Life as a Widower

A young widowed father opening up about living with loss

expiry dates

Something hasn’t been right with me this week. I’ve felt a heavy sense of foreboding envelop me out of nowhere, and it has taken me ages to figure out why. After spending a lot of time alone thinking, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m anxious about a couple of things coming to an end – things that have helped me to manage my grief over the course of the last year.

A week from now I will have completed the London Marathon. When I originally signed up for the race, I did so for just one reason: to raise money for a child bereavement charity that I believe in. Once I began training, however, I noticed that I was getting so much more from it than that.

I realised I’d given myself a forward-looking focus that could help ease my mind’s preoccupation with the past. I noticed that by taking back control of my body through fitness, I felt more in control of my mind and, in turn, my life. And, for the first time in ages, I felt a sense of achievement through reaching my training goals.

Five weeks from now I will have released a book that I’ve been working on for over a year. When I originally started writing it, I did so for three reasons: to help others suffering the agony of loss to find empathy and feel less alone, to assist those attempting to help bereaved loved-ones better understand what they might be going through, and to enable me to explain things properly to my son when he is old enough to understand. Once I began writing, however, I noticed that I was getting so much more from it than that.

It gave me back a relationship with my wife. Through the words I wrote about her life, I was able to divert some of my mind’s focus away from her death. It brought back great memories. Sometimes, after hours of writing at my desk, I would walk away with a smile on my face, feeling like I’d just spent the day with Desreen. In fact it often made me feel happier. In contemplating everything – both bad and good – that Jackson and I went through on a daily basis in such acute detail, I really noticed that, despite the pain, we still had pleasure in our lives.

Six weeks from now I imagine I’ll be wondering what happens next. Two of the biggest challenges I have ever taken on will, to different degrees, be over. I’m sure there will be those who think that this will give me a good opportunity to slow down, but I can’t help wonder exactly what purpose that will serve.

Earlier this week, a friend mentioned that someone had told him they thought I should probably stop publishing this blog. I rolled my eyes at the second-hand comment but chose not to pursue the line of conversation. I did think about it for some time afterwards, though.

I think it’s probably safe to assume that the person who made the remark believes that it’s time for me to ‘move on’. Once, this very suggestion would have made me angry, but these days I tend to find myself at least trying to see things from the other point view. And, having given it a lot of thought, I really do understand where they’re coming from; I appreciate how hard it is to understand how another person’s grief operates. But that doesn’t make that person right. It probably just means that they are failing to empathise with the reality of loss.

I imagine they quite innocently believe that if I keep picking at the metophorical scab, the wound will never heal. It’s a logical conclusion to draw if you treat the mind as no different to the rest of the body. But unlike a graze, a cut or a broken bone, the mind thinks, reflects and remembers. It doesn’t simply heal and there’s no medicine to completely numb the pain.

And so I’m left wondering what this person thinks might be the benefit of me abandoning the blog. That I’ll stop thinking the thoughts in my head if I no longer type them out on a screen? That my mind will erase its concerns if I stop sharing them with the world? That I’ll no longer suffer the anguish if I don’t raise it again in public? That I won’t need to worry about the impact of my wife’s death on my son’s mental well-being if I get on with it alone? That I’ll stop loving my wife if I stop writing about her? That I’ll meet someone else if I appear to make myself more available to others? That I’ll live my life more like they think they would if they were in my shoes?

In my recent attempts to see grief from both sides, I imagine that this person still sympathises with my loss but is entirely unable to empathise with it. And that brings me to the point of this post: grief is very complicated, terribly difficult to comprehend, entirely personal and all too easily marginalised by people who don’t understand.

Now try to imagine going through it as a child. Take a second to think about how heartbreaking it would be if you lost the person you loved most and the people around you failed to acknowledge the impact it had on your life. Close your eyes and consider how you would feel if you were assumed ‘resilient’ enough to get on with your life without questioning such a significant death.

My grief may be approaching its expiry date for some, but at least I’ve had the chance to speak my mind. Many children aren’t given that same opportunity. And that’s why I’m running the London Marathon for Grief Encounter next week.

Please take five minutes to watch the charity’s new tenth anniversary film below and click this link to donate it you can. Thank you so much to everyone who has already given. I’m truly overwhelmed by the generosity so many people continue to show.

