The Reality by Donna Page 30/03/2022

 The reality of my grief.

Sure there is a lot of crying. A lot of denial. A lot of questions. But that is the big part.

The little parts, the ones you don’t see coming, they are the worst. Rolling over in bed, half asleep and he is there, only to put your hand out and touch his empty side of the bed.

The loss of laughing at silly things you do. You don’t anymore because he isn’t there to share that laughter. Now silly has turned to stupid.

The verbalising, have you seen my left shoe, my phone, my glasses, there is no smart alec answer to come so you don’t say it anymore. There is no point.

The conversations about all sorts of things. The intelligent ones, the silly ones, the lotto dream ones. They are all gone.

The loneliness, surrounded by people you love dearly but always feeling alone.

The fear, of the future you planned together changing, of how that future is going to look.

The sadness, of not standing beside him at sunset, not showing him the beautiful photo you took, of hearing the songs you loved together and the songs he loved.

The despair, of the thought that there is a grandchild coming and not having a photo of the baby and Fafa. Of holding your grandchild and not seeing that proud smile on his face.

The guilt, of laughing and smiling about something he would have enjoyed, and the heartbreak that reignites.

Hearing the words, time, how are you, I am so sorry. The truth is I don’t want to hear them. I don’t want people telling me it will be okay. Because it isn’t, and it never will again. Nothing is okay with out him.

The reality of this grief is something that I hope you never have to fathom. We all go through grief at some point, but losing your partner, or your child, is a grief like no other. It opens up a black hole within you that everything gets sucked into. You hold on to the edges of this hole with your fingertips every single day. Some days it is all of them holding on. Other days it is just one fingertip and you just pray that it can keep its grip. And honestly, you only want it to hold on so others don’t have to suffer what you are going through.

You can feel the darkness enveloping you, you can’t stop it, you can only hope that part of you can create a big enough hole so you can breathe and some light can get in.

The reality of my grief is that my heart and soul have been shattered into millions of tiny shards, each one stabbing me at a different moment in time. Hoping that there will be less shards today than yesterday but knowing they will be just different ones. Stabbing into different parts of the never ending emptiness you feel, to remind you painfully that he is gone. Forever!

Trouble down the Stairs ©20/12/2021

Trouble Down the Stairs by Donna Page ©20/12/2021

 Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, ding, ding, ding, dong.

Suddenly I was awake, surely that music was in my head. What was I dreaming about?

Ding, ding, dong, dong, ding, dong, ding, ding, ding, ding, dong.

No, I was awake and there was definitely music. Who plays music at 3 am Christmas morning? I sat up in my bed. Where was it coming from?

Was it coming from downstairs, in my house? I reached across in the dark to check that my husband was beside me.  Unless that lump was a bear, there he was. Snoring as usual, and definitely not dreaming of sugar plums, more likely mountain bikes or basketball.

One of the kids must have decided to arrive early for Christmas lunch, was not expecting anyone till about 10am but you never know in this family. He was going to cop it when I got down there, waking me up at 3 in the morning. Stumbling around in the dark wasn’t my favourite thing to do.  The music continued whilst I searched blindly for my slippers. Why were they not in their normal place?

As quietly as I could, I walked out of my room, no one wants to wake a bear. I was going to sneak up behind him. He woke me up, I was going to frighten him in return. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I thought it was odd that there was no light on. The only sign of light was coming from the Christmas tree. Beautifully twinkling in the darkness. I swore I had turned them off before bed.  I loved our tree, seven foot tall, plush and green, the best tree we have ever owned.

The music was getting louder, I could even hear voices now, tiny shrill voices. What had he been drinking? There was giggling too, as I rounded the bottom of the stairs. I could see the couch clearly.  No one was on it. He must be in the recliner.  

Creeping along the hallway, I could hear paper rustling, and what sounded like sticky tape coming off the roll. He must have been wrapping up Christmas presents. A bit late but at least they will be wrapped.

Steeling myself for the surprise, he was going to jump through the ceiling. I rounded the corner and stopped in my tracks. The look on my face changed from glee to shock.

There was no son in the lounge room. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Elves, tiny little people dressed in red and green. They danced around the tree, they laughed and rolled. Some were wrapping and taping. Others were putting on ribbons and bows. There were extra presents under the tree. Not just the ones I had put there.

What a truly amazing sight, I blinked, I pinched myself to make sure I was actually awake. But most of all I just watched.  There was pure joy surrounding my Christmas tree, dancing, singing, laughing. 

The lifelong belief I had held in my heart about the magic of Christmas would be cemented there forever now. As I turned to creep back up my stairs, a smile on my face, I heard another sound.

“Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas.”