Just heard the beginning of a documentary on BBC about the second world war, and 'one of the greatest battles in the history ....' somewhere in the Pacofic Ocean. Well, it made me angry. What's great about a battle? What's great about a lot of conscientious people slaughtering each other? The greatest battles that I can think of are fought in private, and we can read about them and talk to the people fighting them every day on here. Everyone on here, patients and carers, those terminal and those recovering, and those hoping and facing fears every day, and doing it cheerfully, or at least with dignity. There are those who help, those who listen, those who joke - even those who complain - all make up a great community of people facing an unrelenting enemy. Markus's words were 'I can't say I'm glad to have cancer, but I am grateful for the opportunities it has brought me to have contact with such great people'.
IT's nearly a month since Markus went. The weeks and days before his death were so stressful that at first I only felt relief that he had died, that he was no longer suffering, that I no longer had to spend every minute watching over him.
Yes, I cried, but it was half relief, and I felt a freak, I almost felt I was putting on a show. I can't remember a great deal about the week following - just the funeral arrangements, and making nice pictures (from his own photos) to use for the necessary cards here. And having to decide on the spot if I was going to be buried or cremated - you have to say how deep you want a grave dug here (it has to be twice as deep if you want to be buried and join your spouse at some later date). So I'll be cremated, and then you don't have to have such a deep grave. Actually, I'd rather have had Markus cremated and part of his ashes strewn in England, where he so badly wanted to go. But it's not allowed to spread ashes here.
So, we had a burial, with all the Austrian trimmings of huge wreaths and loads of flowers, and a non religious celebration where his uncle spoke, then a friend played the fiddle, then another friend related all the anecdotes that his friends and relatives had collected - including Mark Twain's quote - 'It's easy to give up smoking, I've done it many times '. Markus would have like that. It ended with more fiddle playing - and a cousin singing a specially composed text to a Paul Simon melody. It was actually a pleasant occasion, and the only funeral of someone close to me where I haven't howled like a banshee the whole way through.
I was very good, and followed most of the Austrian customs, though I refused to throw a shovel of earth at my husband when they lowered him into the ground. I threw a rose instead. I only ever threw a coffee cup at him in life, I wasn't going to change that!
Markus would have loved the get-together that followed. And it was in his honour. I left after about 4 hours, I was tired and couldn't face any more relatives. So I went back tio my empty home and my cats.
Hope no-one minds if I do my 'working through' of the whole business on here. You don't have to read it, but I need to write it; I need to get myself organised and make some form out of the whole business.
But that's enough for tonight.
