Another lonely Sunday

Hi Mel!

You're definitely not alone with this. Don't know what it is about weekends for us bereaved individuals but the weekends seem to be the worst time. For me, there are no weekends anymore and the days just seem to morph into one another some days I just forget what day it actually is. Saturdays seem to have become a `child minding day` for me. I look after my little granddaughter sometimes on a regular basis on that day as my son gets the opportunity of regular overtime then and it is a regular shift day for my future daughter in law. Sundays are traditionally known as a `lazy day` but it's also a day when you sit and reflect and contemplate what the new week will bring. Weekdays now for me are the days when I try to get things done and try to be occupied when my husband was here we were hardly home always out doing something and I miss that and sometimes it's no fun trying to make the effort on your own but you just try to get up and do it. Sometimes it works and sometimes I just have no incentive to do anything at all but things do eventually get done. I'd love to take on some big major re decorating project to the house but I am still not in the right frame of mind to do that and when I want to do something like that I want to do it right and not just for the sake of getting it done. It will come eventually though but when is another thing. You don't say how long ago you lost your husband if it is just recent or not. I am 18 months in from losing mine. Still trying to find the `new me` after us being together for 40 years. She's in there somewhere but just very slowly but surely starting to make her way out. My best wishes to you in moving forward. Take Care. 

Vicky x

Hi Vicky, thanks for taking the time to respond.

It's 10 1/2 weeks since I lost my husband so early days I know. We were together all of the time, except when working, and I feel totally lost without him. It also happened too quickly, less than 4 weeks from diagnosis although he was suffering for a couple of months before that. Still too quick to take in though, I'm only 52 and I didn't expect to lose him. 

I am trying to keep busy but it's so hard and I struggle to imagine #(or want) a life without him by my side. We were so happy and it's so unfair. 

Thank you for your kind wishes, I wish you all the best too.

Mel 

Hi Mel,

Sorry you are struggling today. My experience was similar - a few innocuous seeming symptoms then a stage 4 cancer diagnosis and my husband died within a few weeks, before he was able to start treatment. I'm a similar age to you to, and it just doesn't feel real to be ticking 'widowed' in the endless admin. That was back in the spring, and I do remember that once the initial shock started to wear off, and the initial focus of managing the funeral etc was out of the way, the sense of being alone really kicked in. 

I actually think that the time of year doesn't help. On one hand, it seems like everyone is gearing up for celebrations and good times with family, which means you feel the loss extra hard. And it is also dark, cold and miserable. 

Yesterday was the winter solstice though, so I am taking comfort in the fact that we are past the darkest time of the year. We hear it all the time, but I think it really is true that you just have to take things a step at a time. Be proud of what you achieve each day - that might be making yourself go out for some fresh air, or eating something nourishing. These are all achievements in the early days of your grief. 

I know we are all different, but my experience is that things are becoming easier. I still cry at some point every day, and the pain can be physical, but I am also able to do things that I enjoy.

I've been reading a lot about grief and bereavement and one of the things that really hit home is that we tend to feel guilt when we enjoy things, as if that's a betrayal. But it's clear from the people posting here that we will never forget the love we have shared, or the people we have lost. It's all still very fresh for you, but I hope and believe that you will find that things get a bit less hard in time.

Take care. 

 Sandpiper , thank you for your reply.

In a way the dark and cold has seemed appropriate as it matched my mood.

The lead up to Christmas has been and still is really difficult though. As you say, everyone is jolly and looking forward to spending time with loved ones. I’m skipping it this year as I can’t face it. I’ve always loved Christmas. I’ll be spending it alone with my two furry boys. 

I really hope that the pain will ease in time as it’s all consuming at the moment.

Best wishes 

Mel

This week every day has been a Sunday.

The weather has made it so I can’t be bothered getting dressed to go out into freezing cold for any reason. 
Not even to mum round the corner. 
I’ve spoken to her and my sister daily, but not actually seen anyone for several days. 
I know that’s my fault as I could have wrapped up and gone out. But didn’t.  

The days have merged and today, or rather yesterday as it’s 2.30am, I got so angry doing sadmin. 
My beautiful Valen was a member of Unite. 
I finally got round to cancelling the direct debit and tried calling to inform them. 
I had got myself girded up and felt ready to say the words “has passed away”. 
I tried calling 4 different numbers for over 3 hours. 
I was getting annoyed. Then frustrated. Then downright angry as hell.

Then realised it was Saturday and they were open Monday to Friday. 
Which each of the 4 numbers had all informed me. 
It just hadn’t registered what day it was. 

So another Sunday. 
That’s another week without him. 
My beautiful Valen. 
So bloody unbearable.

xx

I made myself get up.

But for what?

Another day without my beautiful Valen.

Another reminder that we are not doing our usual Sunday routine together. 
No walk together along the prom. 
No Sunday market together.
No looking round charity shops together.
No Sunday cafe together. 
No being sous chef to him with his Sunday Curry. 
No deciding which film to settle down to watch, his choice one Sunday, mine the next and no dissing the others choice. 
No my getting the cheese and biscuits as he did the cooking. 

So just another day to cry and howl with my ache of loss.

I know that if I went for a walk my head would clear a little but it’s thick thick frost and -3.

So I can feel a spell of manic cleaning of an already clean home coming on.

I had a horrible day and night yesterday. I couldn’t stop crying. It went on for hours. My eyelids are so swollen and puffy, I look like an alien. As you mentioned before, I previously had had a couple of decent days. Seeing friend’s, social interaction, binge watchiing a new series and cleaning the cooker. Then it hit me, that he wasn’t coming back, ever. Obviously, I know that. It is just that sometimes, for a little while, I forget. It is as though I have just found out he has passed again. It is so so hard. I now have to pull myself out of it, and fake it until I make it. Sending hugs, Kate.xxx

That’s exactly it!

It’s as though every day he passes away again. 
But every day it’s like a bolt out of the blue!! 
Even though its been 15 weeks.

I guess one day I will accept / admit / believe it. 
I guess?

I got myself together and despite the frost done some washing. 
The sun is shining and it’s thawing. 
So I’m dressed and will go have lunch with mum. 
Only a short walk, but it’s fresh air and company.

A new way of doing Sundays

xx

Have a lovely day. I am going back to bed. Xxx

When I read your and Kates post it reminded me of one of those quotes I'd seen, something about grief being a shock every day, couldn't quite remember. Then I was scrolling through Facebook on my lonely Sunday and saw it, says it all think:

You Don’t Grieve Just Once

Grief isn’t a single moment. It doesn’t arrive, say its piece, and leave. Grief stays. It lingers in the quiet, waiting to remind you that love and loss are forever entwined.

You grieve not just once but every time you wake to another day without them. You feel it when a song plays, when a memory surfaces, when their favorite chair sits empty.

Grief doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it whispers softly, and other times, it crashes into you like a storm, taking your breath away. It’s a tidal wave that pulls you under just as you think you’ve found your footing.

There’s no “getting over” this kind of loss. There’s no final goodbye to the ache it brings. Instead, you learn to carry it—to live alongside the pain and let it shape who you are.

Be kind to yourself, and to others who carry this invisible weight. Grief is a journey that reshapes your world daily. It’s not about “moving on”; it’s about moving forward with the love that still remains.

You don’t grieve just once. You grieve every day, in moments big and small, for a lifetime.

Because love never dies—it simply takes on a different form.

For everyone navigating this storm: You are not alone.