Many Community News readers may have followed Wee Mee’s story. Community Champion Wee Me has written several articles about her experiences as a carer for her husband, who was diagnosed with a Glioblastoma brain tumour in September 2020. In today’s blog, Wee Me is sharing a very personal look at her experience and thoughts about loss and bereavement.
“I have chosen to view life over the past nine months since G peacefully passed away as a time to heal rather than a time to grieve.”
It’s been a while since I last wrote a Community blog. The topic for this one has been on my mind for a while but I couldn’t find the right words to articulate my thoughts.
As many of you know, I supported my late husband G through the three years of his Glioblastoma journey. Any cancer journey is tough, but it is widely recognised that the Glioblastoma is one of the toughest for all involved.
Recently, while I was on holiday, the ‘hook’ for this blog struck me. Well, washed over me is a more accurate description.
Grief comes in waves. Hold that thought and bear with me here.
Loss and bereavement are very personal things and what I am about to say is my own personal approach. I do not mean to belittle anyone’s feelings and emotions here as we all cope with loss in our own ways. There really is no right or wrong way to approach it.
I have chosen to view life over the past nine months since G peacefully passed away as a time to heal rather than a time to grieve.
When you are supporting someone through a Glioblastoma journey, you lose them in waves. Some of these waves are little ripples; some of these waves are a tsunami. Others fall in between. Each wave steals a little bit more of the person from you. In reality, you grieve for the person with each and every one.
Between 26 August 2020, the date that G was first diagnosed with a primary brain tumour to the 27 October 2023 when he died, I grieved for him countless times.
On 4 September 2020, two days after our Silver Wedding Anniversary, as I listened to the neurosurgeon tell us that G had 18-24 months at best, the first wave of grief hit. It hit hard. Over the next twelve days, several other waves hit just as hard as he underwent surgery then suffered an infection that saw him re-admitted to hospital not far from death. On 16 September, we met with the neurosurgeon as a family and learned that he had revised the timeline to 12-15 months. Each wave stole a little bit more of G from me forever and even at that early date, the person who was left was not the man I had fallen in love with and married.
Over the next three years, there were countless waves. I don’t propose to list them all, but each one led me to grieve a little bit more each time as he was less and less there. One that did hit hard was the day he came in and asked me what my name was…
On 22 October 2023 “something” happened in the early hours of the morning (Stroke? Seizure? Who knows?) but what was left of G as we knew him by then was gone. Speech of any sort was gone. Movement was more or less gone. He was barely there. That wave hit hard, harder than I expected even though I thought I was braced for it. There were several more that week before he slipped away on the Friday afternoon. In all honesty, that one didn’t hit as hard as I thought it would. It washed in with a solid helping of relief. The journey and G’s suffering were finally over.
In fact, when my son and I left the hospice for the final time that evening, I commented “We don’t realise it yet, but we’ve just been set free.”
"Having spent three years going through “lasts”, this year has been about making it through the 'firsts'."
Over the three years, we had become prisoners of the whole Glioblastoma journey. As a family, we were mentally, physically and emotionally broken by it all and we still had the hardest part of the journey to face. We had to find a way to live on without G.
In those early days of grief and bereavement, I explored several forums about grief and loss but to be frank, found they weren’t for me.
I believe that you don’t “get over” someone you’ve loved dying. You don’t “move on” without them. You move on with them and the memories surrounding them (good and not so good) and step by step find your way through this new journey called life with them as a part of you.
The pain and hurt of grief need to heal so I personally have viewed myself as having been healing for the past nine months. Am I fully healed? Of course not! That’s going to take time and it’ll take as long as it takes. There are no timelines associated with healing.
Having spent three years going through “lasts”, this year has been about making it through the “firsts” and there are still a few tough ones to face. As each one passes though, I feel as if I heal just that little bit more.
"Each positive step that I have taken over the past nine months since G passed away, I have viewed as a healing wave."
I mentioned earlier in this blog that I have been away on holiday. Throughout G’s journey, one of the things that helped keep me going was watching sunrise on my favourite beach via the local webcam and thanks to Facebook live videos shared by some of the local photographers who I follow. I promised myself that once the time was right that I’d go back to that beach and sit on the sand and watch the sunrise in person.
I kept that promise to myself. In fact, I also tied it in with one of the “firsts” that I was dreading – my own birthday.
I’d never been on holiday alone before.
Each positive step that I have taken over the past nine months since G passed away, I have viewed as a healing wave. I’d get through each thing feeling a little stronger and a little bit more like me.
It took a lot of inner strength to actually go on that holiday (more than I’ve probably admitted to anyone) but I owed it to myself to go.
As I stood on the beach, watching the sunrise, with gentle ocean waves washing in over my bare feet, I knew I’d done the right thing. It felt good for my soul.
I get that not everyone is a beach lover or has the means to go on holiday but what I am trying to say here is that just as you found the strength to make it through your loved one’s journey with them, you’ll find the strength to keep going, taking their memories with you. All you need to find is the strength and courage and the right moment to take that first step into the waves.
We’d like to thank Wee Me for sharing their story with us on Community News and beautiful pictures from her holiday. If you are coping with grief at the moment, please remember there’s lots of support available. Macmillan has a webpage on mind-body therapies including mindfulness. Macmillan also has practical and emotional support around coping with bereavement.
If this would be the right type of support for you, the Online Community has a “Bereaved family and friends” forum and a “Bereaved spouses and partners” forum. These are safe places to talk to other people who may be going through a similar experience.