98 comments on “expiry dates

  1. Sheila Lowther
    April 6, 2014

    A beautifully written piece as always. I have been following you since you began and you have helped me enormously. It has been over 4 years since I lost my husband when our son Hugo was not even 11 weeks old. My husband Anth was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia when Hugo was only 8 weeks old and passed away 20 days later. I am now suffering the loss again through my 4 year old who is missing his Daddy who he didn’t even get to know. Please continue with what you are doing. Why not run the Great North Run up here in Newcastle? It is held in September. You have my continued support and admiration. Love to both you and Jackson.
    Sheila & Hugo. X

  2. lisacraig581214
    April 6, 2014

    Your blog resonates so much with me. I lost my husband Colin three and a half years ago. People say to me ‘it’s time to move on’, ‘you are doing really well’ but if I talk about Colin or they hear my kids and I talk about their dad then they look uncomfortable or try and change the subject! Colin is alive in my heart and stays alive in my children’s lives when we talk, laugh, reminisce, cry. And that is just how it should be. And when you talk about projects to keep you going, something else will creep up on you – I haven’t stopped yet – and that’s the way I like it – being still, quiet and unoccupied feels sad and lonely ! Keep going – you are a true inspiration and your son will thank you for it! Xxx

  3. Avril Lamb
    April 6, 2014

    Having been through a bereavement, and now counselling others with bereavement support, the person who suggested that maybe it is time for you stop writing this blog, presumably to ‘move on’, has no idea of what grief is. No idea at all. xx

  4. Felicity Wilson
    April 6, 2014

    My reason for being here is an appreciation of the power of love and loyalty, I value the sense of family.
    As such Ben, through your writing, your family in someways, had extended and spread globally.
    Your writing can be appreciated not just for its content, but it’s delivery. As you so pithily express, some days are good, some abysmal.
    Were all humans and sharing this life together and in our different ways.
    Quite simply, you enjoy writing this blog, we enjoy reading it. Jackson will take from it what and when he will.
    So, why stop?

  5. Gee
    April 6, 2014

    I lost my husband 10 years ago next month and when he was diagnosed he made me promise I would talk about him with the boys then aged 4 and 5yrs, acknowledge his existence (as if it was ever going to be anything other!) ….. But his own father had died in 1957 when he himself was only 4 and his siblings ranged from 12days to 12 yrs of age but unlike our house, his mother never mentioned his father to any of the children again until they were in their 30s/40s …. And all suffering from severe mental health issues because of it …… This awful don’t talk about death theory only came into existence in Victorian Britain and appears to do way more harm than good …. Keep posting your blog while you feel it helps you Ben and we will keep reading it!

  6. Julia Arnott
    April 7, 2014

    Please don’t stop this blog!!! It has held me together so please don’t stop. I see where your friend is coming from but unless you are in that position you just don’t understand. Please don’t stop Ben.

  7. Debs
    April 7, 2014

    I haven’t personally experienced bereavement yet in my life but I have been captivated and truly inspired by your blog Ben. You convey your feelings to the world in such an honest, sincere and passionate way to both comfort yourself and others through their grief. The blog entries and photos have made me both laugh and cry alongside you and so many others, in uniting people through such a traumatic and lonely time in life. I’m about to graduate from University with a degree in early childhood studies and as part of my course I have studied child bereavement. Your beautifully written blog entries have helped me to gain a deeper understanding of the impact that bereavement has in the life of a young child and highlighted the support that is available through wonderful charities like Grief Encounter. As a mature student I’m not merely looking to have a change in career, I’m hoping to make a difference in children’s lives and the sharing of this intimate time in your life has ignited a passion inside me for counselling children through bereavement. Both your blog and book are gifts that Jackson will treasure forever and the rest of us will take great comfort and reassurance from at some point in our own lives. Thank you Ben

  8. jackie cassell
    April 8, 2014

    People will tell you that things will get better as time goes on but sometimes it does,nt Desreen was a lovely person i knew her as a child when she was at St Albans school West Leigh my daughter Kerri was one of her friends

