Hello there,
I hope that today, where you are right now, things are going ok, a bit easier, a bit more bearable. I’m home in my little spot, high in the Alps. It is good to be back here, after a year of moves, changes, endings - and a beginning.
I remember last year, here, grieving badly for Tom as I recalled the horror of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, 2021. This year, I am stronger, though will never, ever stop loving Tom or missing him in my life.
My friends, in the Autumn, by chance, I met a widower who lives nearby. His beloved died of cancer in the month Tom was diagnosed with his cancer - the start of our final months together. Slowly, the widower and I, started to meet up - for a drink, for the theatre, a movie
dinner - it was intentionally slow and steady - us both wary, mindful of the minefield that grief brings with it and the love we hold close for those we lost and those we will always treasure.
We have both been through the wringer, both understand the contours, the pits, the gullies, the highs and lows of life after losing the one person that made our lives complete. We share those scars, that knowledge and can talk freely about our lost loved ones with an ease, with a confidence and with respect. It is strange, lovely, comforting all at once.
This week, I met his family and he met my friends here. There was a universal welcome for us both - which is precious.
We established ourselves as “together” and it feels tender, special, a tiny flame of hope in all that has happened to us and all that lies ahead as we step forward.
I did not think such a thing was possible - I marvel at my good fortune yet I know how lightly this is held. Life has a way to shut things down without ceremony, without warning, as we all understand and know so well here. It is good to have this feeling - even if it is only for a short time.
I remain here for another five weeks - friends, long booked, are joining me for skiing and time with the mountains. Important, unbreakable commitments that I look forward to very much.
My widower returns back to the UK - so he and I will be parted by distance but close through calls and text messages. We have many plans for February and hope to return here, together, in March. What a change that will be - after all this long, long time.
I share this with you, my fellow travellers, as I know how much you care, how you have walked with me through my darkest moments and held me close as I struggled with even breathing after Tom died.
The Winter solstice means the long nights and short days are reversing, oh so slowly, but reversing all the same. It means that Spring is nearing, that the earth will once more burst forth with new life and new hope.
I feel, for me, the same thing is happening - that after the shadows, the silence - I am stepping back into the light.
This not only about my new relationship but also because grief’s challenge is, for me, additionally its healing. It has made me stronger, wiser, tougher. It has made me more aware than ever of the preciousness of life and the importance of celebrating in the here and now, not in the eulogy when it is too late - those in our lives that we love.
I post this also to share that, for me at least, there is hope following the very worst that can happen. Those long days and nights, in the silence of that rented home I shared with Tom, when I howled his name into the void and begged him to return. Those later months, when I wobbled along, figuring out the messes one by one, a time when all I wanted was to go back to where we had once been.
To now - to being settled in my new home in the UK and to being here, once more, surrounded by my beloved mountains, white with snow. To now, to the early days of a new relationship, to the hope that the future is looking good again in all manner of ways.
I would not have believed anyone who said to me, this time last year, that I would have got this far today. But through grief, guts, no choice but to get on with it, your support and a shot of good luck, I arrived in this moment.
This post comes with love to you in this season of memories, when the absence of our loved ones can be even harder to bear. I will always love Tom, and I also know, with his blessing, I can also live and love again.
Peace be with you all, my friends - and here is to a better 2024 for everyone.
Your fellow griever and companion on this road,
Vancouver xxxx
and not feeling too sad today … at least you got some sun - its dreary and grey here !!! Xxx
Lucky lucky men ??? Glad its been ok for u though xx