Grieving and Living

Three weeks ago I lost my partner, my submissive and my best friend all at the same time. I will spare you the details, just know it was sudden and unexpected. And my world is still rocking off its axis.

We had talked, quite frequently actually, about what we each wanted when we died. Both of us wanted to be cremated, we knew where we wanted our ashes spread. No fancy funerals, no viewings. Because by the Goddess if you couldn’t see us alive, no need to stare at us when we were gone. We talked about our things and who got what. But this was all supposed to be years and years and years away from happening.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and she was up, getting ready for work. We had a cup of coffee together and talked about our plans for the rest of the weekend. She got up to leave at 5 and I said “I love you, be safe.” She said “I love you too, see ya tonight.”

A few hours later…I met the coroner. From what I remember he was a nice man. He stayed while my daughter and best guy friend went to get my other daughter from work. The rest is a blur. I remember crying hysterically, and making the 2 hardest phone calls of my life to her sons. The eldest was driving in for the weekend to meet his new neice who had been born on the 13th. This day was the 17th. I remember using her phone…talking (screaming I’m pretty sure) at his wife to have him pull over…blurting out that she was dead…bawling so hard I was almost throwing up…and his calm voice telling me what to do…calling her youngest over and over, then calling his wife over and over…having to say those fucking words again…

The next week is a blur. Arrangements being made, the memorial, her eldest leaving, her youngest, his wife and me scattering her ashes. It’s a beautiful place, very peaceful.

Every day I feel the loss of her. Though laughter has returned in bits and spurts it isn’t the same. Everything is too quiet. Food is tasteless. I miss her so much! I would give so much to hear her voice one more time. To touch her hair again. To see her eyes light up when she saw her grandaughter again. I am so grateful to the Goddess she got to meet Peanut and spend that Thursday with her. For hours she sat at the table with that gorgeous babygirl resting on her chest. They connected. I know this to be true.

I am so glad we all took pictures that day. I have one framed on the wall right where I can see it every day.

We’ve been going through her room a little at a time. It never gets easier. Seeing her things going out of the house is hard. Seeing someone wearing her things is hard. I am hoping it gets easier. We are donating some of her things to a womens shelter, I know she’d like that. Just like her jewelry…

I finally got her leather cuffs back. I was making myself sick worrying about those. I put them in a ziploc bag because they smell like her. We did that with some of her clothes too. A good friend of mine is making a memory box for me so I can put a few things in it. Like some of her alter things, a ritual dress she had made in Africa when she went, a lock of her hair and her cuffs. I want future generations of our group and coven to know she was more than a mother, more than a nana, more than a scribe. She was a woman who loved deeply, who was fierce in her beliefs and life. She did everything balls to the wall. From her time with addiction, to getting clean, to working and living.

I am honored to have known her, blessed to have been loved by her and proud to have called her mine. And I miss her more each day…


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