Month: December 2015

This year has been as wonderful as it has been brutal in some ways…… since the start of the year to now (the last day), I feel like we’ve lived a thousand lifetimes. Earlier this year as part of our case against the hospital we had to face a brutal series of probing and invasive questions over many sessions from a psychiatrist to try and compare our life before that fateful night, to the life we now live since his death. They want to know just how severely his death has affected our lives, or I guess whether or not it has at all. It’s an atrocious thing to have had to go through…. and I particularly wish that the kids hadn’t had to do it at all. Although they were certainly a lot less affected by it than I was. (Thanks to a very aware child psychaitrist.) I had to go in first for both of them and pre tell him really just how bad it had been for them since we lost Trenton. Including the details of what they saw that night. It was more horrendous than I’d imagined, and now that the year has progressed and the reports have returned to us, it’s become really apparent to me just how screwed up it has left them both. There is a wake of horribleness that is left behind a death like this, and it keeps dispersing shitty new scenarios for you to tackle sporadically….. but never when you are prepared for it.  Of course you get your typical, totally to be expected feelings, like you’ve lost a limb….. and then the desperation that follows to fight to maintain some kind of security, stability or sanity again. Throw in the loss of a routine for two and a half years now…. and I gotta tell you it’s taking it’s toll on all three of us. The lack of sleep, motivation to work or keep the house looking good, to visit old friends, or to try and get to work or school on time….. well it’s leaving me feeling pretty ashamed of what I should be doing, and what I’m really not. I have been gazing around guiltily at this beautiful home of ours and the garden I adore but barely look at…… but it’s all a constant reminder that I have this place due to the fact that I no longer have Trenton. It’s killing me slowly to have it, but not appreciate it…. because I am so grateful…… I know if he could have wished to leave one thing behind for us it would have been for us to have somewhere to grow our roots and feel safe and secure always. But damn…… it’s a catch 22. My resolution this coming year is to love this whole place like I loved that man. Fiercely, and without a second thought. My girls need their original Mum back…. the one that didn’t scream, or cry at the drop of a hat, and could swallow any bullshit to be there 100% for them. But the version of myself that could stand her ground and be tough with love, not anger. Those reports have now reminded me that no one came out unscathed from this tragedy. And if I’m honest, we didn’t have it all that easy beforehand….. I know that their anxiety of me being anywhere else but by their sides has torn me down to a shell of my former self, but after reading the reports again I realise that it is utter desperation to not let me out of their sites in fear of losing me too. How bloody awful for them. I never lost a parent, and I still need mine on a daily basis at the age of 38…. so I don’t think that I will ever fully understand their version of grief. And although I carry my own pain, I was lucky enough to have the kind of childhood that can prepare you for surviving teenagehood, and then adulthood. Theirs is now an unpredictable unstable, unsure existence that will make any kind of decision making very challenging for them. My job now is to put the pieces of my life back together so I can handle the next phase of our lives…. high school for Rubes, and some independance from Ruby for Poppy. Life bloody goes on doesn’t it? Happy New Years people. XXX

There is one standout lesson that I’ve learned this year that keeps popping into my head over and over again. “Everything can change in the blink of an eye.” I’ve learned never to underestimate this old life of ours….. Just when you think you’ve got it…. you bloody well don’t. But just when you think that you’ve finally lost it…. something will happen to make you realise otherwise. I stumbled across some eulogies from Trenton’s memorial recently, and I’m finding myself re reading something time and again in my head…… In my eulogy for Trent, I said these exact words…. “If you told me that I’d be married with two kids by the age of 30, I’d have laughed in your face……. but if you’d told me I’d be widowed with two kids by the age of 35 I’d have punched you in the face…….” Well I’m finding myself picking apart my life again on an emotional level…. there has been so much change again since this time last year. This is the toughest time of year by far for a widow/er I think…. or a parent/sibling/child that’s experienced the loss of someone very close. Christmas (at least in our family) has always been less about religion and more about family and friends. It’s always been a time to celebrate how lucky we are to have the support around us that we do, and we’ve traditionally celebrate this by meeting up for a bevvie. (In true Aussie fashion.) Not much has changed in that department I’m glad to say. But it’s a time to reflect on our lot in life, and that’s what I’ve been doing. So you can’t help but think about your lost one’s even more than usual….. This time last year I was heading into my second Chrissy without Trent. It was tougher than the first (as I’ve found all the “seconds” have been…) and when I read back through my blogs I can see the difference in how far I’ve come in some ways, and not at all in others. It’s funny, because the circumstances in your direct life can change dramatically, but the grief doesn’t change at all. This year I was lucky to have met and fallen in love with another man. A man that isn’t my husband. It’s been six months now, and I feel so blessed and lucky, and guilty all in one go to have been given another chance to look after someone really special, and be looked after in return. When you’ve been widowed, this is something you honestly think you’ll never have access to again. You probably feel you’d never want to again. And although you may think otherwise, I’ll tell you right now that it’s almost harder to dive in and “have” that relationship after losing someone like Trenton than it is to choose not to even try…. It’s not been an easy road for the kids or myself, and I’m guessing even tougher for him to walk into such a broken, messed up family. But he’s take every minute of it in his stride. He’s not only welcomed stories about Trent, but he’s asked for them. He includes him in every decision we make, every new experience that we enjoy together, and wants to get to know all of Trenton’s best friends in the hope that he will get to know Trenton himself even better than he does. It seems like a pretty rare thing to me. My home is a shrine to the big guy, and it will probably not change in the distant future. I love seeing his face everywhere in my home, and in a way I think it’s helped the kids not have their memories of him fade one bit. Not that they could to be honest. The family has now grown into a very “modern family” of five kids from two homes,  (he has three boys) one ex boyfriend (who happens to have fathered one of my girls,) his new partner and her two kids, and multiple grandparents from all the families involved. It’s bizarre, but in some way it feels totally normal. We’ve all had to make changes in ways that we may not have chosen to… his kids with the separation of himself and his wife, his wife’s new partner and his two kids, accepting new siblings and relatives, and the juggling of all of the lives involved to make it all “fit” together. It’s hard, but really nice at the same time. I guess you could say that if you’d told me that I’d have met someone new by the age of 38….. well I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t have believed you. So life goes on. It’s the only one sure thing that we all have to hang onto. That it will go on. Merry Christmas all. xxxx

