The Widow Wore Red

By

Valentine's Day⸺the epic day of love, originating in the year 496 in memory of the Roman priest, St Valentine. Marriage had been ruled illegal but Valentine cared not. He was a champion of love and married couples regardless—a bold act which would cost him his life.

Upon learning of Valentine's disregard for the laws of his land, Emperor Claudius II sentenced him to death. He was executed on February 14th but not before he'd fallen in love with the prison guard's daughter, whom he wrote his last words to—a love letter signed, 'Your Valentine'

 And thus, the tradition of Valentine's Day came into being. What a beautiful legacy to leave behind, born of equal parts love, death, grief and courage, not unlike my own Valentine's Day tragedy.

 February 14th, 2012 was the day my boys and I buried their Angel Daddy and one of the greatest loves of my life—Chris. Little Lachlan not even yet 2 years old, Christopher Jr. barely the size of a cherry in my womb.

No parent should have to bury their child, it isn't the natural order; yet no unborn baby and toddler should have to bury their father. This is a cold, hard world we live in.

 Chris' funeral was opened with Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin—a song Chris played on the guitar with such incredible talent, it left listeners with goosebumps.

A large white coffin gleamed starkly from the front of the funeral parlour—the colour of purity—as pure as the soul of the wonderful man who lay inside. We had selected an enormous bunch of red roses to adorn the top- red just like my dress, red for the love we had shared... red for our first and last Valentine's Day together.

 Somehow I found the strength to speak, though I could not bring myself to look up from my words into the crowd, for fear of breaking down and finding myself unable to go on. Before reading out a letter I had written to Chris, I read this poem, He is Gone:

A beautiful piece of literature but oh, so very hard to live by when your heart has been shattered into a million pieces and you don't know how to even begin putting them all back together again...

 My letter: "Oh, Chris...you were so much more than just my partner—you were my killer of spiders and bugs, my cleaner-upperer of our son's vomit that I couldn't handle the smell of, my electric blanket in the winter, my rock, my oxygen supply, my soul mate.
  
Words will never be enough to describe the love I have for you or the gaping hole you have left in mine and our children's lives. One thing is certain though—if I could turn back the clock and start our relationship all over again, knowing full well that our time together would be cut so unfairly short, I would do it in a heartbeat.
  
You were, are and always will be worth all of this pain. I love you, baby. It's only goodbye for a little while. Fly with the angels until we meet again."


Chris's mother, Gayle, read his eulogy (an excerpt of which I've included below) and his Uncle Dennis shared some fond memories before reading out what Chris's father, Wayne had written in honour of his beloved son, friend, and golfing partner.  

A tearful speech from Mitch, one of Chris's best friends, yanked painfully at my heart strings: "How do you do someone as great as Chris any justice with mere words," he began.

Mitch too, wrote a letter to Chris, the end of which brought floods of tears for me: "....I was able to witness just how much being in love with Carla and being a Daddy to Lachlan transformed you into an even better man. I'm still angry and hurt that you were taken from us just as you were building such an amazing life for yourself and I'm not sure I'll ever get over that. But I will say this, you were loved, mate...loved as a son, loved as a partner, loved as a Daddy, and I loved you as a brother. I'll miss you, mate."

 Approximately 300 people were in attendance at Chris's funeral. It had to be broadcast on screens outside the building to accommodate the large crowd of lives, touched by the man I loved so much, come to mourn, pay their respects and celebrate a precious life cut so tragically short.

 As we watched the coffin being lowered into Chris's final resting place, Because you Loved Me by Celine Dion played: a final love song I had chosen for my dearly departed Valentine.  Such fitting words... 


~

I wrote to Chris daily for many months after his passing. I recently came across these journals, filled with grief stricken, emotional letters and tear stained pages. I reread them all and cried, laughed and cried some more.
  
I have chosen two to include in this post, as well as the below excerpt.



~


~


February 14th will always be extra special to me because it is a day that holds equal significance in both love and grief, and allows me to remember and celebrate the man who walked into my life at the most unexpected time, changing me forever, while proving to me that fairy tale love does exist and will always find us (even when we think the story is over). 

Happy Valentine's Day, my love. ❤



google.com, pub-5896944412523933, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0


Comments

  1. UnknownFebruary 14, 2019 at 7:55 PM

    Once again a beautiful piece of work, touches one's soul to the very core xx

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

'Til Death, did we Part

By
Image
TRIGGER WARNING: this post contains very graphic detail, which some may find distressing My eldest son, Lachlan, did not ever meet his biological father, Dean.  Their entire father/son relationship amounted to approximately 3 telephone calls throughout the time between Lachlan's birth in 2010, and Dean's untimely death.  This aside, Lachlan and I were both lucky enough to find an amazing man, who not only loved me more fiercely and passionately than I had ever known, but also loved my son as though he were his own—Chris—the first man I ever truly loved.   When Chris and I discovered I was pregnant, we were surprised but thrilled.  We had our first ultrasound at 6 weeks and I will never forget the look of sheer wonder, delight and adoration on Chris's face as he watched the screen and listened to our baby's heartbeat.   I recall thinking, this is how it's supposed to be —i t's going to be so different this time around — it's going to be perfect... how
Read more

