Category Archives: Bereavement

Rockin’ in the free world?

Posted in Bereavement, Young widow by
Code of Conduct

Code of Conduct (Photo credit: Alan Perryman)

I’m new to the blogging game, but I do find writing about M and my subsequent life after his death to be therapeutic. It even crossed my mind that by sharing my thoughts and experiences I  might find some kindred spirits out there in the ether – which is why I recently  submitted a link to my blog to one of the only online widow’s support forums, and one which has given me great comfort since my loss.

It would appear, however, that I was wrong.  Unwittingly, I was in breach of the site’s code of conduct for posting the link – an accusation I accept and can only apologise for. However when I received the following email from the site’s founder, I’ll confess I reached my for dictionary for a definition of the word ‘support’ :
“I have just removed  your post from my website.  I didn’t set up Merrywidow to promote  badly-written blogs by people who don’t even have the courage to use their own name, but, judging by the response you got, I’m not surprised you wanted to  remain anonymous.  Don’t bother trying to post again, as you have been  banned from the site, and next time you want to sully a messageboard with  moronic drivel, try picking one with a readership with a lower IQ.”
I was clearly unaware that when  it comes to writing about the loss of a husband there is a strict code of  conduct that must be upheld, a standard not only of content but of writing which the site’s founder monitors assiduously (presumably to protect the sensibilities of  her  many readers and contributors). For this, we must be grateful. God forbid that  anyone, such as myself, should infringe these boundaries and, by doing so,  express their grief in their own terms.
Still, I shall continue to plough my own furrow – an outcast in widowhood.  My only consolation is that it is what M would have wanted, even if does the site’s founder does not.

A Better Place

Posted in Bereavement, Uncategorized, Young widow by
At the Crossroads of Bullshit

At the Crossroads of Bullshit (Photo credit: Matt Niemi)

Talking to the spirit world has come a long way from the days when we used to set up a Ouija board in my mate’s bedroom and shout ‘whooooo!’ at each other through the darkness. Last night, some friends and I went to see a well-known Spirit Medium ‘On Tour’. I had considered seeing a Medium in the early days after M died, but my innate cynicism always stopped me making the call. But as we fought our way through the crowds and the merchandise to our seats, I’ll confess I was feeling trepidation. Whilst I like to think I have no truck with this sort of nonsense, part of me was thinking…”What if M shows up? And if He does, what’s He going to say about The Plumber?”

The show opened with a televised montage of the work the Medium had done – tearful women, stoic men, Danny Dyer looking bemused – then she came on stage to rousing applause and Belinda Carlisle’s ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’.

Shortly afterwards, Don was with us. His wobbly-legged family stood up. The Medium got a waft of chips – yes, Don had indeed loved chips. He was right here, on stage, descended especially from that great chip shop in sky to tell them that he loved them and that he was OK. The spirits were lining up after that, battling for supremacy over the Medium’s spook radar. She was fighting them off – ‘Irene, love, I’m coming to you, wait your  turn!’ Baby Daniel took his cue and a couple stood up. Further probing revealed He wasn’t their Baby Daniel after all. No amount of shoehorning of dates and names could make it so. They sat down, distraught.

As the show progressed, I found my trepidation waning. Although the Medium undoubtedly gave hope and comfort to some, I realised M was not going to appear. Certainly not on stage at the Sunderland Empire anyway. Since He died, I have not felt him anywhere, not sensed his presence watching over us. And for me, that is comfort – the thought of Him roaming about an afterlife, alone, (or perhaps with Whitney Houston, who died on the same day), is too much to bear. The thought of Him having gone on to a ‘better place’ is anathema to me: for where could be better for Him to be than here with us?

Having said all that, perhaps my evening was subject to a little divine intervention. Shortly after leaving the theatre, I was dumped by The Plumber via text. M is probably on his cloud, beaming.