Christmas seemed to come and go in a flash and quite
honestly, I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
I grew more and more depressed about Christmas and did the bare
necessities to get through it for Sebastian’s sake. The tree was erected and a new front door
decoration was made, but all other decorations stayed in the boxes. As Christmas drew near, it seemed clear that
either no one goes to the effort of sending Christmas cards anymore, or no one
cared to send us one. It has been a
tradition in our household for many years to write cards to all our family and
friends and include a little letter which summed up our year. Often Mark would write the letter and I
continued the tradition over the last few years. Our lounge room would be a mass of cards and
many would express how they loved receiving our card and letter each year. But this year the room remained absent of
cards, with the exception of those brought home by Sebastian. He sat and wrote out 17 cards for all his
school friends, but still I could not summon the energy or Christmas spirit to
continue our tradition.
The depression grew deeper as my body continued to gain
weight. I couldn’t get out of bed and my
body was in constant pain from every muscle and joint. I felt constantly tired, alone and unloved
and wondered if anyone would notice (except Sebastian) if I just slipped
away. I tried to push through it by
painting my kitchen and continue with my huge list of things to do before Christmas,
but eventually, I just couldn’t go on. I
contacted my now ex-lecturer. It was due
to him that I continued with my studies.
I loved his lectures so much and he always told amazing stories of
sickness and healing. I had already
referred many people to him as I knew he could help them and he wouldn’t charge
them the earth as so many practitioners do.
He was also seeing my Mum as her shingles still hadn’t resolved after
more than twelve months. He explained to
me what my body was doing and what we needed to do to help it to heal. Stress creates hormones which signal the body
to hold weight. Muscles tighten, heart
races and the body eventually becomes exhausted and depression sets in. Welcome to grief!!
With only days before Christmas, I had a sudden burst of
Christmas spirit and I decided I really wanted to continue our tradition. I wrote the letter, reviewed our last card
list and removed many people from the list and yet, added many new names. It was depressing to see that all of Mark’s
friends have never contacted me since his passing, never invited us to a BBQ,
never offered to take Sebastian on an outing and never asked if I was okay. I always felt that his friends had not accepted
me and I guess I am not surprised that I have been excluded from their
lives.
Being a member of a young widows support group has been my
saviour on so many levels and I know this situation is all too common. Why is that? Why are “we” now so difficult
and uncomfortable to be around? My whole
life I have felt that I “don’t fit in”.
Although born in Australia, my heritage is German. My entire family lives in Germany, except of
course, my mother. My father died when I
was two and I know very little about him or his family. So I never really felt that I belonged in
Australia. I feel comfortable in
Germany, yet, I don’t belong there either.
I was raised in the city, yet I feel comfortable in the country! In most social groups, I always felt awkward
and unable to say the right things as I am not generally one to follow the
status quo. I don’t like football or
cricket, so immediately, I am unable to join in many conversations about sport.
I have many flaws and Mark knew them all and yet, he loved
me anyway. He knew me better than I knew
myself and yet, his love for me never faulted.
Never had I felt such unconditional love, the ability to just be myself
and know that I would not be judged for it.
That feeling is priceless and what I miss the most. Often I wonder if I have said the wrong thing
or forgotten something important to someone or somehow reacted
inappropriately. I believe all humans need to feel a part of something, to be needed and
to be loved and accepted for who they are.
Pretending to be someone you are not only brings heartbreak and false
happiness.
Since becoming a widow I have found some comfort and a place
of belonging in several places. Firstly,
at college. I feel I can openly talk
about food in our society, chemicals in our food, air and water environment and
medical practices, without being judged, ridiculed or labelled as extreme. Our studies all involve examining scientific
research and we all learn the mechanisms of body systems, the biology and
chemistry around how our bodies react to these factors.
Secondly, within the grief group. Another place where I seem
to be accepted and embraced for who I am and I can openly express how I feel
and instantly be understood as others share similar experiences. I continue to form friendships and feel
relaxed most of the time. Through
members of this group I have found opportunities to laugh, cry and have fun on
a social level, something that I don’t seem to find anywhere else.
Lastly, oddly enough, in Mt Gambier. After years of not understanding the
Thompsons and them not understanding me, I feel that on some level, we seemed
to have met in the middle. Mark’s
passing seemed to have brought us all together, with Sebastian being the main
focus. We have just returned from seven
days away in the Limestone coast and neither of us wanted to leave.
Mark’s father and brother took Sebastian on many adventures
and taught him some new skills including fishing at the river, riding a quad
bike, mowing the lawns with a ride-on mower and taking him to the
speedway. We also looked at museums,
caves, the Blue Lake pumping station and swam in the Millicent swimming
lake. We managed to survive getting lost
in the bush / pine forest region while attempting what should have been an easy
and exciting butterfly walk. Indeed our
time away was exciting, fun and rich. It was one of our best times away and as
I hugged my father-in-law goodbye and drove out of his driveway in the old
girl, the tears flowed. The holiday was
over and my gratitude to this family indescribable. We had stayed with an auntie and uncle in Pt
MacDonnell, and we often cooked meals to reduce the cost of our time away.
Daily “Happy Hour” would bring opportunities to talk about our adventures over
a glass of wine, often resulting in lots of fun and laughter. We felt so happy and welcomed there, like we
belong, and as we left the main streets and entered the highway to home,
Sebastian’s tears flowed. No words were
spoken and we simply handed each other tissues while continuing our journey
home.
We now have one more week of time together before school
starts for him again and we have enjoyed every moment of our time
together. It often saddens me when I
heard parents say that they can’t wait for school to go back. I know the
relationship I have with Sebastian is different to most parent and child
relationships, but it’s still uncomfortable to hear. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company and
we find balance in our days. I’m sure
the tears will once again flow when the time comes to take him to school once again,
in a new classroom with a new teacher.
But until then, we will enjoy our last days together, continuing our
adventures and fun in the sun.
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