Lost in My Loss

I initially decided that the next few weeks of my life didn’t belong in My Mauritian Garden which was, and will hopefully once more become, a blog full of fun, laughter, and lightness.

So I thought about starting a temporary blog, where writing about my feelings in this time of flux would help me come to terms with Alf’s death.

It was essentially to be a place where I could talk through my feelings and thoughts when I had to; a place where I could talk to Alf without seeming like a crazy woman; a place where family and friends could be with me when they couldn’t be here physically; and a place where people I have never even met could share their thoughts.

But most importantly, a place where perhaps I could heal and find some peace.

Then I changed my mind.

Although I wrote all the posts, this blog was about our lives together, and Alf had input in many of the posts. Whether I listened to him or nor was another matter.

Anyway, this difficult period is still part of our lives, so if you’re just interested in gardening, check back in a few weeks.

For now, this is about me…

I’m trying to get on with my life – I’m accepting invitations from friends, I’m doing all my usual things, I’m getting things organised, and I’m getting out and about (though mostly, I just want to stay home).

I’m even thinking about new things that I might do.

But I don’t feel as though I’m moving towards anything – I feel like I’m doing things for the sake of it, and just filling in time.

What do I plan towards now? Everything – holidays, where to go for lunch, what house repairs were a priority – were discussed and planned together, with a mutual purpose in mind.

I can’t seem to work out the point of it all now.

Everything I do now is without Alf.

Today I cried in the supermarket, because I knew he wasn’t in another aisle – he’s gone forever.

I feel so sad and so alone without Alf – I could be surrounded by a thousand loving arms and I’d still feel the same.

I’ll never laugh with him again, never shout at him, tease him, discover anything with him, nothing. The wonderful life we shared is no more.

No matter what I do in the future will never include him, and therefore will never live up to what we had together.

It really is true that you don’t know what you have until you lose it – you can appreciate it at every turn, but once it’s gone, you realise just how huge it was.

The only positive I can find, is that although it happened suddenly, I have no regrets – I always told him that I love him, he always told me the same; when we fought, we never held grudges, and always forgave each other; there was nothing left unsaid, good or bad.

I don’t feel depressed, just unbearably sad.

I miss him so badly – he was a huge part of my life – there were very few times that we weren’t together, and at home, we were always chatting about life, the universe, and everything.

We really enjoyed each other’s company, and could sit for hours together, either talking or doing our own thing knowing the other person was right there.

We both always said that we were so glad to have found each other, and that we made each other happy, despite the difficult times.

Together, we were always able to overcome whatever hurdles life threw at us, and come out of it better people.

We complemented each other perfectly, and together, we could conquer the world.

Now, if I were handed the world on a platter, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.

I’m very strong, and I know that I can cope with this, but no amount of strength can take away the hurt I feel inside at the moment, nor the sense of being lost without him.

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14 thoughts on “Lost in My Loss

  1. I just stumbled on your blog yesterday in the entry about maids. I’m an expat myself, nine years in Saudi Arabia. Me and my husband have been to Mauritius five times. The point is, I’ve been in many positions you’ve been in, and it’s not all roses. The stream of photographs are evidence of a life well lived and stories worth telling. But they don’t tell it all. They don’t tell of many of the little things that come up along the way, that one bears up with, disagrees over, argues about, makes up over.

    I never thought about what life would be like without my husband. And my heart goes out to you, in your time of loss. I know that there is nothing to make it easier. But I do hope that many good things will come your way, ease the pain, and give you comfort. Peace and blessings.

    • Sorry I can’t call you by name, but thanks for what you wrote – it is really hard being an expat – we’ve been here for six years, and this is the first year that I’ve actually felt happy and at home here (100% thanks to Alf’s attitude) – and now, BAM – our life together, is all over.
      Along with Alf’s positive attitude.
      What isn’t all over though, is that I’ve decided to stay living here.
      Although my immediate reaction was to return to Perth, I quickly realised that Alf and I had worked too hard.
      We’ve batted our heads against too much government bureaucracy, been ripped off by too many thieves and overcome encounters with too many random arseholes, to give it all up.
      I would be letting us both down if I left.
      However, every day living in our house is getting harder, as I’m missing him more and more as the shock wears off.
      I wish I could just run away.
      But I know it’s only been a month – plus I have a cat to feed.
      So I’m hanging in there.
      I’m going to stop writing now – I can see that my rambling is increasing in direct proportion to the dropping level of the cognac bottle.
      Treasure each other (you can still scream at each other though – totally normal!)
      V

