Dbee Robinson Artist - The Fat Struggling Menopausal Artist

  Where My Heart Used to Be They say grief comes in waves, but no one tells you the size, how a calm sea can suddenly rise and darken the skies. They say grief comes in waves, crashing into you like a tsunami tide, dragging away everything you knew, everything safe, everything that survived. One moment I'm standing, holding myself together somehow, the next I'm drowning in memories, asking, "What do I do now?" Each wave finds me unexpectedly— while making tea, while folding clothes, while passing a place we used to go. And yes, you can brush your teeth whilst sobbing. You can answer questions whilst breaking. You can smile at the world while your soul is quietly shaking. It's exhausting. Deep-down, bone-aching, spirit-breaking exhausting. The kind that sleep cannot cure, because sleep itself has become a thief; bringing me dreams of my David, then waking me back to grief. Every part of me is yearning for him. Every heartbeat calls his name. Every sunrise feels the...

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...