Three months in...

Today is thirteen weeks or three calendar months since B died. In some ways it seems ages ago and in others such a short time. It seems so long since I was arranging the funeral and Service of Thanksgiving, but then I also wonder how three months could possibly have gone by in what seems a blink of an eye. I’m not sure it’s got any easier, although it is perhaps beginning to feel a little different. I would say that perhaps my grief feels less raw, at least at times, although, saying that, my emotions have been all over the place this week. At times I have actually felt happy, which has been so nice, but then something has happened and, just as if a switch has been flipped, the misery comes back out of nowhere. As others have said, it is just like being ambushed! The other day I was watching the morning news and they were interviewing a professor who worked at the Open University in B’s field. Previously, at this point I would have asked him if he knew the person, as it was not uncommon for him to have worked with, or taught, the person being interviewed. Bang, that’s all it took for the sorrow to come back! My head knows it’s stupid, but for my heart it’s just another reminder that B is not here with me.

Now lockdown is easing, in some ways it feels as though life is getting back to normal except, of course, it isn’t. Life won’t ever be the same without B and now those delayed ‘firsts’ are beginning to happen: the first time back at Bloomsbury (church); the first time away without him; booking tickets for events that he won’t be sharing with me… Ordinarily, pre-pandemic, these things would have happened much sooner, which may or may not have made them easier, but I have heard that others who have been bereaved during the pandemic are also dreading these delayed firsts.

Last Sunday, I went to Bloomsbury (the first time the church has been open since November). This place has been so entwined through B’s and my lives over the last thirty plus years that it is almost like a second home; it is where we met, where we were married, and where we took part in so many things. It’s involves the sense of place, the worship, the meeting with friends, the shared history, and so on, so I knew it was going to be hard, and I wasn’t wrong. Frankly, I was a mess! But, I did it and I am so very grateful to all those friends who supported me, who didn’t make a big thing of it, but acknowledged my grief and let me grieve. Hopefully, next time will be easier…

Generally, I think I am pretty emotionally resilient, as a nurse one has to be, but recently that resilience seems to have flown out of the window. B sometimes used to say that I was too sensitive, but I think that was because he was a ‘thinker’ and I am a ‘feeler’ (see Myers Briggs personality types). I’m not sure he would have coped with me as I am at the moment, though!!!

I find that both walking and gardening help a lot. Organising the house and other things also provides a good distraction. The hall is now free from the many boxes of books, and now some have been replaced by bags of rags, ready to go the hospice when it is able to take them. I now have the Grant of Probate through, so that has meant some more (s)admin, although less onerous than previously. On the whole, this has actually been a positive experience as it is always good to be able to pass on a gift, but it has again meant dealing with the inevitable “ah, I’m so sorry” from those I do not know personally. Part of me still wants to laugh when I hear the sympathetic voice being turned on, naughty, I know, though it does depend on what my emotions are doing at the time. I have started to look at photos again and am finding that they can now, sometimes at least, make me smile, bringing back happy memories, rather than making me feel sad. I can laugh and joke with friends. I feel this is progress…