A bad decision or a way to de-stress?

I really don't know if it was a bad decision or not.  I didn't plan to do it and I suppose even though I knew it was there and what was in it but I just did it anyway. I suppose maybe my sub conscious needed it.

I was thoughtful on Sunday morning.  I realised I needed to earn more.  This isn't through want but necessity.  As a rise at work is highly unlikely, the chances of a lottery win remote and there are no reserves to draw on then I need to work more. Life back on the road working the cabaret circuit again is not really an option, my costumes have gone and, whilst I am fortunate enough to have the skills and tools to make more I really don't want to.   I'm not sure what I'll look for but I need a part time evening and/or weekend job.  

Following on from that train of though I busied myself ironing and sorting and photographing stuff for eBay.  This, between doing chores such as sorting the washing.

It was then it caught my attention.  Steve's memory box.  It wasn't his per se but it is full of his stuff that I've put together in a nice red leather trunk since he died.  That is what I was wondering about in my opening paragraph.  

I sat on the bed and opened it.  I started to read cards he'd received when he was first admitted to hospital, that's 18 months ago now.  So many get well wishes.  Then the tears started and I couldn't stop them and, I couldn't stop reading either.   I didn't read them all, I got side tracked with photographs, photos of Steve as a child, with his Mum, his Granny, his Dad and Brother too.

I'm sure they are lovely memories for them of Steve but for me I just see the smiles and wonder what it's all about, life that is.  The smiles give no indication of the future how cruel it can be.  It's tough and there are a lot of questions.  Some people find answers in religion and others have different reasoning.  I don't need answers though but yet I still wonder why.

The picture is Steve and his Aunt.  She passed away on New Years Eve 2009 with Cancer.  Stephens Uncle was also claimed by Cancer a few months before he was born and then My Steve too.  Why do bad things happen to nice people?  Obviously I'd be biased toward Steve but his Aunt was lovely too, so warm and friendly and a real lady.  Obviously I never met his Uncle but I have no reason to suppose he was any different.  There is no answer though, these are just things that make me think.

 

After I'd shed a few tears I got on with what I needed to do and I sort of felt better. A lot less worried with a better outlook really.  I was still emotional and thoughtful but it made me realise that despite my positivity and polished facade sometimes things do still get to me.  Perhaps my guilty feelings about Mothers Day and thinking about other peoples losses was what did it.  For the most part I can hide from my own feelings but am often moved by other peoples journeys.  Still, I suppose it did me good to have a reality check.

 

Today has been a busy day, there's lots happening at work so I've been concentrating hard on the work I've been doing for most of the day.  I've enjoyed it, oddly.  Yes, I suppose deep down I am one of those people who says they would still work even if they won millions on the lottery.  I may do a different job or work in a different way but I'd struggle to do nothing for a sustained period of time.

 

Anyway, it's time for bed, reasonably early for me too.  I must be getting old!  Oh, and before I sign off please share my blog, if you got here via Facebook or Twitter please Share or Tweet.

 

Thank you and Bye for now,

M

 

 

 

 

 

  

Significantly different

That’s how things are right now. It’s been quite a week since I wrote last. A long and difficult week. I would say it’s possibly been one of the most difficult weeks of recent months and I don’t understand why. I’ve had a few worries, not much more than usual though.



It hasn’t been a particularly busy week, I have kept busy but under my own initiative in the main not under the direction or request of others. I am starting to become aware though of this building stress within me, I am not sure if keeping busy is helping distract me from the thing that’s bothering me or if it’s adding to it. I appreciate being busy though as I can absorb myself in the task at hand instead of sitting and reflecting, perhaps that’s what’s making the blog difficult, having to reflect, all be it for a short time. I am forcing myself to think about things. I still recognise it’s helpful though to me and to others too and re-reading Stephen’s blog of this time last year reminds me of that.



Reading Steve’s blog of November 21st Last year I came across the following paragraph:

I have thought about Mark and what he will do when am not here - we often


laugh that it will be me getting phone calls from the police station saying


that they have picked him up in Tesco shoplifting etc wearing a big Floppy


Hay at the age of 70 - that's our plan you see - he goes slightly erratic


and I go sort him out when were older. Obviously this plan has now changed a


little bit, and I'm doing erratic and odd things and he sorts me out.

It got to me. Yes, I used to enjoy being slightly eccentric, adopting a fun a jovial outlook on life and trivialising things to make them more palatable. All of that has gone. I recognise that person but I have not seen him for a long time.



Back to the present. On Friday, after a trip to Liverpool with a friend I called in to The Trafford Centre to have a wander through the shops, More than anything it was just time out, wandering around aimlessly I wandered from one end to the other. I got to John Lewis and as I walked through the homewares department I saw a cushion on a bed in a display. It was very simple, Grey and Red and had a ‘patch’ embroidered on it which said “You & Me”. It was lovely. I approached the display to take a closer look and then it hit me. There is no “You” in my bed, there is just a “Me”. I fought back the tears, just as I am trying to do now.



