It's hard to explain but I feel like a parent. I wake up every morning thinking of Beatrice. She is the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. I talk to her. I am proud of her. When she entered this world, my outlook on life changed forever; I became a different person. That's what happens when you become a parent...
Over the year I had traveled thousands of miles to discover new places and things only to truly discover myself. The incredible evolution I underwent has shaped me in to an almost recognizably conscious, empathetic, joyful person from where I started. The greatest journey any human take is that 13 inches from your head to heart.
The eyes of the spiritual heart see the necessity of life's vicissitudes to develop inner strength and transformation. It is this heart that unravels the tensions of the mind, and frees us from the entrapments of fear. It is in this heart, that we can find rest and comfort amidst the thunderstorms around us.
From the moment I was handed your death certificate, I have had to reluctantly crawl and claw my way back to what non spouse bereaved members of society would call 'normal' whilst crippled by nerves and anxiety, my physical and mental health continually hanging by a thread during a drunken haze of euphoric reflection.
Tell them that at thirty-one years old I was the happiest man alive when I married the love of my life. Tell them that I was utterly bereft when I lost her at thirty-three. Tell them I've thirty-five now and depressed. Tell them that I put a good face on but that the truth is that things haven't really got much easier. Tell them from me how hard it is to be a bereaved single parent.
Grief is entirely individual, and the grieving person has to respond to their grief in a way that is relevant to them. How they respond may change over time. The difficulty with the platitudes detailed above is that they infer a judgement about how the person is grieving, the time they are taking over their grief, or how they are feeling.