Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Now We Are Three

My gorgeous, clever, artistic, funny, lovely wife, Karen, died on 19th July 2019 at Warwick Hospital. She'd had a successful breast cancer operation the previous month in June (only a small lump so surgery was not too invasive) but after 5 days at home recovering an infection had flared up that the best attempts of the ICU team at the hospital could not get under control.

I won't go into detail here but it was the worst two weeks of my life and I daresay our sons, Ben and Tom, will tell you the same thing. Right up to the last few days none of us had any indication of just how serious things were getting and we were all hopeful that Karen's return home was imminent. It was not to be.

9 months later I am only just coming out of shock and starting to deal with her loss and what it means for me and the boys.

The three of us are all well and safe and financially secure. Because Karen was smart she had set up various policies and insurances when we had first married that have saved us from life becoming much harder. Karen told me about them at the time - I have vague recollections of not really listening because (a) I didn't want to think about such hardline eventualities when we were just setting out on our lives together and (b) I'm crap with that kind of thing; Karen's being an accountant meant that, in my mind, this area was her domain and I was happy to defer all details and organization to her. I'm glad that I did; she did us proud and it is a comfort to know that even now she is looking after us. 

It is a bitter-sweet thing to revisit this blog and re-read the 1000+ posts published here. Karen was always very supportive of my writing and this blog in particular. Despite the many film and book reviews and attempts at comedy writing that are contained here, this blog was essentially a family archive - an online diary of our lives together. That is certainly how Karen viewed it and, rereading my posts now, I can see that inadvertently I captured much of our lives together even when I had not consciously meant to or had been writing about other things.

I recognize that by the very act of writing several posts a week I was savouring our lives together and appreciating being in the moment by celebrating much of it online. For that reason alone I regret letting this blog fall into disuse as we, in the real world, fell (like we all do) into dull unthinking routine. I know it is hard to do but, by God, seizing the day sometimes just means feeling the moment! None of us do it enough. But in this blog I had a bloody good go at feeling as many of them as I could. I am thankful for that.

Within these hundreds of posts I also recognize a happiness and a contentment in my writing that had never been there before. The source of that happiness, of course, was my relationship with Karen and our boys and our very happy home life together. I don't think I will ever have it in me to write like that again. This was a special time. A one-off. As cliched as it might be, Karen and I were soul-mates and when we were together my soul finally realized it had a singing voice and couldn't help but sound forth joyously. I had expected and hoped that it would last forever. Certainly for the rest of my life. Karen and I often daydreamed about what we would do in our retirement together... none of it very grand (a bit of travelling, days out, mostly mooching around the antique shops of Stow-on-the-Wold which had become our special place) but it would have made us both very happy.

It is hard to wake up each morning now and know that Karen is no longer here with us. It is harder still contemplating that I may have another 40 years on this earth without her. She was only 52 when she died. 2 days before our 14th wedding anniversary and a few weeks before my 50th birthday. To say last summer was a steaming pile of horseshit of galactic proportions is to put it mildly. Like I said, I'm only just now coming out of shock; the grief has moved from a hazy, dream-like pain to a sharply focused agony as the permanence of this horrible new world sinks in. 

Karen had suffered a horrific childhood. A physically abusive mother, raped horrifically when she was 3 years old... just one of those things on its own would have been enough to give someone PTSD for life. Karen had a double dose and for much of her adult life battled with the debilitating effects of it. She put an immense amount of work into getting herself "sorted out". Counselling, therapy, self-help... everything. She was incredibly brave and courageous. Some people never recover from such an awful start in life and slip into drug and alcohol abuse and worse. Karen didn't. She clawed her way out of it, determined that her relationships and any children she had would not be scarred by issues caused by her traumas. It was a long, tough, constantly uphill fight. But she did it. Anyone who knew Karen will tell you what a strong, warm, kind, wise and empathic person she was. She was the most honest and truthful person I have ever met. And, if I am honest, the only person on this planet that I can say without equivocation that I trusted 100%. I knew I could trust her with my soul. 

The boys and I feel like we have been robbed; that life has cheated us. 16 years together (14 married and 18+ months dating before that) is not nearly enough. We all deserved more. Karen deserved so much more. So there is pain, and grief, and sorrow and anger. But there is also thankfulness. I was lucky to have found someone like Karen. So lucky. Luckier than I probably deserved to be. 

Each day now is painful. Because every day without Karen feels like an utter waste. I don't want to move on. I don't want to forget or the memories to become faded and dull. I don't want life to close in around her absence and callously continue without her. 

