Two months on and it's finally sinking in that he is not coming home.
The feeling that he isn't really gone and that he is 'just at work' or 'just in the other room on the computer', is disappearing.
I feel like I'm at maybe where I 'should' have been at 2 months ago. But it just didn't seem real at the time that Chris had actually died.
Yes, died.
He didn't 'leave' me, we didn't 'break up', I didn't 'lose' him, he died.
And it's only now really just sinking in. He really isn't coming home. It seems I can't bargain with God to make that different. It is what it is. Apparently I have to start dealing with that.
Denial was so good to me for a while. I really miss her.
Showing posts with label auntie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label auntie. Show all posts
Monday, August 15, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Two can be 'a Family'
After yesterday's post I had an old high school friend of Chris's (who I've never met but have loved getting to know through facebook, I just wish it had been under happier circumstances) message me to say that my blog had her thinking about what it means to have a successful relationship 'as you and Chris clearly did'.
The first thought that came to my mind was 'there is a big difference between successful and perfect'. Now I'm not going to go all John Gray on you all because I have never read Men are from Mars. In fact I've never, ever read any book on relationships. Before I met Chris I never read any books on being single, or finding a man. I did read snippets of 'He's Just Not that Into You' once when I was in the book store because I'd seen the Sex and the City episode.
So I can't tell you if men really are from Mars and women from Venus, I have no idea of 'The Rules' and I figured that for at least some of the time Chris was 'Into Me'.
I don't want this blog to be an illusion. I don't want people to find romanticism in my grief for things that weren't there. We weren't often a hand-holding couple, but we said "I love you" several times a day. We didn't always do everything together, but not a day went by without a kiss. I would be furious that he would clean the kitchen once a month and thought he deserved a medal, he refused to let me do the laundry because I didn't 'do it right'. But we always high-fived each other after an intimate night and told each other how awesome we were.
We knew and loved each other through pimples, warts, addictions, birth marks, cellulite and all.
But mostly we were 'family'. We stuck with each other no matter what. Both of us did things at times that were so terrible, the other one of us could have easily walked. But we never did because we knew we were meant to be together. We fought well because we had the same goal - to make SURE we could work it out.
That is why I think we were 'successful'. And I don't know or care if the self-help gurus agree or not.
The first thought that came to my mind was 'there is a big difference between successful and perfect'. Now I'm not going to go all John Gray on you all because I have never read Men are from Mars. In fact I've never, ever read any book on relationships. Before I met Chris I never read any books on being single, or finding a man. I did read snippets of 'He's Just Not that Into You' once when I was in the book store because I'd seen the Sex and the City episode.
So I can't tell you if men really are from Mars and women from Venus, I have no idea of 'The Rules' and I figured that for at least some of the time Chris was 'Into Me'.
I don't want this blog to be an illusion. I don't want people to find romanticism in my grief for things that weren't there. We weren't often a hand-holding couple, but we said "I love you" several times a day. We didn't always do everything together, but not a day went by without a kiss. I would be furious that he would clean the kitchen once a month and thought he deserved a medal, he refused to let me do the laundry because I didn't 'do it right'. But we always high-fived each other after an intimate night and told each other how awesome we were.
We knew and loved each other through pimples, warts, addictions, birth marks, cellulite and all.
But mostly we were 'family'. We stuck with each other no matter what. Both of us did things at times that were so terrible, the other one of us could have easily walked. But we never did because we knew we were meant to be together. We fought well because we had the same goal - to make SURE we could work it out.
That is why I think we were 'successful'. And I don't know or care if the self-help gurus agree or not.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Living 'One Day at a Time' isn't easy
Ever since I was 9 years old and day dreamed about one day buying our local lolly shop (I'm sure they sold other things, I vaguely remembering buying bread and milk for mum from there too, but mostly I just remember the lollies!) and turning it into a beautiful store, I've always had an entrepreneurial streak.
While I definitely would not describe myself as an "Type A Personality", most of my life has always been focused on setting goals and dreaming big.
