Memoirs of a biker widow (10)

Julia Day-Stewart - 30 Jul 18

Time

Time doesn’t heal a broken heart, it doesn’t feel like anything will heal my heart. When he died, a part of me did too.. that’s cheesy isn’t it but it’s true.

 I no longer care about the insignificant things. I don’t ever say no to anything and my tolerance to people is very short. I’m probably not that pleasant to be around a lot of the time, it doesn’t even surprise me that I’ve lost a few people along the way.

I’m bitter and I try not to be, I’m jealous of other people relationships and lives. I’m jealous of friend’s babies’ having fathers. I’ve had to unfollow happy people on social media and I can’t stand fresh loved up new couples. 

That should be us. 

That should be my family. 

But it isn’t and it’s shit. I had that once and I loved it, I felt the luckiest girl alive.

Inside I’m broken. 

I feel guilty for laughing. I feel guilty for living my life when he’s just a box of ash on my bedroom shelf. I don’t cry every night now but when I do cry it’s deeper and more painful. Like when something builds up and explodes. 

Instead of silently weeping all the time I just have these sudden sobbing episodes that physically hurt and take my breath away.

The kids still have moments, mostly at night. They take after me, both of them are sensitive,thoughtful children. When they are tired it hits them too. I see the pain in their eyes, the grief literally rolling down their cheeks and it hurts my chest. I have no answers for them.

It’s almost too much sometimes to see them so fragile. My heart literally breaks again and again.

A year on and it feels like 5 minutes.

Most people gradually stop asking and checking up on us.. I find myself talking less about him through fear of constantly sounding like a broken record. 

I started a new job and explained to a few people when it was appropriate, I don’t want to be just known as that girl who’s boyfriend died but to save the awkward moments ..for example when people ask if Luna sees her dad or do I have a boyfriend. I briefly offer that I’m a widow , get the sympathetic looks again and then awkwardness…

Talk about conversation killer.

That’s one of the worst part about talking about him. He’s not my ex but he’s not my boyfriend because he’s dead so how do I refer to him. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. I’ve caught myself talking about him as my boyfriend and on several occasions actually stopped mid sentence because the person I’m speaking to is looking at me like I’m barmy speaking about a dead person in present context. 

I’m single then. 

A year on it appears ok for me to be asked out. Is that the magic time frame to get over someone ? 

It appears so, because as soon as his anniversary passed, I had multiple offers to be taken out. I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.. 

A friend had asked me only around six months after, if I had considered seeing anyone romantically and I could have slapped her. 

It hadn’t even crossed my mind.. if I’m honest I can’t imagine ever being with anyone again. 

The last time I kissed or touched a man was Rob on the morning he was killed. How on earth am I ever to give that to someone else. It’s become sacred and special to me and feels treacherous to think of being with anyone else.

I don’t want to be on my own forever, I’m lonely. In the evenings it’s so,so lonely. I find myself going to bed early through sheer boredom. 

I just want Rob back. It’s not a lot to ask is it? I miss his face, his voice and his presence. 

I miss my best friend. 

It’s true that grief comes In waves. Deep sudden, consuming waves. And then things go calm again. 

Another day passes and time continues. 

Life goes on.

He’s missing so much. He didn’t see who won the football league. He didn’t see the World Cup or England do incredible. He missed another Royal baby and another Royal wedding. I’ve just had a second birthday without him.

The list of events he’s missing is just endless and will increase as time goes on.

It’s only the beginning of what he will miss as a father and my best friend.

I never knew that missing someone would hurt so much.

My point is that time does not heal all wounds. There is no time expectation on grief. 

A more apt saying is ‘it’s what you do with the time that helps to heal’.

My mourning is a working process and I’ll be dammed if it consumes me to the point where I mess it up for my children too. They’ve suffered enough.

I have to continue to live and enjoy life because they need me to and I have no choice.

So I need to stop being bitter and start being happier for people that have got what I do desperately want back and maybe in time, things will feel better. 

Julia Day-Stewart

Mum of three. Widow at 35years of age. Mother, Nurse, Realist. Broken but surviving. Lost and drowning but floating in the light of the moon. Amazed by the power of love and the strength of human compassion. I am no writer, I barely scraped past my gcses. So excuse the appalling grammar. I lost my soul mate in 2017 whilst pregnant with his first child (now aged 7 Months). One moment, one poor decision and so many lives destroyed. I decided to start a blog. Firstly to empty my head and help with my own PTSD and secondly to try and help others. Grief can be very lonely and physically destructive.

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