And yet here we are.

Our boys need me. Ben is now 18 and Tom is 12. Both too young to have lost their mum. They keep me going. I mean to do them proud and to do Karen proud. But beyond that I have absolutely no fucking idea what to do or what I am doing.

Anyway, I won't bore you with that... whoever you are now. It's been quite a few years since I last updated this blog. At the time I had built up quite a good readership but like all things... nothing lasts forever. I doubt anyone will read this really but for the sake of completeness I needed to write this one last post. To say goodbye and to say thank you. I hope whoever stumbles across these posts takes some pleasure in them... even if it is only a small chuckle at my stupid jokes. I hope mostly though that a few of you are moved enough to go home today and give your loved ones a big hug. 

Because you always think you have enough time to do it later. To say all the important stuff later. 

But you don't.

Karen and I told each other we loved each other every single day - no word of a lie - and yet still, still, I regret not saying it more.

And I would gladly give up the entirety of the rest of my life just to have 10 more minutes with her. I would consider it a bloody good bargain.

I love you forever, gorgeous. I miss you.



32 comments:

Wanderlust said...

What a beautiful tribute, Steve. I felt every word of it. I miss your blog and your writing (I miss writing myself). The world has since evolved in ways we could not have imagined. Much love to you.

Rol said...

So sorry for your loss, Steve. You take care, buddy.

the fly in the web said...

That's a fine memorial to the woman you loved - and love.
I used to look forward to your blog posts...and now I see the engine room behind them, the power of love to give freedom.
Look after yourself.

RB said...

Oh Steve, it is so good to see you back in blogworld. I miss those days. They were very special. And whilst I never met Karen, you are right, she popped up in your posts so often - just in passing - that I felt I had some inkling of what she was like or at least of her importance in your life.

I am so very sorry for your loss and that of your boys. But you are so lucky you found Karen and had the time that you did with her. Many people never find anything like that.

Much love to you and your family

Reluctant Blogger (it's a very long time since I have signed myself that way) xx

Clippy Mat said...

I'm so glad you found the way back to writing again. I always enjoyed your blog, you were honest and funny and I felt I knew you and your family a bit. I'm sad for you. It was obvious you loved your family and your life. Karen's photo showed her openness and warmth.
I hope you can continue to keep writing, loving your boys and honoring such a lovely, well loved, and very brave woman. Big hugs. Xx

Trish said...

I wanted to comment here, as that’s where I always did before, in the years when we enjoyed reading about each other’s lives. It was such a treat to read your blog posts. I loved our little community.
I still can’t get my head around Karen’s death. It feels so unfair and I can understand your anger and despair at your life being robbed of her presence. I’m just so sorry, Steve, and that just isn’t enough, I know. X

Steve said...

Wanderlust: it has, my friend, but it is as good to see you here again as it is good to be here. I actually thought it would be traumatic for me to revisit this place but it was incredibly calming and grounding. I miss your blog too and the regular contact I used to have with other bloggers and writers.

Rol: thank you. And ditto above - really lovely to see you here. :-)

The fly in the web: thank you. I didn't realize until revisiting here just how much Karen was an integral part of my writing as much as she was the rest of my life. It was good to reconnect with that.

RB: it's put a big smile on my face seeing you back here. I miss those days too. It all seems so innocent now! As I said above, I miss the contact and the writing and the reading... looking back on it. blogging was such a safe supportive world back then... at least I found it so in our little part of the community. Do stay in touch.

Clippy Mat: thank you. In truth friends have been telling me to start writing again for a while but I didn't feel I was in the right place to do it or, indeed, strong enough... the ease and catharsis of today has surprised me and made me realize that maybe writing is just what I need right now. We'll see. ;-)

Trish: bless you, it's really good to see you here too. I loved our community too. It was so welcoming and varied and open... it really was a window into so many people's lives and the sense of connection was very real. I'd forgotten how lovely it was until today and hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.

Unknown said...

Fantastic writing as always, one foot in front of the other mate. Big hugs to you and yours, The Sagittarian

Steve said...

The Sagittarian: thank you. It's a real nostalgic treat seeing "The Sagittarian" here again.

Kevin Musgrove said...

Sad to hear this, my condolences to you and your family. A nice tribute to Karen. Best wishes.

The Poet Laura-eate said...

