My heart used to flutter every time I saw Butch. It didn't matter whether it was across a crowded room or over the tea table, my heart would skip a beat. Even after 25 years, he knew how to make my heart jump around. He could make me smile in a way no one else ever could.
I was thinking about the way my heart used to jitterbug around in my chest as I drove home from work today. I realised that I haven't felt that kind of love-joy-excitement since he passed. I'm not meaning as far as attraction to the opposite sex, we have already established enough times in my blogs that isn't part of my agenda. I am talking in a general 'being a part of my life' kinda flutter....I just don't get that anymore.
When I think about the kind of movement I get from my heart these days, I sure don't see it as a joyous and pretty butterfly pulsating around in my chest....no, I see it more as a fat red fish that has fallen out of its bowl and is flopping around on the ground. It can breathe while its out of the bowl - its a special kind of fish, able to survive almost anything life throws at it! Every now and then it raises it's head ever so slightly, thinks to itself, 'Nup, nothing to see or feel around here..' and then it sags back to the ground.
The weird thing is that to look at me, or to hear me speak, no one would ever suspect. I am loud, a laugh-a-minute, compassionate, positive and happy-creating individual. No one seems to see whats really happening below the surface...well, I say no one, but there is the odd person who recognises it, mainly because they have it hidden within the layers of their being as well.
I wonder if I will ever get that butterfly back, or will the 'heart of me' just lie there, accepting life but not excelling at it.
Some days it feels as if each step is uphill and its difficult to remember a time when it wasn't that way.
I guess its that age old question....How do you mend a broken heart.....? ...and once we have that sussed....when....?
I'm not saying this is me continually, that I am sad, apathetic and just going through the motions. I am sometimes genuinely having a great time and laughing, but a part of me knows my red fish is still flopped on the floor and he's not really stirring, no matter how loud I laugh...
hugs Cherie xx

I had an interesting experience a while ago. I was looking at purchasing a computer desk and rang up about an advert I had seen online. Actually I had known about this computer desk for a month, but for some reason, I just never seemed to find the time to make the call. I had told enough people about it, that I was reminded almost on a daily basis about making the call...and yet I didn't actually call.
After about three weeks, I thought I'd just call on the off-chance that they hadn't already sold it. There was no reply and I thought to myself, 'Well, okay, I'll just forget about it.'
An hour later, the owner called me and we set up a time for me to come and view this awesome desk and see if it suited my purpose.
A couple of weeks ago, I went to view the desk. The man who opened the door asked me a little about myself and I mentioned that I was an author. He asked what kind of books I wrote and I mentioned that they were related to my husbands passing just over five years ago. He looked me in the eye and said 'I see there is still a lot of pain and grief in your eyes. You must miss him a lot.'
I replied that yes, I did and that I didn't want to discuss it any further. (I don't usually mention Butch's passing to strangers, because it stirs up emotions I would rather keep hidden). He stroked my arm and said that I shouldn't hold my emotions in, that it was okay to be sad or upset.
I said something flippant, because I am, after all, 'the mistress of flippant'. I made a joke and we went to look at the desk. During the conversation, he kept referring to my 'pain', 'loss' and 'feelings'. I tried to ignore it and make bad jokes or serious conversation about the desk. However, he was like a dog with a bone, he just would not let it go. I don't know how it happened, but somehow, while I wasn't looking, my force field developed a hole and my eyes welled up.
He threw his arms around me and told me it was okay to let it all out. I was backed up against the wall, and there wasn't much room to move as he snuggled against my hair.
It was strange, as if I wasn't there physically at all. I remember standing there with my arms at my side looking over his shoulder thinking 'How the 'fell' did I get into this situation?' Of course it was only a few milliseconds, but it felt a lot longer. I pushed him away, telling him I wasn't comfortable with his advances and to 'step away'.
As I made my way out the door, he told me he had only wanted me to feel 'connected', that he sensed an alone-ness and emptiness in my energy. Could it be he should have 'sensed' that was actually my walls clanging into place and the crocodiles swimming around the moat instead?
I was a bit shell-shocked as I drove off - I decided I didn't need a desk after all. I was a bit weepy to begin with, but the more I think about this incident, the angrier I get.
I am so pissed that guys assume that just because I lost my husband 5+ years ago, I will bounce into bed with anyone, that clearly, the minute Butch passed away, I lost my sense of taste, intelligence and judgement. I hate that others feel they can break down my barriers and then get the benefit of copping a feel or trying to snatch a snog. I put those barriers up for a purpose, for a specific reason...and I happen to like the security and safety they offer me. I am not interested. Do I need to put it any plainer? Don't bother trying to soften me up by forcing me to get in touch with my feelings, just so you can get your rocks off...while helping the 'sad' widow woman!
I am happy with my life the way it is right now thanks, and quite frankly, if I wasn't, you would so not be the first person to know!
When I'm ready, I will be ready and not before...and certainly not just cos someone else thinks I should be!
Hmmmm....still a little angry...
I learnt  a few things that day:
1. I'm still not ready to move on
2. I am still choosy about who with and when I will jump into bed
3. That I need to not be so open about what I do or who I am around the opposite sex
4. Some men are 'dogs' around vulnerable women
5. I can learn the lesson and see the humour in it, even if I don't like
Big hugs, Cherie xx

