“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you.” A line from one of my favourite childhood movies, sung by one of my favourite Disney characters. If you haven’t seen Pinnochio, do yourself a favour and watch it, young or old it’s a total classic and worth watching at least once. One of the wonderful things about Disney movies, on the whole, is that they all have feel-good endings.  Wouldn’t it be nice if life was a Disney movie? I promised myself that I would not become sad and sullen around this time this year, a promise I have failed to keep. I’m sorry if it seems self-indulgent or selfish to keep feeling this way. I have honestly tried to fight it but the fighting it is more exhausting than just giving in to it, and so it is what it is. The rational part of me knows I should be over it by now. The rational part of me says that it shouldn’t still hurt this much. It’s a pity, but the rational part of me is totally outweighed by the emotional part of me and seems to win every time. If life really was a Disney movie it wouldn’t matter, all I’d have to do is wish upon a star and all this pain would be a thing of the past.

“If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme when you wish upon a star  like dreamers do.” I know that sone may think, through reading my posts that I have Chris and our marriage up on a pedestal. It may seem like that, and you may think it’s because of that crazy old folklore of “never speaking ill of the dead”. The fact is that neither is true. I am fully aware of Chris’s failings (as well as my own) and the failings of our marriage. Neither he or I were perfect unfortunately and two imperfect people make for an imperfect marriage. Nevertheless, we were a team. He made me laugh, feel protected, was undeniably and unconditionally team Rachel, was my sounding board, my partner in crime. He saw me at my best and worst and accepted me because of my best and in spite of my worst. His absence from my life leaves a huge hole. Even now I keep hoping that I will wake up one morning to that familiar tickle of his whiskers on my forehead before he heads out the door to work. Even now I look at the clock at 5:30pm and hope that, instead of this strange new-normal I find myself in, I would hear the roar of his ute which trumpeted his arrival home at the end of his working day. Even now I wish that this sort of half-life I live could be changed by staring out of my balcony window and wishing on any one of the million stars that fill the night sky.

“Fate is kind. She brings to those who love the sweet fulfilment of their secret longing. Like a bolt out of the blue fate steps in and pulls you through.” As much as I love this song, in so many ways I disagree that fate is kind and I certainly don’t think that “fate” has pulled me through this. My family has pulled me through, my friends have pulled me through, the communities I belong to have pulled me through. It has been suggested that these posts are self-indulgent and attention-seeking but the truth is that writing has also pulled me through. I am still wading through the grief. I am still trying to get back to being me again, not the grief-stricken, never-quite-right, always a little bit broken me, fearful that my friends and family will get tired waiting for me to okay. I want to be okay, I want to be able to think about him and not have the shadow of grief hovering over those memories. I want to be able to go back to those places we went to together without feeling pangs of sadness that hit me like I’ve been punched in the stomach. In spite of all of that just know that even on my worst days the Rachel who used to be is still fighting her way back, still waiting for fate to hit me like a bolt out of the blue and pull me through.

“When you wish upon a star your dreams come true”. It’s such a lovely thought, isn’t it?  But even if I made a wish on every single star that lights up the night sky it would not be enough. A million wishes will not take away the pain. A million wishes will not take away the loneliness. A million wishes will not take away the regret or the “what-ifs” or the resentment over all of those dreams that will never be fulfilled now. A million wishes won’t prevent the need to scream into my pillow or sob in the shower so that nobody really knows how I’m feeling. A million wishes won’t help me fake it till I make it or the feeling like I’m disappointing everyone all of the time because I haven’t been able to “move on” as quickly as they think I should or I wish I could. A million wishes won’t take away the fluctuation between feeling completely numb and excruciating pain. A million wishes won’t take away the heartbreak for our daughter when she turns to me, tears in her eyes and asks me if I think her father would be proud of her or the bitter-sweet feeling of saying to her “yes, absolutely he would be”. A million wishes won’t take away the hurt because of the indifference of people who you thought would be there for you but weren’t. A million wishes won’t take away the longing to be able to take away the pain that others feel because Chris isn’t here anymore. And, as the anniversary of Chris’s death looms closer, wishing on a million stars won’t make my dream come true.

There is no way through grief but through it. The only cure for grief is to grieve. And the only way to survive this process is by having people help you through it, to remind you that there is life after someone dies, however painful that may be. The only way to survive is to have people around you who love you unconditionally, even when they don’t know what to say or do. The truth is that most of the time I just want someone to put their arm around me and tell me they love me, or to hold me up, support me, carry me until I’m ready to live the life I know Chris would want me to live. Sometimes I need someone to tell me I’m not all bad, or too selfish or letting this get the better of me or make me feel like I’m not the only living heart donor. Sometimes I need someone to just be there while I cry for the billionth time. I may not ever be who I used to be. It may mean I might forever be just a little bit broken, I don’t know? I am who I am and it is what it is but just know that I am still fighting, determined to beat this monster that has taken up residence in my life, even if it takes me a while.

Always and forever……