Hi Steve, thank you for your brave and heartrending post. I was shocked to hear the news last year, but had no idea of the story behind. I can't begin to imagine what you have been going through and remember following your blog daily for many years, sharing with you all your ups and downs, triumphs and (mostly work as I recall) frustrations, but always at the heart, a complete appreciation of your family and their love and support. What an awful thing to have happened. Strangely my own partner had a major infection after a minor operation last year and there was a horrible 24hrs when things could almost have gone either way, so I remember the lurching stomach vividly.
What fine young men you are raising. At least they are of an age where they can do most things for themselves and also have plenty of memories of their mum. Am glad too that you don't have to worry financially, while you come to terms with things.
I know it's early days and emotions are still raw, but please don't rule out future happiness. Of course it won't be the same, but on the other hand you wouldn't want it to be, would you? Hopefully you will find that your heart is big enough to love more than once. You already know it is big enough to hold your sons as well as Karen after all.
This may or may not be the right time to share, but some time ago I met an elegant lady in her late 50s at a party. She was with her recently acquired husband, *Brian. While he went off to the buffet she confided to me that *Brian was her third husband and she had tragically lost her first and second husbands to cancer within a decade of each other in her 30s and 40s. Her second in particular had been the love of her life and she feared she would never love again after she lost him. She said that much as she loved and appreciated *Brian (her new husband), she was grateful for the fact that she loved him less intensely and that if she were to be unlucky again, she could never be as devastated as she had been when she lost her second husband. She also took comfort from the fact that both her late husbands had had time to express to her that they didn't want her to be lonely after they were gone. They knew there was no danger she might forget them. Some years later, I hear she is still happy and enjoying life with *Brian.

The Poet Laura-eate said...

PS: Why not go back to blogging? It is clearly providing comfort reading your old posts and is a cathartic thing to do, no matter what is happening in your life. Lxx

Steve said...

Kevin: thank you.

Laura: hi Laura, so lovely to see you commenting here again! Though I am much out of practise for checking for comments and publishing them... time was I was hot on it within the hour of anyone leaving a comment rather than leaving it two days! I think over the last 9 months I have mused a lot on what happens next for me... what do I do with the rest of my life? Who do I spend it with? When someone dies there seems to be a period of maniacal panicking driven I suspect by the fear of suddenly being alone, of suddenly being single and turfed out of a comforting partnership that was meant to be set for life. God knows I've had moments when I've thought to myself, "right, I could have another 40 years of life ahead of me, I could meet someone else..." But eventually that feeling dies down. Or at least it has for me. My heart at the moment is in a place where even to contemplate another relationship makes me feel sick. To think of being with someone other than Karen, or starting again with anyone else and doing all those 'first time' things again... no, I just cannot entertain it. What Karen and I shared together is sacred to me. I attach no religious connotation to that word at all; it is simply the closest to expressing what I feel. The thought of abandoning that or diminishing it in anyway by being with someone else just feels so wrong that I can't find the words. Maybe that will change in the years to come? Maybe I will have a change of heart. But for now, I can quite honestly say - without any hysteria or drama, just a calm realization - that I am done. And that is fine. Karen is in my heart and always will be. I will do my best to set my boys up for good, happy lives. I'm not thinking much beyond that. Regarding a return to blogging... I am genuinely musing that over at the moment but I certainly haven't ruled it out. :-)

Nota Bene said...

Ah Steve, that's such a beautiful piece, and poigncy of it goes far beyond the words. In years to come the boys will still be reading it and be reassured at the love that shines through.

Steve said...

Nota Bene: thank you for such kind words. Every few days, pretty much, I have written Karen a letter since she died. I'm trying to resist the inevitable slip into mere diary... but it sometimes helps to have somewhere to order my thoughts and, yes, even chart my progress through this, the deepest grief I have ever known. The scariest thing for me has always been the thought of looking back in 30 years time at someone who has become so far ago in my past and all that we cherished just memory... even as I know that ultimately that is all any of us are: just dreams and memories. Each day that passes I feel further away from her, further away from the last time we spoke or touched. It is a hard thing to bear.

AGuidingLife said...

For years I have felt like I knew (and know you) and yet just a distant stranger really but even from the distance my heart breaks for you. You always had a poetry with words, don't stop sharing that with the world in some way. Much love to you x

Steve said...

AGuidingLife: thank you so much for dropping by after so long! I very much miss the blogging community and regret falling out of step with it - even though at the time it was the right decision. I am gradually feeling the pull to write significantly again... just need to work out how and where...

libby said...

