When I’m not writing about the bigger issues, like getting things out of my system or wondering where this thing called life is going (I’ve been listening to a lot of Prince lately), I’m probably writing about other stuff like make-up, running, or tea.
It isn’t because the bigger stuff has gone away, it just feels like too much to write it down. It’s almost as if the more things I have going on, the less time I have to sit and think about it all and when I do get a spare hour to write a blog post it comes out as something not very serious at all, like make-up or tea.
Now I’m not apologising – I know we all like to read a bit of froth every now and again and the pleasure I get from keeping this blog going is that I have the freedom to write whatever I goddam please. When Rog were here, I used to ask him his opinion if I thought something I’d written was ‘too nothing-y’, and he’d always shrug and say so what if it is? People like to read that kind of stuff too.
The thing is, it just feels like there are so many plates in the air at the moment that by the time I’ve finished keeping them all spinning at the end of the day, all I can manage is to sit on the sofa, check my emails, mess about on twitter, maybe do a bit of online retail therapy and try to get to bed early.
Ten months on since Rog died and although things have got easier there are still lots of really down days and lots of times where I start to cry totally unexpectedly. I miss him so much and can feel so lonely without him, sometimes it’s overwhelming and I wonder if I’ll ever feel truly happy again.
It’s like the only person who can make me feel better isn’t here, and that’s tough. I can’t tell you I’d give for a great big hug from my husband, even an hour to chat with him and to share what’s on my mind would do.
I’d tell him about how Sam is struggling a bit too, getting upset and blanking things out constantly. I worry about him all the time and never seem to have the time to work out how I can help.
I’d tell him about how Flo has potty trained herself in the past few weeks. Our easy, loving little girl who’s like my teddy bear when I’m feeling really low. As I was writing this, in bed on a Sunday morning, she just came and snuggled up next to me and gave me a hug. She’s such a little cuddler and has been a real help to me ever since she was born.
Oh and I’d tell him about how we have decided to move house. I know he’d understand – we talked about it before he passed away – but I just need to be closer to my family, to go home.
I’ve lived in Wirral for about eight years now and it’s such a great place to be, but it just feels so sad here without Rog, the reason I moved here in the first place. This house is our house, it was our project, our labour of love and we made it our own. We’re half an hour to Liverpool and five minutes’ walk to the beach. I had always dreamed of living near the beach.
But I’m tired of the two-hour commute to see my parents, I’d love to live nearer to all my family and my closest friends from school. I think about how nice it would be to drop in on my mum and or my sister for tea (and have them drop in at mine too, I promise I’ll reciprocate).
I can’t do this on my own, I need to find all the help I can. I’ve spent months thinking about whether this is the right choice or not and I’ve come to the conclusion that wherever we live, Rog is with us in our hearts and it doesn’t take a house he once lived in to keep us close.
If the past few years have taught me anything it’s that life is short and if you want to try something out then you should just do it, not sit around and wonder what things would be like if you did. And you know what? Nearly everyone I have told has said they think it’s the right thing to do.
So I’m going to give it a go. Our house is on the market and sometime in the summer we will be moving to my hometown in Yorkshire. I know deep down it is the right decision but it doesn’t make it any easier; with any house move there is so much to do but for this one, it will mean packing up not just our things but Roger’s things too. It’s a hard road ahead but I’m hoping the destination will be worth it.
Wherever we go, we will carry Rog in our hearts and I know if he could read this he would say we were doing the right thing. For now, I’m just taking a deep breath and getting on with the practicalities of selling a house where two small people live. I think that’s a different post entirely!
I’ve been shortlisted in the Bibs awards as Readers’ Choice, and in the Mads as Best Writer. If you’d like to vote, just click below! Thank you! x