Such a beautiful gift and nobody to share it with. As I walked the very long walk to where my car was parked I seemed to pass an endless number of couples, Gay couples, Lesbian couples, some clearly mature relationships and some clearly new but seeing each one gave me a punch in the gut, making me remember loud and clear what I have lost. I know our family and friends have lost too but life for them is as normal. I am the one waking up alone every morning and getting in to a cold and empty bed at night, as I know many others do but every morning I wake alone serves to remind me and, every night I slip in to a cold bed does the same.



Friday was difficult



On Saturday I spent the whole day busying myself. I started wrapping Christmas presents. On finishing the first the person for whom the gift was intended sent me a SMS message. As I completed wrapping the second the recipients arrived at the door. It was an odd coincidence and I can’t help but think Steve had some sort of influence there. The third, fourth and so on did not generate any SMS or visits etc, perhaps for the best and I continued to busy myself being creative and wrapping presents.



On Sunday I did the same again, more wrapping and more creativity. Some gifts have been parcelled up to be sent abroad, they will go to the post office this week.



Well today has seen the start of a new week. I have a busy week this week at work but a few things to look forward to throughout the week. Most importantly though I’m looking forward to the weekend. Time is whizzing by lately. Christmas is looming, beyond that there’s New Year. That’s a whole other blog entry so for now..... Goodnight and thank you for being so patient.

Second blog of the day. Happy Anniversary ? ? ?

Yes, this is a second blog because to add it on to my previous one just would not do it justice.

You may have guessed from the title today is anniversary.  Not a happy anniversary but memories of happier times with the one person I have loved more than anything or anyone else in the world.

I hope wherever you are Stephen that you are at peace, free from pain and worry and illness.  I love you more and more with each passing hour, the pain cuts deeper and my heart feels heavier with each passing day.  You were the best thing that ever happened to me, you made every day with you a happy one, even when we disagreed you still managed to make me smile and I have never been able to be annoyed at you for long, your smile, your cheeky look, your sparkly eyes and your tender touch could make any troubles disappear, I wish you were here to do that now.

On this day in 2006 we became one, joined in the eyes of the law, of our family and of our friends.  You said it was the happiest day of your life, a life cut short but a life which touched so many.  I've lit some candles for you and us tonight.  Not a romantic night in but I know you loved our candlelit nights in.

You've not been far from my thoughts since you passed, this week has been tough and today especially so. I keep smiling though, I don't want to but I know many find my feelings, thoughts and emotions too much to deal with, for them I smile, I spare them the discomfort and hide it from the world, not just today but every day for many weeks now.

It has been nice to come home today, back to our home.  I know we had planned to go away this weekend, just escape, the two of us, similar to how we did last year.  I remember this weekend last year, getting away to the countryside, no phone signal, an open log fire and plenty of time to talk.  Those are happy memories, not a great time because we already had a hint of what may be, but, you smiled and stayed positive and never gave up.  You loved the simple things, a walk in the bracing winds, dodging the puddles or wiping the rain from your glasses, the weather never dampened your spirits or your zest for life and I try to keep that in mind to stay happy for you.

I saw this pebble a while ago, thought of you and bought it but it has heightened meaning and sentiment today.  I have also been very thoughtful this week about hope.  you never gave up hope, it stayed with you and with us to the very end.  I am learning to hope again.  Hoping for a brighter future, hoping I can learn to live with this pain and hoping that wherever you are you are safe and at peace.
I have noticed this week that Hope is your legacy to me, it is the one thing you have shown me and taught me which will always be with me, no matter how little money I have, how dark the days are or how long the nights are, it will always be there.  I saw this "token" on my first day in Cardiff and bought it,  I am seeing the hope around me.  Hopes for life, for a future and for a new beginning and for that I thank you.

I have re read you blog (click here) tonight from this day last year.  I was so proud of you then and still am.  The sign is still in the house in the same place you decided to put it where it would cheer you up every morning and give you a spark to light the fire that kept you driving forward.  I know I will "get there" eventually, in the meantime though I am continuing your blog. You are still an inspiration to many and even within the last few weeks I have had feedback from people who have found your journey an inspiration and comfort to them, in particular your approach to your treatment. 

Once again Happy Anniversary Stephen, thank you for the good times, you will be in my heart forever.

Till we meet again, 831 Pud xxx (Click here)

On this day 12 months ago...

It’s been a few days. Not all bad. Today I have felt a little numb. But, firstly to catch up on the saga of British Gas. Following my complaint submission I have still not received a response from them. Their policy states I will receive a reply within 24 hours, so far it’s three times that so tomorrow I shall be re-submitting my complaint and highlighting their inadequacies yet again.