Today (3 May) is my anniversary. It would have been our 5th anniversary, if Butch was still alive, but today, there is only me to remember our special day. Most people don't know that today has such a special meaning. I don't make a point of saying anything, after all, whats the point. It's not like they can wish me all the best or say how wonderful it is that we're still happily ever after. So I sit here, knowing that I am almost the only person who remembers.
This week I worked out that we were married less than five months and over 54 months have passed. I'm not happy about the ratio - but hey, what can you do about it?
I still feel lost and alone without my life partner. Although in my more cynical moments I would say 'without my partner, I feel sometimes as if I am just 'serving life'.
Last week would have been our 30th sin-aversary, something I would have made a big fuss of, reminding Butch for at least a month beforehand, before forgetting it on the day. Some patterns are hard to change!
I have finally completed my grief book 'Grieving with Honour' and although writing it has been a healing journey, I'm not sure what happens next.
This past weeks I have felt as if my tear ducts have been primed and ready to overflow at the slightest hint of anything touching my heart strings. Its been over four and a half years, shouldn't I be handling this stuff better by now? My eyes feel puffy and I feel as if I'm walking a tightrope.
Some days I feel gung ho, I feel as if I can conquer anything, that I am stepping up and out to the best of my abilities, and another day I am stuck within 'If this is all there is to life, can I really be bothered?' I am so tired of struggling, of trying to juggle with all my balls in the air and having no one who understands why I feel this way or who I can really confide in. Of course the confiding issue is mine, I don't want anyone to think I'm sad and pathetic or trying to get sympathy. I don't feel I'm any of those, but it won't make any difference how matter of fact I say it, or how many times I say thats not my intention, you just know its gonna sound all wrong.
The other day my granddaughter was looking at a photo of our family before Butch was diagnosed. She said 'That's you Grandma!' I replied yes it was. She turned to me, holding her hands on either side of her cheeks saying 'You had your other face.'
Out of the mouths of babes....Yes, I feel as if that face no longer exists, that person doesn't live here anymore and sometimes I struggle to believe I can ever be that happy again....
Anyway, I'm not sure about the point of this blog, except maybe to say, Happy Anniversary to me!
with love and hugs
Cherie xx
PS. If you were wondering about the formula.....at 5/less than 5 months married:more than 54 months widowed = 5 years & not happy.

I have been thinking about this blog and in true 'Cherie' fashion, I decided to revisit it and look at the positives in my life. I have my memories, I have my wonderful family. I have reconnected with my gifts. I am a Granma. There are many people who love and care about me. I can mostly notice that the world is a beautiful place, or that the sun is shining. I have my health. I have managed to keep the payments on our house going, I have a job, I pay my bills (even if it is incrementally) I am making a difference. I have never been without choice - since Butch's passing my path has always been travelled in the direction I chose, even if it hasn't always led to where I wanted it to. There are times when I can look at all those positives and say 'I totally rock!' xx