Time is healing me and I don't want it to

Hi Moondog,

Just stumbled across your reply and had to respond as it describes so exactly how I’m feeling. I’m nearly 5 months on from losing my husband and have been feeling like an absolute monster for my ability to carry on with life without feeling much of anything.

I think it’s partly a question of having to, as I have a 4 year old daughter and a very responsible job. But also, as you say, I think it’s my brain’s way of protecting me from unbearable pain.

I so understand how you feel. I lost my John on 28th August, 2018 after 36 years of marriage.  I went to the theatre with my daughter on Saturday night, really enjoyed it but when I got home to an empty house it reminded me of one of the last texts on his phone. It was to tell me to enjoy another night at the theatre that my daughter had booked for my birthday on the 17th September.  I just howled.   Like you I hate every day that takes me further away from him. People are full of well meaning advice about moving forward but how do you do that when you just dont want to be here anymore. His birthday is at the end of July and I am dreading it.  I was annoyed with him last year because he wouldn't say what he would like (of course we didn't know how ill he was then) I go over and over the stupid little things that irritated me. How I wish he would come back and annoy the hell out of me. I can't remember much of the last seven months.  I forget the names of common things.   I had to scan a document and send it as an email today and had to ask my son how to do it.  I just couldn't remember.  I've been binge watching "Angel" for days now as it helps to stop the thoughts racing around in my head.  

But that's an improvement because previously it didn't matter what was going on the events of the last six weeks before he passed replayed over and over in my head so I wasn't even aware of things going on around me.  I stayed overnight in the hospital and then in the hospice with him.  Thirteen hours a night only going home to feed the cat, grab a couple hours sleep then back up again.  I missed three nights, one to go to the show on my birthday (only because I didn't want to upset my daughter, and two nights when I had a stinking cold and a really bad cough which I didn't want to pass on to him.  He was never alone though as my son-in-law stayed.   He had over forty different visitors over that six weeks and yet I feel so guilty. 

I haven't been able to bring his ashes home either (my daughter has them).  Not because I don't want them here but he asked that they be scattered in Scarborough as we had happy memories there and I am scared I wont be able to do that if I bring them home because it will feel like loosing him all over again.  I feel so guilty about that too.

Sorry this has been so long I just wanted you to know what you are feeling is not strange or silly.  

 Hello Sandypops 

I’m so sorry to read your post – there is just too much sadness when it comes to cancer isn’t there? 

 I can well imagine the guilt you feel.   Not that there is any reason on earth you should feel guilty but I think it is just another way that grief hits us.    We all start thinking about What we could have said, should have said, should have done,  The “what ifs”  are endless and completely and utterly futile. Nothing we can do or say will change the past.   Beating ourselves up about everything serves no purpose but it is preferable, speaking personally, to the complete unadulterated grief. At least feeling guilty brings an element of reasoning into my thought processes. 

Your dilemma about Johns ashes is interesting. I promised Steve I would scatter his ashes in a local bluebell woods  when the bluebells were in full bloom. However, I didn’t promise him when I wouldo it. (That’s my loophole ). Of course at the time I had every intention of doing it in the first year Steve was dead – roundabout now to be honest , And I’m sure that’s what he envisaged to but I can’t bear to part with him. He is in a canister on my bedside table and I kiss it every night.  What I have decided to do is to keep hold of him until I have died. In my will I have stipulated that our ashes be mixed together And then sprinkled in the bluebell wood.  That brings me so much comfort because at least I know, as far as I possibly can know, that we will be together again at some point.  And, I am honouring his wishes – in my own time. ( If he was here  He would say “ no change there  )

 Take care 

Xx

Hi Ruth, thank you for your response.  I think what you have in mind for Steve's ashes is beautiful but I hope it's a very long time away.

Big hugs x

Sandra

Hi Ruth and all,

I think you have dealt with the question of what should happen with your husband's ashes beautifully. You respect his wishes and yet you are doing it in your own time and so that it feels right for you. I think that is really important. Because, yes, it is important to fullfil our loved ones last wish, but at the same time we have to keep in mind that we are the ones that have to live with it. So if we can find some way of fullfiling their wishes without making it unbearable for us that is the best thing. I remember the deep grief my grannie faced when my grand-dad passed away and his last wish had been to be cremated and to have his ashes in Braunschweig, a city quite far away from where they lived at the time, and my grannie knew that it would be very hard for her to visit him there, something that she really would have liked to do, however, she followed his wishes, was almost never able to go visit him and found that extremely difficult. The whole family, including myself, always used to say to her, "It is lovely of you that you want to respect his last wish. But you never thought of yourself. It wasn't kind of him to choose a place that you would never get to, and you are now the one who is left with the pain and even more grief because you can't go to him." So I would always say: Try and find a compromise that feels right for you.

As for the ashes, it's hard to know what to do for me. I have them here at home and for a long time it felt right to hold on to them, make Paul a safe home here at home... But now coming up to his first anniversary I think I am ready to scatter them. Paul was very connected with and in love with the earth. He would have loved to go back to the earth. I almost feel like I am keeping him caged or something like that, trapped somehow, as long as I keep him in this box.

Love, Mel.

Hello Mel

Hope you've had a good day.  The weather here (Nottingham) has been really wonderful and that always makes me feel a little better... I hope it does you too.

I think moving towards the scattering of Paul's ashes is incredibly brave, emotional, loving and generous of you.  You clearly knew him very well and speak so eloquently of him.  How brave was your Grandma to honour your Grandad's wish at some great cost (and loss) to her.

No doubt you have thought about what you might like to do for Paul, but just in case this hasn't popped onto your radar, near me is a humanist burial ground.  There is the option to have your loved ones ashes buried beneath a sapling tree.  I think that is such an amazing idea... as the tree grows the ashes become at one with it and of course you can always go and see it.  However I'm not sure this option is particularly widespread, geographically speaking, and it may be you don't want to be that far away from him.

Good luck making your decision.  Remember there's no rush..... it has to be when the time is right, and absolutely the right thing for you.  I'm sure Paul will understand if he is kept caged by your love for a little while longer.  In the meantime, take care of yourself

xxxx