It's 3 months since my lovely man died. Sometimes, it feels like yesterday & at other times, it feels like ages. The emotions swirl around and I switch from sadness to anger to guilt to misery. Some of the really gut-wrenching crucifying eviscerating pain has deadened but it wouldn't surprise me if it came swirling back like a whirling dervish and smacked me in the guts.
I know he is dead. I've visited his grave often enough, but still the tricksy little brain says, 'Perhaps he's gone away and he really is going to walk in the door at any moment and everything will be ok again.' No chance. Not one. Who are you kidding, brain? He is no more. Get a grip.
The reality of what that means is slowly starting to sink in. Think I've been numb for a long time. I see couples holding hands, reaching out and touching. I see men at the supermarket helping with the shopping. I see couples arm in arm. There are constant reminders of what it is to be a couple. And that has gone for me.
I go home and the house is empty. The clock ticks very loudly in the kitchen.
'How are you coping? At least you have the dog." Excuse me? I have a list of totally inappropriate things people say. Yes, I know. They are trying. It's very difficult for them. Stand in my shoes and talk about difficult, though.
Anti-depressants? Chuck 'em away. There is only one way to deal with this. You just have to go through it, and work through it, take your time and GRIEVE. Nobody can do it for you.
Friends? Well, I am learning. Some are great, worth treasuring. There are new friends too, who are prepared to bear witness, stand by me, listen, allow me to rabbit on about my man, cry etc. And I do realise, friends are the most important people to me. I need to look after them. I've noticed some of them are more careful with their partners, some are actually doing what they've promised themselves for a while, really Seizing the Day. So maybe that's my man's gift to them. Maybe they are learning too.
Family? Hmm. My kids are lovely, but other family members have disappointed me. 'Oh sorry we haven't been in touch for a while.' Yeah - like since the funeral. What do you imagine I've been doing? Having fun?
'You need to hold on to the good memories.' Well yes, but in order to get to those good memories I have a backlog of absolute s**t to work through. The diagnosis (just under a year ago), the never-ending treatment - chemotherapy, radiotherapy etc etc - with all its memories and last of all, the last 3 weeks in the hospice. And God help me, I wonder how it is possible to ever lose some of those memories. The misery, the pain, the helplessness etc
Now don't get me wrong, I have good moments. I joined a choir and actually found myself enjoying singing. I am planning for the long dark nights of winter, trying to put in place things to get me through all that. I have to try, to go through the motions, to pretend until one day, a very long way down the line, I may find I am actually living a life of my own and it's not too bad.
But the feeling of half of me being amputated is ever present. How can I be whole again when I have lost that part of me which is so entwined within my own being? My soul-mate, my best friend, the father of my kids, my mentor, my rock, my lover........
Ah but Life is cruel. And I STILL HATE CANCER.
Today I went to my doctor and they had no record of my appointment. No problem - they saw me, BUT the flipping NHS and all its inadequacies & incompetence drives me crazy. Particularly when I think of what my man went through. There are still a few people I would line up against a wall and shoot. (Tut - where is my compassion?)
So there we are. Bumbling along but still here. A crazy mixed-up old bat who is trying to stand up for herself and make her presence felt on this planet but finding it a bit of a challenge.
Little Jen
