Everyone’s support troubles thoughts and honesty it does help you know it’s not just you feeling so low…

That’s one of the hardest parts, when you think they are going to walk through the door. It is the intensity and realisation that they are not. It is horrible, and very upsetting. I am eleven months in, and still get this occasionally. No where near as often though. It is more the pain of him not being there at bedtime, or sitting out in the garden, or walking our border collie, or going down the pub, or cooking a meal. Everything really. I am finding that I get longer periods of time when life is easier. Thank goodness, as I would probably be nuts by now. Kate. Xxx

I hate that feeling, when you think they are going to walk through the door. Is so strange ,part of you knows but another part thinks that. I have had it a few times recently.  Well let's face it I hate everything on this path. 

Today I had an act of kindness. I had to go to another town,one I had not been to since Sue got diagnosed.  So it was out of my comfort zone. 

  I went past a jewellers, where I got Sue some nice things from. I stood and looked in the window, and the tears began to flow.  I managed to get to the bank( yes they still have one). I just broke down, so they kindly took into a room and let me stay there to I was better. Poor lass must have wondered what was going on. I explained, she didn't say anything daft just took me to the room. Which I thought was nice. One day the memories at the jewellers will be happy ones. 22 weeks and the waves still hit.

Hi there, I am so sorry you are going through this terrible devastation. It is heartbreaking to hear, but it is the truth. This is what it feels like at times, and the ones on here feel the same. I had a moment today at tea time, where I nearly had a panic attack at home. It was a flashback to July last year, when he was really poorly, and knew he didn’t have long. He said to me, “You are everything, always remember that’. I just felt this terrible grief inside me, that just welled up inside of me.I can’t control it. I miss him so terribly, and I am crying now. Sorry. Kate. Xxx

Gosh, it sounds like some of us have had a bit of day today. I've spent most of it sobbing after i was hit with an unexpected shock wave of grief. I don't actually have the energy to write about it just now but wanted to send hugs to you and Ghostlovescore because I really felt for you with what you'd written, realising at least 3 of us and i know for sure more were not in a good way today, Isn't it just awful.

I always think how strange it is when complete strangers can be so kind to you, even more than people we know. That's happened twice to me, they're strangers I'll always remember for their one act of kindness which touched me.

Hugs to all, I know you need it x

On the strangers front, last month, probably the month before, time is skewed nowadays, I had a minor meltdown in front of the hummus in Sainsbury’s. 
Silent crying holding a tub of my beautiful Valen’s favourite, turning into shoulder heaving but still silent sobbing. 
A lovely lady worker came up to me, took the hummus out my hand, put her arm around me and just led me to the staff area without a word. Sat me down with a cup of water and some tissues and just held my hand until the moment passed. 
Then when I was calmer she asked if I wanted to tell her about it or not, if I didn’t want to. 
She was so lovely and I am so sorry that I couldn’t remember her name. 
I did write to the manager as she went beyond her duty.

That's so kind and her act of kindness made such a difference. 

Human compassion doesn't take much, just a little understanding. 

Dear Mrs VT,

You've made me laugh again - a minor meltdown in front of the hummus. You've captured the absurdity as well as the pain of grief, and how it ambushes us when we least expect it. I shall think of you now whenever I see hummus. 

The moment my husband took his last breath, his face turned yellow (I've since discovered that this isn't unusual when someone's heart stops). For me though, it was a powerful sign that my husband had gone. I've not been able to talk to him or think that he's going to walk through the door and in a way I saw this as his last gift to me because I can't delude myself that he is coming back or is 'somewhere'. Curiously, the time I miss him most is when I'm walking somewhere - to the shops or to the allotment - and I am acutely aware that I'm on my own when before he would be with me. It's not loneliness but aloneness.

The feeling of being alone, rather than lonely makes sense to me. I feel the same. I see the world differently now, and I seem to be on the edges of it. Engaging on a certain level, but not willing to go any further. With everything we have been through, it is not surprising. I am also very careful about who I spend time with. Self-preservation is a priority at the moment. Kate. Xxx