The all-encompassing nature of grief

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 that I am not going mad!

On the whole, my grief does not feel as raw now, but there is this dull ache in the background and every so often I can feel it rising within my body – it reaches my throat, my chin, my nose (it’s quite odd!). I try to push it down as when it reaches my eyes there’s no chance of escaping it, but sometimes I just go with the flow (excuse the pun!).

Over the last few days I have realised that there are some things I haven’t done since B died. Playing music, for example, can be so emotive and, initially, I didn’t want to play anything that sounded sad (and these are often my favourite pieces!) and playing anything cheerful just seemed wrong, but, as yet, four months in, I haven’t got back to playing anything. I also haven’t gone back to working on my family tree, or my collage and mixed-media work. I guess these things will come but, for whatever reason, they are not right at the moment. What I have done is quite a few jigsaws. I find these quite mindful, in that they give me something else to concentrate on, and I find it quite satisfying to finish one.

Some things can be a double-edged sword. The other day I bought some photo frames to put some pictures of B in. I now have several photos of him around the house (B would have hated it but, well, he’s not here to see them…). The photos help to bring back special memories, as well as reminding me of him, but two evenings ago they just reminded me that he is not here. I want things to remind me of him, but then they also remind me that he’s no longer around… Again, a couple of days ago, I went out to post a letter and I noticed that the hedges planted at the front of our estate had been pruned. As part of our housing development’s management committee, B was involved in getting these bushes planted. I was just thinking how good the hedges looked now and how B would be so pleased and, bang, I am ambushed by my grief again! It is so strange as to how this can happen so quickly. One minute I’m just coming out of the front door feeling okay, and the next my eyes are welling up and the intense grief is back again.

Recently, I have been thinking about the settee, I need a new one; the current one is rather worn and battered. But, and it’s a big but, my second thought was, “how can I possibly get rid of it when it’s the settee that B sat on?” Rationally, I know this sounds ridiculous but it’s that head and heart thing again. I know it’s only a piece of furniture, and yet it’s the piece of furniture that we would both sit on to watch tv, where we would have a cuddle, where B would rub my feet to warm them up... So, as a temporary measure, I have covered it with a couple of throws …

Last week I went to the Optician’s. I was there over two hours and it had all been a bit of a palaver. I got through the bit where I would usually ask B’s opinion as to which frames I should choose (generally, he wasn’t usually much help, anyway!) and, in the end, frames were chosen and the measurements taken for the lenses, etc. I then travelled home on the bus and sitting there caught myself thinking ‘wait ‘til I get home and tell B all about this’… then it hit me again.

It seems as though every part of my life is affected by B’s death. Visiting places I have shared with B brings back memories, sometimes they make me happy, sometimes sad; visiting places I haven’t been to with B just remind me that he is not here to share this new experience; I watch a serial on tv and wonder how it is possible that he did not get to see the conclusion; even driving along roads that we previously travelled together can remind me of him and that he won’t be travelling them again! I’m aware that this probably all sounds melodramatic but for me, at the moment, it is just how life is. I don't seem to have any control over it. Don’t get me wrong, I can feel happy and have a laugh, but the sadness is never far away…