When tomorrow comes

When tomorrow comes, Austin is moving out. Not for uni, not for a holiday. For good. He has found a new job. He has a place to crash for a little while. so he has a little time in which to find a flat of his own. And so my boy is finally flying the nest. Which is great. Fly, be free my little one. With all my best wishes and love and support as the air beneath your wings. We went out for dinner and marked it best we could. He is an amazing person, as anyone who knows him will tell you, and those who are on his road ahead, who have yet to meet him, have no idea how lucky they are going to be to have him in their lives. I’m trying to be brave. It is, after all, how it should be. But man…letting go hurts. Especially when things are as they are…

And then we will be just two. All two briefly. In a few weeks youngest will go back to uni. And then it’ll be just me here, permanently home alone. Which was always coming. As was the end of my maintenance support when she graduates. But all of these things were going to be ok, because we knew that, and Matt was going to be here and we were going to get through it together. We were going to work it out. We had it covered. And now?

It’s going to be just me. And I know I’m a grown woman, and I’m sure when it comes to it I’ll cope, because let’s face it, I have to. But man, I am so scared of being on my own all the time. This is so not how it was supposed to be. I didn’t know how bad lonely could feel…

In the meantime, I’ve just been dealt another doozy of a hand by life, which I can’t really share in detail here because, even though everyone thinks I’m mad, I refuse to lower myself to somewhere that is not right for me and for Matt and I. Yes, venting might make me feel better, but it would probably make things overall worse not better so, you know, why go there?

Even though my kids, and many others, have thought I’m mad, and too nice for my own good, up until today I have known that I can hold my head up high and that I have done the right thing throughout. I have checked in with everyone. I have kept in touch with those that matter. I’ve not let a special date pass without checking in on those others that it affected. I’ve done it for over a year. I am actually quite proud of myself for that, given some of the provocation that has come my way. I have done my very best to do the right thing in every situation, even if it’s been hard. And man, it has often been very hard. I have done the best for me and him, for him, in his memory and in his honour. I thought I was doing good. Aw bless, you stupid girl. *face palm*. I can practically hear him laughing at me…and then hugging me because he’d appreciate my trying.

But here we are, sad but true. It looks like I was wasting my time. And now, I think maybe, enough already. Apparently forgiving those who trespass against you doesn’t stop them from continuing to do so. I may yet have to gird my loins and find some strength from somewhere, and yes, I don’t know I’m going to do it, but I’m going to try and stop being a walkover. I hope I’m going to fight my corner if I have to. After all this time, after all I’ve done, if I haven’t earnt a little respect in return then…I dub thee unforgiven. And it’s what he would want. If he were here right now, he would be absolutely furious. Livid. Beyond that even. I think it’s time I was a little more him and a little less me. And he always believed in me.

There are two types of people in life. Radiators and drains. I have done my very best to be a radiator. I’m pretty sure I’m not a drain. But whatever I am, I’m sure as h*ll not going to be a doormat any more. No more Ms Nice Lady. So don’t tread on me. It’s going to be hard, it’s going to go against the grain,  but at this point, I really, and literally, have nothing left to lose. And maybe I’ll regain a little self respect. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. It turns out I was wrong. However I think I can still hold my head high for doing my well intentioned best, even if it has turned out to be misguided. But now? That doozy hand has forced my hand. Gloves off… If anyone out there has some to spare, please send me some strength, and maybe some healing, and just, please, hold my hand as I try and get through this too? I’m not sure my breaking point is that far off… Life just seems to be intent on piling it on, one thing after the other. I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve all this, but I really hope I enjoyed it… 🙁

PS: It turns out that, looking at the links I’ve put in here, Metallica’s music pretty much covers it today. Just as well. If this all goes to pot, as seems more than likely, I’d just like to mention that I’d like Enter Sandman as my mid-service track, in case I forget to add that to the “important stuff” file. I’ve already informed the mob, but they may not remember….

Sunday’d be too late

So, it’s been seven hours and fifteen days… No it hasn’t. It’s been 367 days, or is it 368, and however many hours, but I’m not Sinnead O’Connor, quietly dripping one beautiful tear down a flawless cheek. I’m a messy, lost, emotional, rudderless, ugly crying, me. Sunday marked a year since you left us, and still, nothing compares to you, and nothing ever will.

