The Grieving Jester

Until today, the weather this week has been dull and grey, not to mention wet, and that sort of sums up what life feels like at the moment. On Sunday I went back to church – it wasn’t as bad as last time, although it was still hard – and afterwards a group of us went out for lunch, such a treat! It was so good to be with friends and in a restaurant. What was strange, though, was by the time I got back to the car I was crying again, and I don’t really know why – going out without B, going home alone, I’m not entirely sure, but it’s strange how one’s mood can change so quickly! It has seemed harder to find things that I am grateful for this week (as I think I mentioned in a previous post, I try to think of three things that I am grateful for at the end of each day). One of things I have done is to join a webinar with David Kessler, a death and grieving expert. It was helpful when he explained that finding things to be grateful for can be a big ask, and sometimes it is good enough to look...

This week has been peculiar in that, instead of the dull ache in the background, I have had either quite reasonable, and sometimes, good days alongside quite bad days. I can see no reason for this, it’s just how it’s been. I’m learning that grief is not predictable! One of the things I have been doing is writing down memories of B. Not the big things, like special occasions or holidays, but the little things such as how he would fold his pillow in half if he was reading in bed; how he always had the same breakfast unless he was on holiday; how he would be on time, or late, but rarely early; the Scottish phrasing he would sometimes use. I will remember the big things, happy memories of special occasions, but I don’t want to create an idealised picture of B; I want to remember the ‘real’ him. So as the little things come to me, I write them down, and they make me smile. I may read them later, I may not, but they are recorded. I have also ordered a box to use as a memory box. Obviously, I...

When B was dying, during his last hours, I told him that it was okay to let go, and that I would be alright. I do wonder now how I could have said that (why did he have to go?), although I know it was the right thing to say. If I had known how hard it was going to be, I might not have had the courage to say it. I knew I would miss him (that sounds so lame now) and be extremely sad, but I hadn’t realised just how difficult it would be. I think I thought that I would just feel very sad but get on with life. I now know different! My grief is all-encompassing… Strangely, as I write this, I wonder whether I am making a mountain out of mole hill as, for some reason, it feels a bit easier today, but then only two days ago I was sobbing my heart out again. Reading the experiences of others who have lost their partners, I know that this all-encompassing grief is not just my experience, and that does help, particularly when I am ambushed by it. It is helpful knowing that it’s not just me and tha...

  Somewhat surreally, and I’m aware that this might sound odd, I sometimes lose B to his life before me, and I find it hard to hang on to the time we had together. I get stuck in younger photos of him, or his first marriage, and other earlier times when I didn’t know him. These times don’t bother me, except I find a different B there, one I didn’t know, and it makes ‘my’ B seem further away. Sometimes I can grasp him, sometimes I can’t. It is very strange, particularly as we were married for 24 years!  Sometimes, I even wonder if B really existed. There is less and less of ‘him’ around, so my brain starts to wonder if he was really here at all. He’s not here now, so was our life together real? It is very odd what new tortures one’s mind can dredge up! This is where I find that my photos of him help. I was relieved to find that I have as many as I do.B didn’t like having his picture taken and generally I took pictures of scenery rather than people, so this really didn’t really ...

Earlier this week I was going through our (still haven’t got used to saying ‘my’!) garage, which, you’ve guessed it, requires some sorting out! I actually sorted it out about two years ago, but then with all B’s medical equipment etc it became a bit of a mess again. Anyway, B had put some box files on one of the shelves in the garage when he was helping with tidying. I had assumed that they were empty, and I remember saying at the time that I thought at least some of them could be thrown away, but he thought they might come in handy(!) so they stayed on the top shelf. On Wednesday I took them down and, lo and behold, some of them were not empty! Some contained specialist graph papers, presumably to plot various astronomical entities, whilst others contained slides of graphs and various celestial bodies. What was I meant to do with all of these? Why had he left them for me to deal with? When B was alive, in the normal way of things, these may have just been dealt with, or perhaps caused...

Last week I went away for a few days, and it was lovely. I went with my friends with whom I bubble and we stayed in a small village in Gloucestershire. We walked in the countryside, we visited a couple of gardens and we even went into a couple of shops. I missed B, but I enjoyed myself. Of course, there were one or two moments, such as on the first evening when I thought I would phone him to tell him how I was getting on (!), as we usually did when one of us was away; or walking in the Gloucestershire countryside and thinking how much he would have enjoyed it. On the positive side, though, it also brought back some happy memories and I was able to share these, and talk about him, which was lovely. I am so grateful to my bubble friends. It almost felt as though I had turned a corner, but now I am home the full force of his death has hit me again. He is not here. And I cry. I’m trying to keep myself occupied, it does help, so I have been doing some more sorting out, as well as other odd ...