Sober adjunct to last night’s drunken post


Rioja (Photo credit: e_calamar)

I was about to delete last night’s Rioja-fuelled post fearing that it was badly-written, moronic drivel (Christ, maybe that woman was right after all), but someone commented on it which made me think that it had obviously resonated somewhere out in the ether.

What I wanted to add was that whilst anniversaries register as a minor blip on the flatline of emotions since M’s death, it is the milestones reached by my daughter which cause it to zigzag out of control. She is turning 5 and I want Him to see it. She reads her first sentence and I want Him to hear it.

And with each milestone that passes, her memory of Him recedes. Photographs and keepsakes are important, but she won’t remember what it felt like to have her hand curled around His.

Nurse, send in the crash team, quick!

10 thoughts on “Sober adjunct to last night’s drunken post

  1. Oh yes i fully understand this, 2 weeks after Steve died our Daughter started school, he never even got to see her in her school uniform and he would have cried when dropping her off that first day, then 2 months later our son turned 16 what should have been a celebration was a sad blur, then our daughter’s 5 birhtday 6 months after he died, a Disco party for 20 odd kids, what a happy/sad day that was….. 8 months for me and this weekend has been horrible, i’ve cried and drank and today in work feel wrung out, Oh and the car is broken and in the garage so now i have the worry to see if they can fix it by 5pm so i can pick my daughter up from after school club…… the joy of life ….. i wish i had some, Joy that is, as i need to stop the wine drinking and crying….. xxx

    • That is one of the things I feel saddest about Karen, everything he is missing and will miss. He’s been denied his daughter – watching her grow up, being there behind her at every turn. It’s just heart-breaking. I too faced the ‘first day’ at school without him. And I dread all the other milestones which loom now and in the future. 😦 XXX


  2. I can totally understand your comments as a widower myself I feel so sorry for my son, that his Mum isn’t here to watch him grow up and see the young man he’s becoming. I lost my wife 3 years ago now, when our son was 6 and miss her each and every day.
    This week I’ve got parents evening, which is getting easier but the first one was so hard, sitting there waiting your turn while all around you are couples, then coming home and no one to tell how good he’s doing and how proud you were by what the teacher had to say. Xx

    • Hi Sandy, thanks for sharing. I haven’t had to face a parents evening yet but I can imagine it will be another one of those moments…I don’t know if one ever gets over that feeling of sorrow for what the other person is missing – it all adds to the sense of disbelief for me. How can my daughter NOT KNOW nor EVER KNOW that wonderful man?? Gah. Xx

  3. My husband died when our son was 4, and had so been looking forward to taking him to school on his first day. So he has missed first day at school, first nativity, first parents’ evening and school report and just recently learning to ride his bike without stabilisers. It constantly reminds me that our son is also missing out…

    • Yes, this is true also – not only what our spouses are missing out on but what their kids are missing out on too. I can tell her what a wonderful man he is (was?) but she’ll never find it out for herself. Tears me to shreds. XX

  4. ‘How can my daughter NOT KNOW nor EVER KNOW that wonderful man??’ I’ve been thinking about this post a lot, and about how cruel it is that you and M are denied the pleasure of watching B go through those milestones together, in addition to the fact that she won’t know her father in the way that we all want her to. But I didn’t know M very well either, due to being so far away, and always thought I’d have the time to get to know him properly when we moved back to England. Yet, in only this blog, I feel like I know him better than I did, as you paint such a clear picture, and I know that your words and recollections and memories will bring him to life for B. Of course, this is a vastly inferior version, but I do feel confident that she will know that wonderful man through you, your family and your friends. It’s very small comfort, I know. Love xx

    • Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless Abs. Hopefully the blog and the comments may help her to understand a bit more about the person her daddy was and how important he was to so many people. Thanks for commenting and for reading. X

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