Perhaps the final one

My lack of recent posting is mostly due to lack of time. But I think this blog has come to an end. My hope that other people would post their experience and insights hasn't come about. I'm dissappointed about that, but nevertheless I hope that something I have written will help someone.

My story isn't over of course, and perhaps it is unfair to end with the negativity of the last entry. Over the past few months I have moved from grief to confusion -- though perhaps confusion is just another stage of grief. I no longer feel so weighed down or tearful or angry. But what dominates my thoughts now is doubt and worry. As I wrote earlier, "I am really lost. I don’t know where I am or where I am heading, and I have lost track of where North is." I have lost the clarity I used to have about who I am. I worry about my children.

It's unlikely that I'll post any more here, though I'll keep the site active and will read any comments you make. I welcome any email, which you can send to the address you'll find somewhere else on this site.

—Nat

One is the loneliest number...

For a change, I'm not going to write about how lonely and painful losing my wife is. Instead, I want to repeat my invitation to become part of this blog. It's getting lonely being the only author here.

As I've written before, the intention of this blog has never been for me to be the sole contributor. I write with the hope that I can voice my own grief, for sure. I also hope that my words might express the grief of being left by a wife, on behalf of countless other men. But my greatest hope for this blog is that it becomes a place where men struggling through this horrible time in their lives could do so in solidarity with each other.

Would you like to share your own story, or observations on mine? Are there other people you know who might like to join in?

—Nat

Wesley and Wesley

Just as I was finishing the last post, a weird connection came to mind about my two recent references to Wesley: the Wesley who, in The Princess Bride, says “As you wish” to his beloved Buttercup, and John Wesley, whose Covenant Prayer says “Put me to what thou wilt”. I have been saying, in different forms, “As you wish” to both H and to God. And in neither case does it seem that my eagerness to serve has been honoured.

Now I’ll have to go away and think about what that means …

—Nat.

Help make this a group effort

I am pleased to see the pageviews counter pass 200. On the other hand, I wish there were more comments. Since it is not my intention to simply record my journey through grief, can I encourage you to make this more of a dialog?

I believe there is great value in sharing pain, because through that we can also share joy. I’m not saying that sometimes we can share our pain and that in other, happier, times we can share our joy. Rather, the sharing of pain can itself enable a deeper kind of joy. The joy of releasing rather than suppressing. The relief at finding others who understand. The joy of giving and receiving comfort.

You don’t need to sign up and comments can be completely anonymous.

Please also feel free to contact me via email if you’d like some off-the-record conversation.

— Nat