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.


An Honest Love Letter: Saint-Onge style

I was scrolling through my personal blog recently, because I like reading what I wrote while Ben was still alive. Re-reading my words allows me to remember certain days with clarity.  For a moment I can close my eyes and feel myself back in my real life when Ben was alive.  And even though those days were terrible for him (pain, chemo, radiation, more pain), the saddest day with Ben in my life was still better than any one day could ever be without him.

Towards the end of summer in 2015 I was getting desperate.  I knew that it was only a matter of time before Ben died, but he made it clear that type of thinking / talking was off limits. That meant we didn't get to discuss anything about what life would look like without him.  I didn't get to tell him that we would remember him, and honour him, and talk about him.  I didn't get to tell him that he would always be my number 1, and that I would miss him every single second for the rest of my life.  I didn't get to tell him that my heart would break and would never fully heal, that scars would remain that would remind me constantly of a life I would no longer have.  

So I wrote him this love letter, in a way that we would normally banter back and forth.  In a way I hoped wouldn't scare him.  In a way I hoped would let him know the depth of my love and how deeply I would miss his presence when he was gone.

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Summer Is Winding Down

Summer is winding down and I have no idea where the time went.  And when I say I have no idea, I mean it both figuratively and literally.  Figuratively, because the time has flown by as it always does, and literally because I cannot remember what I did for the last two months.  Honestly.  I feel like my brain doesn’t work anymore at all.  Is this to be a life long by product of Ben’s death?

Ben’s gone forever.  Did he have to take my brain with him?

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