I had so much to say on that anniversary day and I still do. So much. But I just haven’t been in a place where I could do it. I’d battened down the hatches, and didn’t want to open the floodgates. I have been lucky enough to be able to talk to, and spend time with, some very important people over the last two days, which has helped. I have been reaching out left, right, and centre…to friends and family…and then I realised, *face palm slap*, that what I was actually trying to do was to talk to you…so it’s no wonder that nothing was quite scratching that itch is it? If only… I live in a world of if onlys…

It feels like it’s been forever, and also no time at all, and yet it is also still so surreal that maybe it never happened at all. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all some kind of sick joke…and I’ll wake up and it will all be over. But, as that song says, I’m still here, and I’m still not dead. And you are. It’s still all far too real.

It would have been the worst year of my life even had it been the only tragedy to have happened in it, which sadly it has not. Every time someone has said things couldn’t possibly get worse, they have. It has been a year of complete h*ll, and it hasn’t suddenly gotten better just because that year has passed. I am quite honestly surprised that I am still here, no thanks to some, and heartfelt thanks to many.

Being neither Sinnead O’Connor, nor Prince, I don’t do lyrics. So I thought I’d try a poem. Maybe this would be his song

And I did write one. But I just couldn’t get it. Because there just aren’t the words. However I tried, it all felt clichéd and trite and it’s all been said so much better by others… I’m no W.H.Auden, no AE Houseman, who both say it better than I ever could. As ever, I’m just me. I tried, I did my best, and I was going to put it here. But I just couldn’t do it well enough to say it all in a way I could be proud of.  I couldn’t do you justice with my words, and I didn’t want to get it wrong and let you down. So many others have done and continue to do it better.  If I could, I would write you a poem, I would sing you a song…but I’m not talented enough. You’d get it though. You always did. We always knew what each other were thinking, but when we were apart we didn’t always have the words we wanted. Being apart was always so hard. It hasn’t gotten any easier…

I guess that’s why we used songs to say things to each other that we couldn’t say quite the way we wanted to ourselves, something you can probably tell from the links that have been scattered throughout my blog entries. We shared so many songs, so many lyrical words, and I am so glad I still have all our playlists, all those songs, for when I am able to listen to music again.

I couldn’t have this played at your funeral, though I wanted to. It’s a song you sent me a long time ago, but it would have been considered inappropriate, and I was only permitted so much influence over your farewell. But, whatever some may say, this is what we were underneath it all. Pure f*cking love. Just so as you know, I’m going to carry on being me, for you, because that’s what you would have wanted. In the meantime, here’s the song that said it when we laid you to rest…another one that you chose to send me. And I’ve still got love, so much love in my heart for you, and, come what may, I can’t and won’t let it go.

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, we fought our way to be together. It took a long time, and it sure as h*ll wasn’t easy. Juggling everything we had between us sometimes made walking our life together a tightrope, but I’m so glad I got to walk along it with you. I’ll never let you go. And while I’m here, quoting away like mad, here’s one more song for you… Like so many films, but this one especially, your favourite, I can’t watch it without you. Your crazy still matches my crazy… And hey, I’m probably a whole heap crazier now than I was then. Grief tears you apart, and when, if, the pieces come back together, you’re just not the same, and never will be. There is always a crucial piece missing, and you are always broken in a way that can never be fixed.

I have no idea who I am now, but I am apparently a world of clichés and quotes, so why stop now? So, if the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and to be loved in return, we were that for each other. Man, to be loved like that, and to love like that…just amazing. One year on I still love you as much as ever, if not more, and I’ll love you forever, to the beach and beyond. You were my new day, and you are still the little birdhouse in my soul.

We marked your passing in many a typical way, including a beach, with fizz, just the three of us. It all hurt like hell, and it still does. Life may be better at the beach, but being on a beach without you was a very hard step to take. It may have been an anniversary, but it was not a celebration. Just an acknowledgement of the time that has passed. And if there was anything celebratory about it at all, it was just that I am still here a year on, and I have made it through the many many times when I thought I would not, when I would cheerfully have gone gently into that good night and joined you.

