simple days with bonnie rae

I missed you quietly today. So quietly that no one noticed.

I missed you as I climbed out of bed and as I brushed my teeth; when I waited at the lights on the drive into work and as I heard the rain outside my window.

I missed you as I ordered lunch and as I kicked off my shoes when I got home; as I switched off the lights and climbed into bed for the night.

I missed you without tears or noise or fanfare.

But oh how I felt it.

I felt it in the morning, at lunchtime, in the evening and at night. I felt it as I woke, as I waited, as I worked. I felt it at home, on the road, in the light, in the dark, in the rain.

I felt it in every one of those moments, each one sitting heavier and heavier as the weight of me missing you kept growing and growing.

Yes, I missed you so quietly today.

But I felt it so loudly.

(Becky Hemsley 2024)

I think I can finally begin to process losing my dad. Suddenly, heartbreakingly, ten years ago now.

When he died, I was 23. When he died, it was the summer before my final year of graduate school.

When he died, I tidied up. I put every single bit of my grief into decluttering and minimizing my life. I cleared out stuff. I cleared out people. I left my boyfriend, my stuff, my friends and my apartment.

I dove head first into a new relationship. I was love bombed and wooed and serenaded. I was all gas no breaks.

I graduated with honors. I landed my dream job. I moved two times with the love bomber. I was preparing to leave. I got pregnant.

I knew, immediately, that this baby was mine. That he was meant for me. I chose my baby, I wish I had continued on with leaving the man I had already decided to leave but I was 25, scared, and pregnant. I had no parents to lean on. I did have sister, I always had sister.

If I could go back I would leave that man, I would give my son my last name. I would move in with sister and raise my baby with her. She raised me after all.

But I married the man and shortly after he discarded me. I was no longer the prize he chased, I was a mother, I loved nothing more than I loved my little boy.

Then I was a single mother. Working three jobs to make ends meet. Surviving a stalker at my apartment, an abusive work life, an exhausted body mind and bank account. 

I worked and worked and advocated and was able to quit two jobs and only have one. I found a dear friend that showed me how to exercise and care for my body and mind.

I met my now fiancé. He healed me in the most beautiful ways and eventually became a step father.

I have a beautiful job with purpose. Where I can help people. No more toxicity at work.

I have a home, a beautiful little home to call my very own. No more uncertainty. 

I am safe. Nothing is perfect, life will never be perfect. But for the first time, in so very long, I am safe. 

And so, I miss my dad. I think about him every day now. I have time. I am not in constant fight or flight, I am relaxing with my baby and thinking of my dad.

I am cooking or singing or dancing and I am thinking of my dad.

I watched him die. Did I ever tell you that? Someone told them to turn off the life support and I watched him gasp for air, grasp at life. 

I heard myself say, “What is happening? Are we just watching dad die?” 

No one answered.

I have not written here in so very long, because I was living. Some times are for writing and sharing and processing. Others are for living.

I’m back, writing to you now. Sharing what is helping me. Sharing what I have learned. I’ll keep sharing. 

Until, I have to go live again.

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

Things that are helping:

This book.

These videos.