90% of my current day is sitting around crying tears over how much I miss Chris. The other 10% is sitting around crying and screaming "I don't want to do this! I don't want my life to be THIS sad! I can't handle this! I need to be doing something! I just want to be happy again!"
In that 10% of the time, I start thinking practically - what am I going to do with the rest of my life now that I'm on my own? ALL of my previous goals were in some way connected to Chris. Big goals needed to be discussed and in mutual agreement. Smaller goals needed to take into consideration how it would affect our lives together.
He had his own goals (starting his own personal training biz), I had my own goals (being the next Roald Dahl) and of course, we had our 'together goals' (the wedding, a baby, buying a new couch and vacuum cleaner, travel, fitness).
Suddenly 99% of those goals were crushed.
And now in few moments of 'sanity' (I find it amusing that I consider myself sane at times, because in retrospect I rarely am, especially of late) and when I start worrying about my future and become overwhelmed with an urge to 'create a new plan! I must have a plan!'
This in itself isn't that unreasonable to think. But my plans need to be BIG and successful!
This inevitably leads me to tears. What if my big, amazing plans work and they are successful? So what? Chris isn't here to see them. He isn't here to celebrate with me. No one is here to celebrate with me. No one is here to tell me how amazing I am. No one is here to support me without judgement (I will give Chris true credit here - he really did cheer for me and encourage me without judgement like very few people I know). What is the point of achieving anything without him here? So I sit and cry about the pointlessness of it all.
24 hours later, I'm back to where I was and on to the next new, BIG plan! (See I told you I wasn't that sane. Isn't the definition of stupidity doing the same thing over and over?)
So today I decide to post on facebook that I'm considering studying at university next year. Long online conversation follows with suggestions for study etc. Until a Very Dear and Wise Friend, had the guts to email me and suggest that I do not plan to take on a full course load next year. Like it or not, I have plenty of misery ahead. The first Christmas, New Years, Birthdays, Anniversaries without him. And then after that accepting I have a lifetime of Christmases, New Years, Birthdays and Anniversaries without him.
My mental and emotional capacities will be pushed to the limit. And I need to learn to make small and manageable plans to be able to pay the bills but that will allow me all the time in the world that I need to grieve.
I need to learn to focus on living 'One Day at a Time' for now. Or as Chris used to say to me all the time "You need to be where your hands are".
Right now, that means coping step by baby step. So if you hear me sprout out a ridiculous new plan, please remind me that it's okay - the big dreams can wait for a while.
While I definitely would not describe myself as an "Type A Personality", most of my life has always been focused on setting goals and dreaming big.
90% of my current day is sitting around crying tears over how much I miss Chris. The other 10% is sitting around crying and screaming "I don't want to do this! I don't want my life to be THIS sad! I can't handle this! I need to be doing something! I just want to be happy again!"
In that 10% of the time, I start thinking practically - what am I going to do with the rest of my life now that I'm on my own? ALL of my previous goals were in some way connected to Chris. Big goals needed to be discussed and in mutual agreement. Smaller goals needed to take into consideration how it would affect our lives together.
He had his own goals (starting his own personal training biz), I had my own goals (being the next Roald Dahl) and of course, we had our 'together goals' (the wedding, a baby, buying a new couch and vacuum cleaner, travel, fitness).
Suddenly 99% of those goals were crushed.
And now in few moments of 'sanity' (I find it amusing that I consider myself sane at times, because in retrospect I rarely am, especially of late) and when I start worrying about my future and become overwhelmed with an urge to 'create a new plan! I must have a plan!'
This in itself isn't that unreasonable to think. But my plans need to be BIG and successful!
This inevitably leads me to tears. What if my big, amazing plans work and they are successful? So what? Chris isn't here to see them. He isn't here to celebrate with me. No one is here to celebrate with me. No one is here to tell me how amazing I am. No one is here to support me without judgement (I will give Chris true credit here - he really did cheer for me and encourage me without judgement like very few people I know). What is the point of achieving anything without him here? So I sit and cry about the pointlessness of it all.