So yesterday Ruby stumbled across a box of memories from Trenton’s memorial. I had bought a bunch of good A4 paper and laid out some coloured textas, and asked that people write down a message for the girls, or a memory of Trenton on it for me to make a book out of at a later date. I’d never been able to read them before now. Yesterday we bought the biggest Christmas tree we could find, and dug out all the old decorations to get the house looking Christmassy at Poppy’s request. This in itself is a tough task….. we all want to be joyful and excited at the prospect, but any little thing can set us off. Last year we went to the Christmas tree farm down the road to make it a big, fun outing to possibly take the limelight off his absence, but after painstakingly picking the tree, we all cried as we watched the man chainsaw it down…… I don’t think the tears were for the tree. I was quietly happy this year that we wouldn’t be home till the 5th of December from our US trip, because the lead up to every Christmas is a really tough time on  anyone that has has a significant loss in their lives. It was once our favourite time of the year, as it was Trenton’s favourite time of the year, and he would make it exciting and fun for the girls till we had the wonderful task of watching them receive their Santa presents on Christmas morning. He was such a big kid himself. This is our third Chrissy without him, and although there are bigger gaps between the times where you just can’t function, it doesn’t seem to get much easier. I’ve said it before and I still believe it, everyone else’s lives immediately go on…. and although they miss him dearly, you’re left with the gaping hole in your everyday existence because he lived with you 24 hours a day. I know his family feel the same way…. it’s really tough. Anyway, I read through this box of messages to him, to us and a couple of funny stories about his drunken shenanigans….. and damn did it kick me in the guts. I just remembered how much I miss him. Like a missing limb to be honest. I struggled to picture his laughing face, even though I’m still surrounded by his photos. I needed to picture him laughing and talking…. and alive. If I could take the last night I ever saw him out of my memory bank, I’d do it in a second. Those visuals overtake my wonderful memories of him constantly….. as it does for the kids who re-live that event over and over again still. It’s horrible enough to lose someone so young and vibrant in their time, but to lose them in such a tragic, horrendous way just adds to the pain of trying to accept that they’re gone. I could think of a thousand ways I’d rather we lost him, but we don’t get a say in these things. And to be honest I still feel like he was never meant to die. I’m sure everyone feels the same way about their loved ones. Anyway, it’s even sadder to read these wonderful messages from people that have promised to look after his family that he left behind, and in truth you’ve barely seen nor heard from them since that horrible day. Two and a half years ago this month…. and barely a word. Death brings out the best and worst in people. It makes the least likely people shine, and the most likely people fade. Fact. So in turn, it sorts through the worthy and the not so worthy people on your behalf…. and neatly disperses of the latter. I am watching the sad and helpless messages filter through into my online Widow support group more and more each day. Christmas, even if you don’t celebrate it, is the time of year to celebrate your family and friends. So in turn, it’s the saddest time of year for these people, or anyone estranged from their families. Some are escaping the country, some embracing it head on… whichever way you tackle it, you certainly can’t escape it. I think we are uber sensitive to anything and everything at what is generally supposed to be a joyous time of the year…… So I just hope everyone finds their own way of dealing.

Ho fucken Ho. xxxxx

Tonight we leave America behind and get on the long flight home. It feels like we’ve been away for months, and also like it was all over at the click of a finger. It’s been a wonderful journey, with both amazing and frustrating experiences to counterbalance each other. Whenever you are in a different place from your home, you can see your little world like you’re looking through a tv into your own life. It can make it clearer than ever to see what makes you all tick. The girls have both shared with me during this break how they are really going since Trent died. It’s not awesome news I’m afraid. The honesty table has finally come out, and they have both shared that they hate their new lives. Wow… I suppose if I’m honest I can’t say I’m surprised…. but to hear it out of their mouths in what should be a really happy time, it’s tough to swallow…… Ruby poured out her heart to me about how shit her life has been. Her anxieties have hit an all time high and she is terrified to start high school next year because of some bullying that has been going on online, and she hates that we fight 24/7… we are not seeing eye to eye on anything. Poppy still can’t get her head around why he had to die in the first place. She misses him more than life itself, and she cried to me last night that she wishes that I was sharing my deepest thoughts and concerns with her, and not with another man. She wants to be the one to be there for me, which is beautiful. But it’s still heartbreaking to hear. They just wish this tragedy had not happened to us at all…. because things just don’t seem to be getting easier. I feel like I have gone to the ends of the Earth to try and make it as smooth as it can possibly be…. but I’ve failed. Because it isn’t remotely smooth. Not that it could be I guess. I feel like I am leaving this country less positive than when I came….. I’d hoped that some time out and away from our lives would give us the chance that we needed to bond and recoup. But it’s just made our issues stand out like neon lights. Damnit……. I guess this brings me back to square one, to where we were six months into this hell ride. How to heal? How to grieve right? How to pull these kids through in one piece? The only thing I’ve realised is that the answer to these questions is still the same two and a half years later…. Fuck knows. Fuck bloody knows…….