This week marks the passing of my Aunty Dot. Well, she wasn't just my aunty, she was aunt to many nieces nephews, as well as all our friends. Aunty Dot had the biggest heart you could imagine, she loved everyone and everyone loved her. The world seems less brighter now she has gone.
When I was 12 we moved to Norfolk Island and I was lucky enough to live next to Aunty Dot. I was tall and gawky with frizzy hair, so like most teenagers, I felt I didn't fit in.  She took me under her wing. I spent a lot of time at Aunty Dot's, who gave freely of her time, even though she had three young children of her own. Whenever I turned up, she would share her it with me and I loved being around her. It didn't matter whether we were hanging out clothes on the washing line that seemed to have no end, cooking, or sitting eating, comforting and easy. Aunty Dot was an amazing cook, so I loved the eating part. I am forever grateful she wanted to 'fatten me up' because it meant I got seconds and sometimes thirds!
When my parent separated several years later, Aunty Dot was my rock. She helped me through the tough times, made me laugh, and gave me hugs when I was down. Don't get me wrong, she told me off when I did something stupid, but she did it in such a way that I understood and listened.  She didn't suffer fools or foolishness gladly and would give me practical advice in a no-nonsense way. She became my 'other mother' and when I moved away from Norfolk Is, we kept in touch by letter for many years.
When I visited with my children in 1993, I couldn't wait to introduce them to Aunty Dot. We all sat around her table catching up, laughing and eating all my favourite yummy food (which was anything she had baked!). Both Gav and Trish fell in love with her as well and remember leaving her house loaded up with pineapples.
Over the years, as usually happens, we only wrote each other occasionally and talked on the phone when we could. Everytime we went to hang up, Aunty Dot would always be the first to say 'I love you'.
Aunty Dot played such a huge role in my life, especially during my teenage years, the support she gave me when my first marriage ended and then, after Butch was diagnosed and subsequently passed away.  Special souls like her are hard to find, and her passing will leave a huge hole in all of our lives, especially her daughters, son and their families.
My story isn't rare or unusual, Aunty Dot treated everyone the same way, she loved us, she laughed with us, she let us know when we did something wrong, but more than anything, she loved us...openly and unconditionally.
Thank you Aunty Dot for many wonderful memories, for making me feel special and giving me the most wonderful sense of belonging. I love you xxx

The other day I had to go into the transport department  to renew the registration on my car. I could have done it online, and to be honest, I'd prefer to, but I decided it was time to make a change. You see, although I had sent them the paperwork after Butch passed, they hadn't removed his name from the ownership papers, they just changed it to our names care of me. I haven't worked out how that happened - Maybe they had trouble accepting he wouldn't be back too? It has taken me almost three years to decide to follow up on this. To be honest, and it probably sounds silly, but there was just a little bit of comfort attached to receiving the bill with Butch's name on. Each time it arrived in the mail I would just pay it and say to myself 'Next time I'll be strong enough to do it.'
I was dreading it, in fact its one of the things I really hate doing. Over the past three years I have had to apply to remove his name off things like the title of our house, our bank accounts and various other important documents. Each time it rocks my world. It feels as if bit by bit I am slowly erasing him and when I am finished it will be as if he never existed, except in my mind. Needless to say, it's one of those chores I delay as long as possible.
So this particular day, I was feeling brave so I went down before I could change my mind. I explained what I needed to the woman behind the counter. She looked it up on the computer and told me, yes, they had only changed his living arrangements not his living status! When she went off to copy all the paperwork I had brought in, I stood there trying to hold back the tears. Its a vicious circle for me...I hate crying in public, so I get angry with myself for crying, which makes me angry, which then makes me cry....
She was most sympathetic and assured me it had been changed and would never happen again...and you just know that made the tears flow even more!
Most of the friends and acquaintances I have now, never met Butch. They never knew how wonderful, funny and loving he was and I'm sure they think I exaggerate when I describe our soulmate relationship. It's so sad I can never say 'Do you remember when Butch....?'  If they never met him or knew the magic we shared, they can't see why I am struggling to 'get over' my loss. 
I know I'm not alone here, this must happen to many other widows and widowers, I wonder if they feel the same as I do.... 

It begins just before Fathers Day, as I walk past all those cards addressed 'To My Husband'. I feel sorry for my Dad and Stepdad, who always end up with a last minute card because, in my grief I can only see those husband cards, so I do my best to ignore the display stands.
I miss Butch every day, but special occasions increase the pain I feel, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this.
After Fathers Day I do a mental countdown to the 21st...because I know the pain of loss and tears increase until the anniversary of Butch's passing.  There are some days I wonder if I will make it, but of course I do, we're all made of sterner stuff than we realise.
Ten days later, I 'celebrate' my birthday, but to be honest I'd rather forget it...the present I really want I can never have.  It is then only five days until Butch's birthday.  When I get to about the 10th October, there is a sense of relief I have survived this tough month.
Sure there is Christmas, the kids birthdays and our wedding anniversary, but they are scattered, so I don't feel as if I need to brace myself as much to get through them. I get breathing space between those special occasions. From late August I feel like I am holding onto my breath, as if I have to put my 'tough skin' on to help me get through.to mid October. I am a snowball gradually getting bigger and I worry I will explode, or worse still, implode!
I know instead of looking at this tough month with sadness and pain, I should be remembering the good times, the wonderful man that was Butch and the great love we shared, but I'm struggling to do that, even after three years.
I wonder if anyone else feels the same way? Being the only widow I know, I have no one to ask.  I have been told I have passed the 'required' two mourning years and it is time to change...but is it?  Is it not possible to miss someone forever and not feel you need to make a dramatic change in your life. I've never conformed before in my life, why should now be any different?  Nah, I'll still be doing it in my own time, my own way and if my being 'down' doesn't suit anyone else, well too bad!