On Tuesday evening after work I tried again to resolve my Internet and printing issues. I was really angry and highly stressed. MY Mum tried to help, she came up with all sorts of solutions, things I had thought of already but this also got me stressed, I just wanted to be able to fix it, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it and certainly didn’t want to speak to some overseas call centre who would barely understand me and whom I would struggle to understand.

Eventually I relented and called Virgin. I was relieved to find that my call was dealt with by a nice Scottish man at a centre near Glasgow. He was wonderful and managed to get on to my computer remotely when I connected the Ethernet wire and sort the problem. Basically the technology employed within the workings of the hub was newer than the drivers installed on my laptops so, both laptops could see the hub but could not communicate with it. The guy managed to update those and assured me that once installed then they would be able to connect to the printer and my wireless printing problem would be resolved too.

After I got “connected” I had to go out and sort a few things. When I got back later and finally settled it was after 10pm so I was slightly hesitant about raising my stress levels again before bed by trying to connect my printer. The wonderful Scottish man was right, it connected no problem at all, I was back in the land of the connected and I felt better knowing the problem had not been my incompetence but a software problem which I couldn’t possibly know anything about unless advised.

Yesterday evening, (Wednesday) was an OK sort of day.  Work was OK I guess but after work I had to sort out my eBay parcels and get them to the post office.  After that I called around to see a friend.  We chatted for a while and he gave me his view of where I am "at" at the moment.

It was interesting to listen to a different perspective, something which has obviously been discussed in other circles but not in a bad way.  It was interesting to see how there is a perception that some things / people / circumstances etc are hampering my ability to "heal" and make positive moves to re-construct my life.

Some of the points raised were completely valid I felt and I agreed.  I did state my reasons for allowing the circumstance / situation / issue to continue and although on one hand I know I could be selfish and only think of me but Stephens life touched so many and it is not only me dealing with his loss.  Part of the points raised I felt were not relevant and I explained why and hopefully I made sense.  It makes sense to me.  Simply put, some things which seem to be negative are in fact positive some negatives I agree are negative but I have reasons for not addressing them right now so it's a case of taking a little rough with the smooth.

On the way home I called in to the shop and bought some wine, Odd but I am sure bottles are getting smaller, only 2½ glasses from one bottle..... Really though I was being piggish, it was a 750ml bottle, my glasses are just a little too big I suppose.

After that I decided not to open a second bottle and headed for bed.  I was tired.  Then it hit me.  I can only explain it as "washing over me" much like someone throwing a bucket of water over me.  I was consumed by grief and started to cry.  No good reason, no trigger song or word or picture it was just there.  I sobbed myself to sleep last night.

I suppose if I am honest I really do know the reason.  Today, 29th September, is a year to the day that Steve was given 12 to 18 months to live.  He managed 8½.... where is the fairness in that?  To be told such news at just 31 years old.

That day was easily the worse day of my life up to then.  That was surpassed a few days later as I had to break the news to Steve's parents that their little boy may not be alive in 12 months time.  Steve's parents went away on holiday before his surgery and got back after his biopsy results it meant, in reality, that Steve had a few days to accustom himself to the news before breaking it to his parents.  We dumbed down his diagnosis and treatment regime when his Mum called.

Steve later said that through that period and beyond I was his rock.  I didn't feel it but I knew I had to be for him.  I took up the role immediately without asking or being asked and it started just after the news was broken to Steve.  He asked, "how long have I got?"  To be told "I don't think now is an appropriate time or place to ask that question..." really annoyed me.  You have just told a 31 year old man he has an aggressive and malignant brain tumour called Glioblastoma Multiforme growing in his head and then don't think he should ask about his future?  I was probably more than a little patronising in my response, tinged with anger and upset as Steve's hand was in mine and he was gripping it with all his might and I just wanted to stop it all for him and for me or for someone to jump out of a cupboard and say that it was some sort of sick joke.

She told Steve.  It was no joke.  I don't know if being told you have between 365 and 547 days to live was more of less than we anticipated but that 10 minute walk back from the hospital to home seemed to take an hour or more.  With my arms around Steve to support him and comfort him and both of us sobbing uncontrollably as we walked through a busy hospital, it's grounds, through the village and along our street we managed to get home where we sat and we cried in total disbelief.

We were unable to talk, but after some time Steve composed himself and carried on vacuuming the lounge which he had started before he left for the hospital.  We told a few people. We were careful though as we didn't want Steve's parents to find out via Facebook or from another well meaning friend or relative.

