Monday Morning
I woke today remembering
how his face looked when he sleeps—
when we were just starting to be together.
In our twenties.
We were mere babies.
I was a first-year student.
He just began his work,
studying CIMA.
He looked peaceful in sleep.
There is this space,
cotton-wool safe
I know I want to enter it
to simply stay with the
memories,
I know that will stop me
deal with the things needed doing.
The paperwork piles up.
I must get on with the HMRC forms
yet I am mollycoddled
with the thoughts,
the knowledge that I now can recall
his youthful face when we began courting,
last century.
the pull of it
is stronger than a current.
And I know I’ll see him there
in the soft-light space.
There is this one picture
attending freshers ball at uni,
first year Economics.
The only ballgown I had
was a fuchsia pink number
with large frills at the shoulders.
And he,
chest, shoulders and
head taller than I
(his 6’2″ to my 5’2″),
leant down
and we’re side by side closely,
no paper between us.
His left cheek
rested on my crown.
I wore heels to complement
the fuchsia
ballgown.
Petite as I was, I must have stood out in fuchsia pink.
Other young women wore Little Black Dresses.
We were so young.
I was 21, he was 25.
And we thought we were so grown up.
When we were mere babies.
There is this turned-up portion
of his cupid’s bow.
I loved tracing it
with the tip of my tongue.
I am still in the space
of watching his face whilst he slept.
And trying to find words
to describe the planes of his face,
the feelings it evoked in me.
I am still in love with him.
He asked my mother for my hand
three times.
She said no, twice.
I was sent to England for education
and she would not want that interrupted.
So he married me
only six days after graduation.
I adored him.
I would greet him running
and hugged him
as he walked in through the front door from work.
I was a second year student.
He was, to me, everything.
He was –is– my home.
Woke up this morning
and realised just how much
I am still in love with him.
And the realisation that last night
as I fell asleep,
my thoughts were revolving around
how much I am still in love with him.
Do you begin to see
why he was my home?
He is my mooring.
And without him,
I am lost at sea.
This is how I spend my today:
reliving old memories
of how we were
when we had just began courting.
My fresher’s year at uni.
The business world today ended as I typed here and reliving the memories. It is now 17:33hrs and the emails I meant to write and the HMRC forms I’m meant to look into have not been touched at all.
The Cotton-Wool Space is
Complicated,
Soothing,
with externality costs,
as the economists put it,
to paperwork, and
HMRC forms.
I am lost at sea.
A Monday in Grief
One-hundred-odd days into sudden bereavement, I am seriously considering going back to school to pursue MSc Psychology (conversion) and longer term, perhaps DClinPsy qualifications. This in the hope of channeling my lived experience into research that might help others navigate similar loss. This piece serves both purposes – documenting the phenomenology of grief for academic understanding while offering recognition to those currently lost at sea.
This dual position – researcher and subject – may provide unique access to grief’s phenomenology while maintaining analytical rigor. My husband’s sudden death necessitates both personal navigation and academic documentation of bereavement processes.
This account employs established theoretical frameworks – Stroebe and Schut’s (1999) Dual Process Model, Klass et al.’s (1996) continuing bonds theory, and Fuchs’ (2018) work on presence in absence – to structure lived experience. The academic approach provides cognitive scaffolding for processing profound life disruption while contributing to grief literature through autoethnographic observation. Autoethnography because sometimes the most rigorous fieldwork happens in your own grief at 3am with HMRC forms staring back at you. Also it being a qualitative research method where the researcher uses their own lived experience as primary data to understand broader cultural, social, or theoretical phenomena. The researcher is simultaneously subject and analyst, using systematic self-observation, reflexive writing, and theoretical analysis to connect personal experience to wider academic discourse.
The Temporal Oscillation:
At 08:38, I wake with vivid recall of my husband’s sleeping face from our early relationship – specifically, when I was a first-year economics student and he was beginning CIMA qualification. This exemplifies what Stroebe and Schut term “loss-oriented processing” – the involuntary activation of memory networks related to the deceased.
By 17:33, administrative tasks (HMRC forms, professional emails) remain unaddressed. The full business day has been allocated to what I term the “cotton-wool space” – a cognitive state where memory engagement supersedes practical demands. This represents not dysfunction but the natural oscillation pattern identified in grief research. The “externality costs” (using economic terminology – bear with me here, I was an economics student and the term stuck with me) are measurable: deferred paperwork, unanswered correspondence. The internal gains are harder to quantify but include relationship continuity and identity maintenance.
Embodied Memory and Continuing Bonds:
Physical memories persist with remarkable clarity. A specific photograph from my fresher year (myself in fuchsia ballgown, him at 6’2″ to my 5’2″) triggers detailed somatic recall. The turned-up portion of his cupid’s bow remains tactilely present. This aligns with continuing bonds theory – the relationship persists through transformed modalities.
I maintain present-tense emotional connection: “I am still in love with him.” This grammatical choice reflects psychological reality. The relationship continues; only its expression has changed.
Attachment History and Loss Magnitude
Context matters for understanding loss impact. He requested permission to marry three times, receiving two refusals from my mother who prioritized my education completion. We married six days post-graduation – demonstrating his sustained commitment across years of waiting. He purchased our home using redundancy payment while I remained a student. These facts establish the depth of mutual investment that makes his absence particularly destabilizing.
The metaphor I employ is maritime: “He is my mooring. Without him, I am lost at sea.” This captures the disorientation following loss of one’s primary attachment figure and navigational reference point.
Theoretical Integration
This phenomenological account demonstrates several key concepts:
- Dual Process Model: The documented oscillation between memory engagement (08:38-17:33) and recognition of practical demands (paperwork / forms) illustrates Stroebe and Schut’s framework in real-time.
- Continuing Bonds: Present-tense love and somatic memory demonstrate how relationships persist beyond physical death, challenging stage-based models advocating “letting go.”
- Embodied Grief: Following Fuchs, the body maintains expectation patterns – I experience cravings for foods he prepared, physical memory of intimate gestures. Grief lives somatically, not just cognitively.
Implications for Practice
For clinicians and bereaved individuals, this account offers several insights:
- Complete absorption in memory work represents adaptive processing, as opposed to avoidance
- Present-tense relationship maintenance is normative, contrary to it being pathological
- Oscillation between coping modes occurs on micro-temporal scales (within single days)
- Academic framework application can provide cognitive structure during disorientation
Conclusion
This analysis demonstrates that approaching grief academically while experiencing it provides dual benefits: contributing to scholarly understanding while creating cognitive framework for personal navigation. The permanent nature of loss, the realisation this is a permanent state, as opposed to existing in a tunnel with a light at the end – coexists with equally permanent love. This paradox defines the grief experience.
The academic lens transforms potential victimhood into active inquiry. Documentation becomes intervention. Analysis provides agency. This, I propose, is not a weakness – rather it is methodological strength – using intellectual resources to map uncharted personal territory while contributing to collective understanding of bereavement.
