My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.

Thursday, 6 September 2012

A Vinegar Month

I'm sorry, none of us expected you to be signing up to read bad poetry, and when it's also personal and painful that's doubly hard. I did warn that this could morph in to anything, though I am keen to get back to the topic of what grief is like, as I still seem to have plenty to say. I would like to chat more often actually, but rarely have the time or energy. The sleep deprivation that comes with motherhood is a nasty enough beast on its own and I have been battling that too.

There has been a lot of stinging in my wounds this last month. I've been trying to put my finger on why that is. We've had a lot of illness since the beginning of August when the little guy started kindy, and that has led to many sleepless nights. I had very little sleep in the bank prior to August anyway. These last few months have seen some very dark nights and I have been dragged to places way, way beyond what I can cope with. No doubt all this tiredness has contributed to the sting.

But also, the little girl is growing up. This is not a bad thing. She's 10 months old and *utterly* delightful. She is chatty, chilled out, smiley, low maintenance, and loves to launch in regularly for a good snuggle. I know what she needs, I know how to make her happy, she rarely cries and I don't have to feed her and change her every 5 minutes. We are beyond the tough early stage and we've reached the good life. This is a time of life I have looked forward to for a long time. I have my children, pregnancy is behind me (thank goodness!), I have a little boy and a little girl... just what I always wanted, only I did assume that them having a father here would go with the territory. We have a cosy home, friends and family nearby, and nice things to do with our days. Life is so close to perfect, but so absolutely, desperately, horribly far. There's a great big black gaping hole in our home, and a great big red wound where my heart used to be.

I was in a local bakery recently and the woman who served me commented on my children and the fact that I had a son and a daughter. "You are so lucky" she said.  Yes, yes I am so blessed to have a son and daughter, and I am the unluckiest girl in town.


  1. a) xox
    b) she IS delightful!
    c) yes: un/luckiest
    d) i think your poetry is really very good. really. and gut-twisting.
    e) keep going - we're right 'here'
    f) xox

  2. I haven't read any bad poetry on here yet - more that the writing is so exquisite, honest, and heart-wrenching, that I am left thoughtful, sad ... and silent again ...
    Thank you Angela for sharing your words, they are a most generous gift to us xx

  3. And yes she is truly delightful :)