Changes

So much has happened since I last posted on my blog.  I have been reading, and occasionally commenting, on all the blogs that I follow but I never seemed to get round to posting myself.  Maybe because I wasn't really doing anything that I felt would be interesting to read about.

However, my whole life changed dramatically and tragically on 29th December 2014 when my lovely, wonderful and completely irreplaceable partner, Ivan, suddenly died without warning.  I go over and over that night in my mind , and have to consciously make myself think about something else.  He died of a pulmonary embolism so there was nothing anyone could have done.  However, six incredible paramedics took turns for over an hour to keep up chest compressions and bagging him to provide oxygen, in a futile attempt to revive him.  The post mortem, two days later, confirmed that there was nothing that anyone could have done even if they had been there as he failed. 

Ever since that night, the days have fled by in a haze of sorting out the funeral and finances and everything else that needs to be done at this time.  I feel as though the world is rushing by me and I am struggling to get back on.

We had the funeral on Wednesday 21st January, and the weather did us proud with no rainy or snowy histrionics, although it was very cold.  I managed to stay relatively dry eyed in the limo until we reached the crematorium, but the sight of the crowds of people from family, friends and work colleagues all waiting to say goodbye, made me cry. 

The college where he worked, is going to have a memorial for him as he was there for 28 years and was described by all as the backbone of Construction.  They are certainly missing him.  One of his work friends is making a memorial bench for him, which will bear a plaque with his name, and will sit in the foyer of the main Construction building.  I  know that I will cry again when we go to that memorial.

I still struggle to accept and believe that he is gone.  There is this little voice inside of me that hopes that he can come back in some way, and I have to keep on telling myself that he will never come back and I have to stand on my own two feet now and look after my children.  My daughter, Amber, has been a tower of strength, taking on all sorts of jobs to help and constantly keeping an eye on me.  Alex, my son, turned 10 on the 9th January, and it was very hard to have a birthday without Daddy, but he keeps telling everyone that he won't cry and be sad because Daddy wouldn't want that.  His school, which is a special school, have been keeping a close watch on him and providing support for the inevitable times when emotions get the better of him.

I am really lucky, though, in my family and friends.  They have rallied round, helped clean my house up, sort things out, listened patiently to my inane utterings when I can't quite verbalise what I am feeling and urged me into taking more care of myself, get more exercise and eat properly.  I couldn't have coped without any of them and I can never express my gratitude enough to them.

So I have to move on.  Now my little business has to grow as I am now the main bread winner and the bills won't pay themselves.  So I take my steps into my 'new normal' in the hopes that the light will return eventually and I will be able to remember the good times with Ivan, without thinking about that awful last night.

Sorry if this post depresses you all, in a way it has helped me to get the emotion out, and to get out of the cycle of feeling sorry for myself that is too easy to drop into. 

As you can see he was a joker at heart and could always find the humour in any situation.  He would especially have loved the bit in the service when the minister asked his line manager to say a few words but upgraded him to the principal of the college.  That would have kept Ivan in joke material for months.  Quite possibly still will wherever his spirit resides now.  He was comforting in his logical and considerate personality.  I always knew that if I (or anyone else for that matter) had any kind of problem at all, Ivan would find an answer to it.  Although we always joked that I was in charge (as the only driver) in reality he was the man of the house, but he never pushed it.  Thoughtful and caring, we had a habit of knowing what the other was thinking, and frequently would say exactly the same thing at the same time. 

He would always know how I was feeling and would say or do something that would frequently astound me with his indepth understanding.  I miss him immensely and always will.