Confessions of a Pro-life Mother: there but for the grace of God go I

By
Image
I have always been open about being pro-life. I know this is a sensitive topic but please hold off on lugging out the torches and pitchforks just yet. There is a heartfelt story behind my steadfast view. A few months ago an acquaintance accused me of unfairly judging my fellow women by being pro-life, rather than pro-choice.  I responded, 'I don't judge women who make that choice because, there but for the grace of God, go I.' She replied, 'So, you're pro-life but don't judge a woman for making a choice? I don't understand.' Well, what led me to be pro-life? That is the story that needs telling to answer her question. I was 20 years old when I learned I was pregnant for the first time. A few months prior, I fled from a toxic 2 year, on again/off again relationship, riddled with domestic violence and drug dependence. He was what I thought at the time was my first love. How wrong I was. I had no idea what love was then, but he was all I knew. I was dy
Read more

Jimmy Crow of Crow's Nest, Queensland

By
Image
Crow, Jim (c. 1825—c. 1884) by C M Wormington Jim ‘Jimmy’ Crow (c. 1825—c. 1884), camp operator and Indigenous guide, was born in the 1820s, in the Darling Downs, Queensland (Kerkhove 2020). His exact birth and death dates remain unknown and, in addition, it is unclear whether Crow's surname was associated with his crow-like appearance or his moiety (Kerkhove 2020); in fact, many aspects of Crow's early life are disputed. This can most likely be attributed to his younger years having occurred in early Aboriginal times. Written history from these times is ‘…almost non-existent’ (McGreevy 2003, para. 1) and, because of this, there is a large gap in the documented facts of Crow’s life. This gap ranges from his birth, up until approximately his early 20s. Popular belief holds that the entire name ‘Jim Crow’ was given to him by the early settlers (Watson 2020), with his traditional birth name remaining a mystery; however, Kerkhove (2020) did not acknowledge this theory in hi
Read more

Best Friends Forever

By
Image
People say, " you don't know what you've got until it's gone" but the truth is, with Brad, I always knew.  The statement,  "True friends are like diamonds, precious but rare..." is so, so very true and it was never lost on me, that Brad was one of my diamonds.    2012 was, undoubtedly, the worst year of my life and the final kick in the guts, just one day before it ended, was a phone call during which I learned my best friend had left this world.  I will never forget the crashing in my ears, the sinking pit in my stomach, my knees hitting the floor as my legs gave way, the unshakeable belief that every person I loved seemed cursed to die.  Life seemed hell bent on slamming me back to the floor again, every time I found my feet. ~ To go back to where it all began, Brad was originally close mates with Dean, the biological father of my eldest son.  Early on in my pregnancy, when Dean and I were still together, Brad often looked out for me, ensuring
Read more

Tales of a VBAC Hypnobirth

By
Image
Parts of this birth story are written in 'Hypnobirthing Language' which changes a lot of medical terms to gentler words. The medical terms are added in brackets the first time each is used. This story begins with the events that shaped my views of birth. In 2010 I gave birth to my first child. At two weeks overdue, I was induced and my labour was horrific, as were my postpartum complications. I now attribute this to the fact my labour was artificially induced. In December 2011, I fell pregnant with my second child. During the first trimester, my loving partner tragically passed away in our home during an epileptic seizure. Remembering how traumatic my first birth was, I didn't believe I'd cope, especially given the dark place I was already in. Instead, I opted for an elective C-section. Early in my final pregnancy, I discovered a place I now view as The Gold Standard in prenatal and postnatal care: My Midwives . I cannot speak highly enough of My Midwives and the
Read more

The Day the Virus Came

By
Image
We will never forget the year 2020.Countries shut down, children were pulled from schools, the stock market crashed, and unemployment hit a record high of 14.7%, the highest it has been since 1948 (Thompson 2020).  With this new world, birthed by a foreign virus, so too, came a surge in mental health and domestic violence crises. The global death toll is currently at 382,412 (Worldometer 3 June 2020) but the true statistics are likely much higher. The forgotten numbers are found in suicides of isolated depression sufferers, murdered children and partners forcibly quarantined in violent homes, and people with chronic illnesses, too afraid to attend critical medical appointments for fear of contracting the deadly Coronavirus.  Additionally, drug overdoses from relapses that may never have occurred had the addicts had access to their support networks and meetings, would further inflate the tally. Indeed, we will never forget the year 2020; the year the COVID-19 pandemic came.
Read more

For the Love of Difficult Children

By
Image
No parent signs up for children with behavioural or emotional disabilities. Heck, if it worked that way, none of us would. But oh, what a gift would be lost to this world. Difficult children grow into strong willed adults, champions of the causes they believe in; dream chasers, peacemakers, and driven entrepreneurs.  They are worth all the tears, sleepless nights, judgemental stares, and specialist appointments.   I was a difficult child; now I am raising one. I know you are exhausted, Mumma, but to your little boy, you are Wonder Woman , battling his demons and bringing calm to the chaos of his overwhelmed mind. Breathe—you've got this.   Dad, I see you struggling with the weight of working hard, only to come home to World War III in your living room, when all you want is peace and quiet.   To the single parent weeping in your car, after your daughter threw the mother of all tantrums in the supermarket, I think you are a rock star. ~    These children see the world in
Read more

An Open Letter to my Father

By
Image
Dear Dad, It’s been years since we last spoke. I was pregnant with my first child; you were sectioned in a psychiatric hospital again. I’d visited you there many times over the years, as a child and as an adult. I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I had to walk away.   My childhood seems like a good place to begin. I vividly recall you telling me at Family Court, right before you were stripped your parental responsibility and visitation rights, that I was strong like you. You told me this strength was what enabled me to endure and withstand all of the pain. That day was the first and only time I saw you cry. I remember how hard you hugged me; how tightly you clung to me. Your exact final words as I was escorted from the room were: 'God, I love you, kiddo.' What you may not know is that it wasn’t any perceived strength that allowed me to speak to you that day when my brother refused. It was the panic button located beneath the Family Report Writer's desk. That discr
Read more