The Grieving Jester

This is probably going to be long, so you might need a cup of tea, or something similar… You can probably guess what I’m going to say next. How can it possibly be 9 months since B died? In truth, it doesn’t feel much different to last month, except that his loss has recently hit me like a ton of bricks, again. In addition, though, today is the birthday of a dear friend of both B’s and mine who died very recently, so that adds another level of poignancy to the day. I am aware that, for some reason, I have been sighing a lot this week and saying ‘oh dear’, sometimes in my head, sometimes out loud. I’m not entirely sure why, except that I think the loss of my friend has added another layer of grief, but one that I’m not sure I can access at the moment as it is overshadowed by my existing grief. Furthermore, I also feel for his family who are now experiencing something akin to the loss I have been feeling. Nobody wants this!  I have been contemplating how losing somebody close is not j...

I’m back, Jester, my author’s grief. Well, actually, I hadn’t gone away, I’ve just been lurking in the background a bit more but, this week, I thought I would shove my face right into my author’s, again. Ha ha! I think she thought that things were improving, that I was damping down a bit, so I thought, “ right, I’ll show her ”. She was actually looking forward to this week, as she had several things lined up. She met with various friends on several occasions, as well as visiting two exhibitions, all of which she enjoyed, but in doing this I just reminded her that life isn’t ‘normal’. Not that she really needed reminding, but I wanted her to know that she can’t just block me out. I let her have a nice time with her friends, but then I just hit her in the face with it, B isn’t here and he’s not coming back. It’s so easy, but she just wasn’t expecting it. She’d have a nice time but then get home and just cry. No rhyme or reason that she could see, except that I can just be cruel. I just m...

A week ago, I was in the bath listening to ‘Today’, on Radio 4, when a piece about chatting to strangers on a train came up. They said that, according to scientists at the University of Chicago, proper, profound conversations with strangers are not as awkward as one might imagine, that they can be deep and meaningful, and those involved can feel better for them. A reporter went out to test this and, indeed, had a meaningful conversation with people he hadn’t met before. Lying in the bath, this brought tears to my eyes. Why? I think, because it was about the need to tell one’s story, and this is something that I can understand in my grief. It reminded me that, after I ceased being a Community Palliative Care Clinical Nurse Specialist, I had reflected upon what I had been doing for all those years in my job and that I had come to the conclusion that I‘d been listening to people’s stories. I would go into a person’s home as a stranger and I would leave having heard, at least part of, thei...

I am not a winter person, and I have started to dread the darker evenings. Not because they are dark, but because, even now, the shorter days are making me think about those days when B was ill, and I’m realising that I associate those short, dark days with his illness and the end of his life. So, I am trying to make sure that I have things to occupy me through the winter months, and I am trying not to think too much about those dates coming up, what would have been our silver wedding anniversary, Christmas, and the anniversary of B’s death. B was hot-bodied, whereas I feel the cold. In bed in the winter, B would only want a light quilt over him, whereas I would need the quilt plus a couple of blankets or fleeces. The heat would radiate off him, whereas I could have the thickest of nighties on, plus woolly socks, and still feel cold. When I had cold feet, which wasn’t infrequently, he would let me warm them up on him, mostly uncomplainingly. It would, though, sometimes shock him just...