24 hours later, I'm back to where I was and on to the next new, BIG plan! (See I told you I wasn't that sane. Isn't the definition of stupidity doing the same thing over and over?)
So today I decide to post on facebook that I'm considering studying at university next year. Long online conversation follows with suggestions for study etc. Until a Very Dear and Wise Friend, had the guts to email me and suggest that I do not plan to take on a full course load next year. Like it or not, I have plenty of misery ahead. The first Christmas, New Years, Birthdays, Anniversaries without him. And then after that accepting I have a lifetime of Christmases, New Years, Birthdays and Anniversaries without him.
My mental and emotional capacities will be pushed to the limit. And I need to learn to make small and manageable plans to be able to pay the bills but that will allow me all the time in the world that I need to grieve.
I need to learn to focus on living 'One Day at a Time' for now. Or as Chris used to say to me all the time "You need to be where your hands are".
Right now, that means coping step by baby step. So if you hear me sprout out a ridiculous new plan, please remind me that it's okay - the big dreams can wait for a while.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Not everything should be a facebook status
Not everything should be a facebook status.
Some tears are private.
I know that my facebook status updates recently have been reasonably 'chirpy'. I think that most of my real friends would know how the tears still flow every day. I think they would have some idea of how much I miss my Chris. How desperately I wish he was still here. How much I want to hold him, to talk to him.
It makes me wonder how many others do the same. Cry private tears that we don't see. Have secret frustrations and heart break they don't share. Are emails, texts, facebook and twitter really connecting us? Is 140 characters really enough?
In the meantime I'll keep getting out of bed, keep believing that facebook is enough to get the support I need from friends far away. I'll put my boots on and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And I'll try and remember that I'm really not alone. We all have private tears for someone, a lost dream, a broken heart. Until we are in that place where there is no more tears, no more waiting, no more pain and instead we are dancing with angels ... I am here for you.
Some tears are private.
I know that my facebook status updates recently have been reasonably 'chirpy'. I think that most of my real friends would know how the tears still flow every day. I think they would have some idea of how much I miss my Chris. How desperately I wish he was still here. How much I want to hold him, to talk to him.
It makes me wonder how many others do the same. Cry private tears that we don't see. Have secret frustrations and heart break they don't share. Are emails, texts, facebook and twitter really connecting us? Is 140 characters really enough?
In the meantime I'll keep getting out of bed, keep believing that facebook is enough to get the support I need from friends far away. I'll put my boots on and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And I'll try and remember that I'm really not alone. We all have private tears for someone, a lost dream, a broken heart. Until we are in that place where there is no more tears, no more waiting, no more pain and instead we are dancing with angels ... I am here for you.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
A month ago today ...
I've been kinda okay up until now. When I say okay, I mean I was able to hold myself together enough to plan his service, to receive visits from family and friends with a smile, even managed to laugh a couple of times at my fathers terrible "Dad jokes".
In the last month I've managed to cook dinner 3 times for myself, go grocery shopping yesterday (public tears in the fruit and vege section but pulled myself together by the time I reached the cheeses). I also managed to take my dog to the vet, visit with my nephews. I managed to keep my friends updated on facebook (facebook has been a godsend for providing short 'status' updates rather than dealing with phone calls and long emails).
I've also been planning a trip overseas to Canada to visit with his family, in particular his mom who wasn't able to make it over here for the funeral because of her health. I know this trip will be a good thing, even though the thought of going to Canada without him is too horrible to take in. My sister and 5yo nephew are going to be joining me for the first part of the trip, which will not only make it a lot easier but also fun as well. While I'm devastated by the circumstances of the trip, I'm excited to take them to some of the places that hold such special memories for me and Chris.
But today was different. All of a sudden I felt like I couldn't move. My body, heart and soul hardened.
It's funny but I guess I thought somehow it would get easier. Everyone said it would get easier. It hasn't. I just feel completely numb. I worry that I'm going to have no friends left, that I'll make everyone too uncomfortable. I know that my friends love me and just want to see me happy again. I tell myself to try and cheer up just a tiny little bit. It doesn't need to be anything big. But if I could just try ....