So here we are. One unimaginable year later. Who knew you could cry every day for a year? I have been forced to learn so much about life, myself, others in that time… And here I am, still expressing myself by writing it all down, and since I’ve always been able to say more in the written word, be they mine or those of others, than those spoken in person, it’s helped, in so far as anything has, so I guess I’ll keep on doing it. In the meantime, here I am, lying here with all my thoughts inside this empty bed, and I miss you. If you distill it all, take all the words I write here, all the lyrics in these songs, and all the days I go through, that’s what you get. Three simple words that say so much. I miss you. And I love you. Another three words, that really go without saying, but I’m saying them anyway. I love you.

And so, life goes on. One foot in front of the other, remembering to breathe, one day at a time. It’s not really living, it’s just existing. But, like everything else, it is what it is. If only…

PS: Neck Deep have a new album out. You’d love it. I love it. And on it are so many songs we would have sent each other. It hurts, but I feel like I’m listening to it for both of us. It’s so sad that you’ll never hear it. And as they say on it, whatever storm is passing by…we all know nothing and we will all end up pushing daisies, and that’s the way it is.

Sometimes it’s just not fair

So yeah. It’s really late. I should be in bed, at the very least trying to sleep, if not actually sleeping.
But it’s been one of those days. I woke up late, surprise surprise, and then remembered what I was waking up to. Not good. As the numbness wore off, the pain hit home again, and man, really? How? Why? How do I keep carrying on when life keeps doing this kind of sh*t?

And last night in one of my dreams I was with Matt. No biggie. Not one of those big visitation dreams people talk about. Just a dream where we were riding my subconscious rollercoaster together. And even though the details faded too fast, as dreams do, I know it was nice to see and be with him again. It was just the natural order of things. Him and I together, being us, no big deal. Except it is when you wake up and it’s just me and he’s gone again. I know it’s all coincidence and random and life isn’t really out to get me, and I’m not actually jinxed. but… Hint: not sure I can handle this, let alone any more.

Nonetheless I got up. I did stuff. I drove to Bridgwater and picked up new ear plugs because, you know, why not? I even did work because like, how do I tell people, like my boss, “hey, you know, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be a bit off radar again for a little while again”. Yes. Again. Why? Yeah, well, and I know this keeps happening, and I know it sounds unbelievable, and yeah, I can’t believe it’s happened to me again too, and I know it sounds like I’m just trying to skive out of stuff, but honest to god I’m not. Thing is, that guy killed on the bypass yesterday? Yeah, well, he was my friend. And I’m really sorry, but I’m not sure work is something I can be doing today. So yeah, no, I didn’t say that, even though that is so totally how I feel. I can’t believe this is my life, how could anyone else? It’s too unbelievable, there’s no way it could be true…but this is my truth.

I am so glad today happened to be the time for my next phone call with my counsellor because, you know, I’ve not got enough people to talk to as it is, and this, this on top of everything else? Just too much. I took myself out of the house and headed into the fields, so that I could talk to her without an audience. And it did help. To be allowed to express myself, to be reassured that how I am feeling is normal, that to be knocked over and over again is totally allowed to hurt like f*ck. That just doing one day at a time, doing what I can do, even just remembering to breathe, can be an achievement when things are this bad. And if I’m not ticking every box going, well hey, it would be a miracle if I was. And all that I could constructively do today was to donate toward the GoFundMe account for his funeral/wake/tombstone. Which is just sh*t. No fair. Stop the ride, I want to get off.

Tonight we, as in we three, went out to Kevin’s for outdoor drinks and so forth. Kevin knew Jake well. Better than me in some ways. And tonight Liverpool won the Championship League (excuse me if my terminology is off) and Kevin was over the moon, but with that bitter sweet tempered by the fact that Jake would also have been thrilled… It’s just not fair. Nothing is fair anymore.

Nonetheless we had a really nice night. There was chat and food and music and drinks, and I really kept an eye on not drinking much, the kids less so, because if I’m going to be drunk and emotional, then I want that to be here, not there. And at some point the fat rain started, and it was time to come home.

But, even though we were home, I couldn’t go to bed. I had to sit and be home and watch TV and kind of ground myself back here before I could head to bed. I can’t explain it really. It is what is is. As ever. And now it’s bedtime.