A mixed response would probably best describe how people took the news.  Much disbelief seemed to be the "theme" over the following days but with one notable exception, the text message that read, "Oh you might need a few days to get your head around that" was one such comment which felt more like a pat on the head that you would give a small child who has fallen and cut their knee.  No prior or further message of support or even concern, just that.  Hardly appropriate for a 31 year old man who has just been told he is living with a death sentence through no fault of his own and there is nothing he can do about it.

That's is why these past few days have been tough.  I have replayed those days in my head hundreds of times in the last year, the past months and in recent weeks.  It still doesn't feel real that I will never see him, feel him, hug him, smell him, touch him or kiss him ever again. 

Here is a link to Steve's post on the afternoon he was due to collect his results, Click Here and then the first proper blog entry after his diagnosis Click Here

I will write more in the next few days but right now I am knackered.  Today has been a long and busy day and this post is long enough....

Goodnight xxx
 first blog entry after

You don't die from a broken heart...

...you only wish you did.

I know this to be true as I am still alive to write this for you and yes, I have wished I could be with Steve, whatever it takes. 

The past few days have been tough.  I mentioned a few days ago the anniversary of Steve being admitted to hospital.  One year ago today he was discharged from hospital.  He was discharged following an appointment with a Consultant Neurosurgeon.

The meeting was at a different hospital, the one near our home so, we collected Steve's belongings and drove over to the hospital.  Steve's Mum had decided she wanted to go too, even though Steve didn't want that, (he just didn't want the fuss), he was beyond putting up an arguement and just accepted it.

We waited outside the ward for our appointment.  A very secure ward with restricted doors etc so only authorised personnel were allowed in.  We were shown to an office and asked to wait.  Steve was sat alongside me gripping my hand tightly, he was SO scared but put on a brave face.

The Consultant entered the room, a friendly looking older gent closely followed by a nurse, in uniform but holding a leaflet.  One glance at the leaflet and I saw the word "Macmillan" across it.  My heart sunk and I guessed what might be coming.  She placed the leaflet face down on the table next to her.  It was too late, I had seen it and Steve had too.

The meeting seemed a bit of a blur to Steve, he engaged with the consultant but although he heard the words he didn't remember.  I had to go over it again for him when we got home.

The consultant told us that at present the only diagnosis he could give was that it was a cystic tumour.  This meant that it is a tumour which is of indeterminable substance.  He couldn't say if it was cancer or not and would not be drawn to make a comment as to his opinion of it.

The tumour appeared, from the scans, to measure around 3cm by 5cm, around the size of a large egg.  He showed us the scan and we could see how large it looked, it seemed to take up almost a quarter of the space his brain was occupying.  It explained the headaches.

He told Steve that he would be admitted to hospital the following week for major brain surgery and that he would be performing it.  He explained the procedure, called debulking and explained the risks, death from anaesthetic, death from complications death from etc etc.  We asked about the alternative, it wasn't very attractive, it was death. 

It was odd that he knew this tumour could kill Steve but didn't know what it was.  With hindsight I think he probably had a pretty good idea what it was but wouldn't commit until absolutely sure. 

Steve asked about out holiday, remember we were due to go on holiday early in November for 3 weeks.  All he would say is that he can't advise one way or another until the biopsy has been done.  He said if it is benign then a holiday may be just the thing he needs to relax and recuperate, if it is malignant then further treatment would continue as soon as possible to provide him with the best possible chance.

As a young, fit and healthy man he said Steve had a very good chance of making a full recovery.  He did say though that he could expect to feel tired for around six months as brain surgery can affect energy levels for quite some time.

The rest of the day we were numb.  We were grateful to be reunited at home but we were numb.

Twelve months on from that and I feel numb again.  I am brutally aware of what happened next and of my current situation but I'm managing to stay relatively composed (almost).  I cant think of very much else at the moment but I am trying to be strong.  Steve was and remained so thoroughout his journey.  I can't call it an illness as he refused to let it make him ill. 

Stephen showed more courage than I ever thought imaginable.  He called me his rock.  He was mine too.  His courage and determination was a constant inspiration to me and still is. For that I am grateful and always will be.

Robbed!

I have just had an exchange of texts with a friend and it has made me realise something quite strange and I will share it with you.

Even though it was Stephen who was diagnosed with Cancer last September and his fight with it ended in June of this year my fight with Cancer is continuing. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have not been diagnosed with Cancer and as far as I am aware I am well, apart from being overweight and not exercising enough I reckon I am OK but, my life is still being ruled by Cancer.

Simple things which I used to take for granted now take some consideration.  The thought of doing them makes me feel sick.  It’s difficult to explain but, what has triggered me off on this train of thought tonight is work, (again).

I received an email from them, basically letting me know what’s going on in work and asking me to go in at some point.  All that seems fair enough but the line “...it needs to start one way or the other”, has really got to me.  Yeah, I do need to go back to work, I know that, as I said before bills still need paying and you don’t get a cash windfall when your partner dies but I feel like I am being goaded in to work, like I have to succumb to their might.  In reality I have to, I have no choice and it tears me apart inside. 