I often called Chris my 'COH' - Canadian Other Half. Even though I called him that, I guess I was always such a strong and independent person I never really thought that he was 'actually' my other half. You can be in a relationship and still be your own person, right? That's what I always thought. Not any more. Now I realise he really was my other half. How much of everything I did depended on him. Why I FOUGHT during the bad times to keep us together.
But now my other half has died. And today, I'm beginning to realise that means half of me has died. No wonder I'm feeling so miserable. One foot here on earth, and the other foot anxious to run through heaven's door to see him again.
I keep writing every sentence here, deleting, rewriting, deleting, logging out, logging back in, writing it again. I know that I don't have to push myself to do this. I don't have to do anything right now that I don't want to. But this feeling of overwhelming numbness is crippling. If I don't write this then I feel like I might not ever write again.
So here I sit writing. And it's hard but something somehow, somewhere, something is pushing me to write. I wish I could write so much more, I have so much more to say, but I just feel heavy.
In the last month I've managed to cook dinner 3 times for myself, go grocery shopping yesterday (public tears in the fruit and vege section but pulled myself together by the time I reached the cheeses). I also managed to take my dog to the vet, visit with my nephews. I managed to keep my friends updated on facebook (facebook has been a godsend for providing short 'status' updates rather than dealing with phone calls and long emails).
I've also been planning a trip overseas to Canada to visit with his family, in particular his mom who wasn't able to make it over here for the funeral because of her health. I know this trip will be a good thing, even though the thought of going to Canada without him is too horrible to take in. My sister and 5yo nephew are going to be joining me for the first part of the trip, which will not only make it a lot easier but also fun as well. While I'm devastated by the circumstances of the trip, I'm excited to take them to some of the places that hold such special memories for me and Chris.
But today was different. All of a sudden I felt like I couldn't move. My body, heart and soul hardened.
It's funny but I guess I thought somehow it would get easier. Everyone said it would get easier. It hasn't. I just feel completely numb. I worry that I'm going to have no friends left, that I'll make everyone too uncomfortable. I know that my friends love me and just want to see me happy again. I tell myself to try and cheer up just a tiny little bit. It doesn't need to be anything big. But if I could just try ....
I often called Chris my 'COH' - Canadian Other Half. Even though I called him that, I guess I was always such a strong and independent person I never really thought that he was 'actually' my other half. You can be in a relationship and still be your own person, right? That's what I always thought. Not any more. Now I realise he really was my other half. How much of everything I did depended on him. Why I FOUGHT during the bad times to keep us together.
But now my other half has died. And today, I'm beginning to realise that means half of me has died. No wonder I'm feeling so miserable. One foot here on earth, and the other foot anxious to run through heaven's door to see him again.
I keep writing every sentence here, deleting, rewriting, deleting, logging out, logging back in, writing it again. I know that I don't have to push myself to do this. I don't have to do anything right now that I don't want to. But this feeling of overwhelming numbness is crippling. If I don't write this then I feel like I might not ever write again.
So here I sit writing. And it's hard but something somehow, somewhere, something is pushing me to write. I wish I could write so much more, I have so much more to say, but I just feel heavy.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Oh Canada
Until 2004 I don't think many of my Aussie friends even knew that Canada Day was the 1 July. From the first year that Chris moved here we started our crazy traditions of playing Kitchen Table Hockey (involves miniature plastic hockey sticks I bought as souvenirs, a foam hockey puck and goal posts made out of straws stuck to the table with big wads of blue tack), cooking poutine, hot wings and blue cheese sauce, Beef Dip and of course, Angel Food cake. (Hot sauce, Au Jus and cake mix was ordered from USAFoods). Canadian Club, Kokanee and Labatte Blue was easy enough to find, but sadly no Molson Canadian. The night usually ended with a Trailer Park Boys marathon.
This year though, none of us were up to celebrating and thought we'd give the whole night a miss until my cousin, Leonie White from White by Design Cakes turned up tonight with this gorgeous cake.
