Dbee Robinson Artist - The Fat Struggling Menopausal Artist

  Today was unbearable.  I forced myself out for lunch today just to get out of the house, as I could quite easily never leave and hide away forever. But I know that would not be good for me at all. Stupidly, I went to a place we liked and just sat there crying in the corner booth, hidden away from prying eyes, eventually having to leave.  The last time I did this, I was in the bank and saw an elderly couple sitting holding hands while they waited to see a clerk. My heart broke, and I had to leave. So I wonder if hiding away and not leaving the house is a better choice after all. dbee x

  I am not sure how I will ever bear this weight around my heart. It's so heavy I may drown in my dark and deep sorrow. The fear another has cruelly created in me is magnifying my grief until it's all I can see, all I can feel, all that I know. A dark, crushing burden expanding day by day until I am lost in its mass of dread and horror. I am remembering a little more each day he has gone, and I am thrust back into oblivion. The more I try to push the pain away, the more I know I must let in the knowledge he has left me.  But it's too soon to let him go, I want to hold on to the thought he is still here, that he will hold me one more time, that I will wake up holding hands as we used to, that we will dance in our front room while he sings softly to me and that I will hear him laugh so outrageously at one of his favourite movies. But I know deep down these little acts of love are gone forever, as are all the things we used to do or say. I will never hear his last words to me ...

What is Love Love is not the blaze of passion, nor the sharp edge of longing. It does not demand, it does not keep score. Love is the quiet placing of your trembling heart into hands you trust more than your own. Love is gentleness when the world has turned cruel— the hush of your touch on my most frightened days, your steady voice when all I could hear was noise and harm. Love is giving all of yourself without ledger or bargain, and calling it joy. Love is never cruelty, never rage that lingers, never the cold shape of absence. It is the courage to be fragile, to let another guard what is most breakable in you. Love is knowing every quirk and shadow, and choosing them still. It is listening when weariness bows your head, the blanket drawn over my shoulders before I knew I was cold. Love is being received unchanged— and cherished beyond deserving. Love is not deceit. Not unkindness. Never small or shrinking. It is the holy risk of devotion, the way one soul...

Today I finally plucked up the courage and picked up my David's ashes today.  It was a weird experience, and I felt strange carrying him back to the car.  We chose a 'water cushion' for his ashes ready for his memorial at sea, and it was heavier than I expected.  He is now in our spare room, which is also strangely weird. I still miss him terribly. I'm glad he is home at last. Much Love and Light dbee x

  Celebrating the Life of David Robinson - Eulogy David was the son of Vera and Cyril Robinson — though most people knew Cyril simply as Robbie. His early years were spent at his Nan’s and Uncle Pete’s house in Guildford. Uncle Pete was a stonemason, so naturally, David’s childhood playgrounds were graveyards. While other children had swings and slides, David had headstones and excellent company. One of these backed onto a railway line, and it was there he fell in love with steam trains — a lifelong passion that later saw him volunteering on the Mid Hants Watercress Railway. Most children grow out of their obsessions. David simply upgraded his. When the family moved to Denmead, David acquired a dog called Crusoe, whose hobbies included eating the carpet, running away on walks, and sitting in the middle of the road until the police brought him home. Asked why he still let him off the lead, David simply said, “Because Crusoe liked it.” That was David — happy to tolerate chaos if...

  I am adrift— a ship swallowed by fog on a furious sea, lashed by winds that do not know my name, punished for a storm I did not summon. A future I never chose has been forced into my hands. It's weight presses against my ribs, fills my lungs with saltwater grief, until breath itself feels borrowed. My heart labors beneath the heaviness, each beat an act of will, each step a quiet surrender. I want to hide within these walls, to close the doors against the world— and yet the house echoes without him. Shelter has become another kind of emptiness. I know he is gone. The truth arrives in waves, and each time it breaks over me, I turn my face away. My mind and heart war in the dark, tearing at what remains of me. Soon, I fear, I will not fight at all— I will simply exist, a hollow vessel drifting on indifferent tides. I am slipping beneath the surface now. There is no air here, only the deep pull of surrender, and I am so tired of swimming. No harbor light calls...

    Last year I wrote a story for a competition, sadly I did not win but I enjoyed the creative writing to a brief of 'Lost and Found'. It resonated with me as my solo exhibition in Penang was titled 'Lost and Found'. How would I know months later it would resonate with me on a more painful and personal level. I hope you enjoy reading it. No AI was not used for this story. The Gate - By Dbee Robinson   Submitted to The u3a short story competition - 06.10.25 There was a distant creaking sound, just on the edge of Jenny's consciousness; she’d heard it many times over the years, bringing her joy and making her smile. She rested on her favourite wooden bench next to the roses with her eyes shut and the summer sun on her face. Inhaling their heady aroma and absorbing the heat like a lazy lizard on a rock. Wishing for some peace of mind, but couldn’t deny her feelings and the anguish of what she had lost. They were raw, like festering open wounds, reminding her she was fe...

Today was the heaviest day the earth has ever asked me to carry. Today, I said goodbye to my beloved husband, David. I stood still as his final cradle of sleep passed through the crematorium gates, and in that quiet procession, my heart turned to dust. It loosened in my chest and scattered in the wind, aching to follow him—as I always did. Anywhere he went, I was willing to go. There are no words strong enough to hold the pain I feel, nor the fear of learning a life without him. There is only the hollow echo of a world that must now grow used to the sound of one voice instead of two. I love my husband—truly, wholly, deeply. Death has not undone that vow. Love does not stop at the edge of breath. He did not complete me—I was whole before him, and I remain whole now. I did not need his presence every hour, nor was he the keeper of my darkest secrets. But he was the man who made the ordinary shine. He saw beauty in me on my weakest days. He made me feel chosen, important, and held. He ste...

  I'm waiting. Waiting for my David to come home. I know it's stupid, I know he has gone. I almost forget for a second, and then remember. And then lie to myself, he will be home soon.  I even know it's a lie, but I don't care. I force myself to believe he is on his way. One day, it will truly hit me. And I will crumble into oblivion. But for now, I will continue to lie. Just so I can get through each day. dbee 💔

The Five Stages of Grief (Kübler-Ross Model) Denial :  A defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock of loss, causing feelings of numbness or disbelief. Anger :  As denial fades, reality sets in, often bringing frustration, resentment, and a search for someone or something to blame. Bargaining :  An attempt to regain control or reverse the loss through "what if" or "if only" thoughts, often negotiating with a higher power or oneself . Depression :  A deep, overwhelming sense of sadness, loss, and loneliness. It is a normal reaction to intense pain, not necessarily a mental illness. Acceptance :  This stage does not mean the loss is "okay" or forgotten, but rather that it is acknowledged and the individual is beginning to move forward with their life.   I do not think I will ever get to stage 5. dbee :'(