What hurts more is what feels like a complete apathy toward my loss.  Yeah the words are right, but they are empty, they are regurgitated text book stuff because that’s what the HR handbook says they should say.  Maybe one day they will understand but, how many people will be made to feel like this before they do.

Cancer though is still making my life horrible.  Cancer has made me like this because Cancer is what caused Steve’s death. 

I shared something with my friend tonight which I had not considered before but, something she said crystallised the whole thing for me. 

Cancer has, in part, robbed me of my confidence.  I feel stupid at the thought but I feel it is true.  I used to be outgoing and cheerful etc but now I am not.  I plan to avoid busy places.  I go to the shop when it is quietest, I avoid people and situations and I also avoid the phone, not friends but I avoid paperwork type stuff, car insurance was done online to avoid speaking to people and telephone banking sends a shiver down my spine.

Before Steve died nothing bothered me, being alone they do, it sounds feeble, lame even but, that’s it, Cancer has changed me, changed me a lot. 

I will go in to the office tomorrow, the thought is making me feel sick and I feel strangely nervous, perhaps a little like the first day of school but I need to do it.  As I said I have no choice.  Cancer does that you know, it takes choices away. 

Cancer took Steve’s choices away and he hated that.  It took our choice to have a holiday away and it took our choice to socialise and lead a normal life away.

We lead as normal a life as possible but, we were stopped from doing things, seeing people and being carefree by limitations caused by medication, treatment, fatigue, infection risk and good old common sense.

I guess I ought to stop there, there is so much more to say but it won’t be beneficial to take the lid off those boxes and unleash the contents here so, until tomorrow.......

Goodnight,
Mark

An absent neutral week

I know I have been lacking in the blog area this week. Perhaps my mind has been am little absent too. It's not been a significant week, neither significantly good or significantly bad just a collection of days.


That's not meant negatively but maybe neutrally. That's probably the best explanation for my mood the last week and I am ok with it, it is better than being on the roller coaster. Don't get me wrong I have had a few 'moments' this week but that's ok.

On Tuesday this week J came and stopped, we went out for lunch and we wandered around the shops, we each bought just one item so hardly a huge spree but it was the first time I have been to a busy shopping area since Steve died so it can be seen as a step forward.

On Wednesday I didn't get up to much, I was going to venture out with the camera and did set off in the car but came home, I just didn't feel like it.

Thursday was again a bit of a quiet day but H came to see me in the eve and we had a good old natter. Also, if you remember me asking you to say a prayer or send healing thoughts for a friends nephew well it's her nephew. I am pleased to say he is doing ok, he is not fully recovered but he is out of intensive care so he is heading in the right direction. He's only 13 so please keep sending all your positive thoughts etc to Luke xxx

Friday was not so bad either, I had an appointment in the afternoon so I got up and had a leisurely morning then went to see G afterwards. It's not all good there either unfortunately, N's Dad is poorly, he has been for some time but he is in hospital again and the whole family are concerned. I feel for them a lot as they have seen Steve go through his journey and have watched me struggle with him dying and now they have this on top. It's not fair but life seldom is, and don't I know it.

Last night I was up until really late, in fact till the early hours of this morning chatting on the phone, it was a good to talk though, we were discussing ideas for raising awareness of brain tumours, I did a couple of pictures this week for #braintumourthursday on twitter, just some pics of Steve but with a hard hitting message.

They may seem harsh, I had a long think before, during and after I did them but, I decided if they stop someone and make them think then they have done their job and Steve would be pleased to know he has helped raise awareness of this cruel disease, I've recently learned of a few children with the same disease. It sickens me to know what those families will be going through now and at some point in the future.

Today has not been too bad. I got up late, not late considering I was awake until after 4am but later than usual. I showered and went in to town. I only needed to bank a cheque and post a letter. The bank was shut and I had missed the last post for today for the letter but it will go on Monday.

I thought about having a look around the shops, I went in and wandered about for a bit but came away empty handed. I realised there is nothing I need to buy or want to buy so I came home empty handed.

I had a call this afternoon from a friend about something else she has been working on, it will be great news but she has to keep it a secret for now so I will too but, eventually you will know ALL as it really is good news.

This evening I have sat here alone, not doing anything in particular but, as the weekends have been the most difficult bits of my week then I think I am doing ok so far, I'm not on a downer, that's not due to alcohol anaesthetic either as I haven't had any but it is just because I can see a light at the end of the tunnel, I just hope nobody turns it off before I get near the end!

