We are oceans apart yet I already feel so close to you all. Support organisations for the widowed such as Soaring Spirits and Widows Voice become like a second family. Brothers and sisters in grief. Without having met any of you I feel comfortable in sharing my journey with you.
I would like to say a big thank you, to not only soaring spirits for offering the opportunity to write for widows voice, but also a big thank you to everyone who follows the blog. I am so grateful and honoured to be a part of something much greater than myself.
Since before I can remember I have always written short stories and kept journals. Never thinking to deeply into my journals, I assumed that writing them was just part of being a teenage girl. I met the love of my life John at age thirteen. Falling in love with him at first sight we stayed high school sweethearts for three years. Experiencing lots of firsts and early life adventures together we separated ways after school remaining close friends for 11 years.
Choosing different paths from one another, as we entered our young adult years. We had been naïve in thinking we knew what was best for each other. We were over protective of each other’s hearts and so we had set each other free.
Every couple of years we would catch up for lunch or dinner or simply bump into each other. There was always a strong chemistry between us. Although we both knew, there was seemingly never a right time to express how we each felt. John always used to say “I’ll marry you one day Kaiti” and in the 11 years we were apart there was not one day I didn’t think about him or that he didn’t think of me.
Years on, in separate relationships both John and I had children. John had a beautiful son named Jiahn and I had a perfect princess Layla. Neither of our past relationships were healthy, Johns relationship didn’t last long and after many years spent in mine I found the strength to leave.
In early 2015, John and I against all odds got back together. We were both the happiest each of us had been since high school and couldn’t believe we had waited so many years to reunite. We began rebuilding our life together as one family, our children growing up as brother and sister. Excitement and love surrounded the plans we had put together for our wedding that was supposed to be late this year. And we shared in tears of joy with one another as we discussed when we would begin to try for a baby together.
2016 was to be the year everything would fall into place. Our wedding, our baby, our family, our future. None of it went as planned. Rather than extending our family, in a single day the family we had bought together with love was ripped apart.
My soul mate, my best friend, the other half of me that had been missing passed away suddenly at 29 years old. Two weeks before my 28th birthday and three weeks before Christmas.
Never in my life could I have imagined such a brutal pain that came with the words “he’s gone”.
A pain that continues daily, unending because my love is unending.
I had read back through my old high school journals, filled with memories of John and I. Some of our adventures I could remember, but others I was sad to realize I’d forgotten about. A few weeks after he passed, I began journaling all of our memories, scared that with time I might begin to forget the unforgettable.
The memory journals later became letters to John. Even to this day, months onwards I still feel the need to write to him although it’s no longer every night.
Writing became my sanity, my way to cope and express the enormity of emotions that come with grief.
Stricken with sorrow and longing, I searched for a way to express to my family and friends what this nightmare feels like. After being unable to explain it with speech, I decided to begin a grief blog. My first article titled ‘78 days of a widow’s grief’ was written and later published in an effort to raise awareness and understanding for the widowed community. The response to the article was huge. And in watching how many people it helped all around the world it gave me back a sense of purpose.
As crazy as this sounds. I use to think, maybe if I continue writing someone will read my words and they will know how to help me. Maybe someone will see my pain and bring him back. I wanted someone to turn back time.
With writing comes clarity and I soon realised, I am helping myself. I am healing myself with putting words to paper and it’s a bonus that it helps so many others as well. So thank you all for giving me purpose again, I hope my words can help you just as much as you help me by reading them.