Today I was hit by a tsunami

Today I was hit by a tsunami of grief... It's just over a year since I lost my husband and I have managed to muddle through life so far. But today it hit me all over again. 

I went out for the morning to a place we used to visit. A local market town where we would potter around. P would visit a little antiques shop and have a catch up with the owner as I would look at the different things in the shop. We would then go and have lunch together. It was a familiar routine. 

I went to that familiar place. It's been a miserable wet day. Typical February weather for the North West. Cold, wet and miserable. But we would just wrap up and potter around together. 

Today -despite being well wrapped up- 

I. JUST. MISSED. HIM!! 

I remembered how much I just loved spending time with him. Being together. Doing things and sharing the experience. 

Today - I felt alone. I think I felt lonely. 

Grief is often likened to waves. 

Initially, the waves were just there all the time. I was just treading water. My head would go under the water regularly. I would swallow a load of water and choke and splutter, gasping for breath. I felt like I was in deep water and I just couldn't stop and relax, I had to keep kicking to stay afloat. 

But, today I was hit by a tsunami- I was knocked off my feet.

I couldn't breath.

I couldn't see. 

I was lost.

It was dark.

But there was something, something deep down... 

a need to survive... 

a need to get my head up to get air. 

Eventually, it subsided. 

I felt like I had been washed up on the shore... I clambered to my metaphorical feet, wiped the hair out of my eyes, wiped my face and picked myself up

... and breathed. 

That's what he taught me to do. 

That's what I need to keep doing... time and time again. 

It's been a couple of months since I started this blog entry... but it happened again- yesterday!

I was hit by the tsunami of grief. Once again I was knocked off my feet. 

I couldn't breath. 

I couldn't stand up, I couldn't see. 

All was black. 

Everything ached with the pain of loss. 

I was sorting out stuff. My stuff, not his. I can't face that. not yet, not ever - secretly even still in my brain I keep saying - "When he gets back..." - I hate that it still does that but for that nano-second I feel that burst of excitement. That butterfly feeling I used to get. 

I used to get it on a Friday driving home from school. The excitement of coming home to him and having the weekend together.

I used to get it when I just needed to hear his voice and I would call. 

I used to get it when he'd been out and I was waiting for him to come home. 

Soppy as teenagers, we were. We had had to find that - we actively made a life for ourselves when we knew that there was only going to be us. Not being able to have children destroys so many marriages. We were so determined that we were not going to let that happen to us. Our life had not turned out as we had hoped or as we had planned but we were going to make the best of it. 

We did! 

We had a fantastic time! 

We were soppy as teenagers and just loved being together- we had worked at it and it worked! 

.... and that's why it's just so hard. 

.... and that's why the tsunamis will continue because I loved him - still very much do! 

I miss him. I miss us. 

Grief is like an ocean in which I am learning how to swim. 

I know that those tsunamis will keep coming. And I will continue to be knocked off my feet. But I will wipe myself down and get back up again.  

I owe him that! (He'd say - I owe myself that!)

So, my advice: 

• Know that they will come and go- grief waves
• Some will knock you off your feet - breath through and lift your head up
• Waves will come when you least expect and the smallest thing can set them off
• You will learn to swim!  

Love Hx