I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring, loads to do but the weather and my motivation when I wake up will no doubt decide for me.  Here's another pic I did, you can see why the debate with myself, hard hitting and hopefully they can be used to raise awareness of brain tumours for http://www.btbuddies.org.uk/

Goodnight xxx Mark xxx

Because I knew you...

I know it's been a few days, I will update more later but for now please take a look at this video I was sent today.  It could be viewed as an "open letter" to Steve, after all I am who I am today Because I knew you...

Lost

Thats how I have felt this weekend.  yesterday was a lovely day weather wise but not really for me.

After writing my blog in the morning I showered and then took the car for a wash, I cam home and polished it, more for something to pass the time than anything, it certainly didn;t really need it but it killed a few hours.

After that I sat here at the computer, not really doing much.  I sort of snapped myself into action around 6ish and decided to go out, I called to see friends but they were out, I sort of guessed they were and I was perhaps glad they were, I would have been crap company I guess but I wanted to be out of the house.  I went for a walk instead around the waterside near The Lowry centre and Media City UK.  I took the camera, my "justify walking on your own" tool.

When I got home I had  something to eat and then returned to the computer.  Again, another way to opt out of watching TV or talking to people.  I just felt low I suppose.  The events of last week with work has really got to me and in a way I suppose unsettled me, I am feeling like i'm being rushed into putting Stephen aside and moving on.  I know I need to find a new normal ASAP but pushy attitudes havent helped, I guess it will sort itself out in the end.

I ended up going to bed early, midnight is early for me lately.  As a result I was awake before 7 this morning, I lay in bed reading on the internet via the phone.

Today has been another low day though.  I didn't want it to be.  I wanted it to be productive sorting things for the move (whenever it is) and, this morning I finished customising a shirt for a friend that I promised to do long before Steve died. 

After that is was shower and dressed then I decided to get a load of stuff we're clearing on to eBay, (I still say We even though it's really just Me now - old habits etc...).  I procrastinated for ages, finally I did it though and got almost 60 listings on today. 

I have had no less than 4 invites out to lunch today, sadly I declined them all. I wasn't being mean but I didn't feel sociable, I knew I would be rubbish company and my friends asked because they care, they don't need to have their day blackened by the big cloud I have been dragging around all day.  I did have a genuine excuse though, the stuff that went on eBay today was photographed before Steve died so again, it's about time I caught up.

I sort of guess if I get "My" stuff sorted, the eBay etc then I can apply the same methodology to work and getting back to it.  I don't know if it will work but I guess one of my concerns about work is that when I am back I won't have time to settle back in, it'll mean hitting the ground running, I think up to now I have managed a walk and thats it..... I'd feel lost there too, long story but I guess no small part of it is that it is incredibly difficult for a gay guy to "fit in" within a hetro environment.... (and not even metro-hetro at that), it's never bothered me before but right now I feel vulnerable so it's daunting, the pressure just serves to confirm my concerns.

This evening I have spoken the T via email, she's a gem and has sent me the lyrics to a song I was told about before Steve's funeral, the song is lovely but here is an excerpt of the words....

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend

It has struck a chord with me, it did the first time I heard it and again, hearing this has set me off again.  I guess it's time for bed.  One soggy pillow coming right up...

Nothingness

I am not sure if that is a real word or one I just made up but thats what today has been, a whole day of nothing.  I got up at a reasonable time even though I was up till very late last night.

I pottered around this morning, in fact I have for most of the day.  I guess with everything that has happened over the weekend I sort of felt a little lost so amongst other things Steve has been on my mind a lot again today.

I have to start looking at financial stuff in detail soon too, two peoples outgoings with one persons wage isn't easy and Steve has not made things easy for me, I guess the plans we had made were just too long term because we had no reason to doubt a longer prognosis, lesson learned I think and learned the hard way too.  The thing is it has all lost it's relevance now he has gone.  I just want to bury my head in the sand until it all goes away and, as it will never go away then I will have my head there for a very long time.

I have been thinking about something said on the Brain Tumour course I was at last week for http://www.btbuddies.org.uk/ plan the fun in your week.  How can I plan fun?  Anything fun and exciting and interesting I have done for the last 6 years has included Steve.  Before Steve my 'fun' used to be dating and partying 6 or 7 nights a week but that doesn't sound attractive anymore, I have been there and done that.  Whats fun?  What fun can a Gay Widower have?  I want some and I want to be happy on the inside not just presenting a smiling face to the outside but I don't know how.