  9. Laura
    April 8, 2014

    Don’t stop writing your blog! I have only just found it today! Like with all things, time is a healer. People, places and feelings evolve and what might be very sore in your heart now, may not be so bad in five or ten years time. We will never forget, but time allows us to become a little more accepting of circumstance and to look back with a fondness and love and not so much grief and wishing for the what could have been. But for some people who have only just experienced their loss, their grief is very real now and to come here and read some words of comfort or just a little insight into the life of someone dealing with the same thing is such a massive help. I am the child of a parent widowed – I say child – I am 29 years old now, but my father passed 18 years ago today when I was 11. It’s refreshing to read the words of the parent. I cannot even imagine losing my husband, let alone having to deal with the grief of my son.
    We come through it and we are strong – I am living proof! What an amazing daddy your son has. He is truly blessed.

  10. Sadie
    April 11, 2014

    Thank you for your post. My mom and sister died in a car accident when I was 14 years old. Now, 17 years later, the grief is still with me. Its different, but it is still there. Some days, it fresh as if it happened yesterday. Other days, it feels like a lifetime ago. Their influence in life and in death are part of my core identity. I actually just wrote a post about the 17 year anniversary earlier this week. It’s the first time I’ve ever written about it. It was very emotional and very important to me to write about.
    While I agree with Laura’s post, that we come through it and we are strong. I have to add, that I lived through a lot of hard times as a teenager, and I did come through it. But, my step-brother, who lost his father to Cancer as a small child, has not been so fortunate and he is now battling addictions and living a very unhealthy lifestyle. It’s not always an easy road, but having a supportive father, family and friends will definitely help!
    Wishing you all the best, and look forward to reading more.

  11. kjtamuser
    April 11, 2014

    This is your blog. The choice to continue is only yours. Sounds like you want to continue blogging. If so, I look forward to your next post.

  12. segmation
    April 11, 2014

    What an awesome way to go through the grieving process to channel yourself for London Marathon for Grief Encounter and its impact not only on you but for others. You are indeed a thoughtful person. Bravo!

  13. Mia
    April 11, 2014

    That video really made me cry. I lost my mother last December and my sister died about 31 years ago.I was only 6 years old so I don’t remember much about her death. No matter what age you are, it’s always sad. When you tell people about your grief, they feel sorry for you. But you want people to really understand what you’re going through.That was one of the reason I didn’t tell my friends about my sister’s death when I was younger. I just hated the look people had on their faces when I told them. That “aw, poor you*- look
    Blogging and writing about your grief is helpful so don’t stop. People can say what they want.Maybe they never lost anyone. Stay strong and good luck with the marathon.

  14. lizard100
    April 11, 2014

    I found you today in freshly pressed. Strangely an hour ago we were talking about bereavement and how it impacts. We’ve noticed that people around a bereaved person seem to have a cut off point themselves and can ‘expect’ that point to be a good one for you too. Time frames for grief for each individual vary so much. Also we noticed that having an outlet to talk and share is essential. So what seems to happen is their window for sharing closes and you may be left without a channel. This blog looks like a great channel for you. So as one person I know once said ‘don’t give a rat’s a&@e’ for the other persons view. (It’s an American expression but it helped.) you’ll know when to stop. You may even stop without noticing. But until then keep writing.

  15. sheilamariegrimes
    April 11, 2014

    grief counselors are awesome people. My prayers for good days!

  16. Loni Found Herself
    April 11, 2014

    I’m so, so very sorry for your loss. Those words don’t help, and I’m sure you’ve heard them a million times, but I want to say them.

    I lost my mother to cancer when I was 13 years old. She was just 33. It’s been 20 years since her death and, as each year passes, I’ve felt burdened by this idea that I should have “moved on” by now. Sure, I don’t burst into tears when her favorite song comes on the radio, and I don’t wake up at night with that wracking grief that suspends you in those first months, but I grieve. I grieve every day, especially as I now have a daughter of my own who will never know her grandmother.

    Lately I’ve realized what utter BS this all is. I have the right to grieve every day of my life. You do, too. And, as you’ve said, not talking about it or writing about it doesn’t mean that it goes away. All it means is that the people in our lives who are uncomfortable with grief no longer have to confront themselves with it. They no longer have to think about what it must be like for us.

    Please keep writing. Your son will someday cherish these words.

