Tomorrow when my future was lost….

So this very night 12 months ago I was snuggled on the couch next to my beautiful husband watching Game of Thrones. We were four episodes in and trying to decide whether or not to watch a fifth when he said he was pretty tired and was ready for bed. He was in a really good mood that night. He told me how grateful he was for me picking up the slack for him since he broke his ankle three weeks before pissed at a mates house….. he’d been so snappy when he’d run out of decent pain relief, and the stress had been showing since we had no income coming in and the mortgage was still coming out regardless…… we always blued over money. Money was our main stress… without the money issues and the blowouts over the kids (good cop, bad cop issues….) we would never have fought. Every special occasion we went way, and we fell in love with each other all over again. We never ran out of conversation….. we just fought to chew each others ears off all night. Always. Such a rarity I know……. I wish it hadn’t been. We got into bed, and I still remember clearly, reading, facing his back and thinking that a broken ankle wasn’t so bad….. inconvenient yes, but not life threatening. He had visited the emergency ward again at one am that morning in agony… this time with shortness of breath and the feeling of being winded. We thought that the panadeine forte that the local doc had given him was what was making him feel crappy. He went back in, they looked at his wound in the waiting room and he had come back home with more endome….. which I was already warning him about after my experience with it the year before…. I had felt very addicted to it after two solid weeks, and had a mega withdrawal to get off them. How wrong could I have been. If I’d known that that bedtime together would have been the last ever, I wonder what I would have said….? Would I have told him off for not brushing his teeth yet again? And lectured him on the food and sugar sitting on his teeth every night, all night!? Would I have found questions that I never asked him? I can’t even think of one now….. There were no secrets from each other that I know of…… would he have shared some if he’d known he was about to die? I relive that night every day. I’m so glad it wasn’t a fighting night, where the kids took too long to stay in bed, and we fought over who would go back in and tell them off for not listening. Where we worried about the girls future, our future….. but dreamed of our retirement where we’d sell the family house, and travel around the world in motor homes. We’d pull up in the Winnebago at magnificent places, and whip out the acoustic and jam out a few songs. Our all time fave thing to do together. Heaven. Well it would have been…… Instead I guess we got hell. Immediately.It was a bad neighbours episode that night at three am when he awoke with a choking noise, and tried to get up and walk, forgetting that he had a boot on and couldn’t put any weight on his ankle. I asked him what the hell he was doing….. and all he could squeeze out was “I’m scared……” Words that will echo through my memory forever…… He used to say that nothing really scared him. Nothing. He truly never had that feeling about things. Being a very big stocky man, walking around the city or back alleyways never bothered him because people generally steered clear of him. A big, heavy shaved head, tattooed man….. Little did they know he was as soft as a teddy bear on the inside. It was mine and his closest mates little secret….. but it was why we all adored him so much. It was definitely all a facade…… the man had as much love to give as ten men his size…… and give it he did. To everyone! Those D&M’s were priceless. Two hours after the ambulance when they had gotten the second ambulance along to help move this “obese” man from the walk in cupboard floor through the house and across the makeshift bridge to the ambulance, I started to think that this scenario was all wrong…… A night I will not forget in a hurry…… I packed his overnight stuff, gathered some books, an ipad and charger…. even some barley sugars. Then I casually loaded the kids in the car to drop them at their Nana’s while I sat with Trent in hospital for as long as I was needed. Turns out, not so long….. he was in cardiac arrest before the Ambo’s pulled up at Maroondah. I walked in and asked for where he was and they quickly ushered me in to behind the front desk….. a bit strange I thought. But then they told me his heart had stopped upon arrival and I had said “What the?????” They warned me about what I was about to see…. the team that had already been working on him for half and hour….. I was taken in and told to hold his hand. It was cold and he looked yellow. His head was hung to the side, the breathing mask hanging slightly off his mouth….. It’s impossible to believe that the same big burly man had snuggled me less that 12 hours before, and had made me feel like nothing on Earth could hurt the girls and I. And yet here he was, helpless and fighting for his life….. Who makes these fucking choices? I’d have let him stay in a second…. that man was meant to walk this planet a lot bloody longer. Preferably with me……Well Well….. eyes are shutting now….. hope tomorrow is no worse…… Until then, stay well……

”’;k……..

Widow Brain……

So, I’d tell you all about my widow brain, if only I could remember what it does to me…… Oh yeah, that’s right, I forget EVERYTHING!!!!!! I have had to stop going to my osteopath since I forgot to turn up twice and was still sent the invoice, which shit me to pay and my morals won’t allow me to suck it up. I can barely get through a shift at work without pretending that I’m so sorry that I can’t remember something because of my only being at that place once a week (I work at three different centres of the council each week…..)yet it’s clearly because my life is in tatters and I can barely shower and get the kids to school….. however when you’ve been there eighteen months you can only say that so many times. I know the bags under my eyes and the patchiness of my skin doesn’t go unnoticed, and therefore I am always forgiven….. but how long can they forgive me? On the 23rd of July it will be exactly 1 year since I lost my man… a date I wasn’t going to acknowledge let alone celebrate…. yet the moment I said that I have thought of nothing but, and I am now dreading it more than ever. Trent died on my Mum’s birthday, which is four days after Ruby and my sisters birthday. It has eternally ruined that time of year for all of us….. We will all stay home from school/work and just hang out…. but it will be tough. The anger has shifted, the pain much worse, the longing for him deeper and the memories are just harder to remember. The girls are all over the place, clearly feeding off me. Rubes has lost the plot and keeps disappearing out of the house…. walking off and coming back an hour later, visiting friends without my knowledge…. just generally freaking me the fuck out. Pops has started crying all the time again, and I found her the other night asleep with her “Daddy box” in her arms…… she looks at the photo of him and says she just wishes she could fall into his arms. I know how she feels. It’s those arms I miss the most. Being not a tiny person I never thought such arms existed for me. But in his I felt safe, and happy like a child. I can’t commit to anything, because on any given day I may not be able to stop yelling, or crying, or fighting with everyone and anything. I drink too much, and I try very hard to numb that dull ache that is permanently in my bones. But it doesn’t go away. It’s a reminder of what I’ve lost and perhaps I feel like I need to feel it to remember him. I want so much to be happy for the beautiful little family units around me, the new loves, the recently pregnant or birthed babies. I am. Dead set, I am. But that was me…. the excitement at meeting my baby, at seeing my husband collect his children in his arms when he arrived home and they ran to him, the butterflies in the tummy when he’d drive up the drive, or we’d get a night off and some time alone….. I still felt that shit nearly ten years later, and although I’m so grateful it had not become stagnant, perhaps the shock of him being there one day and gone the next would be easier to bare…… although probably not. My widow mates are dragging me through, if only just from the posts that they put on Facebook every day, because I can relate to each and every one of them in some way. That I can’t relate to each and every one of my non widow mates’ posts is so sad to me right now. But hey, who chooses these things? I didn’t choose to have a child with a disability either…. it damn well chose me. A vent on this blog will get me through tonight….. tomorrow I’m not sure… I seem to just keep waking up each morning, so I must be doing something right. I’ll continue to do that while I can, but I just can’t guarantee that I can keep it up for good. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, nothing in life is predictable after all.