Anger And Guilt – Grief Personified

This post… Is a difficult one.
I’m going to keep it short and to the point.
I urge you to keep an open mind whilst reading it because unless you’ve experienced it, you’re probably going to be confused about how I feel…

I think I finally understand what the grief counsellor said about being angry at Jonny for dying….

I’m not angry at Jonny himself.
I’m really not.

I guess… I’m angry at the situation.
Selfish as it may seem, I’m angry that he went and died and left me in this state, a wreck of what I was or could have been.

Does that make sense?
Or do I sound like the worst person in the world?

It’s incredibly difficult to articulate this feeling. I really bear no ill will towards my beautiful boyfriend. I adored him with all my heart, and I still do now.
I just….
I just feel so angry that through no fault of my own (or his) I’m now left a complete emotional mess, picking up the pieces of a shattered former life than can never be whole again.

I think of what other people my age are doing: flirting, partying, dating and even settling down, and I can’t have those things and when I think about the possibility of doing those things in the future I’m guilt ridden, paralysed at the thought of my own betrayal towards Jonny.

It’s exhausting.


I’m Still Here

Morning wordpress…

Sorry it’s been a while. I hit a low point, lower than ever before. I didn’t even want to be part of this world let alone part of a blog.

But here I am; still here. 

I lit candles for Jonny last night, I placed them around his picture and in that moment I felt lower than I’d ever felt before. I hit depths of sadness I didn’t even know existed. I curled up in bed and I was distraught, completely. A mess of tears and snot and hair. I just couldn’t stop. Eventually I cried myself to sleep and woke up this morning with the heaviest heart full of disappointment at the fact I was still here.

I don’t think anyone ever really prepares you for the fact that grief just keeps getting worse. I’m sure there’ll come a point where it’s reared it’s ugly head so much that I start to move forward again. But for now the analogy that grief is like the sea; it comes in waves, has never been more apt.

I got myself a job.
I went straight into full time work and didn’t look back. I didn’t tell them why I wasn’t at uni or hadn’t had a job for months, I didn’t tell them anything. I just got up on my first day and went in like I was the happiest girl on earth.

But sure enough, that took it’s toll. Going from nothing to everything was not the soothing distraction I had been promised. Everyones chorusing of ‘get back out there, get a job, it’ll give you purpose, a distraction’ was, quite frankly, a load of crap. Yes, it is a distraction, but it just means the come down when I get back home and realise I am alone again is even bigger than before.

I find myself crying on the bus in the morning, crying during work, crying in starbucks as I order my coffee. This is certainly not the life of strength and forward moving that I was led to believe it would be.

Mainly I think I get upset because a little part of me knows that I am, in fact, moving forward.
And I don’t like that.
It’s not fair.
Why does my life get to continue when Jonny’s didn’t?
The more normal everything slowly becomes the more the guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders. How can I be normal? How can I get up and go to work and pretend nothing is wrong when Jonny is dead? HOW?!

It’s such a long road, and it just stretches endlessly in front of me.
It’s relentless.

I’m sure it gets better eventually. It must do.

Candles In Memory

Okay, I Hope.

I’m okay. 

I’m still going.

Though my friend put it beautifully when she suggested that life right now is just a series of distractions to keep our minds occupied from reality.
I spend my time either thinking about Jonny, or not thinking about him then feeling huge waves of guilt that I let him, somehow, slip my mind…

I’ve been making my own funeral dress. I don’t know if that sounds weird to some people? Jonny wanted stars and I wanted to give him everything. Turns out stars are quite hard to come by, especially black, funeral appropriate dresses also featuring stars in an equally sombre colour like white, that will be delivered in time AND fit me…
So I decided I’d make my dress. And I’d cover it in stars. And it would be completely appropriate and perfect and fitting and a unique tribute for my boy.

Jonny always loved when I was making things; over the years I’ve knitted him hats, made him personalised cards, customised clothes he already had in his wardrobe. He loved it, and so did I. Before he died I’d got into quilting. Jonny commissioned a big London themed quilt he could snuggle in during his winter months of chemo. Months we still believed he had ahead of him….

I didn’t finish the quilt. 

It’s one of those things now, that I use against myself. When I’m feeling bad, or down, I remind myself how excited Jonny was for the quilt that I would NEVER finish in time…. I bought it to him in the hospice, it was about big enough to cover his torso but had pins sticking out of it and no padding. I laid it across him whilst he slept each night just so I knew in a way, he’d had it.

He must have known something was going on.

He didn’t understand why everyone was coming to visit him or why I’d bought in all these things for him when I was supposed to be back in London going to uni each day…

No one ever told him what was going on. Not directly. He rarely asked. He knew. I’m sure he did. He knew he was dying and that upsets me a great deal.

I just hope he wasn’t scared. Or regretful. Or sad that his life was coming to an end. I hope he wasn’t worried about us; his family, me. I hope he wasn’t thinking about all the stuff he’d miss out on. I hope he wasn’t panicking over whether he should’ve been more religious. 

I hope, with all my heart, that he was’t frightened. That if he really could hear our voices that we soothed and comforted him. I hope he heard me repeatedly say I love him towards the end. I hope he heard us give him permission to let go.

I hope he’s happy now, I hope he’s safe and at peace. I hope he isn’t missing us and can’t see the pain and destruction that’s been left behind in the wake of his death.

I hope I see him again one day.

And I hope there’s a future where I’ll be okay.

Trapped In A Nightmare

It’s been a week now.
I genuinely don’t know how I’ve done it.
It still feels as raw as it did on the day and, if it’s possible, I miss Jonny more each morning I wake up without him.

I am completely uninterested in a life that doesn’t include Jonny Walker.

Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal! If anything I want to live more than ever before; why would I take my own life when there are people like Jonny who don’t have a choice?

There are people out there who are literally dying to be alive.

No one should ever abuse the gift of existence; it’s a cliché but it’s never been more prevalent to live everyday like it’s you’re last.
Especially for me; I’m going to travel the world. I’m going to work hard. I’m going to follow my dreams and jump into a career that brings me happiness. I’m going to take each and every opportunity that’s thrown at me no matter how scared I am. I’m going to climb mountains, walk the great wall of china, swim the channel.
I’m going to live like each second of my life is a privilege and a blessing and a pleasure to be a part of.

But I’d swap all of that to bring Jonny back. I would give my own life to have him here. I’d sign my soul away on the dotted line for Jonny to have a second chance.

Nothing is a consolation.

Not the memories, or the friendships formed out of this tragedy, or the fact I’ve ‘become a stronger person’.

I would trade it all in to sit beside him and look at his beautiful face again for even a second.

I can’t comprehend that he’s gone and I don’t believe it. If I think too much about the fact he is no longer of this world it blows my mind and it scares me so much I want to curl up and scream.

There’s so much pain inside my head I’m scared it will destroy me.

I’m having nightmares now. I can’t sleep. I can’t imagine a day where I don’t wake up crying. I can’t imagine a day where I don’t think about him. If anything it scares me; the thought that in the future everything will become so normal that Jonny only flutters through my mind every now and again.

What I do know is you never get over something, you just learn to live with it. The grief will never go away, it’ll just become so second nature that I’ll have no choice but to cope with it. It won’t get smaller in my mind, it’ll just become cluttered with bigger, happier things.

But even with all that said… It’s only been a week and I just bloody miss him….

Jonny dangling his legs or a canal in central Amsterdam, 2014.

Jonny dangling his legs over a canal in central Amsterdam, 2014; his bucket list holiday.