted one of his amazing hugs. I still do.

And I guess maybe a bit of me feels a bit guilty for coping a little better today. I really want to reassure him that just because I held it together for longer doesn’t mean I don’t miss him just as much, or that I love him any less. It’s just medication. I’m NEVER going to love him less, and I couldn’t love him more if I tried. No-one else is ever going to get 100% of me, because there is always going to be a part of me that permanently belongs only to him. And I’m still going to cry myself to sleep wishing he was here beside me, just one touch, one move, one breath, one heartbeat away…



I started my new pills yesterday. Not sure how long they’ll take to work if indeed they do. There does seem to be an extra degree of slightly panicky numb wrapped around me, but that’s probably coincidence. Either way I’m not sure I like it. I feel like a huge weight is just pressing down on my chest and in my head inside somehow. Like I’m being squashed into the shape of this new life that I never wanted, and really don’t want to be living.

Every time I do anything, like go out for lunch with eldest today (food did not go well) or go to the market with Sharon last Sunday, there’s a point when that activity is done, and you then remember why you’re doing such things, and that there is no normal anymore, and I’m not about to get home and tell Matt all about it. Like the beautiful sunset currently happening outside the window. I can’t tell him about it, or share it with him, and I somehow don’t really appreciate it like I should either. It’s just the sun going down. It’s one more day that’s over. Another day without him, with many more such just stretching ahead…

I’m nominally hanging out at Sharon’s today to see if I could get on with stuff there, see if it was easier than being in my empty house. It isn’t/wasn’t. Sat there trying to do things while the family just gets on around me felt weird. And out of place and intrusive. And envious. A normal family carrying on doing normal things….

I’ll go back in a bit, but I thought I’d come see eldest, have a drink, write a blog, etc. And sit in one of our sofas here. Matt may not be sitting next to me. Of course he f*cking isn’t. But it’s as close as I can get to him right now. I can close my eyes and picture him being there, and us being as we were. Does that help? Maybe not, maybe it’s just a self pity party, and I’m wallowing, not moving on, whatever the hell that is. But oddly it does help just a tiny bit. Because I don’t want to forget anything, and once in a blue moon there is comfort in a memory. This was our place. Now it’s just mine. There goes the void again.

I never thought I’d be the kind of person to visit a dead person. But since I did, three times, at least some part of my brain knows that, even though I wish it was not the case with every fibre of my being, there is absolutely no chance of him walking back in the door. Of course the fact that what’s left of him is currently residing in a box at the undertakers should be a pretty big give away…

You were supposed to be my happy forever after, and right back at you. With all that gone…? I’ve lost my ‘why’. I don’t feel strong enough to get through this, to survive. Not without your support. I can’t figure out if that’s an example of irony or not. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? Very little does now.