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Dear Louisa,
Its New Year’s Eve and Morwenna is beside me on the tiles. Pip is in his tree in the breeze.
I have to write to you now because I have finally been struck with grief again. Deep terrible grief. After you died there was so much to do and so many people who needed support and I gave my all and everything to each of them. I thought I had done a lot of my grieving and would be able to come out of the grief period in a sort-of controlled manner. My usual thinking, isn’t it?
When I thought of my grief and what I would need to deal with I thought only of the final months together; of the comfort, care and love I could share with you, of the journey we had to take together to very different destinations. I tried so hard to shield you from pain and shield you from the fear of pain. I prayed to your Angels and asked them to be with you, I pleaded really; I prayed to the universe to help us on the journey and to prepare and strengthen your spirit. I wanted to feel you and hug you and hold your hand but your body had abandoned you and touching me was horrible for you. Every ounce of healing energy in my heart and souls went to you and I still I shared more with X and Y. I stood strong. I said, “I don’t need this energy and they do” and I passed it along. I was blessed with sight beyond the veil and help from spirits and hospital staff alike. I held onto me with hands like a bear’s claws and I “made it through”. I made it through everything. And I thought, I have been blessed and soon I will be able to get on again.
I’m sorry I didn’t hold your hand at the end, that was just cowardice on my part. I can’t write that or think about it without crying. But until a couple of weeks ago I had suppressed that memory altogether. I remember my heart was interlocked with yours but I so wanted to hold your hand. And I was scared it would interfere with the angels guiding you away but I knew I was wrong about that; and I know I shouldn’t feel ashamed but I really do. I know now you so wanted to hold my hand and I let you down terribly. I’m so sorry, my love.
When the grief really dug in was almost exactly six months later. Nightmares, day-mares, tremors, being sick in the stomach after eating. But the memories; like trains through my head. And then I remembered and knew. This grief starts when you got sick on our honeymoon. So much fear. The cancers, operations, the thyroid medication problems, the swings in energy, the mad blood pressure variations. The beautiful vibrant bush lady who couldn’t do a wildflower walk for no reason. All those years of being scared. Of not doing things “because…”. Everyday I would wake up and give you all my energy so you could get through the day. Every time you went to the Doctor I was scared, so scared. But I was there totally, fully, completely my soul beside you, with you. I tried to be the rock that your soul and body you could depend on forever.
I had my troubles; with the phone addiction, the fatigue and Addison’s and its horrible symptoms, (I think I have beaten it), the lack of energy, the feelings of emptiness and isolation – not having hugs and cuddles and kissing because you hated your body which got in the way of our spirits touching “physically”. I think that wounded me, it hurt me so much but it was never your fault. But it wounded me so deeply that I didn’t even notice anymore.
I’m glad we didn’t get goats, the trauma of loosing so many chooks didn’t just hurt you, it cut my heart. I saw you after you had lost all your special friends and I hope I can recover from that. I gave you everything I had, so much I made myself sick. I hated the block for what it did to you, even as you loved it. It was my curse and yet I had to mow and maintain it and have BBQs for you there; and yet it hurt my heart to do so. I just waited for the next tragedy it would serve you up. And then you would hate me for hating it. And yet I sometimes even cried mowing down there.
I feel like my beautiful lady was never, ever given a fair go. From the time you were born you were treated second best, you were expendable; sheep dip all over the little girl, “toughen her up”, mustering cattle alone in the drought when you weren’t even a teenager, your mum and dad not going to get your horse and best friend for 18 months when Flicka was just up the road – but too far for a little girl to go, the disregard of you parents showed for you even up till your dad died, your first husband and marriage, more that we won’t share here. Sometimes you would judge me by those measures and I was never, ever that. I was Louisa’s Stefan, you had me. You were beautiful and deep and powerful, sophisticated, interesting. You were my dream come true. But they had brow-beaten you and you never really believed me fully. Maybe in your mind but not your heart; and so you would sometimes judge me with their standards meaning I could never show you how wonderful you really were. Your funeral was huge and those people all agreed with me.
At your funeral I couldn’t imagine what was before me. My mind got stuck in a sense of simultaneous longing and denial. My spirit was separated from my soulmate. I had no feminine foil for what idiotic masculinity I am possessed of and I need that feminine aspect in my world – the feminine psychi and the physical energy patterns.
The last 6 weeks have reminded me; better I say reaffirmed to me how deeply connected we were and how deeply we loved. I miss you. My heart literally aches and I feel hollowed out. I love you and will love you forever. But I am moving on, I am not abandoning you, but I am moving on. I need to move on deep within myself or I will lose myself and I will not be the person I am meant to be. There will be many challenges, sadness, laughter and happiness and I will end up somehow in a new and different world; but I never want to forget you, your laugh, your smile, the warmth and humour, and the warmth of your soul.
I am so sorry I couldn’t have you forever but I am glad you are safe,
All my love,
Stefan.- This topic was modified 11 months ago by .
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