The hardest part for me is that my mind believes he’s still at sea.
He left that morning, everything was completely normal. We planned our vacation for when he got in and said our goodbyes multiple times as usual. Now, he’s never coming home and many months have now passed since we unknowingly said our last goodbye.
As long as his boat is away at sea, I seem to be able to cope and as soon as I know she’s on her way in, my heart rips apart. He’s supposed to be on her, heading home to me, to us, but he isn’t. My heart will long for his return for my remaining days.
My hope is that sharing some of my grief story may help someone else feel less alone. Grief is lonely sometimes and knowing others are walking a similar path can provide some sort of comfort.
We are not alone in learning to navigate the stormy seas of grief and there is no wrong or right way to do it. It is often messy, sometimes loud, sometimes silent. I have learned that everyone handles grief their own way and what we each need (and don’t need) can be different and that’s okay. What comforts some people who are grieving may not comfort others.
There are no warning signs when the waves of grief come over you, they knock you off your feet and bring utter heartache every single time. It can be hard to breathe, hard to think and hard to do things sometimes. This, I have come to learn and accept, is a “normal” part of the grieving process. Triggers, reminders, waves of emotion and despair are part of our hearts adapting to life without our precious loved one.
In my personal experience as a fisherman’s wife and now widow, I know that life at sea can be difficult. Fishermen often work in harsh and unforgiving environments away from their loved ones. Shipmates become your family. The bond is great and they look out for each other on land and at sea.
It was important and comforting for me to keep in contact with my partner’s shipmates. This was not only important for me, but those guys needed me too. Losing a friend and shipmate you worked with, relied on and lived with is a tremendous loss. In my case, I feel like they are like brothers and extended family. Those men are hurting too. We draw support and comfort from stories shared and expressing the love they have for each other in their own ways.
Through this loss, I have received support from caring people. Leaning on others at times is not easy for many of us who are independent. On this grief and loss journey I found great strength at times to do difficult things. I gathered the courage required to go on the boat my partner spent his last days and nights on, granted it took me two full years to board that boat. Remember, it’s okay and important to go at your own pace.
I could feel his presence surrounding me on the boat — everywhere. I felt a calmness come over me like he was gently walking me through the boat. It was difficult and not without a few tears and lots of deep breaths. On the grief journey you will learn how important it is to breathe.
Before I took that healing walk around the boat, his crewmates sent me the photos they had collected of him on the boat from over their years together. It was because of their kind act of sending those photos to me that I could relate and see him in those places he spent so much time. For example, sitting in the chair while on wheel-watch with his feet up, or in the factory and even doing his laundry.
All of these things seem so small to someone who hasn’t experienced such loss but to me, they were huge. They were part of what I needed on my unique healing journey. Do what feels right for you. I will close this journal entry with a few more reflections.
If you can, find a place that brings you comfort, let all your emotions out. For me, solitude is going to the ocean. Give yourself one thing to do each day that gives you purpose to get out of bed. Be kind to yourself.
The last thing I want to share with people who may be on a similar journey of losing a loved one tragically is to reach out for professional help if you need to. I am a little over two years walking on this path and I can tell you, I would not be this far along with my healing without the help I have received. Accepting help does not make you weak, it can give you the tools and support you need to gain the power required to survive your unthinkable pain. We are stronger than we think and we have to be the ones to ask for help, I am so glad I did.
I cannot stress enough how important your mental health is especially if you are supporting your own family and children on their grief and loss journey. Share your emotions and heal together at your own pace and in your own ways.
“See you when you get home” may not end as you planned and you must take care of yourself in the aftermath. Grieve, accept, adapt and honour what your loved one gave to you while they were here. Remembering them in life, not only their death, is an ongoing process, be gentle as you go, you are not alone.
I’ve finished life’s chores assigned to me,
So put me on a boat headed out to sea.
Please send along my fishing pole
For I’ve been invited to the fishin’ hole.
Where every day is a day to fish,
To fill your heart with every wish.
Don’t worry, or feel sad for me,
I’m fishin’ with the Master of the sea.
We will miss each other for awhile,
But you will come and bring your smile.
That won’t be long you will see,
Till we’re together you and me.
To all of those that think of me,
Be happy as I go out to sea.
If others wonder why I’m missin’
Just tell ’em I’ve gone fishin’
—Dalmar Pepper
By Carolyn Macleod
Liverpool
