We Are Constantly Changing, Even If We Think We’re Not

It’s now a little over two-and-a-half years since my husband died. It’s been a challenging journey. But I’m now of the belief that a lot of what they write about grief holds us back, rather than encouraging us to move forward. Some people like myself will rise above it but so many don’t or can’t and it breaks my heart. Those people need encouragement and belief in themselves rather than being told it’s OK to sit in the corner crying their eyes out year after year. 

Someone posted this meme on a support group site this morning.

After reading through the various comments which followed the meme I felt compelled to say something. I started off in stating my views will be different to many expressed. But, that each of us has to approach life based on what works best for us. That’s what I’ve been doing.

Over recent months I’ve tried to look at life as a series of changes. Death of a loved one has an impact but so does so many other experiences in life. As an example so does getting older. We are always changing the self we were. Who we were at 18 wasn’t the self we were at 30 or 40. We are at 40 will not be the self we are at 70 or 80.

We admit we've changed in the past but believe we'll be the same person in the future. We won’t be and we would never be. Death of a loved one is simply one thing in life that changes us but it’s not the only thing.

I no longer think of grief as the thing that controls me as a result I’m more contented with my life. I believe grief has made we wiser, and it’s made me more understanding of myself. That is a good thing.

Every experience in life is an opportunity to learn. Even the most harrowing of experiences like losing my soul mate.

“It's still ok to dream with a broken heart.” ~ Nikki Rowe. In fact, that is exactly what we should be encouraging each other to do. 

The Ladybird and the Daisy

I have always believed that when our loved ones depart this earth, they find a way to send us a sign. In essence, to bring us comfort when we need it, to let us know they are OK and to let us know we are not alone. We just have to be receptive to receive those messages. I have many personal examples of signs, including one that involved my darling cat Winston. 

So to the story of the Ladybird and the Daisy

Whenever I gave Richard a pressie I would stick a little wooden Ladybird on the card envelope. I love Ladybirds and they go so well with the free form flower I always draw to go with it. A few days before Richard passed away, I found one the Ladybirds inside a kitchen cupboard. I stuck it on a cupboard door. A couple of days after Richard died I noticed the Ladybird was on the bench top below. I stuck it back onto the door, it stayed there all day, but next morning it was on the bench top again. This scenario went on for some days. I would stick the Ladybird back onto the door and I’d check it was still there before I went to bed. In the morning there it would be, on the bench top. 

The light goes on, put it inside the cupboard to test. Strike me down next morning it was on the bench top. I gave up and it's lived on the bench top since. I shared this story with people who know Richard and their comments have all been, that is so typical of Richard. It is indeed. 

This past week has been an exceptionally trying week for me. As I understand more about the seven stages of grief, I understand I have moved into the depression, reflection, loneliness stage. One of the downsides of living in my head is, I have to analyse everything to death and to find meaning. For someone who is always so in control of their life and usually their emotions many of the emotions and the inability to control them that this stage brings is a challenge. The endless ‘but why’ questions drive me insane and the feeling of foreboding that the black clouds will never lift are just horrible. But the universe has a habit of bringing help when you least expect it. 

I had visitors for morning tea yesterday. I don’t mind admitting I was feeling anxious. Not because of who was coming, because they all mean a great deal to me and I was so looking forward to catching up. It was because of me. The mere mention of Richard’s name this past week would render me into uncontrollable weeping. There is nothing worse than a soggy cupcake. 

This is where the Ladybird and the daisy connection comes in again. I heard my visitors coming down my driveway and went out to meet them. I am greeted by a dear little poppet holding out a this lovely bunch of flowers. 

They couldn’t have been more perfect; so very Kate colours; soft pastels. Stuck to one of the flowers - a little wooden Ladybird. Even more delightful was the fact that it was stuck to a daisy which is my favourite flower. I felt my dark clouds lifting. I had the most enjoyable couple hours and not a soggy cupcake or Macaron in sight. 

I am usually very open to receiving messages, but the past couple of weeks there has been nothing and I think that is what has led to me hitting the wall. It wasn’t until this morning that the penny dropped that there has been a sign there all along. A single daisy flower in my front garden. It never registered with me until I started to pen this piece this morning. Just to prove I’m not completely bonkers here is a pic. It's on its last legs now, but it has been there for about two weeks. Just one flower. 

I can hear Richard’s laugh as he whispers  “For heaven's sake open your eyes you ‘daft apeth’.” In case you are wondering what a ‘daft apeth’ is, it’s a northern England equivalent of the term Muppet. It's often used by the Brits as a term of endearment when a loved does something wrong or is slow on the uptake. Richard always used it and I in turn would call him a twit.

My beautiful flowers will eventually wither and die, but the little Ladybird will stay as a reminder that regardless of how bleak the world looks, if we ask for help, or for a sign and if we have enough faith we will receive it. Mind you, the messenger will not always be as cute as yesterday, but there will be one. I just have to keep my eyes open.