Oh Steve... sorry is such a small little word and seems so inadequate....and yet I am sorry, for you and the boys....that was a lovely tribute to Karen ....look after each other.

Steve said...

Libby: thank you also feels inadequate but I do thank you indeed, from the bottom of my heart. :-)

The bike shed said...

So today I thought I'd potter through some old blogs and catch up long lost contacts - see what the world is up too... and then I stumble on this.



Three blank lines as I draw breath...


Two more and still no words - there never can be really.
Except to say that in some huge and many tiny ways people are with you and that I hope you find the world is still a good place for all its sorrow.
I know what you mean about the blog as record - mine too has fallen into disrepair and yet I still treasure much of what it contains. There's a good option on blog to book that will convert your entire blog into a printable PDF (book format) which cots about a tenner and gives you great record that maybe you'll be pleased to have one day.
Maybe leave a comment on the 'bikeshed' if you want more details.
Best. Mark

Steve said...

Hi Mark, thank you for your kind comments. We're coming up to the first anniversary of Karen's death next month and it is fair to say that it still feels as unreal as it did last year. Unreal and very wrong. The world feels out of kilter. I know life isn't normal for everyone right now but it feels like the boys and I lost our sense of normality nearly 12 months ago. I am too scared to stare into the future so confine my battles to the here and now as much as I can. Good to hear from you again.

The bike shed said...

You'll come through Steve - that's not the same as 'getting over', but it's a better place I hope.
Meanwhile - the blog to book is easy at https://blogger.sharedbook.com/
Just set up your blog - preview it, make a few changes to the layout and then chose the PDF option. You can spend ages finessing if you like but I don't and it still turns out very professional. I also have mine printed in hardback (3 volumes now) which is not cheap but not ridiculous either - quality is excellent - and it does make for a great record of all you have written. Best Mark.

Steve said...

Hi Mark, thank you for this - much appreciated.

Unknown said...

Steve, I've just happened upon my blog (I thought it had been deleted), and I'm so so sorry to hear this.Sending you my condolences and hoping that you and your boys are ok. Words always seem so inept at times like this.

Unknown said...

Hi Steve,
I'm so sorry to read this. I've literally just stumbled across my old blog - I thought I'd deleted it. You were always such a loyal follower and I'm so sorry that you are hurting. Sending you my condolences. Suze

Steve said...

Hi Suze, it's so lovely to see you commenting here. I've been truly touched at the amount of old blogging friends who have reappeared again after all these years. Thank you for your kind thoughts. My boys and I are still trying to deal with what has happened. I don't think we have fully accepted it yet and are constantly puzzled by this new unwanted reality that we find ourselves in. But we are safe and we are well. I aim to give them both as good a start in life as I can. The rest I am taking day by day, though there are times when these seem to get heavier and heavier. I do hope you are happy and that life is treating you well.

English Rider said...

Oh Steve, so sorry to learn this. I am glad you've come to post again. For many of us our blogs are a form of diary that we can revisit, even if we write little.
Your boys are lucky to have had such a great example of a "Life Well Loved", even if too short and I'm sure you are also lucky to have them.
Warm Hugs to you all.

Steve said...

English Rider: as with so many of my old blogging friends, it is really lovely to see you here. Thank you for taking the time to leave a kind comment. Today is actually the first anniversary of Karen's death so it is a very emotional day for me. What scares me most, I think, is the way such milestones like today will now stack up for all the years my boys and I are without her... It still feels unreal and like a nightmare I wish I could wake up from. Thank you for your kind wishes.

Lady Mondegreen's Secret Garden said...

Oh Steve...

Steve said...

I know...

English Rider said...

Steve, I hope you reappear in the Blog World again oneday. As you previously mentioned, it's a deeper and more supportive place than facebook etc. I've also found it a place to revisit the past.
The Artistic One left this Earth in January 2021. He was 87 and had not missed anything.
He was an Event; an Experience; an Exclamation Mark and I was his Person. I wrote about him a lot and crafted Press Releases and Artist Statements to bolster The Legend. He believed his own PR.
My "To do List" Header is "Write my own Legend"

Steve said...

English Rider: so sorry for your loss. Life can, and often does, hit us with utter body shocks out of the blue, or even if we see them coming they still hit hard. Sending you big hugs.

As for returning to blogging... well, never say never but I do not feel the urge at all at the moment. I write Karen at least one letter a week but they are not for publication and I've managed a couple of poems over the last few years. I don't think the urge to write has left me utterly but it has buried itself deep for the moment. :-)