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Kathie Powell

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Year two...thoughts

Kathie Powell

Remember each one of our experiences is different. This is my current experience after completing 2 years of life without John.


For me grief in the second year isn’t softer. If anything, it can feel heavier—not because the pain is greater, but because it’s more familiar. The initial shock has


Say their name, tell stories, share your love
Say their name, tell stories, share your love

worn off, and in its place is a deep knowing. A knowing that this is life now. A knowing that there will always be firsts—new milestones, new experiences without John. And a knowing that there will always be repeats—anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, the everyday moments that once included John and now don’t.

 

In many ways, the end of the second year has been harder than the first. Not because I miss John more—I always miss him—but because I understand the weight of this absence more fully. I have walked through another year of carrying my grief, learning to live with it, even befriending it. Because it is a part of me now. I embraced my grief instead of fighting it. It is part of our love story. 

 

This past year, I grieved John in almost every quiet moment and almost every loud one. I have had the honour to hold space for people at the end of their lives, sitting with them as a doula, witnessing the sacredness of love and loss. There have been times when John even worked with me with one of my clients. He say John in one of his visions. He had never met John but he told me he was there and he made him feel at peace, as I sang over him the song I used to sing to John.

 

I wrote a book, not just about my grief, but about the journey through it. I created a program to help people unpack their own stories of loss, to give them a place where their grief is understood, to share their story and be heard. Guiding them in their own personal journey of healing. Much like grief, healing is ongoing. 

 

I took risks in business, invested in my work, in my clients, in myself. I had fun. I went to Italy with my sister, walked streets I’d never seen before, felt the sun on my face in a place that knew nothing of my sorrow—but my sorrow was there with me. John is always with me. I even brought some of his ashes and sprinkled them in a place I knew he would have loved to see. John was there with me. In the beauty, in the wonder, in the deep breath I took as I let a piece of him mix with my tears to rest in that space. Together forever in a place we would never walk together in this lifetime. 

 

I got a puppy and he brings me joy. I named him after another of John's favourite hockey players. We have a Wendel and a Dougie. I have laughed, cried, have been frustrated and amazed. I did things I never imagined I would. And in all of it, my grief was there—woven into every experience, sitting beside me in the joy, the pain and the uncertainty.


The anniversary of the 2nd year with him was different. It was harder and I had no plan, we took no pictures and we didn't make a fuss. But we spoke of him, told stories and said his name.


Saying their name is a way of keeping them close, a way of reminding the world and ourselves that their love, their laughter, and their presence still matter. They existed and still exist within us. It's in the stories we tell, the memories we share, and the way our voices soften and our faces light up when we speak of them. Avoiding their name doesn't protect us from pain, it only deepens the silence where they used to be. But when we say their name, when we let it roll of our tongues with love, we keep their spirit alive in the spaces they once filled. Their body's are gone, but their energy and spirit live on within our love.


I am not just a widow, I am John Powell's loving widow.

 

There is no “moving on” from grief. But there is moving forward—with it, with love, with everything this life still holds. Year two has been a reminder that even in the ache, there is still life to be lived. And as I step into this next year, working on book two, I carry John with me. Always.

 

If you are looking for support in end of life, grief or both I'm here for you. Go to my website for more information or email me. 

 

Love from,

 

Kath 

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