  17. N℮üґ☼N☮☂℮ṧ
    April 11, 2014

    Such a touching and vulnerable post, Ben. I’m sorry for your loss. Reading the comments, I see that many have lost a partner, and I agree with you that it’s something one never fully gets over. I, too, lost my partner when my daughter was an infant. I experienced the same mentality — the cut-off imposed on me by well-meaning people — people who were simply uncomfortable talking about or thinking about death and/or seeing me sad.

    If I cried in front of others, I got a gentle shush, as though that was somehow going to bring me comfort and resolve. So I felt my sadness, fully, in solitude. Perhaps their reactions have to do with death anxiety rather than a lack of empathy. I don’t know, really. Anyway, I did go through the grieving process alone. It was more stressful on me having to be aware of other people’s discomfort about my loss.. Thank you for sharing what many of us have felt but never really voiced.

    All the best to you,


  18. jlbf4
    April 11, 2014

    Beautiful! Thank you for owning your story and not abandoning yourself. Look forward to the book and congratulations! Justine

  19. Like an Olive Tree
    April 11, 2014

    Thank you so very much. Although I didn’t lose my spouse, I did lose my mother at too young an age. It has been over 7 years and I still have days were I just need to grieve the loss but it is getting to be longer periods in between. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her or when my children do something I think, man wish Mom was here! I think there is something in our spirit that understands we were not meant to lose loved ones…and it makes the grief get to the center of us. God bless you and your son. Best wishes.

  20. lkrause1997
    April 11, 2014

    Wow. What a beautiful post. I couldn’t even begin to understand what you and your child have been through, and I wouldn’t even try. However I would never tell someone to “move on”. Thank you for the insight and the reminder to think before we speak to those who are grieving and let everyone have their time in their way. Prayer and thoughts to you and your child.

  21. Greenjungli
    April 11, 2014

    A deeply humbling account of your life and the emotions your facing, I am so touched by your blog, I would like to wish you all the best on Sunday I will remember your heartfelt words when I watch the marathon.

    When these 2 events come to a conclusion even if you have nothing else to do may I suggest you take a daily walk say 45 mins to clear your mind and recollect thoughts of Desreen. Walking helps alleviate a number of illnesses such as diabetes & cancer but in your case depression too… I am speaking from experience I started off walking followed by jogging and have now moved onto cycling. The outdoors gave me an openness whilst being indoors felt as if I was imprisoned.

    Love and Prayers to You, Jackson & Desreen

  22. triciatierney
    April 11, 2014

    I live in CT in the US and a place like this – The Den for Grieving Kids, led the way in shepherding my daughter through her father’s death. She was 9 when we started to go and she continued for years. How can a child so young know how to grieve? How can any of us? Yes – places like these, and sharing our experiences – listening to each other and speaking up as you are – we get through and carry on and feel the pain — and the joy too. Thanks for this.

  23. mamapeach2012
    April 11, 2014

    Congratulations on you book and good luck with the marathon. I’m sure you blog and this book will be greatly appreciated by many ? I totally understand your viewpoint. I hope you and your sone find peace and happiness xxxx

  24. Nutsy Fagan
    April 11, 2014

    You will heal when you heal. I lost my mom in February of 2013 and my sister (also bestie) last October. No one really knows you. No one knows or can possibly understand what you miss every day. I don’t even try to figure it out. I just miss my sister. I think of her with a smile and wonderfully funny memories. Mostly I keep it to myself. I don’t want to share her with anyone and I don’t want to hear what others have to tell me. It annoys me. Our loves and experiences are just that: our own. You have inspired me to take more control of my life and body. I need to get moving. Thank you and be well.

  25. JujyCakes
    April 11, 2014

    thank you for opening your heart.

  26. dswidow
    April 12, 2014

    Your blog – and this post – really resonated with me. My husband died within a few months of your wife, and I too started blogging as a way to deal with and to share what I was (and still am) going through. Yes, keep writing; for as long as it has meaning. I still write. Not always about grief, not as often, but I still do. The grieving process doesn’t follow a set pattern; it’s different for each of us. Thank you for sharing.