This year though, none of us were up to celebrating and thought we'd give the whole night a miss until my cousin, Leonie White from White by Design Cakes turned up tonight with this gorgeous cake.
I miss my Canadian more than words can say. Meeting him changed my life. Living in the Yukon, Canada was a once in a lifetime experience for this Aussie and I'll always be grateful to him that I had that opportunity.
Northern lights,
Grizzly bears,
Partying with the locals in the Gold Dust Lounge in Carmacks,
Eating Moose,
Watching the gorgeous dog sled teams in the Yukon Quest,
Walking across the frozen Yukon River in -60c weather,
Gorgeous snow capped mountains,
Fishing by the light of the midnight sun in the summer.
These are only a handful of incredible memories I'll treasure for a lifetime. And none of them would have ever happened if it hadn't been for Chris and for that I'll be forever grateful.
This is one of the slideshows that we showed at Chris's service and it was a fitting tribute for our favourite 'CanAussie'
Northern lights,
Grizzly bears,
Partying with the locals in the Gold Dust Lounge in Carmacks,
Eating Moose,
Watching the gorgeous dog sled teams in the Yukon Quest,
Walking across the frozen Yukon River in -60c weather,
Gorgeous snow capped mountains,
Fishing by the light of the midnight sun in the summer.
These are only a handful of incredible memories I'll treasure for a lifetime. And none of them would have ever happened if it hadn't been for Chris and for that I'll be forever grateful.
This is one of the slideshows that we showed at Chris's service and it was a fitting tribute for our favourite 'CanAussie'
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
SavvyAuntie.com: Finding my Tribe
Right now I'm feeling so lost. Legally I'm 'widowed' even though I never got to have 'the wedding'. My life is full of children, even though I never got to have a child of my own. Only a handful of people knew that Chris and I had actually been trying to have a baby for the last 10 months. At 38, I know that dream will now never come true.
But anyone who knows me will know that while I may be childless, my life has actually always been 'child-full'. I'm still the person my 17 year old 'niece', Jadeyn calls for help with her English assignments in her senior year of high school. And shortly I'm going to need another spare bed as nephew #3 (aged two) is already asking to do things 'with just you and me, not my brothers'.
So as a sort of young-ish but closer to 40 than 30, unmarried 'widow', without children and 'just an aunty' - where does that leave me in society? Where do I fit in? Where is my tribe?
That's where SavvyAuntie.com an online community of women who "love children that are not their own" comes in.
As well as the Savvy Auntie community, I'm also grateful that my sister continually recognises the importance of the roles of Aunties and other women in her children's life.
At nearly 6, nephew #1 is old enough to understand that Uncle Chris is gone. His Uncle Chris who taught him to play golf in the backyard, who supervised watching YouTube videos (and tolerated watching the favourite ones again and again and again, as five year olds tend to do, without complaint). His Uncle Chris who talked funny with his Canadian accent and said "Ant-ie" not "Ahnt-ie". His Uncle Chris who let him stay at home playing the wii if I had to go out and do something 'boring' like grocery shopping.
Considering he stays here so often (at least one weekend a month), my sister recognised the importance of his relationship with his Aunty and Uncle, organised for him to spend some time with a child psychologist to help him work through his grief. Together, he and 'Princess Clare' have been making a special journal to help him remember his Uncle Chris.
This week it's school holidays and for months we had planned for a visit during the second week. I was originally going to cancel because it was just too much for me. But having my nephews around and keeping that special bond is important. I can choose to get out of bed next week and realise that I'm not the only one with sadness and that there is a little boy out there who needs me right now as much as I need him, so that's what I'll do.
The Savvy Auntie book by the fabulous Melanie Notkin is a highly recommended gift for first-time Aunties. (She is an entrepreneurial mentor, and someone that I've been lucky enough to get to know as a friend through Facebook.)
