Wendy Saint-Onge

Twenty six days after my husband's 46th birthday he sat in the doctor's office alone expecting to hear that he needed a cortisone injection in his back.  Instead, he was told he was dying of cancer.  Two days later, he told me.  Two hundred and seventy eight days after he told me, he died at home.  

During the time that Ben was sick we began writing a blog.  It started as a way to keep family and friends updated, but ended up being the only thing that kept me sane. I use blogging as a way to purge myself of pain, as a way to connect to others who get it, and as a way to offer help and receive help when I need it.  Mostly, I blog to remember Ben.


Happy Anniversary, Ben The Titan

At the time of this writing it is September 24th.  Today is my 23rd wedding anniversary.  

I know that everyone out there reading this post can understand that this is a difficult week for me.  I miss Ben beyond measure every single day, but on our anniversary, well, that's one of the tougher ones.

I wrote an anniversary letter to Ben on my personal blog. It was my intent to copy that letter into this blog because I simply do not have the energy to write again this week.  I'm worn out.  I know you get it.

As often tends to happen when one is exhausted, worn out, missing their husband and generally frustrated beyond belief, more things go wrong.  This time was no exception.  It turns out that my idea was not as simple as I imagined it would be.  I was not able to copy my post as I wrote it because the video clips wouldn't upload properly.  I found that frustratingly annoying and was  at the point where I felt like grabbing this computer and tossing it straight out the window.  I want to show off my marriage to the world this week.  I don't want to have to cut out those video clips, you know?

In an effort to save my computer and possibly my sanity (at least what is left of it) I came up with an alternate solution.  I decided to simply provide the link to the post I wrote on my personal blog and to ask you to take just a moment to click on it and read my letter to Ben. Simple, right?  Good idea?  Well, I thought so, until I tried it.  I tried to provide the link but it seemed to not want to work properly either.  Can you feel my frustration here?!

So, I have provided the address to that specific blog post below.  If the link ends up working, that will be fantastic and I hope you will click on it and take a moment to read it in Ben's memory.  But, if the link doesn't work properly, I hope that you will copy and paste it and still take a moment to read my words.  I want to share my love for Ben, with you.

This is the second anniversary that I have celebrated endured without him.  I miss him terribly.

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It Must Have Superpowers

Did you ever feel so consumed by your own grief that you have forgotten that others grieve too?  That they grieve not only for the loss of your spouse, who may have been a friend to them, but possibly they grieve also for other people that you may know absolutely nothing about?  Do you find that during this time of all consuming grief, you have forgotten that other people have suffered loss too?

Recently that realization has hit me hard.  

For the last 19 months I have been consumed by my own grief and I didn't have room to consider the possibility that anyone else in my life could be carrying around a similar, agonizing grief from their own past.  That wasn't on my radar at all.  Lately though ... lately my eyes have opened a bit to the world around me as I have slowly started to awaken from my drugged slumber (figuratively drugged, not literally), and I have been surprised to discover that others - not random strangers but actual people who are a part of my life - have suffered their own agonizing losses that I knew nothing about.  How could I have not known??

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