  27. lauralizard
    April 12, 2014

    This is the first post I’ve read of yours (you came up in Freshly Pressed) but I just wanted to say that as someone who lost their dad seven years ago, I know how important it is to keep talking and writing about the person you’ve lost and how you’re coping. Until you decide it’s time to stop writing, then carry on. Grief is a personal journey and just as much happiness can come from writing and sharing it all, as sadness. So keep doing what works for you, no matter what anyone else thinks. Grief doesn’t have an expiry date, we just leant to deal with it in different ways, that’s all.

  28. askauts
    April 12, 2014

    I am so sorry to hear about your loss. No one can tell you how long it will take to get over the grief of losing someone. All one can say, is it takes time to heal and to a point where it becomes bearable even though the memory of the person lives on. For me, writing is therapeutic/cathartic. It is your release. Don’t stop it. If writing about it is gonna make you feel better, then do it. No one knows exactly how you’re feeling; therefore, no one knows best on how to deal with your feelings better than you. When people give you advice, take it as just that. You can take it or leave it. People will always have an opinion and some mean well, others don’t. Regardless, please take care and keep posting! One day at a time…that’s all u can do…baby steps…

  29. itsmayurremember
    April 12, 2014

    First and foremost, I am sorry for your loss.
    I liked the lines where you wrote, that you will stop having thoughts in your head, mind will erase its concerns, the entire paragraph

  30. Elevation
    April 12, 2014

    I wrote a blog very like this just yesterday! Grief never completes.

  31. Dawnasong
    April 12, 2014

    Writing is therapy, I felt serenity just reading this. Beautiful absolutely beautiful!

    • ForMandSea
      April 12, 2014

      So, what a club to belong to. Filled with good intentions and surrounded by people who, thankfully, can’t ever begin to imagine the enormity of the thing. I was where you are not so long ago. Endorphins were the only thing that kept me going when I couldn’t otherwise muster the energy to function. Every marathon starts with a single step and this is true in so many ways. If you keep on stepping, I’ll keep on reading. Oh, and enjoy the day tomorrow. Marathons are great things to look back on.

  32. Willy Nilly
    April 12, 2014

    As we have learned here, grief lasts as long as it needs to. I sometimes paralyze myself with memories from 30 and 40 years ago. The pain is as fresh as the moment it first found me. Grief doesn’t need to define how our lives will progress. It simply allows us to recognize the magnitude of joy and happiness when it occurs. It makes life more precious and guides us to learn acceptance of those things we cannot control or possess. Perhaps your blog will stay and evolve with you and in turn help others evolve. How beautiful it would be if the measure of your pain was magnified a thousand fold in the relief you bring to those that follow you and evolve with you. Not alone, but with a shield of friends, like minded and now made whole, if that is, in fact, possible. Why not resolve to continue and see where this leads you, us, your son. There is no need to turn away and forget. To remember is to hold on to all that was good and to carry it with you, more divine with each moment it lives in your heart, your mind, your soul.

  33. everyonecanmontessori
    April 13, 2014

    I lost my mother when I was 10-years-old, and I never had a chance to properly grieve. A suppost system for my siblings and I was completly absent for us growing up. I remember a pamphlet or two laying around about grief, but that’s it. No one said a word to me about how it would be okay to feel sad, or anything of the sort. As a result we were all very awkard and almost ashamed to talk about our mother. Only now, as I’ve become a mother, have I allowed myself to grieve for my mother that I lost so long ago. It’s been nearly two decades and I still think about my mother all of the time… So, I think there is no “moving on” when it comes to grief, but maybe there is adapting and accepting. I think what you’re doing here with your blog and your charity and for your child is incredibly wonderful and generous. Keep it up. 🙂

  34. maddhinesh
    April 13, 2014

    Reblogged this on maddhineshthoughts and commented:

  35. jarwillis
    April 13, 2014

    This is my first encounter with your beautifully written and compelling blog. Don’t be the slightest put off by one reported comment that you should ‘move on’. You have so much to say and it is helping yourself and others. I will think of you as we watch the marathon today.

  36. wanderlost231
    April 13, 2014

    No. All those things you would feel, if they were not shared on your blog, you would still be feeling them, but alone. This is a place you have created to feel and write and sort out what or ‘all’ that is inside of you. And I bet you are also helping others along the way who have been walking along the sidelines of your journey.