As an 'old hand' at this, for me it wasn't about the content in the book (although the content is great and deals with everything from how to handle your sister's or best friends changing pregnancy hormones through to an amazing Savvy Auntini recipe). But it sits on display in my living room with pride, with it's gorgeously designed, hot pink cover giving me great comfort of knowing that I do have a place in this world.
But anyone who knows me will know that while I may be childless, my life has actually always been 'child-full'. I'm still the person my 17 year old 'niece', Jadeyn calls for help with her English assignments in her senior year of high school. And shortly I'm going to need another spare bed as nephew #3 (aged two) is already asking to do things 'with just you and me, not my brothers'.
So as a sort of young-ish but closer to 40 than 30, unmarried 'widow', without children and 'just an aunty' - where does that leave me in society? Where do I fit in? Where is my tribe?
That's where SavvyAuntie.com an online community of women who "love children that are not their own" comes in.
As well as the Savvy Auntie community, I'm also grateful that my sister continually recognises the importance of the roles of Aunties and other women in her children's life.
At nearly 6, nephew #1 is old enough to understand that Uncle Chris is gone. His Uncle Chris who taught him to play golf in the backyard, who supervised watching YouTube videos (and tolerated watching the favourite ones again and again and again, as five year olds tend to do, without complaint). His Uncle Chris who talked funny with his Canadian accent and said "Ant-ie" not "Ahnt-ie". His Uncle Chris who let him stay at home playing the wii if I had to go out and do something 'boring' like grocery shopping.
Considering he stays here so often (at least one weekend a month), my sister recognised the importance of his relationship with his Aunty and Uncle, organised for him to spend some time with a child psychologist to help him work through his grief. Together, he and 'Princess Clare' have been making a special journal to help him remember his Uncle Chris.
This week it's school holidays and for months we had planned for a visit during the second week. I was originally going to cancel because it was just too much for me. But having my nephews around and keeping that special bond is important. I can choose to get out of bed next week and realise that I'm not the only one with sadness and that there is a little boy out there who needs me right now as much as I need him, so that's what I'll do.
The Savvy Auntie book by the fabulous Melanie Notkin is a highly recommended gift for first-time Aunties. (She is an entrepreneurial mentor, and someone that I've been lucky enough to get to know as a friend through Facebook.)
As an 'old hand' at this, for me it wasn't about the content in the book (although the content is great and deals with everything from how to handle your sister's or best friends changing pregnancy hormones through to an amazing Savvy Auntini recipe). But it sits on display in my living room with pride, with it's gorgeously designed, hot pink cover giving me great comfort of knowing that I do have a place in this world.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The First One
I originally opened this blog about a year ago with the intent of using it to discuss my own creative writing attempts with my critique group and other like-minded aspiring children's writers. But like many unpublished writers this space remained as empty as the pages of the stories I was 'thinking' about writing.
Then 2 weeks ago, as is often the case, something happened that changed my life, and my need for my own personal space to share, cry, yell, kick, scream and vent where those who wanted to could read what was going on with me as I struggled through my darkest hour, without alienating all my friends on facebook who were happily posting about shock eliminations on MasterChef and the cute things their kids did that day. I am vaguely aware that while my own world is crashing around me, life is going on for everyone else. Don't get me wrong, I do have moments when I can happily share in their joy and have sympathy that their boss made them work over time with no pay. But I do have other moments where the shock and grief that is taking over every part of my being renders me incapable of listening to the 'normal' going on of others.
I don't feel guilty about this. This isn't the first time I've suffered major grief. When I was 20, I lost my 19 year old brother. I do know that time heals all wounds. But right now I'm in the thick of it, and hence my self-therapy that I'm sharing here for those that want to know.
