23rd/25th/26th/27th April 2016

Extracts from Facebook Page

23rd

St George’s Day. Really it should now be St Ian’s Day. Ian is very famous for his St George dressing up days in the UAE. Every year we celebrate with a big golfing tournement and every year Ian would win it. He was the Saint of the Fancydress. I know they will miss Ian immensely today. I miss him every day. But today is Ians day. Always full of fun and laughter and lots of alcohol lol. xx

 

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25th

Tears become a daily part of your life as a widow. You just accept them like you do breathing, eating, drinking etc. They are now not so much a torrential downpour of wailing. But everyday, be it morning noon or mostly night, they trickle away down the face as easy as anything. And nothing in particular sets them off. Tears have a mind of their own now. There are not majorily upsetting or depressing. They are now just the norm. The leaky eyes of widows

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Ouch. This is going to hurt. Walked in tonight to my UAE home and looking around and I can’t stand the thought of packing up. I have to get some massive strength from somewhere this week. Stay strong Denise.

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26th

The packers were only supposed to be estimating today but oh no they want to pack. Manic sorting out inbetween blubbering.

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I can’t even say anything

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This is so much worse that what I thought. What a bloody shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit bloody shit shit day

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27th

Four months today. How does that happen? Seems so long ago but then just yesterday. It doesn’t get easier but it does get different. There are lots of levels to grieving. Some very hard levels and other levels that are far less painful. Nothing comes in sequence. You might feel you are having a very bad day then end up going to bed fairly relaxed. You might have a relatively good day but find yourself sobbing to sleep. You come to expect the unexpected. Am I used to it yet? No. I still look at pictures or see something or hear something or smell something and get that kick in the gut. The kick that wakes you up and says this is real shit. He ain’t coming back. Acceptance is nowhere near on my radar. I think I am plodding on better though. Wading through the grief. But I am wading not stagnant. That’s a plus.

 

 

 

 


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