  37. soultransit
    April 13, 2014

    a good read 🙂 –

  38. Leelee
    April 13, 2014

    My mom was incarcerated 10 years ago and for a long time I thought it would’ve been better if she’d died instead. I was stupid and young and I’m sorry if that hurts you to say what I felt. Getting the chance to read even this little clip from your life helped me remember that I don’t actually feel that way. That I’m grateful for my life. Which sounds mildly horrible but it’s still true. And I can only wonder what it’s like to be your kid, the one who’s perspective I’d say I most closely share. But to read it through the mind of what I’d imagine my dads is a bit like… Now that’s… Enlightening. Thank you.

  39. J.E.S
    April 13, 2014

    Beautiful work. Keep going. It’s so important. Grief lasts forever.

  40. mommyx4boys
    April 13, 2014

    Don’t worry about what others say, just do whatever you need to do to help your boy and you heal. I did not lose my husband, but i did lose my daughter, and anytime i mention her name everyone tries to change the subject, its really hurtful its like they just want to forget her, and they want everyone else to also. March 26 was her birthday and my 10 year old said her name, as soon as he said it he apologized. I told him he had nothing to be sorry for and could talk about his sister anytime he wants to. People don’t understand not speaking about the pain doesn’t make the pain go away. Thank you for sharing your story.

  41. Haley Jackson
    April 13, 2014

    I really can not imagine what this would be like, however it is comforting to know there is a community of people who support each other. Thank you for sharing this with us.

  42. magnocrat
    April 13, 2014

    Very nicely put and explicit. I was reminded of a person who sat down and wrote numerous love letters to herself after her husband had died.

  43. Awaywithwords
    April 13, 2014

    Congratulations……not only a beautifully thought through and expressed piece, but by now you will have completed the Marathon. Don’t even think of stopping the blog. Writing down thoughts, for some of us, always helps and gives a tangible expression where we can work out and order our experiences. You will have made your wife very proud, I am sure. I don’t know your back-story but I want to read more of how things are going for you. My husband could have been in your situation…..I had a difficulty diagnosis of cancer eleven years ago. I am still OK, it’s all so random, isn’t it? Well done. I’m sure you have made your son very proud today. Keep on going. The Great North is a good suggestion, or another challenge. As you say, it keeps things moving on…

  44. Claire
    April 13, 2014

    I have just found your blog, as I’ve just seen a photo of Jackson with your marathon medal! & it lead me here, So there you have completed it, congratulations. Your next challenge is the book….my dad died unexpectedly at the age of 43yrs. My mum & I talk about him continually, It will be 15yrs since his passing in October, telling you that sounds like a life time ago, we have moved on, as life makes you move on but it doesn’t mean that the memories of your loved ones can’t move with you. I have become a parent myself & have a little girl the same ages as your boy. She talks about grandad in the twinkle stars as she has seen his pictures & she like to hear stories of my childhood which involved grandma & twinkle star grandad. This gives me peace, that I can include him in her life.

    Continue doing whatever gives you and your boy comfort, happiness & a place to be sad.
    Sorry to ramble on but I felt compelled to write.
    Big virtual hugs to you both x

  45. yvonnekoechig
    April 13, 2014

    Please don’t ever abandon this blog. You write so beautifully and I was able to identify with so much in my own grief. My father and sister died within 7 weeks of each other. Thus my life was re–defined. That is just the way it is. I have printed this particular posting just in case, I am a loss for words at the next at the next comment to “get over it” and “time heals all wounds”. Thanks so much for sharing.

  46. Dani
    April 13, 2014

    Thank you for this.

    Simply. lovely.

  47. milk & marigolds girl
    April 14, 2014

    I have shared this beautifully written post on my facebook. My friends and I recently lost a very dear friend to AML, a form of cancer. This young man was married to my younger sister and its been incredibly difficult losing him. Thank you for sharing your story, it really has touched me and helped me. I wish you and your son the very best.

  48. Adriana Adarve
    April 14, 2014

    What a beautiful and touching article. Congratulations, and thank you for sharing and putting into words what, I am sure, many of us have been totally unable to do, even if we have wanted to!

  49. lmarks04
    April 14, 2014

    Very touching story, reminds me of when my grandmother died. I hope you find peace and happiness eventually, but it will take a long time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: