Nine weeks in...

 I am beginning to cry less, which is a relief, although on Monday I didn’t cry but I had such an overwhelming feeling of sadness that, somehow, that felt worse. There are now more than five days (but less than ten!) when I haven’t cried at all, but there wasn’t anything particularly different about those days. Two days ago I cried in the shower – I’m not quite sure why, it just comes in waves. Yesterday I was clearing out my husband’s clothes and doing this felt fine until I came across three checked shirts that so reminded me of him that the tears spilled over, again. (I’m keeping those shirts for a little while.) Today I took the clothes to the local clothes bank. He would have liked that (and it meant I didn’t have to wait for the charity shops to open), but it was hard. More tears, but it was the right thing to do. 

I am learning that I am not in control of my grief and, as a control freak, that is hard, but I also know that this is normal. I don’t want to feel as I do (except, paradoxically, I do, as my grief is a mark of my love for him) but I know that it is the things we do to block our pain that harm us. We have to allow ourselves to feel the pain, whilst also finding things that help to soothe us – in my case I go for a walk, or do a jigsaw, or read, or watch something on tv.

Then it’s the stupid things: what do I do with so many coat-hangers? It seems a waste to throw them away, particularly as previously we always seemed to be short of them… 

Sleep is strange now! I go to bed and read. This isn’t new, it helps to take my mind off things before I fall asleep. What is different, though, is that I can now fall asleep whilst I am reading, or after putting my book down and before turning off the light. Several times I have woken at 1 or 2 am, and once at 5 am, with the light still on! This would never have happened previously. I can sleep quite well until, 3, 4 or 5 am, and if I’m very lucky 6 am, but as soon as I wake up my mind is whirring. There is no point staying in bed, so I get up and potter or have my breakfast and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I can then fall asleep for another hour in front of the news on the television.

I am not lonely, but I do feel alone – I miss him. It doesn’t bother me being in the house alone, although I thought it might. But it is quiet. No longer are there the ambient sounds telling me that he is upstairs or next door or coming downstairs, and that is strange. I miss human contact and this, I guess, is what is different about grieving in lockdown and what makes the grieving process so much harder for so many people. Visiting my friends with whom I bubble is the highlight of the week. I am also grateful to those friends who phone me and are happy to listen, to talk about my husband, to share their experiences of grief, and then talk about other things as well. It helps more than they will know. I am also so grateful to those friends who have helped me fill in those pesky Inheritance Tax, Probate and Land Registry forms. I wouldn’t have managed without them. 

Time is strange. When I was caring for my husband it could easily be 11 am before we were both ready for the day. Now I look at the clock and think “how can it only be 9.30 am?” or as today 8.10 am when I had already done 2 loads of washing, finished packing up his clothes, and cleaned the dishwasher. So I try to keep busy. Up until now there has always been another form to complete, somebody else I need to phone, or more of his possessions to sort out (so many books…) etc. I do wonder what I will do when all these jobs are done… but hopefully lockdown will be over by then and I can try to re-shape my life. I know this will be easier said than done, though. More ‘firsts’ to get over – first meal out without him; first visit to a gallery; first visit to Bloomsbury… but I will do it.

Even in my grief, though, I think how fortunate I am. I was able to be with my husband when he died, and he died where he wanted to be, at home. I was able to say goodbye. There are so many people in this country for whom that has not true because of the limits placed upon them by covid, and I can’t imagine what that must be like…