It is nine months since I lost my husband to cancer. My husband had a brain tumor which turned out to be Grade 4 Glioblastoma. He took on board as much treatment as he possibly could, and in his own way, he lived his life as fully as he could. I am proud of him for how he handled himself - by never driving a car after his first seizure, by bravely facing up to his de-bulking surgery, radiotherapy and chemotherapy and coping with not being your best self anymore. We were married for 20 years and have a family. When he passed, my husband was two days short of surviving 1 year from his initial diagnosis.
I haven't been able to cry. I don't know why. Considering I lost my husband and soul mate it should warrant many tears. I thought a good long cry would be something I would do regularly, but it's not the case. During the past 9 months I've been through a lot but I feel like I'm still early in my grief. I spent probably 7 or 8 months keeping myself busy and distracting myself from grief. I did this by being supportive to our kids, arranging a funeral, administering an estate, buying a house, moving house and the various DIY tasks that follow. After I moved, and people were asking if I'd "settled in" well of course I have? So why don't I feel like I can "switch off" at the weekend and put on films all day like everything else doesn't matter? Why can't I feel like I did before the Cancer diagnosis? Why do I feel like I only operate at 80% when I'm at work and I'm really trying? It got to a point where I told myself to stop. Stop distracting myself with a never-ending list of household projects, which have no urgency. Stop. Slow Down. Take it in. Be where I am. Try to be content. (If I'm honest, to some degree - I'm still distracting myself.)
During the last 9 months - initially, I went around and around in my head the chain of events that happened during the last 2-3 weeks of his life. Seeing him poorly, getting weaker, feeling a bit better, poorly again, not getting out of bed, me willing him - begging him to eat something - anything, visits from nurses, chasing prescriptions, doctors, going to hospital and his final days. I thought about him and what he was going through and whether I could have done anything differently - would it have improved the outcome? I couldn't have done anything for his decline. I could have tried harder to make him feel better though it was very difficult for me to be more supportive, because we both were emotionally and physically exhausted. He always wanted more from me - more time with me - more of me. I felt like I was the only one he turned to for support. Other people said and it's probably true - it was because he trusted me the most.
Ever since his diagnosis, when we were alone, our conversations were about the treatment, next steps, how long left, declining health, his final wishes and dying. He signed a respect form, reflecting his wishes of not wanting to be resuscitated. We would discuss, debate, argue, be negative and be positive on a daily basis. He was on his own through the day when I was at work and the kids were at college/uni. He was well read on brain tumors, treatment, life expectancy, the end stages. As a result I also read about these things (to some extent) so I could keep up with him during these afternoon discussions. It brought me to the Macmillan forums which were a great support for me. He was understandably depressed. He could say the nastiest things or the most uplifting things and I couldn't be sure what I'd be walking into. Most nights - at his request - I would take him out to see our friends, and that gave us both some respite from the cancer and reminded us that there were other people with other problems, too. The cancer aged him fast and other people would notice it more than myself who was with him every day. By the time of his passing he looked at least 10 years older than the man who was diagnosed. Some people shied away from us while others seemed to get it - that he wanted to be able to talk about the terminal cancer - but still be treated like a normal person. Connecting with other people when going through cancer is such a powerful thing. They were great emotional support. We made memories.
My sister-in-law suggested that we video my husband saying messages for the kids' future milestones - 21st birthdays, weddings, etc. He thought about it and we discussed it at the time. He never wanted to do that because it didn't feel right for him. In part it was because he didn't want to be remembered on a video for being the poorly version of him.
For a long time I didn't want to talk about his funeral, after the funeral, or what to do with his possessions. It was that way all through our marriage and his previous health issues like heart disease, stents, and 2 major operations, but when the palliative nurse told us he was in his last 3 months, I was willing to have those conversations. I saw the hurt and I think it made him feel worse when I was willing to listen to his wishes because he knew - that I knew -his death was close. Much closer than either of us wanted it to be. Although I tried, I couldn't really get him to reminisce about the best bits of our time together. None of what happened before mattered to him at the time, because he was faced with the overwhelming realization that he was terminally ill and wouldn't be part of our lives for much longer. One day he asked me whether I have any questions for him, because he wouldn't be around much longer to be able to answer them. I couldn't think of anything to ask him - at least not anything that mattered in that moment. If he asked me now, I still don't know what I would say. I tried my best to reassure him that I would look after our kids and that we would be okay. I didn't want him to worry about us. But I felt like I didn't want to go into too much detail about our what our future plans might be without him because I didn't want to be beheld to keep promises to someone who wouldn't be here. I don't know if that was selfish of me but I didn't want to lie to him or make up a story, knowing that I wouldn't be able to make any of those decisions until after he passed.
I still love him and miss him very much. I am not a "supernatural" person - I believe in God and Heaven. Although on a couple occasions I believe there were signs that he was sending me messages from beyond. An obscure song we both liked started playing when I walked into a supermarket right in front of a wall of flowers. The heating, which we had argued about - staying on all day long to 24 degrees on what would have been our 21st anniversary due to a mysterious "RF error" on the thermostat. "I don't wanna miss a thing" starting automatically on Alexa.
This weekend I looked for every poem he wrote me before we got married. I had remembered how a few years ago, he had commented how I never kept his poems but I assured him I did - though I didn't do anything with the poems at the time. Now I have put the poems in the cloud so I'm less likely to lose them. Just before the cancer diagnosis I had started taking up scrap-booking which involves putting together an album of select pictures, and journalling - with written notes about what you're doing at the time. I was documenting recent events and only about five pages in when the Cancer diagnosis came, which put my new scrap-booking hobby to a halt. Now I'm in two minds on whether it will be a good idea to scrapbook our time together for our legacy, or am I obsessed with my husband who is no longer here?
