The Aching of Absence

Most days, now, almost mid-way through our second year without Ben, I find myself ever aware of his absence.

I catch memories fluttering into view, either just before I wake or when I am staring into space, lost in a moment somewhere. They are seconds long, but they are images, usually full of sunlight and the echoes of a bubbly voice, dancing in my head and making my heart smile.

And then, I am back into reality, staring into space, losing concentration, haunted by the life we had before Ben was diagnosed with Leukaemia and before our lives changed irrevocably.

I fluctuate between being able to cope and wanting to disappear completely. Of course, the latter is completely impractical with two beautiful daughters to keep me busy, but still, the ache of absence weighs heavy on the heart.

My girls display mannerisms and the laughter of their brother, the wit and the warmth and it brings me a feeling of happy sadness. I long to hear them all giggling and bickering together and it’s so hard to comprehend the fact that, never again will that happen in any of our lifetimes. The twelve years is what we got with Ben and as my darling husband said just the other night, in a rare few moments together, long enough to have an actual conversation, ‘he burned fast and bright, a light that went out way too soon.’

I berate myself lately when I feel low and crabby. I’m at ‘that’ age, too, you know, ladies in particular, the peri bit before all the hormones rush downhill. Well, it’s causing an undulation in my hormones and imbalance in my emotions, too and I find myself getting short some days with the children and feeling so sad later.

We are a family of five, yet it is clear that the toll of bereavement is a balance and a struggle, every day. We are, each of us, grieving and affected, or sometimes not so affected, by grief in different ways. We give each other time and space as much as is possible, but with grief and covid and lockdown, frustrations come to the surface on occasion, but are quickly dispelled, simply because we all feel it. The aching of absence and it’s ever present.

I just really miss him. I miss him being with us and with the girls; the laughter, the shouting, the arguments, the bickering and the endless jokes and pranks. All of it. We all do.

It feels like a never-ending test of courage, of strength in search of wisdom and understanding; of clarity and some days, the need to know why; a question that is unlikely to receive an answer.

So, we wander through the days, breathing it all in, feeling every moment in exaggeration. Sometimes it’s overwhelming and other times, it’s so welcome, like the pain and the tears, the laughter and longing, are all a constant reminder of how much of a close knit family we are and how much love we have for each other. We all existed for twelve beautiful years together on the planet and what a huge blessing that is.

Even with the aching of absence, the heart remains full and broken, forever bound in memory and love; and no distance, in any way, could ever break that connection. Ever.

Love you Ben. Love you Bears xxxxx

The Bears call me Moomin xxx