I was thinking earlier, quite a few people have seen pictures from the weekend and have said how happy I look, how much fun it all seemed to be and how Steve would be pleased.  I suppose it hurt a little hearing that I "look" happy  Isn't it though funny how easily fooled we are, just painting on a smile makes people think we are happy but they have no idea what is going on inside.  Before I start on this train of thought I know I will sound bitter and ungrateful so I won't even start, I guess I am still hurting.  The world is moving on as it should do, people are picking themselves up and being inspired to live their life to the fullest because they have heard and seen Steve do the same.  I want the world to stop, right here right now just stop, let me cling on to the fragments of Steve I have left,  memories, pictures and thoughts, I don't want anyone or anything to move as it may unsettle the dust that is falling around me, I can't turn the clock back but I dont want it to go forward either.  What will the future hold?  I know what I want it to hold and when my head is in a "good place" I can see the vision clearly, right now though it is not, the vision is blurred by the tears in my eyes, my heart is scarred beyond recognition and I start to wonder why we thought knowing this was coming would make it easier to deal with.  I can't imagine hurting more,  My chest aches constantly, feeling hollow has become the norm and this sense of being lost is becoming all too familiar.

People say I am doing well but I wonder if I am dealing with it well or just masking it well.  I don't know if I am sliding down that slippery slope to depression or whether I am bumbling around it and making slow progress away from it.  I don't know and that is part of what is difficult.  I like to be in control and I am not.  Steve liked to be in control and he wasn't either, neither of us liked uncertainty other than that which we had planned, like taking 'pot luck' on which  jokes to tell at a gig or whether the motorway route or dual carriageway would be quicker.  I can't control these emotions yet.  I guess they are like a new pet, they need to be trained to be kept in check, sometimes I spot them, grab them, and put them away but other times they just creep up on me and consume me.  I suppose I need more time to be able to train this new 'pet', perhaps I should give my new 'pet grief' a name so I can laugh at it like Steve laughed at his Cancer.  Either way I know I have a mountain to climb, I'll get there but perhaps I need to be a little easier on myself.

Tomorrow will be a good day, if I tell myself that now then hopefully it will be.

Until then goodnight,
Mark x

Gay Widower

I sat up until the early hours of this morning reading about widowers. I wasn’t tired, as I put in last night’s blog I just have too much going on in my head right now, some things are just there and needn’t be and others are and need to be but I don’t want to deal with them. I thought I’d share an excerpt of one of the articles.


I can completely identify with almost all of this.

Grief is madness--ask anyone who's been there. They will tell you it abates with time, but that's a lie. What drowns you in the first year is a force of solitude and helplessness exactly equal in intensity to the love you had for the one who's gone. Equally passionate, equally intimate. The spaces between the stabs of pain grow longer after a while, but they're empty spaces. The cliches of condolence get you back to the office, back to your taxes and the dinner table--and for everyone else's sake, you collaborate. The road of least resistance is paved with the gravel of well-meaning friends, rather like the gravel that cremation leaves.


Paul Monette, Last Watch of the Night

Becoming a widower is a process. And it is a process the surviving partner shares with his loved one. A continuous process, it begins the moment that one is forced to half-consciously accept that you are about to lose someone very close and may not end until even many years later. Widowerhood more or less occurs in three phases. The socially accepted year or so of grief after you've lost your partner is merely the middle period, flanked on one side by a period of widowerhood in which your companion is still alive, and on the other side by a period of widowerhood long after he is dead.

If your partner's death follows a long illness like Cancer or AIDS, during the first phase your partner is still alive. The grieving begins with the various losses his illness starts to impose on your life as your relationship changes from an equal partnership into an unequal dependency. This early grieving is almost always overlooked because of the external distraction caused by dealing with hospitals, labs, doctors, social workers, sometimes ambulances, police, lawyers, various business and governmental bureaucracies, and enormous amounts of data and new routines. Amidst all this, the two of you are forced to renegotiate your partnership contract.

At the same time, something even more subtle, and insidious, is occurring: you are learning to deal with him being gone. If you doubt that, speak to anyone whose loved one has left home for the first time with some minor symptom of AIDS requiring a short stay in the hospital. The fear and panic -- or denial and frozen emotions -- these first week-long hospitalizations cause may seem greatly exaggerated overreactions to others. On the contrary, they are often healthy, early recognitions of the widowed future.

The second phase following a partner's death is when your loss is complete and obvious and this phase also has its hidden dangers. The support network, so useful during your loved one's illness and death, is often suddenly removed at this stage. People you've come to rely on often vanish, incorrectly thinking you have no need for them in your life. Others, hoping to help you, or perhaps feeling guilty about your loss and their helplessness, attempt to push you through your grieving at an unreasonable speed -- perhaps pulling you into a constant chain of social events and distractions, so you won't stay home and mope. This doesn't recognize your special need to be alone more than before, partly to rest from the mental, emotional and sometimes physical exertions you've just gone through, sometimes just for you to try to remember your loved one whose presence in your life is fading so quickly and sadly.