In the next few days I’m going to start weaning myself off these anti-depressants. I don’t think they’re helping with the depression, and the weight they have made me gain just makes me feel even worse about myself, and I already have massive body image issues. I also think they’re at least partially to blame for how sedated and dopey and incapable of getting up in the morning I am these days. Which doesn’t help with me trying to get on with life. Austin is worried about me coming off them. He thinks it’s a bad idea. But if dropping the dose makes me feel worse, I can just go back up again. And if coming off them doesn’t make things worse and then with that and the exercise I get back to my usual sort of size, then that will be way better for my mental health. Hey, I’m heading for being out ‘there’, single, old, overweight, and with baggage. Hopefully it’s a good decision. We’ll see. But that’s an experiment for another day, maybe the weekend. Not now.

Now, finally, it’s time to try sleeping. The fan is blowing, the phone will play me sleep meditation, and what do you know, it’ll be Friday again. Tick, tock, tick, tock…

There are no words

As I mentioned on my last post, things can always get worse. You just don’t realise how much worse. After my first birthday without Matt I was already struggling. And then on Tuesday, my beautiful ray of sunshine niece Loren passed away in a tragic accident. She was only 11. It’s hideous and heartbreaking, and there just aren’t the right words, even though I’m going to try and find some.

As Austin puts it, the saddest thing about this photo is that I’m the only one still alive. And I did try and find a different photo of her, for that reason. But she totally loved that hat, and that afternoon’s walk to the Windmill was just Matt, me and her, and we had fun, and it was a really nice time. It just had to be this one. It totally says Lolly to me, and it’s a very happy memory, and when everything else has come and gone, those are what we have left to hold on to.

Life is not fair. It does not make any sense. My family is small and close and we’ve already gone through so much, to add this is just…incomprehensible. It’s too much to get your head around, and I’m not going to lie, it has knocked me right back, but that’s irrelevant. This is SO not about me. It’s about my brother and his wife, and their two other children. It is so hard not to be able to go there and see them, even if just for a couple of hours. All any of us can do is be at the end of a text, of a phone, which really doesn’t feel like enough. But then I also know that nothing anyone says or does can make this any better. I’m not going to pretend I know what they’re all going through, but sadly I can probably imagine a lot better than a lot of people…and my heart just aches for them so much because I’ve been down the road ahead of them. I wish I could do more, but I don’t want to be that know it all person about it all, just because of my experience. Everyone’s journey through grief and loss is a different and individual one. And every single one sucks.

Life is just shit. We’re all devastated, and we’re going to miss her forever 😭💔


My Matt

Someone said I should keep talking about my Matt and how wonderful he was. So here I am.

My Matt was gorgeous, fit as, generous, giving, and loving, and supporting, and thoughtful, and loyal, and complicated, and insecure, and damaged, and flawed, and amazing and passionate and wonderful. In short, he was what we all are. We are all a mixed bag. We have all been damaged by the things we have been through. We all carry that baggage with us. Thanks to his insecurity, he could be possessive and jealous, and I could never tell him I loved him enough for him to truly believe me, however much I tried. But he was working on it. He was getting better. He was starting to believe. Sure, we had arguments, and they were volcanic, but that’s passion for you. It was a bit like he had to test us, to make sure we really loved each other. And guess what? We did. We were working through things. And I loved him. Like I’ve never loved anyone else, and I can’t imagine ever loving anyone that way ever again, or anyone loving me that way again. And I am so sad and angry that other people treated him the way they did, and left their mark on him the way they did. He didn’t deserve that. They have a lot to answer for. I just wanted to support him, and mend him, and help him, and for us to live the rest of our lives together the way we should have done. But I couldn’t fix him.

He lifted me up when I was down, he literally held me up when my legs would not, he made me believe that I was attractive and desirable, when no-one else ever really has. He gave 100%, when he was all in, he was all in. He made my world larger. He was my Prince Charming. We travelled, we saw and shared places, we shared everything, we made each other laugh, and we didn’t need anyone else. We were compatible in every single way, and I’ve never known anything like it. And yes, we had our flaws, but so do diamonds. He loved me despite my baggage, in the same way as I loved him despite his. When he had nightmares I held and soothed him until he settled again. When he stressed about problems at work, he called me, and we talked, and we sorted it, and I reassured him, and he always worked it out. He gave, I gave, we both gave as good as we got. Is it any wonder I miss him so much?

