We spent some twenty-six years with our lives entwined. We were friends, a couple, formally husband and wife, then (god help us) parents.
Twenty to Forty-Six it’s a big chunk of time spent in each others company.
We were always a mismatched pair, big picture girl, detail orientated bloke. I liked things to happen, you hated change. I live in my head, you were the solid, practical guy firmly grounded in reality.
Somehow we stumbled along together, created amazing children, laughed and cried.
Today would have been our eighteenth wedding anniversary. Perhaps we would have gone to that fancy restaurant in town that we always talked about going to, but because we had to book in advance we never managed to get there. Or maybe we would have just swapped cards, or perhaps we would have been busy and not remembered until tomorrow.
Instead I took flowers to your grave, came home and had a cry with the girls.
It’s weird living in a world without you. There’s the in-jokes nobody else would understand even if I explained them, concocted from memories of shared experiences long ago. The ability to read another person’s mind with just one look. Knowing what they were going to say before they speak.
The history of our life together has reached a full stop. The dance is over.
There will be no more new memories just images of the past that keep flitting across my mind during the sleepless hours. Your carefully planned marriage proposal at the Blue Mountains (which I almost ruined with my disorganisation – life was shambolic long before it become a blog). You standing to deliver your father’s eulogy, and years later holding my hand as I had to do the same for my Dad. The look on your face when you held your newborn daughters. On the dock at Garden Island your joy as you saw your six-month old daughter for the first time in four months. You building a kite for the girls and running around the footy oval trying to get it airborne. Princess Child, all of two or three, insisting she could fly it, your mixed-emotion face as she let it go and it soared skywards out of reach for ever.
There’s a lifetime of ordinary memories, I wish we had appreciated how special they were at the time.
Sending you lots of love Janine, given me a bit to think about there.. they always say you should live in the moment and even the mundane is special in every kind of way. Thanks for reinforcing that. That picture above just excudes love and joy and just a playfulness that two people who understand each other have. xxx
Thanks Melissa.
I have no words. xxx
Thanks for reading.
No words, just hugs
Thank you Cate.
Well, I am just going to say this… LOOK AT YOU, gorgeous girl. What a wonderful shot. Precious picture, precious words.
Thank you Jenn.
In tears. Can only imagine the heartache and the longing. The ordinary moments definitely fill up a large part of our hearts. It’s just that we often don’t realise it until long after the fact…when those moments are only a distant memory. This post was so beautifully written. May your husband rest in peace and may you find some comfort in your memories xxx
Thank you Cathy.
I tried to write so many things in response to your post and deleted them all – none were right. Thinking of you at this sad time.
I appreciate every comment and like, it doesn’t matter what you say it is just comforting to know people are reading.
I am so sorry your numbers together ran out. Thinking of you , though truly I cannot imagine how you cope xox.
Lots of support from really wonderful people is one of my coping mechanisms, the writing is helping, counselling, medication, it’s taking a village to keep me on my feet at the moment!
I have no words that can comfort you on these days, at least I don’t think I do. But that look of love and joy on your face – that’s priceless. And your words of the experiences you share – that’s amazing. I’m so glad you got to experience that joy and romance with your wonderful man. It’s wrong that he is gone and you are left to travel the rest of this journey alone. I can’t possibly comfort you. But I’m glad you had that joy in your lives and created those beautiful children and hopes that sustains you. Thank you for sharing. Much love to you x
Thank you, I am finding the fact that people are taking the time to comment or like very comforting. In the end the words don’t matter it’s simply the action, which makes me feel like I am not alone. I hope that every grieving person can find such support.
Beautifully written. It made me pause and consider.. and cry. Xx
I should have issued a tear jerker warning with this one! Going to have to do funny tomorrow.
Your words are beautiful. I cannot say more. Be kind to yourself. – Carol
Thank you Carol.
“There’s a lifetime of ordinary memories. I wish we had realized how special they were at the time.” That’s it, Janine. Regular life is special. I hope you will take your girls out to that fancy restaurant, in honor of Simon, and toast him. Now you have regular life with those precious teens. Each day and moment are a chance to be together and to realize how special life is. This is a beautiful post. Blessings to you.
Thank you Noreen.
Thank you for sharing your shambolic moments, heart-wrenching moments, ordinary moments, inspired moments… all these moments that you generously offer up to us for laughs, contemplation, insight, even inspiration. Your beautiful girls (whom you rave about so often) are truly blessed to have you as their mother, and to have their father’s spirit loved so well and captured so well by you.
xo
Thank you beautiful Heidi.
(also, GORGEOUS photo!)
Beautiful Janine, a poignant reminder to enjoy the little things in life, to enjoy what we have now…despite the everyday conflicts and irritations! xx
Thanks Sara.
I was working away and writing some things today and you popped in my mind so I came over to see how you were. The photo is stunning, like you can see the shared world you both existed within. Im glad the writing and the support and the ‘just sitting with it’ is whats getting you through at the moment. So sad that the dance is over – much love and a virtual hug x
Thank you for thinking of us Sarah.
What a beautiful wedding photo.
I’m so sorry for your loss x
Oh yes, you made me cry. You made me grateful.