When Jouke and I first got married we had a dream to travel around Australia on a motorbike. He wanted a BMW enduro bike and I was only happy if the bike had arm rests and a radio.
We talked about our plans often - the places we wanted to see, the things we had to do.
Babies delayed our plans some.
No motorbikes we knew of could fit a capsule. When we fell pregnant with Alani, our 3rd baby in 3.5 years, I was 26. He quickly reminded me that by the time I was 47 she would be 20 and then we would go and see this country with the wind in our grey/ailing hair.
I am sad that will never come to be.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Reading back through my blog tonight I was a little shocked to see that one of the last posts prior to Jouke's accident was with my favourite photo of us. Just a few months ago all was normal and I was happy. Completely content. I was married to a wonderful man and all was going to right.
It only took a moment and all changed. I haven't told his story yet, its painful to put it in words, but that Wednesday night when the police knocked on my door will be edged into my memory forever. Not so much what they said, I don't even remember what they looked like, but that feeling of horror. I knew even before they said a word and I begged them to leave, begged them not to say a word. Jouke was an electrician and while working out of town he accidentally touched a live wire. No body saw exactly what happened, but most likely it was all over in an instant.
I wish there was words to explain to you the sort of man he was. Right now it is difficult for me to remember him fully - the pain is too raw. But I do know that he was wonderful. He had his flaws, things that drove me mad, but I loved him completely and I know he loved me. Mostly I remember his presence. Quiet, unintruding, yet filling the room. He was strong and sure and I felt so safe with him around. He loved to play. He played with the kids and with me and always looked for the fun in any situation. Those are the things we are missing most - safety and joy - those he brought to our lives everyday.
The ache, the gaint space, he has left in our lives is difficult to live with. Somedays breathing is hard. Looking in my kids' eyes and seeing their pain and answering their questions - hard, somedays hardly bearable. I know we will make it through, but I honestly do not know how.
It only took a moment and all changed. I haven't told his story yet, its painful to put it in words, but that Wednesday night when the police knocked on my door will be edged into my memory forever. Not so much what they said, I don't even remember what they looked like, but that feeling of horror. I knew even before they said a word and I begged them to leave, begged them not to say a word. Jouke was an electrician and while working out of town he accidentally touched a live wire. No body saw exactly what happened, but most likely it was all over in an instant.
I wish there was words to explain to you the sort of man he was. Right now it is difficult for me to remember him fully - the pain is too raw. But I do know that he was wonderful. He had his flaws, things that drove me mad, but I loved him completely and I know he loved me. Mostly I remember his presence. Quiet, unintruding, yet filling the room. He was strong and sure and I felt so safe with him around. He loved to play. He played with the kids and with me and always looked for the fun in any situation. Those are the things we are missing most - safety and joy - those he brought to our lives everyday.
The ache, the gaint space, he has left in our lives is difficult to live with. Somedays breathing is hard. Looking in my kids' eyes and seeing their pain and answering their questions - hard, somedays hardly bearable. I know we will make it through, but I honestly do not know how.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)