Some of my favourite stories and plays start by telling you the tragic ending - Romeo and Juliet, Moulin Rouge, Hamilton... still you root for the protaganists and hope for a different ending - maybe the priest's letter arrives, or Juliet wakes up, Satine recovers, or Burr misses...
I am a young* widow, living through the grief of having loved and lost my husband Chris, when I was 45. This blog is a series of ramblings about our love, his illness, my loss, grief, the support of other young widows and learning to live again. I once told my story to a journalist, and realised that I need to tell it in my own words, and I need more than 500 of them to do it justice. I have also found that writing my grief is a therapetic exercise that helps me look at where I have come from and where I am going.
I don't have any answers, but I hope to share some of the lessons learned along the way as well as some of the music we loved, and pictures of the beach.
Why Red Kites and Beaches? Wel, Red Kites often soared above our homes in Reading and whatever we were doing, we would stop to watch them. Now when I or my older daughter see a Red Kite we think of Chris. When I started my business, I named it after these birds, because they mademe think of him. And the beach is where we now live (well, next to one, not on one!) I think if he were ever looking for me, he would start at the beach.
*Defined as being widowed before 50. There are many widows much younger than me.