  2. Dear Veronique,
    I came looking for gardening tips and found so much more. I was really moved by your expressions of love and loss. I would have loved to know Alf and yourself. I feel compelled to write you and share with you. In my belief and the spiritual path I follow we say ” i am not this body, I am the soul.” And so it is that Alf has left this body but not this universe. Your love is an unfinished episode in this life and one day it will continue in another life and you will experience this love with Alf again. In the meantime celebrate his memory and your life together make every second count. Life is a gift which one day we all have to return. Alfs return came before you expected it but it was simply his time and his lesson to you was ” make the most of every day you are here”. Keep sharing the love i feel so strongly in you and keep writing your beautiful blog which I find so entertaining. Alf is with you every day so listen to his voice and let him guide you and protect you.
    On a more basic aspect. I am here if ever you do need any help both spiritually or physically. It would be a great pleasure to learn gardening from you as we are just starting our organic garden and i am completely addicted to the point of being boring. I live in Black River so if ever you are down this way it would be a pleasure to show you what we are doing and get some tips from you or just chat over a cup of tea.
    With love and light
    gabby steel
    gabby@intnet.mu

    • Hey Gabby – neither Alf nor I were of a specific spiritual/religious belief – we both believed in “everything” – why should one religion/belief be the right one, just because you were born in a particular country or mindset. We both, however, (without being particularly spiritual) thought along the same lines as you do – so, I understand it was his time to go, and that one day we’ll catch up again. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn’t lessen the pain at all. Believing it, and experiencing it are two different matters.
      Having said that, reading what you wrote did make me feel stronger.
      So a big thanks!
      I never drive down to Black River – way too far! But any questions, or if you’re up this way, email me at mymauritiangarden@gmail.com, and we can swap phone numbers or something.

  3. Hello Veronique,

    Actually i needed some advise. I bought some lawn seeds for my garden from the United States but the Custom in Mauritius said it was prohibited for use here.

    So where in Mauritius can i find lawn seeds for my beautiful garden. Can you recommend me some places or what type of lawn would be more appropriate for use in Mauritius.

    Thanks

    Date: Thu, 21 Nov 2013 20:18:53 +0000 To: krishnaoutlook@hotmail.com

  4. Yes, now the time of pain, now the adjustments. Such is bereavement time where our humanity is stretched to it’s limits. Our limited human logic trying to understand it all. A period of internal turmoil. This is the time to remember that life matters. Alf’s life was important but now more so your own. I bet Alf’s Irish flavoured temperament would be saying the same and exhorting you to take a deep breath and continue your life’s mission. We are, what we are, in life and in death. In adversity we become stronger. God bless.

    • Hey Mike, after reading your earlier comment, I know you understand. You don’t have to worry about me – I just miss him. More and more each day, that’s all. And just to show that life is still going on, it was Alf’s and my turn to have Christmas dinner at our place, so this week, I decided to go along with it – so there’ll be plenty of cooking happening over the next month. If you’re coming up to the North during December, there’ll be a dozen mince pies with your name on, for your wife and you to pick up – just need a couple of day’s warning. V

  5. I have cried a big bucket of tears reading this. My heart breaks for you. You are so lucky to have found someone like Alf and to have known true love and companionship – but I know this makes the loss even more unbearable. He will live on in your heart and memory. Let the grieving happen – everyone is different. I hope this blog and the support you will receive from everyone who loves you will help you get through it and maybe regain that lost perspective in time.

    • Maree – Alf and I were talking about you the week before he died – I told him that I wished I hadn’t lost touch with you – how weird! You have my email – let me know your phone number – are you still in Melbourne? It might be a few weeks before I call – I’m feeling very weepy, which isn’t me, so I’m a bit loath to call. Time isn’t healing, it’s making it worse! Ronee xx

  6. Veronique, I have just come back from holiday and was catching up with your blogs. One minute I am laughing at you flooding the house and then WHAM Alf’s gone. I cannot believe it and I cannot begin to understand what you must be going through. I am so sorry for your loss.

    Reading your blogs I think you are so brave and would just like to thank you for sharing your feelings. Your love for Alf always came though in your blogs. He sounded wonderful, a special partner, best friend and soul mate.

    You sound almost frustrated at the need to move on with your life but I think you are being far too hard on yourself. It is barely any time at all since Alf left and to use an old cliche – time is a great healer. You will never forget him but one day you will wake up and the pain will be a tiny bit less and the Alf-shaped hole in your life will slowly start to fill with meaningful things again.

    In the meantime, keep writing, we are all here listening to you.

    Love and a big hug,
    Fiona x

    • Fiona – I won’t bother apologising for the time it’s taken to reply – after writing my last post , I couldn’t bear reading the replies – every comment was so perfect, they made me cry more. I took a glimpse at them then closed gmail – I wasn’t ready to answer anything . Today, I decided that there were too many of them to ignore – so, once again, (with a box of tissues by my side) thanks for your support (and weird internet friendship!). Seriously, Fiona, it means a lot. V xx

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