It's been a year... <3

It's been a year. The hardest year of my life. A year filled with such heartache, many tears, an ocean of emotions to process and work through. A year of feeling complete shock, overwhelmed, anxious. A year of experiencing such loss that it hurts right through to your bones and at times I didn't know what to do with myself. A year of feeling an incredibly raw pain and trauma of losing my husband that it's thrown me off centre completely at times. Sleep has been but a distant memory lately, eating has been my worst enemy and exhaustion has become my best friend.

It's also been a year of starting to slowly rediscover myself, learning to be human again, feel, be in the moment, be present. A year of learning to slow down, appreciate who I am on my own and putting myself first. A year of healing. A year of drawing close to God, the closest I have ever been to Him. Completely trusting in Him, surrendering and fixing my eyes on Him. Without Him, I don't know how I would have made it through this year.

Grieving the loss of a spouse is not for the faint hearted! It can shake you right to your core and your world is never the same again. The loss of someone who you were connected to, tied to emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually, has been ripped away from you so suddenly and in a way your mind, body and soul can't quite understand it. It feels like such a foreign concept to be able to speak to, see, touch, love someone one moment and the next you can't, at all. They're removed completely. It can feel so overwhelming and the trauma of the suicide adds a deeper level of complexity to grieving. Living through a deep loss involves relearning how to exist in a world that is now so vastly different. A world you don't really want to live in, but you can't change it. Not one bit. Reflecting back on this last year, I can watch it like a movie unfold.

#Denial - I received the news, and went into total shock. I couldn't accept it for a while and was in #denial. Every night I would wait for him to walk through our front door as per normal. In my mind I knew that wasn't going to happen, but the rest of me was still not ready to accept it. This really couldn't be my new life. People often say "It won't happen to me", until it does.

#Bargaining - I then #bargained with God to hear just this one prayer request, grant me this one miracle....my Lazarus miracle. I would take communion every day leading up to Bernard's funeral and pray that the day I went to view his body would be the day he came home with me. That this nightmare would be over and we'd go back to living our lives.

#Acceptance - Around the six month anniversary of his passing, I started #accepting the reality of what had happened and what was now my new life. Acceptance has been the hardest part for me. All of a sudden reality sets in and you feel like you've been hit with a ten ton truck. The overwhelming sadness, pain, loss, raw reality of what just happened, and you think "What on earth happened to my life?".

#Anger, #Depression - I haven't experienced any anger towards Bernard, only towards life, the situation and God. And I haven't experienced any depression, just the loss of sleep, loss of my appetite and completely exhausted most of the time - emotionally, mentally and physically. This is normal during grieving.

However, slowly, day by day (sometimes hour by hour), I am healing and growing again. Learning to stand once more without the continual waves of sadness and tears every day. It's not an easy road, there are definitely still days with tears out of nowhere, moments of wondering where it all went wrong and if I could have done something different, memories that flood my heart and catch my breath, feeling emotionally numb and then feeling a sense of great hope for the future which I know God has planned for me. Feeling all of this can be draining but I am so grateful that I am able to feel still and haven't completely shut down. I've slowly learnt to ride the waves.

Grieving and loss, in my experience, can be minimized in society. In this last year, I've been told what I should probably feel at certain milestones. I've been "expected" to get over it quicker/quickly so I can move on with my life. I've been shouted at and told off when I've put boundaries in place to protect myself during this fragile time. I've lost a few friendships and relationships along the way as not everyone has been able to understand who I had become and how deep the loss was that I was experiencing during my grieving process. That I wasn't myself. Of course I wasn't myself, my world had been turned upside down, shattered. Family have become distant (more grieving), friends have become family and life itself has completely changed. Sometimes I feel like people are scared to say or do anything around me, so they act as if nothing has happened. And it's through no fault of their own, people sometimes don't know how to approach or be with someone who is grieving, especially if they haven't walked that road. There are no right words to make any loss better, but, you can walk alongside

those who are experiencing loss. In my experience, these are the things I've really appreciated as I walked through my valley: Check in on them, it doesn't always get easier with time. Sometimes it gets worse and then only easier. Let them know they are loved. Grieving can be a very lonely road. Noone is able to understand what you're feeling or going through, and the one person who would is no longer around. So love them with an extra portion. Be gracious and gentle towards them. They are in an incredibly fragile and sensitive state. Their heart is broken, pretty much in pieces, and they are figuring out how to put the pieces back together. Show up. When someone is grieving, the little energy they have is being used to see them through each day, to survive and put one foot in front of the other. Cooking, cleaning, washing, grocery shopping, admin, work, all seem like monumental tasks during this time. I have had a community around me who have remembered and shared good memories of Bernard with me, and some who have asked me what Bernard was like. I have had people who have constantly checked in with me, not just at the milestones, but every other day. I have had people who have just loved me and been there no matter what. And I have had people who have shown up, right up until now - with meals, spent their time sitting with me during my hard days, helped with the massive (confusing!) amount of admin. I have been so blessed with the people in my life who have stood by my side, shown me grace and loved me even a year later. Thank you!

This past year I wanted to make sure I was grieving in a "healthy" way, whatever that may mean or look like. I wanted to make sure that I processed the trauma of Bernard's suicide and the heartache of losing him so that it wouldn't be something that could destroy me in years to come. I wanted to make sure I worked through the pain, the heartache, the challenges, the emotions and thoughts/questions. I wanted to walk this journey of grief with authenticity, allow whatever I needed to feel be felt. At Bernard's six months anniversary, I was ready to sort through all his belongings and donated them to charity. I know he would have wanted that as he was such a kind person and would have given the shirt off his back to help someone in need. At his one year anniversary, I wanted to scatter his ashes and say goodbye in a "physical" sense. Bernard proposed to me at the foot of Table Mountain whilst we watched the sunrise, and so I created a little spot for him there where I laid him to rest. I really found such peace in doing this. It's been an incredibly hard year. No words can explain grief. I've tried to put it into words through this blog, but somehow I feel it still doesn't capture it all. It's not just the painful loss of losing the one you loved, it's the ripple affect of that pain into all areas of your life. It's exhausting sitting with the emotions and thoughts and working through them, on top of trying to keep up at work and run your household. Life doesn't stop when you need it to so desperately. It's relentless. However, I am so grateful for my army that has seen me through the darkest hours of this year and God for being my anchor in this storm.

Although noone can put a timeline to grief, 2023 is going to be dedicated to me. I want to slowly start to live again, to tick things off my bucket list, find joy in the moments, find hope in love again and continue to walk closely with Jesus as He leads me out of this valley. I know there will still be moments of tears and sadness, and that's okay. I will ride those waves if and when they come. But I know Bernard is watching me, smiling down on me and would want me to be happy again. I am proud of myself and the way I have walked this journey so far, and I will continue to do my best, what I feel is right/good for me as I head into this new year. So cheers to 2023 and me!

Wishing you all the best year yet. May God meet you where you're at and lead you through a prosperous and wonderful year.

Forever and always babe, I will love you xxx

∞💓