The third phase is the least obvious and least talked about part of widowerhood. Paul Monette again proved himself to be the gay community's bard, describing his extended mourning for two different lovers in painfully eloquent essays in Last Watch of the Night. Long after the world and those around you have ceased to deal with your great loss, you're still stuck with it. Often new information about your loved one, or simmering resentments about his life suddenly surface and must be dealt with. Bills, letters, and legacy details can take a long time to show up and are upsetting or infuriating.

In some cases, the challenge is merely that your partner has so defined your life, that now you are completely thrown on your own, and must redefine who you really are as you did when you were an adolescent. It is a difficult, often harrowing time, yet also a potentially wonderful period and crucial to any further growth in life.

Most likely all people who have buried a spouse remain intimately connected to the deceased and to that relationship long after their conscious mourning has ended. In the last decade an extensive literature has evolved about grief, but until very recently, little or no recognition has been given to the grief of homosexual men who survive the death of a partner or friend.

Intense anger, whether at the unfairness of life, at God, at the cause of death, at the deceased or just being in the unenviable position of having to pick up the pieces and rebuild a life is typical when grieving a lover. When a partner dies, a man has no choice but to become a widower. How actively he accepts or rejects the identity of a widower will determine how he deals with all the angers. Recognizing that there are numerous good reasons to be angry, and expressing and integrating that anger are essential components of adjusting to widowerhood.

This is an excerpt taken from:


Gay Grief and Gay Widowers


by Michael Shernoff, MSW


Published in LGNY, September 1, 1997, Issue 62


1997 Michael Shernoff

Highs and Lows

Today has been another odd one.  It sort of started on a low, I felt pretty low, just sad and depressed, it's still no easier waking up alone.  I always say goodnight and good morning to Steve but he never replies anymore, my morning hug is usually a text or an email which has come in overnight and it is now always my turn to make the bed in the morning, I am always the last one out of bed so I get to make it.  I am also the first out of bed so perhaps I should have a word with myself.

This morning motivation was lacking completely, I guess I still felt pretty flat from the weekend.  I know i needed to sort stuff for Sheffield this weekend but couldn't be bothered, it wasn;t a personal thing i also wanted a brew but couldn't be bothered with making it.

Someone from work was supposed to come and see me this afternoon, he didn't show.  Either he forgot or whatever he wanted to discuss with me was not that important.  If I had a busy social schedule then I may have been frustrated to have waited in all day, I was in all day anyway so it didn't matter.

I started this afternoon on preparations for Sheffield, focussing on something other than the computer and away from the computer was a huge benefit.  After a few hours outside, searching for stuff and then being creative I felt so much better.  So much so that I want to do some more so hopefully tomorrow will be a creative day and a good day with good memories of Steve.  He loved being creative, if you ever meet her ask his Mum about his "Stained Glass".

Oh, something I forgot to mention the other day, when speaking to someone about Steve passing away, it must have been the pensions people anyway, either way they took some details from me and said they would write a letter.  I received the letter a few days ago.  It was from the DWP.  They thanked me for my application for Widowers benefit, (I didn't know I had applied), but they told me as Steve (and I) are under 45 we (I) am not entitled to it.  It seems I cannot be classed as a Widower, (by the DWP at least) unless I have attained the ripe old age of 45.  Steve would have loved to get to 45, in fact he was REALLY looking forward to getting to 33, mainly because it would have signified him surviving 19 months after the 12-18 month prognosis so technically beating the odds, he got 9 months.  I suppose we should be grateful for that.

What am I though if I am not a Widower?  Well, not for another 9 years or so anyway, am I in some 'other' category for now like "Widower in waiting" or something?  Who knows?  I am notgoing to stress about it, who needs a label anyway, Steve was more than my Husband he was my soul mate, husband sort of trivialises the relationship.  We always felt "Partner" to be a stronger word, even though we were "Married" (A Civil Partnership is a form of marriage), we felt Partner conveyed more of what and who we were, we were two individuals who are together as partners in life because we WANT to be there, not because of or as a result of a piece of paper but through choice, free will and an invisible unbreakable bond.

This evening I have spent time trawling the internet again.  I've actually re-visited the Macmillan website. http://community.macmillan.org.uk/, it's OK I guess and the people there are nice but it is just a bit slow.  Apparently there is an upgrade to it soon so hopefully it will become more user friendly.  Someone there though has visited our site, http://troubleonline.co.uk/ and has seen the pictures there of Steve and just commented how "right" we looked together and how beautiful Steve's eyes were.

I loved Steve's eyes, I had lots of favourite parts of Steve but his eyes just told me all I needed to know without him having to utter a word, I miss his eyes twinkling back at me, yes I have photographs but they don't twinkle like the real thing, I guess I have my memories though.

Well my mind is racing now and there is SO much I could write but I don't think it'snecessary.  I will say goodnight for now and will write again soon.

Lots of love xxx Mark xxx