June 5, 2018
Standing on the dock overlooking the lake, I can feel him the most. The wind blowing through my hair and the sun on my face; it’s like he’s here with me. Tears come to my eyes and I am overwhelmed by the fact that he will never be able to spend another day or create another memory here at the cottage with the girls and I. My heart hurts, breaks, and I can feel a rush of warmth that comes over me, a grief so deep that I’m not sure I can continue standing there. I can visualize him approaching the dock in his fishing boat, something he used to do every single day we were there together. And then, without warning, I realize the people around me again, the warmth of the sun on my face feels calming, the sound of the lake comforts me and I smile; hi Ben.
After Ben died my memory of him was before he was sick, all the times we spent together. The other night I found myself wake abruptly at 1:00am and a flood of memories came back to being the caregiver of someone with cancer. I lay in bed thinking of how much Ben had to endure over the 18 months he fought that stupid cancer. His ostomy bag. Nights of waking up dealing with an ostomy bag that would explode after chemo. Never did I envision myself having to clean up fecal matter all over floors, beds, walls, bathrooms, sinks and cleaning up Ben himself. During an episode like that Ben and I would normally not speak, we just did what we had to do to clean it up; a silence that indicated clearly what the both of us were thinking. The vomiting... Laying in bed or playing with the girls and watching him run to the bathroom and violently vomit more than once. The nose bleeds.... They came without warning. And bad.
I’m not sure why these things came to a head. I got up and crawled into bed with Kendal, something I will usually do when I’m feeling overwhelmed by my thoughts, crawl into bed with one of my babies. My mind instantly went to being thankful that Ben doesn’t have to deal with that shit anymore. I imagined him perfect; healthy. Doing the things that Ben loved to do again. And then I missed him... missed the opportunity to see him healthy again. How I wish he was here and healthy. This is what grief does. That’s what the rollercoaster is like. Up and down, during the day, in the middle of the night, it doesn’t matter. Your mind takes off in waves, sometimes crashing hard.
I’m approaching 4 months without my Ben. I have to admit, I’m doing better than I thought. I give that credit to accepting a new job, which I am enjoying immensely, having my brother move in with me to help me transition into my new “normal” and the newest addition to our family, Chloe, our sweet new puppy. My brother is one of the most selfless and caring people I know. After hitting my “rock bottom” he moved from Toronto into my house with the girls and I to help me. I don’t think I would have been able to do what I’m doing right now without him. He helps me get the girls up each morning, helps me get them out the door to school/daycare, helps pick them up when I need him, helps cook, clean, organize, and emotionally supports me. I can’t thank him enough for taking this time to help me right now. I also need to thank his partner, Cole, for kindly agreeing that Jake come and support the girls and I at this time. The two of you are the kindest souls. THANK YOU!
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| Uncle Jake playing "Match" with Brooke. |
The girls and I picked up our sweet new pupypy, Chloe, a few weekends ago. She was something I had been thinking about even when Ben got sick. Of course, I wasn’t about to take on a puppy at that time- a very sick husband and two young kids… that was enough. However, I have found myself lonely. Not lonely because I don’t have people around me, but lonely in the sense of wanting someone to love me and cuddle and love me without judgement. Insert, Chloe. My sweet, kind, fun loving, 90% obedient (haha) 11 week old puppy who offers snuggles and kisses just about every minute of the day and welcomes me joyfully at the door when I come home. Coming up to the 4 month mark of losing my Ben I still found myself sleeping on my side of the bed. I hadn’t found my way to the middle, or Ben’s side. Once and while I’d reach over and feel the empty space. It brings tears to my eyes knowing Ben will never fill that space again. Chloe has forced me to wiggle my way over to the “other side” so that she can see me from the floor in her bed while she sleeps. There is something to be said for these little companions in a time of sadness and grief. My little therapy dog. You may be lucky to have me, but I am certainly lucky to have you!
My biggest current stressor is my insurance. I hurt just thinking about it. Just when I think I am doing okay and I am able to 100% focus on my girls and adjust to life without Ben, I am quickly reminded and forced to deal with things that send my heart into a deep sadness. I can’t even begin to imagine what Ben would be thinking watching me have to deal with all of this, on top of everything else. I don’t wish this situation upon anyone. I will not go into detail about this, but know this is still an ongoing issue.
I’m confused on how God could possibly think that I am capable of dealing with more hurt and sadness. Isn’t watching your husband die of a cruel illness at the age of 32 with two young children enough? Isn’t leaving me here to do this alone enough? Why would God add one more thing to my plate? I need the financial help to keep the girls and I in the house Ben and I “built”. My heart is truly aching. I am, yet again, finding myself in the position of needing and accepting help from others. Some day, I hope I can be that help to others.
Another thing I am struggling with is social media. Anyone who knows me knows I enjoy posting pictures and sharing stories on Facebook or Instagram. I still do this, but it’s not my full story. Missing Ben terribly and legally taking on something that is emotionally hard for me, all while watching families enjoy their summer vacations, bringing new babies into the world, celebrating anniversaries, weddings...I’m sad to think those are the things I have lost and miss the most. I apologize if it takes me longer to respond to your messages on Facebook or Instagram. Some days I remove myself completely so it doesn’t hurt so much.
I am going to end this blog post off with a big prayer request for my oldest daughter, Brooke. This Thursday Brooke will be going in for a 3 1/2 hour surgery at McMaster. She will be admitted for a few days to recover. This surgery has been rescheduled numerous times to accommodate Ben when he was sick. The last date was even schedule for February 1st, the day Ben was admitted into hospice. Obviously, I postponed the surgery. I did everything I could to try and schedule this surgery for when Ben was here. I wanted him to be here for Brooke. He had a way with calming her down and encouraging her, something he did better than me. This surgery is a private surgery, something that Brooke was born with as a result of being a 24 week old mircopreemie. This will be Brooke’s 5th surgery since she was born. To say I’m not nervous would be a lie. Up until a few days ago I didn’t think much of it, but the thought now of going through this all without Ben is creating a sadness in me that is very difficult to get through. I am thankful for my family who will be helping me get through this weekend, as well as watching Kendal and our new pup, Chloe.
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| Brooke at her Pre-op in Hamilton |
I will share a blog post once Brooke is in recovery to update everyone on her status. Thank you all for continuing to follow along on our journey. I am in awe of the people who come up to me and continue to encourage me to keep writing. I am thankful for you, as this blog really has been a big help for me. Say a prayer for Brooke and I this week. I'm not sure I have it in me to do it myself.