Sunday, 12 June 2011 was like any other Sunday. My gorgeous 39 year old Canadian partner and fiance, Chris, who I met 11 years ago in an IRC chat room and had been living with for 8 years spent the day watching the UFC with my brother and a couple of mates, while I was at home starting to clean and pack up our house for a move in 2 weeks time. That afternoon, Chris complained of a terrible headache (he rarely ever got headaches) and I thought he was having his first migraine (I get them a lot so his symptoms sounded the same). After having some pain relievers he went and laid down for a few hours while I continued cleaning and made dinner. About 8.30pm I was on the phone to my sister when Chris came stumbling out of the room with his hand to his head. I just took one look at him and practically hung up on my sister. I knew it was serious. He barely made it to the kitchen before collapsing to the floor and asking me to 'just make it stop'. Immediately I called Triple 0. Following their instructions, while we were waiting for the ambulance, I managed to help him get dressed. By the time we went to put on his shoes he was feeling numb down the left hand side of his body and I had to put his shoes on for him. I was able to keep him calm by telling him "Don't worry hun, help is on the way"
After the ambulance left I called my mum to tell her they thought he was having a 'temporary stroke'. Even driving to the hospital I wasn't that worried. I thought maybe worst case scenario there might be some mild paralysis. Expecting to sit in the emergency waiting room for hours I was a bit surprised when they let me in straight away and sent me to a private waiting room. I was in there for a good 10 minutes that I began to wonder why am I in this room, not in the main waiting area?
Shortly after the doctor came in to tell me that they believed Chris had suffered a brain aneurysm. From there everything becomes a blur. I remember hearing the words "life threatening" and "may not survive". Immediately I got hold of my mum and vaguely blurted out those same phrases. Knowing she was calling the rest of my family, I also called my best friend (who incidentally is a social worker at the same hospital).
In what seemed like only a matter of minutes everyone was there - my best friend and her partner, my parents, 2 sisters, brother and brother-in-law.
Somewhere in between this, I was able to go and sit with Chris for a while. At this point he was in an induced coma.
From here my memories are complete blurs. Sitting in the ICU waiting room until 4am. Visiting Chris again. My dad calling his family in Canada. Being told his father and brother had managed to get a flight and were flying out straight away. Another visit or two with the doctors. The prognosis wasn't good.
Waking up Tuesday morning after a couple of hours of medication induced sleep, I knew that I was going to have to get up, get dressed, go to the hospital where the doctors were going to tell me they had completed the tests to confirm what they suspected by Monday evening that Chris was brain dead. (The doctors had suspected this Monday evening but needed to wait for certain medications to leave his system before they could confirm with 100% certainty as he was still 'breathing' through the ventilator). The desire to stay and live in bed, our bed, and never get up was overwhelming. I'll never know how I managed to get up. But I knew I had to for Chris.
Finally around midday I was allowed in to see him. I hadn't spoken to the doctors as yet as we were waiting for Chris's father and brother who were arriving from Canada around 2pm. Walking in to that room alone was the worst moment of my life. I didn't need a doctor to tell me he was gone. Despite the ventilator still breathing for him, there was no doubt 'he' was no longer with me. My partner, my future, my best friend, gone.
Rest in peace Chris, I'll love you forever. That special 'look' that you would give me across a crowded room at a party. The way we danced to Tony Bennett and Diana Krall in our living room. Those intimate moments that I can never share with anyone else. My heart breaks every day that you aren't here. I struggle to feed the dogs or do laundry because that was always your job. I can't bear to go into our grocery store because of the never ending love that I had for making sure you had your 'treats' and the meals we shared together. I am not ready to say good bye, and to be honest, I really don't think I ever will. While we never had a chance to say the vows, our lives for the past 11 years were together - for better or for worse, in sickness and in health and I'll cherish, adore and love you all the days of my life.
Then 2 weeks ago, as is often the case, something happened that changed my life, and my need for my own personal space to share, cry, yell, kick, scream and vent where those who wanted to could read what was going on with me as I struggled through my darkest hour, without alienating all my friends on facebook who were happily posting about shock eliminations on MasterChef and the cute things their kids did that day. I am vaguely aware that while my own world is crashing around me, life is going on for everyone else. Don't get me wrong, I do have moments when I can happily share in their joy and have sympathy that their boss made them work over time with no pay. But I do have other moments where the shock and grief that is taking over every part of my being renders me incapable of listening to the 'normal' going on of others.
