Lost Loves Remembered...
LOCKED TOGETHER IN TRUE LOVE
02/04/2024.
If you don't understand why someone is grieving
for an extended period,
consider yourself fortunate for not comprehending their pain...
71 years old and still lost... BUT STILL HAPPY!
People say that time is a great healer and I agree, but it's been 28 years since I lost my wife and 6 years since my other great love was brutally murdered by her mentally ill son, once my stepson.
Now, in 2024, I am fairly well healed, but I'm not totally free from the mental scars and probably never will be for what remains of my existence on this planet.
I am temporarily unwell and not sleeping properly. It's nothing serious, but quite painful. So as a distraction from the physical pain and having no one in my life to talk to at 3.30 am, I'm moved to write a line or two about two of my great losses...
Now, in 2024, I am fairly well healed, but I'm not totally free from the mental scars and probably never will be for what remains of my existence on this planet.
I am temporarily unwell and not sleeping properly. It's nothing serious, but quite painful. So as a distraction from the physical pain and having no one in my life to talk to at 3.30 am, I'm moved to write a line or two about two of my great losses...
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Here goes...
Since you left, I have tried to remove you from my memory. Yet, the frowns on my face refuse to go with you both. I’m still lost and floating in an ocean of sadness after so many years, even though our deep love has long-since washed ashore to evaporate into the sands of time.
So many years have past but the scent of your presence returns regularly to take me hostage. It locks my mind inside the deep black hole that I twice fell into when you were suddenly gone forever.
Since the day our blissful marriage came to an abrupt end in April 1995, I have passed by coffee shops, bakeries, street food sellers and even freshly cut grass. I close my eyes to see yours shining back like diamond's through the mists of time.
Even while I browse the foreign food aisles in the supermarket I'm reminded by their sight and smells of your perfect image when we shopped together at all those sooks and deli's alongside the joyful roads we travelled.
Then I'm filled with a myriad of haunting memories of our times in Athens, Istanbul, Dubai then Lapland and all the European countries. That's when our deep love developed while we lived on our whit's and passion for performing our silly slapstick street and festival shows.
Day to day, I still cook food for two, but not the French onion soup that was your special, and only dish. I even still cook for ten or more of our now, long-lost friends who used to come to our hedonistic, wild house parties when we were a couple of semi-famous entertainers in Liverpool.
I still clean the home and remind myself why it didn't bother me when you never cleaned or cooked because you were way too artistic to think about such mundane tasks. I suppose it was just your Inuit heritage that stopped you from feeling bad about not doing daily tasks that had nothing to do with ice-hole fishing or shooting Moose...
Ahh, there's another whole life's worth of frozen memories that haunt me whenever it snows.
However, despite my moving onwards and upwards whilst living in the exotic far east, India and China it was only a couple of years ago when I finally bought a single bed. I still don't sleep well even after so many years of hoping to replace your perfect presence to hold and love when I wake up at 3.00 in the morning. Now, I hug a feather down pillow and try to avoid the tears destroying its warm soft, almost feminine filling.
I'm amazed at how I still sense your real presence in my dreams and how I awake with the scent of your ghostly presence still moist on my pillow. Then I realise it was just another vivid dream brought up from the innermost depth of my soul. Then I spend the next hour sending the dream back by making coffee for one, and pretending to have friends on Facebook.
There are no words to describe the other nightmares where I see a kitchen knife embedded into the beautiful neck that I caressed way back in 1989. Then the image of your sadly deranged son sitting at the kitchen table across from the mother he had so brutally murdered, drinking tea at 3.00 am just before Christmas Day in 2017.
No words, except... You will never be forgotten and forever loved by many people who only saw the perfect beauty in everything you ever did. I hope the child you loved will remain unbalanced and oblivious to what he did to you, your surviving partner and your ever-loving family and me, his one-time stepfather.
Both of you are now, in reality, just a photograph taken on a wedding day in Kirkcudbright and a mural painted on a house wall where an amazing woman was brutally taken away from this world by her only son.
In my mind, I still can’t forget the losses, but I have learned to live alone and be happy through trying to help others who are trapped in a life of absolute poverty... A life that may never even offer them the luxury of a secure loving relationship to lose.
Now it's 6.15 am and I think I may sleep for a while...
If I'm spared, I may return to my spellchecker to write about my lost, but never forgotten childhood... I still wonder what made an old soldier from the 1st world-war think I wouldn't remember what he did to me when I was 6 year's old?