I’m never going to know what really happened that night, I never realised the places his head may have gone. A lot of stuff had happened over the last few months before he died that remains between us, because it’s nobody else’s business. And I know stuff has been said by those who haven’t got a clue blaming me for everything, like Matt was some easily led child. But hey, I guess I get to be the scapegoat, and if that makes it easier for you to cope with your grief to blame me, then knock yourself out. Your time of reckoning will come. Believe me, Matt was his own man, and if he wanted, or didn’t want, to do something, then he’d do what he wanted, and you belittle him by thinking otherwise. But he was harder on himself than anyone else was. On the surface, he may have looked like the life and soul of the party, but he was actually really sensitive, and he felt things deeply. He had a lot on his mind, he was worried about a lot of things, and felt let down by a lot of people. I tried to get him to open up, but he didn’t/wouldn’t. I knew he was down. But I never thought…. Never. I wish he’d woken me up, I wish he’d talked to me. But I can’t change a thing. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20… But it doesn’t matter. My Matt isn’t here anymore.

Only he is. He’s missing in everything I do. He’s in my thoughts all the time. He’s in my heart permanently. I know I’m not moving on. I know I’m stuck. I am broken and empty and aching. I know I miss him so much it physically hurts. I honestly don’t think I’m going to make it, and I’m not sure I even really want to. Not without him. But for the time being I just keep going, hour after hour, day after day, in the hope that somehow things will get a little better bit by bit, and I will get to a place where carrying on is tolerable. He was mine, and I was his. We loved each other. I loved him, and I love him still. And no-one can take that away from me or from us.

One year ago, this was us… And I still can’t understand how we got from there to here. I never will. Man, that smile…

The Scream

Today is just one of those days. One of those days when the grief sits leaden heavy inside you, and there’s so much going on in your head and in your heart, but there just aren’t the words for it all, there are just constantly threatening tears. You can’t talk past them. And you find yourself hugging yourself in a ball when they do come out because it hurts SO much, physically and mentally. And you don’t really let them out anyway, because you’re not in the right time/space for those floodgates to be open. Besides, who knows if you could close them again?

It’s kind of like a wordless, silent and painful, raw and primal, screaming into the unforgiving void, for everything you had, for what you were going to have together, and for what is lost and gone forever. For the years of shared history and memories and intimacy and trust that you will never share with anyone else. For all that we were to each other. For the plans we’d made and the wedding we would have had, and hadn’t gotten around to, because there wasn’t any rush was there? We had all the time in the world… Until suddenly we didn’t. And there wasn’t a we anymore. Just a me. Just like that. How are you not here anymore? And how the f*ck am I supposed to carry on doing this? This is just sh*t. Relentlessly sh*t. Same sh*t whatever day it is, wherever I am. It’s a very, very, very lonely place.

Another day done. And one more step along the world I go.

Nails in coffins

Today was Matt’s inquest. Four months and two days after his death, the Coroner recorded his final conclusion. I and my two rocks, aka the mob, Austin & Natasha went along. I can’t really explain why it was important to be there. It just was, and it meant a lot to me. Ever since we met, we have done as much together as we possibly could; we were never not in touch, we were always a part of each other’s lives. And once he lived down here, we were rarely apart.  We wanted to be together, even if work and logistics sometimes got in the way.  We would still be msging, txting, calling, whatever it took. I was there when he died, and I have been there at every step on his final journey after that, and this was just one more step along the road I have to walk. It felt right for me, and for us. To bear witness, to be his representative. To be there when he cannot.

And it was ok. As with all the professionals I have met along the way, from first responder to Coroner, everyone has dealt with us with tact, empathy, and professionalism. I am very grateful to the NHS, even though they couldn’t save him. They did the best job they could, they dealt with me, they dealt with my kids, and like it or not, it doesn’t matter what you do, sometimes it’s just too late. I am so glad that it hasn’t put Austin off becoming a paramedic, even if it has meant I now flinch when I hear a siren, or see the air ambulance…

Anyway. The coroner’s conclusion (used to be called a verdict) will record that Matt’s death was drug related. and that he self-administered morphine and tramadol but that his intentions at the time cannot be established. I have informed those who are in touch with me and who needed to know. No-one is ever going to know what happened. There is no proof of any intent. And whatever it was, whatever he did or didn’t do, makes no difference to the end result. Matt is dead, and I have lost my other half, my partner, my lover, my fiancé, my rock, my everything.