I don't feel guilty about this. This isn't the first time I've suffered major grief. When I was 20, I lost my 19 year old brother. I do know that time heals all wounds. But right now I'm in the thick of it, and hence my self-therapy that I'm sharing here for those that want to know.
Sunday, 12 June 2011 was like any other Sunday. My gorgeous 39 year old Canadian partner and fiance, Chris, who I met 11 years ago in an IRC chat room and had been living with for 8 years spent the day watching the UFC with my brother and a couple of mates, while I was at home starting to clean and pack up our house for a move in 2 weeks time. That afternoon, Chris complained of a terrible headache (he rarely ever got headaches) and I thought he was having his first migraine (I get them a lot so his symptoms sounded the same). After having some pain relievers he went and laid down for a few hours while I continued cleaning and made dinner. About 8.30pm I was on the phone to my sister when Chris came stumbling out of the room with his hand to his head. I just took one look at him and practically hung up on my sister. I knew it was serious. He barely made it to the kitchen before collapsing to the floor and asking me to 'just make it stop'. Immediately I called Triple 0. Following their instructions, while we were waiting for the ambulance, I managed to help him get dressed. By the time we went to put on his shoes he was feeling numb down the left hand side of his body and I had to put his shoes on for him. I was able to keep him calm by telling him "Don't worry hun, help is on the way"
After the ambulance left I called my mum to tell her they thought he was having a 'temporary stroke'. Even driving to the hospital I wasn't that worried. I thought maybe worst case scenario there might be some mild paralysis. Expecting to sit in the emergency waiting room for hours I was a bit surprised when they let me in straight away and sent me to a private waiting room. I was in there for a good 10 minutes that I began to wonder why am I in this room, not in the main waiting area?
Shortly after the doctor came in to tell me that they believed Chris had suffered a brain aneurysm. From there everything becomes a blur. I remember hearing the words "life threatening" and "may not survive". Immediately I got hold of my mum and vaguely blurted out those same phrases. Knowing she was calling the rest of my family, I also called my best friend (who incidentally is a social worker at the same hospital).
In what seemed like only a matter of minutes everyone was there - my best friend and her partner, my parents, 2 sisters, brother and brother-in-law.
Somewhere in between this, I was able to go and sit with Chris for a while. At this point he was in an induced coma.
From here my memories are complete blurs. Sitting in the ICU waiting room until 4am. Visiting Chris again. My dad calling his family in Canada. Being told his father and brother had managed to get a flight and were flying out straight away. Another visit or two with the doctors. The prognosis wasn't good.
Waking up Tuesday morning after a couple of hours of medication induced sleep, I knew that I was going to have to get up, get dressed, go to the hospital where the doctors were going to tell me they had completed the tests to confirm what they suspected by Monday evening that Chris was brain dead. (The doctors had suspected this Monday evening but needed to wait for certain medications to leave his system before they could confirm with 100% certainty as he was still 'breathing' through the ventilator). The desire to stay and live in bed, our bed, and never get up was overwhelming. I'll never know how I managed to get up. But I knew I had to for Chris.
Finally around midday I was allowed in to see him. I hadn't spoken to the doctors as yet as we were waiting for Chris's father and brother who were arriving from Canada around 2pm. Walking in to that room alone was the worst moment of my life. I didn't need a doctor to tell me he was gone. Despite the ventilator still breathing for him, there was no doubt 'he' was no longer with me. My partner, my future, my best friend, gone.
Rest in peace Chris, I'll love you forever. That special 'look' that you would give me across a crowded room at a party. The way we danced to Tony Bennett and Diana Krall in our living room. Those intimate moments that I can never share with anyone else. My heart breaks every day that you aren't here. I struggle to feed the dogs or do laundry because that was always your job. I can't bear to go into our grocery store because of the never ending love that I had for making sure you had your 'treats' and the meals we shared together. I am not ready to say good bye, and to be honest, I really don't think I ever will. While we never had a chance to say the vows, our lives for the past 11 years were together - for better or for worse, in sickness and in health and I'll cherish, adore and love you all the days of my life.
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