The Grieving Jester

A lot has happened since my previous post. Sadly, B’s sister died unexpectedly in April and exactly a week later her husband died after a long illness. In June my Mum died, after a long period of physical incapacity. And then a cousin, whom I rarely saw but was fond of, also died. More grief, but different grief… I’m not sure I’ve processed my Mum’s death yet. For her, her death was a blessing. She had been bed-bound for some years with her quality of life slowly deteriorating, and so in some ways it was a relief for all of us. I know, though, that when I feel at my saddest I am also aware of the absence of B’s comforting presence. This then this makes me feel more sad, confused and guilty… should I still be grieving for him when I should be grieving for my Mum? But I reassure myself, rightly or wrongly, that it’s alright to feel what I am feeling… Of course, my sister-in-law and brother-in-laws’ deaths were so much harder for my nieces than for me, and I was glad to be able to support...

Well, I did genuinely think that my previous post was going to be my last, but perhaps I should have learnt my lesson from the previous time when I thought that!  I was feeling positive coming up to the third anniversary of B’s death, and it was much easier than I felt it might have been. Since then, though, I’ve had this feeling of melancholy just sitting on my shoulders. Nothing too bad, not raw like it used to be, although there have been a few tears. And I wasn’t really sure why I’ve been feeling like this. Perhaps, a reaction to the fact that three years have now gone by without him. You’ve heard it before, the disbelief, how can that possibly be possible? Three whole years! Perhaps, it’s coping with the fact that my grief is lessening and so some of what I’m feeling is guilt: how can I be rebuilding and living my life when he is not here? I know B would want me to be happy and yet there is still that weird feeling that it’s somehow not right to let go of the sadness. It is st...

B and I were married for just over twenty-four years, and were ‘an item’ for several years before that. In many ways we were opposites, but we complemented each other. Above all, we were each other’s best friend. We fitted together and we were happy together. And now I am on my own, and today is the third anniversary of B’s death. So how am I? What have I learnt? Well, it’s good I didn’t know how hard it was going to be without him, but I know that the pain of his loss is the price for the happiness we found in each other. Would I do it all again? Of course, I would! I now know that grief is about learning to bear the unbearable, but I also know that I can do the impossible, I can bear the unbearable! I didn’t have a choice, B didn’t choose to die, but I did have a choice about how I dealt with his absence. I chose to look squarely into the face of darkness, to learn to live with the abyss that appeared in my life. I could have shut it all out but I knew that, ultimately, that would ha...

Last month I visited my in-laws for the first time since B’s death. It took a while to arrange due to concerns over covid, me getting around to it and having to arrange flights (believe it or not, I had never flown on my own prior to this), and, if I’m honest, me being in a place where I could face visiting on my own. Not that I didn’t want to see them, just that I knew it would be hard visiting without B. The last of those big firsts! And, of course, it was lovely to see everybody; to meet my great-niece for the first time and to see my great-nephew growing up; to catch up with everyone and chat about B; to look at and mull over family photographs; and to go out for a lovely meal together. And I was grateful to the friend that made my journey a whole lot easier by meeting me from the airport, and then taking me back there a few days later. But, of course, for me, the whole trip was about B and it was hard being there without him as it just reinforced his absence. How could it not? Say...

 In one of his more lucid moments, not long before he died, B told me to have a “big party”. I have no idea what was in his mind – perhaps, something after his funeral, though, I’m quietly, thankful, that covid prevented that. That would have been too hard! But, I haven’t forgotten what he said. At the weekend I held a garden party (except it was held inside as it was so wet!!) and about 40 people came. Essentially, I held it because it was my turn in a trilogy of friends, but I decided to designate it, in my mind at least, as B’s ‘big party’. He would have been in his element. I can just see him, going around and chatting with everyone; occasionally, when he remembered, filling people’s glasses; me getting irritated with him because he wasn’t helping enough! But, one thing is for sure, he would have been enjoying himself.  At times, the thought of organising the party without him just seemed too hard, and once or twice I got quite stressed by the thought of it, but I am glad ...

 Well, I’m here again! Sometimes I just feel the need to write… I write in my journal most days but, somehow, my blog is different – I write differently. Perhaps, knowing I’m going to make it public helps me to process my thoughts rather than just vomiting up my feelings onto a blank page in my journal. It might sound daft, but I think more when I write my blog rather than just venting and forgetting (not that that can’t be helpful). Recently, someone I know lent me a book called ‘Levels of Life’ by Julian Barnes. If you’ve lost a partner I can’t recommend it highly enough, or read it if you just want to understand a little about what losing a partner is like. Read it anyway! It’s a short, simple read, and yet so eloquent. Barnes wrote it four years after his wife died. The first two sections are interesting and add to the third, or just read the third section where Barnes talks explicitly about his grief. The book did make me cry, but not because it is sad but because I identified...