OH, so many nightmares to work through and time is precious, like a wilted flower as I clasp my hands and shed a tear.
But I am still happy to be here, yet I know that I will never find what I'm looking for...
Since you left, I have tried to remove you from my memory. Yet, the frowns on my face refuse to go with you both. I’m still lost and floating in an ocean of sadness after so many years, even though our deep love has long-since washed ashore to evaporate into the sands of time.
So many years have past but the scent of your presence returns regularly to take me hostage. It locks my mind inside the deep black hole that I twice fell into when you were suddenly gone forever.
Since the day our blissful marriage came to an abrupt end in April 1995, I have passed by coffee shops, bakeries, street food sellers and even freshly cut grass. I close my eyes to see yours shining back like diamond's through the mists of time.
Even while I browse the foreign food aisles in the supermarket I'm reminded by their sight and smells of your perfect image when we shopped together at all those sooks and deli's alongside the joyful roads we travelled.
Then I'm filled with a myriad of haunting memories of our times in Athens, Istanbul, Dubai then Lapland and all the European countries. That's when our deep love developed while we lived on our whit's and passion for performing our silly slapstick street and festival shows.
Day to day, I still cook food for two, but not the French onion soup that was your special, and only dish. I even still cook for ten or more of our now, long-lost friends who used to come to our hedonistic, wild house parties when we were a couple of semi-famous entertainers in Liverpool.
I still clean the home and remind myself why it didn't bother me when you never cleaned or cooked because you were way too artistic to think about such mundane tasks. I suppose it was just your Inuit heritage that stopped you from feeling bad about not doing daily tasks that had nothing to do with ice-hole fishing or shooting Moose...
Ahh, there's another whole life's worth of frozen memories that haunt me whenever it snows.
However, despite my moving onwards and upwards whilst living in the exotic far east, India and China it was only a couple of years ago when I finally bought a single bed. I still don't sleep well even after so many years of hoping to replace your perfect presence to hold and love when I wake up at 3.00 in the morning. Now, I hug a feather down pillow and try to avoid the tears destroying its warm soft, almost feminine filling.
I'm amazed at how I still sense your real presence in my dreams and how I awake with the scent of your ghostly presence still moist on my pillow. Then I realise it was just another vivid dream brought up from the innermost depth of my soul. Then I spend the next hour sending the dream back by making coffee for one, and pretending to have friends on Facebook.
There are no words to describe the other nightmares where I see a kitchen knife embedded into the beautiful neck that I caressed way back in 1989. Then the image of your sadly deranged son sitting at the kitchen table across from the mother he had so brutally murdered, drinking tea at 3.00 am just before Christmas Day in 2017.
No words, except... You will never be forgotten and forever loved by many people who only saw the perfect beauty in everything you ever did. I hope the child you loved will remain unbalanced and oblivious to what he did to you, your surviving partner and your ever-loving family and me, his one-time stepfather.
Both of you are now, in reality, just a photograph taken on a wedding day in Kirkcudbright and a mural painted on a house wall where an amazing woman was brutally taken away from this world by her only son.
In my mind, I still can’t forget the losses, but I have learned to live alone and be happy through trying to help others who are trapped in a life of absolute poverty... A life that may never even offer them the luxury of a secure loving relationship to lose.
Now it's 6.15 am and I think I may sleep for a while...
If I'm spared, I may return to my spellchecker to write about my lost, but never forgotten childhood... I still wonder what made an old soldier from the 1st world-war think I wouldn't remember what he did to me when I was 6 year's old?
OH, so many nightmares to work through and time is precious, like a wilted flower as I clasp my hands and shed a tear.
But I am still happy to be here, yet I know that I will never find what I'm looking for...
BUT STILL HAPPY!
Despite my losses I have found true happiness and contentment through my charity work and photography hobby...
See my TV Documentary HERE - My amateur photography pages HERE
See my TV Documentary HERE - My amateur photography pages HERE
I believe, it's always good to write down your thoughts... I'm not a councilor or therapist, but if it helps anyone who may have been affected by reading my thoughts, I'll do my best to help.
Email your thoughts/questions/comments, here: https://www.that-fat-bloke-from-bolton-uk.org/contact.html
Email your thoughts/questions/comments, here: https://www.that-fat-bloke-from-bolton-uk.org/contact.html