It’s a weird feeling. I was dreading it, but now it’s over and done with, so there’s a degree of relief involved. And all the formalities of his death are now over and done with, bar the estate creditors shouting. He was intestate and insolvent, so good luck with that.

But it isn’t “closure”. That word means nothing. One coroner’s verdict doesn’t suddenly fix everything. It doesn’t stop me missing him like h*ll, or crying on and off all day. I still feel bereft. Lost. Lonely. And there isn’t a conclusion in the world that is going to fix that

Like I say. Long day. Sad day. Another day done. Did I mention I hate it?


It never rains but…

A night of bad and surreal dreams that often included Matt did not set me up for a good day. To wake up and have him be gone again instantly, in the opening of an eye, is brutal. But I got up because I had to, and got myself what passes for sorted. At least these days I don’t care what I look like, so throwing clothes on is easier, and there’s no point wearing make up as it would inevitably get washed off at some point or another, so getting ready for the day is a lot quicker than it used to be.

I then tried to run an errand, and discovered that my car wouldn’t start. Not surprising since it hasn’t been driven anywhere for ages, so I had to get eldest to help out. Luckily he was home from his night away with the Ex just in time, and able to do so, before my folks turned up. Errand run, time for Sunday lunch.

We had a fairly pleasant Sunday lunch all together at the Lamb, with the added drama of some poor customer having a TIA. I kept his wife company for a bit before the ambulance arrived, which brought back some less then pleasant memories, even more so when it did. Simon (the landlord) was brilliant with the whole thing and it all worked out and the gent in question was well enough to be released back into the pub. I just wish that had been the case in our case. But it wasn’t was it? And there once more opened the chasm that I can’t get ever get across.

And so we went home, with me already more than a little on the emotional side. Eldest jump-started the car with Dad. I spent an unhappy half an hour or so trying to find a battery charger in the garage. Matt completely rearranged and reorganised it and I have no clue what’s what in there, or where what is. Eventually I found three of them(!) one of which turned out to be the right one, and which Dad and eldest got set up to charge the battery. In the meantime, while rummaging, I discovered that it would appear that there are also boxes of Matt’s stuff in the garage, as well as in the roof and in the conservatory and in the hall, and under the stairs. Boxes that are random mixes of useless junk alongside photo albums and bits and bobs that were clearly precious to him. All of which need sorting out and just looking through one box, even in passing, reduced me to emotional wreck status. All of that ‘him’ just gone…it’s just beyond sad…😢

Anyway, I pulled it together for a bit, and Dad got my copy of the Sheppy Inn print into the frame I brought from TKMaxx. So that was good, and it looks good. I just need to hang it now. But at least something actually got achieved today. And then they went home, eldest took a time out, and I went and took refuge in the church for a bit, because I needed some quiet peaceful place to cry and not be embarrassed by it, because walking around with tears streaming uncontrollably down your face tends to make people feel awkward. But sadly even churches close, so I’m back to hiding in a corner in the Oakhouse, trying to express just how bad I’m feeling with words, which aren’t even coming close to doing the job today. Facebook has handily just chosen to remind me that a year ago I was sitting in here with him and Anona by the open fire. Not helpful.

Ouchy has chosen today to wake up so I’m in considerable amounts of actual physical pain for the first time since Matt’s death, and he’s not here to support me or look after me. When the pain is like this any ability I might have to hold myself together just crumbles. It always frustrated Matt that he couldn’t take it away for me, he hated seeing me in such pain; all he could do was curl up with me and do the best he could to look after me and make me feel better. We’d fall asleep snuggled up with his hand laid flat palm down on my side where the pain lives, like a little hot water bottle, and it was so helpful and so sweet. The meds aren’t working yet, and tonight that hand won’t be there. Another one of those ‘firsts’… Hopefully the antidepressants will do their job and knock me into sleep. Otherwise it’s going to a long sad lonely night.

Today I am not coping. Today I am struggling. Today the feeling of loneliness is overwhelming. It’s not been a good weekend. I just don’t know what to do with myself any more, or why to do anything at all. It’s so hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other…when without you, let’s be perfectly honest, I don’t want to. 😭💔



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 😭💔.