Widowhood - eleven months on...

The main trouble with eleven months is that the next marker is twelve months, a year. ONE YEAR, but I will think about that next month! 

Does it feel any different to last month? Not really, if truth be told, except that what would have been our Silver Wedding Anniversary happened, and in three days it will be my first Christmas without B. The anticipation of these days is not good but, as yet, I don’t know how to avoid it. On the whole, though, the wedding anniversary was a good day, with a visit to the London Mithraeum (just because I haven’t been there before) and lunch in a special restaurant with friends, who are always good company. There were a few tears in the evening, but not many. I lit a candle and remembered, but I also read and did other things. I couldn’t bring myself to listen to the recording of our wedding, but I did so the next day and it brought back many happy memories, along with a few more tears. It’s the hymns, always the hymns, that set me off! Gratitude and sorrow walk alongside each other - we were so fortunate to have what we had.

And Christmas will be what it will be…

On the whole, I haven’t looked back on or thought about B’s illness and treatment too much. I find it doesn’t help. For some reason, though, at the moment, images of the radiotherapy department keep popping into my mind. At about this time in both 2020 and 2019, B was having radiotherapy treatment to prevent bone fractures and to reduce some of the bony pain he was experiencing and, pleased to say, it had the desired effect. These were actually the easiest appointments to attend, as the department was efficient and we only tended to be out of the house for two to three hours, so I don’t quite know why it should be these hospital visits that keep appearing in my mind. Perhaps, it’s because I remember the Christmas decorations being up in that underground space or, perhaps, it’s just the greyness and the winter light at this time of year that takes me back. So, it’s strange that it’s this image that should present itself in my mind, there are worse things to remember but, when it does appear, I just experience a little sensation of nausea.

In a different vein, I have now un-followed all the grief sites on Facebook. They have been helpful, but I am no longer gaining anything from them, and I did wonder if they could even be hampering me now. It is interesting what continues to pop up on my Facebook page, though. One post offered the opportunity to leave a tribute to a loved one who had died. I’m not sure why, perhaps the identification with others who are experiencing grief, but I had a quick look at some of the tributes. Generally, they were very moving and you could feel the love and loss behind them, but some made me feel sad in a different and unexpected way. They said things like ‘my heart will remain broken, until we meet again’ or ‘just passing the days until we can be together again’. I feel for these people; I understand how empty and dark life feels after the loss of a partner, but I also want to shout that my life won’t always be like this. I hope, for their sake, that I am further on in my grief than they are and that they may find some hope. Yes, there will always be a hole in my life without B, but I also want to live the rest of my life to the full without him, and I know, categorically, that that’s what he would want for me. What I have yet to do, though, is simply (!!) work out how to do it, and I realise that it might take me a little while to get there…