Author: isobelisnecessary

My name is Alice Giddy and I am married to Kevin Wood. I am chronologically old but have a brand new hip. I will be getting another one soon! I used to live, on the ocean for 36 years, in Sambro, Nova Scotia. In the fall of 2022, I moved to a childhood neighbourhood in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. I love it! I love memories it gives from my earliest school days through my final year of high school. Precious to me.

Issues-I had them too…

I came to Mart with lots of baggage. My father was an alcoholic, a nasty alcoholic, who abused his wife and children verbally and physically.

Our mother suffered a mental breakdown in her early forties, was hospitalized a few times and suffered shock treatment during those times. She was often heavily medicated. She loved her kids unconditionally. That helped.

I did not suffer as much as my siblings because throughout much of my pre-school years my father was away at sea during WW II. I was the oldest, working, and was able to get away from most of his abuse when he retired from the navy at age 42. My siblings and mother could not.

No doubt, I grew up too soon and developed an attachment disorder. I became quite self sufficient and independent early on. Too early. Oh yeah, and depression was with me off and on. Nobody much knew that. Not even Martin, I do believe.

Also, occasionally, I suffered anxiety that could bring on some OCD behaviour likely driven by a desire to be a perfect me.

A perfect 75th birthday!

Jealousy – in his own words

Mart wrote a two page note to me, as we were talking about our break-up. He got upset with me because I made a joke about a guy in one of those oversized trucks with five foot diameter tires, whom neither of us knew. He wrote this about himself and his reaction.

Was Martin undiagnosed Dyslexic?

I have never considered that. This letter shows some of those characteristics.

Dyslexic writing characteristics

Obviously, he is sad, insecure, and angry. I had determined I did not want to live with this kind of anger any longer. It was unwarranted. He had not always been so insecure about me. In fact, it was quite the opposite, for many years.

That I was leaving was baked in, in my mind. My reaction to this note was he was just being controlling again. Empathy was not on my mind.

An Elegy but not a poem

I am reinventing my blog-self to try to become my best self. I want to do this to sort out my life and explain it to myself so I understand what happened.

I married my high school sweetheart and then left him after 17 years of marriage, surprising both of us. Not to mention friends and family. He was extremely well liked by friends, and loved by family. He never hit me once. But he could get cranky off and on. Like when he got jealous because I was having too much fun at a party or something I did that did not meet with his approval. Didn’t happen often but when it did I resented it.

We did not require lawyers to resolve child custody or split assets. We cared about and had respect for one another. We were fair. All of our end of marriage history began 40 years ago but he is still on my mind. Likely, because I felt guilty for leaving him, even after all of those years. He died recently, so I now feel a new certain freedom to write about all of it. I won’t hurt him again, now that he is gone.

I am not looking to provide or sell advice with my blog. I had a fulfilling career as a university administrator. My husband and I had a successful family business of 30 years duration. I don’t need another meal ticket. I can afford to travel with my husband without extra funding.

Martin‘s widow, however, can help you out with her newly announced grief specialty skills or resiliency coaching. Martin’s and my son’s death was the main inspiration for her resiliency specialty. Before that it was romance and couples or something. But you are likely going to have to pay for any advice.

My role, as our son’s mother and caregiver, for his entire life, is ignored throughout her advertising “stories”where Robin is mentioned. You could be forgiven for thinking she had those roles in his life. She did not. I want to be recognized as Robin John Giddy’s only mother/ caregiver in all appropriate places on the internet where his name is used. Most especially where his name is used to generate income. That has not been the case since 2018, despite making clear I want that kind of respect. I don’t mind if his stepmother’s name is used in the same sentence as my name.

There are no lies in any of MY blog posts. Nor am I a bully. Don’t be gaslit. I am standing up for the proper memory of my late son’s life and who his mother was. And is.

Tom Petty‘s words speak to me –

Mart & me 1962

In the end, we’ll all become stories. Margaret Atwood

Martin before we met.

Halifax 1943

Cute chubby baby. He grew into a heart throb, over the years.

Three years before we met. He was beginning to look like the Mart I came to know and love.

Mart 1957 in front
PEI ferry 1959

August 1960

Leaving for Canadian Canoe Championships, Ottawa

I met Mart, for the first time, in a packed stairwell in Dartmouth High, shortly after this photo was taken. It was the fall of 1960, he was 18, I was 17. Someone pushed me into his chest, he caught me in his arms. I was in love. But I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. We spent some months becoming acquainted before we made the breaks with our “others” and we began dating in February, 1961. Wow! 63 years ago and it is still very fresh in my mind.

Martin John Giddy (Sept 29,1942-Jan 12, 2024)

A Memorial of a sort

I am so saddened that he has died. It has occurred to me that there has likely not been a day that he has not crossed my mind since he was 18 and I was 17, in 1960. Yet, we have not lived together for almost 40 years.

Our very first date was on a Sunday evening, in February 1961 to go to Evensong at Christ Church in Dartmouth, where we were married on June 17, 1967. We dated a long time, with a break up here and there – his doing. Then I left in April, 1984. He did not want me to leave.

We went to our Dartmouth High reunion together in June 1986.

Student Council
June 1986

He gave up asking me to go back with him in the late summer 1986 when my now husband and I bought a house together.

Mart and I did not divorce until Aug 13, 1991. We raised our late son, Robin, and step-daughter (my niece) together apart. Kindly and respectfully, until it blew up quietly. About 1995. Mart had remarried September 1991.

Many of our friends who knew and admired Mart sent me messages of condolences and some attended his funeral in support of our loss. The minister was warm and inclusive, speaking to me of our son privately, after the service. She did not know of Robin’s death. I am so grateful for all that.

The other day a friend sent this photo of a group of friends from a dance in 1962, Someone colorized it. We were having a grand time and some of us were laughing hard at something. I wish I could remember what it was! Mart’s jacket was getting away! My dress actually had blue flowers, but I didn’t argue! I had blue shoes too, as I recall. Blue was his favourite colour.

1962 was a good year for balls and proms for Mart and me!

I will likely continue to think of him most days forever. He was a good guy who was a good father while he could be and have peace in his life at the same time. He had to make some tough choices to get by.