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What I Wouldn’t Give

Posted on: November 17, 2020 | Posted by: Emma Pearson

Today is one of those days where Julia’s death, the reality of it, gets through to me… just a little bit more.

Despite it always being present, always heavy in my heart, wearisome in my lungs, ponderous on my shoulders, tense in my jaw, sick in my stomach, light, shaky and trembly in my hands and fingertips… always… some days all of those effects tighten and quicken and leaden and accelerate at the same time.

Even though by most people’s definitions of functioning, I am functioning. Even though by most people’s definitions of functioning while tired, exhausted, depleted, I am still functioning, despite being tired, exhausted, depleted.

On a day like today, I just want a bit of normality. A bit of Mike. A lot of Mike. A bit of Julia. A lot of Julia. All of her. All of him. But especially Julia. As hard as it is to let Mike go, a daily process, an hourly process, a minute-ly process… I can manage to do that. But I can’t just do that with Julia. Not today. Probably not any day. At least not fully.

What I wouldn’t give to hold her tightly to me. To smell her, to breathe her in, to feel her hair and run my fingers through it, to look into her deep blue eyes, whether they are full of tears, full of laughter or full of mischief.

What I wouldn’t give for her to literally dive into my lap as she finds me sitting and sobbing on my bedroom floor some weeks after Edward died. Her arms reaching around my neck as she mothers me in that moment.

What I wouldn’t give for her to crawl one more time into my bed, in the middle of the night, because she’s scared of taking her life. A promise she kept to until her last day. Even if every one of those nights I couldn’t sleep a wink, petrified and icy cold as I felt.

What I wouldn’t give to get a text, a whatsapp, an image… even if I have to hesitate, to pause and brace myself before opening it, in case it shows blood or stitches or scars or other kind of distressing images and words.

On a day like today I would take it all. Even if I got more stress than peace from it as a result. I would go with the stress if I got one more whiff of you.

I love life less without you, sweet babe. I am trying so hard. But it’s hard.

I miss you darling. So very much.

Categories: Child Loss, Widowed, Widowed Emotions, Widowed by Illness, Multiple Losses

Emma Pearson

About Emma Pearson

My life is a whirling mix of swishy strands, dark and glowing brightly, rough and silky smooth – all attempting to be seen, felt and integrated at once. Here are some of my themes.

I am British and now recently also French (because of Brexit), and I have lived in France for the past 21 years. I am 53 and sometimes feel to be an “older widow”, and yet I feel so young. I lost my best male friend Don to bowel cancer in September 2015, my brother Edward to glioblastoma in January 2016, my husband Mike to pancreatic cancer in April 2017, and my sweet youngest child, Julia, to grief-related suicide, in July 2019. And I met a new love (let’s call him Medjool, after my favourite kind of date), off one single meeting on a dating website. Our relationship has exploded into blossom as of June 2019.

I am widowed and I am in a new relationship. I have lost a best friend, a sweet brother, a beloved husband and a precious child, and I still have both parents who are alive and well. I live my days with my grief wrapped in love and my love wrapped in grief. I no longer even try to make sense of anything. I just hope to keep on loving and living for as long as I can, while grieving the losses of loves that are no longer breathing by my side.

I suspect my writing here will be a complex mish-mash of love and sorrow. I also write on http://www.widowingemptynests.com/.

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