Sunday, 28 November 2010

Diary: 27th November 2010

It was two weeks ago today that I came home to the biggest shock of my life - my husband of 16 years lay collapsed on the floor beside our bed.  I'd only gone out for the afternoon to visit a friend and had left him having a rest with a particulary bad headache.  Our two boys aged 13 and 10 were downstairs.

Despite the valiant efforts of the paramedics I think I already knew when I found him that he was gone....

Today would have been his 49th birthday!

In the last two weeks I've felt like I'm unravelling and everything is falling apart.  Some threads are pulled tighter leaving me physically in pain.  Other threads are so loose I'm in danger of letting them go.

And now we are snowed in - which doesn't help.  I feel so trapped by the silently, suffocating whiteness that has obliterated the world I know.  I can't get comfort from the normality of life, my routine has gone haywire, my only chance of a solo escape from these four walls is on foot.

Meanwhile the house, our home, has betrayed me with its leaking and dripping and breaking and cracking and moaning and rattling.

Maybe if I go to sleep when I wake up I'll find it has all been a dream....but so far that one hasn't worked!

Maybe writing this will help, I've got so many thoughts in my head and bits of stories and poems.  I could end up tying myself in more knots or completely come undone and lose the plot! 

I make no apologies for the drivel I might write. First and foremost this is for me but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want some company along the way...


  1. It's good stuff, is drivel. It's the stuff society was made of. And it is the sharing of personal experience and emotion that allows us to find kindred spirits who have been there before, and found ways to carry on.

    You drivel to your heart's content, Sarah. At least one person will find solace in it.


  2. Sometimes

    Sometimes life is easy
    Sometimes life is hard
    Sometimes important things are concrete
    Sometimes they are made out of card

    Sometimes I can rise above it all
    Sometimes all I do is fall
    Sometimes I can stand up and fight]
    Sometimes I just want flight

    Sometimes Jesus is near
    Sometimes Jesus is far
    Sometimes I realise
    It was always me who moved

    Sometimes life is easy
    Sometimes life is hard
    Sometimes important things are concrete
    Sometimes they are made out of card

    Mark Nicholson ©2010

  3. I came here, back to the beginning of your blog, to find out how your journey here began, and learn of the road you have travelled. I find your story so much like that of my husband, who was away on a hunting trip with friends when he received a call from his daughter that she had found his wife of 27 years on the floor of the kitchen, gone in an instant from a burst aneurysm. He knows well of the shock, the numbness, the unfathomably deep sense of loss, and all the grieving steps that follow. Reading in your new blog I see that you are day by day finding your way out of the fog, just as he has, and I can tell you that love and joy return, even as we hold precious memories tight to our hearts. My prayers are with you!

    1. Thanks for your kind comments Josie. It's always encouraging to know that other people have walked a similar path and have found joy and love along the way.
      Your husband's story is immensely sad but I wish you both a long and healthy life together. xx