This is life (after passing of DH)

[Hisredipad]

I spent a while searching for a post to join in but didn’t find anything like I wanted.

I just want somewhere to pop daily and say things I can’t say IRL.

fell free to join me

today was our big anniversary and im feeling sad he’s not here to celebrate it with but I bought myself something I saw yesterday im sure he would have bought me. Bizarrely opened a drawer just a moment ago and found last year’s anniversary card and the sweet words he’d written.

Happy anniversary DH, xx years were the best ever xxxxx

It feels like there has been many chapters over the last nine weeks...there is 'the before', when we had no idea he was ill at all, the 'second chance' - this was when we knew he had a brain tumour and we were waiting (12 days) for his op. Our biggest concern at this time was that he would have cancer and how we would get through that. There was so much love during this time as we genuinely thought we were going to lose him the first night and he bounced right back and therefore felt like we had been given a second chance. Then there was 'the wait' after his op when he was effectively in a coma for 23 days and we didn't know what the outcome would be. Then the 'hell' stage between him dying and the funeral. I guess Tuesday will be the beginning of the next chapter...no idea what that stage will look like and that's utterly terrifying.

Oh @ByHisSideAlways I found the thought of after the funeral terrifying too.
At the moment for me it looks like sorting out so much paperwork, incredible tiredness and an incredible yearning for him and deep deep sadness. I just want him
back as simple as that. And I can’t understand how he can just disappear from my life. But we all react differently.
The thought of a future is impossible so I’m not thinking of one. Just day by day being the best mother I can be to my neurodivergent teenager (not great to be honest).
I’m sending hugs for tomorrow and will be thinking of you.

It's a cliché, but you just take it minute by minute.

I recall just aiming to organise the funeral and then to get through the funeral. After that? A lot of it is a blank. All you can do is hang in there.

The people who helped me the most were other widows - they were the only ones who really understood.

Approaching 7 months since the funeral and im not sure how I got here. One day at a time with a lot of scraps of paper with Notes for each day of the week spread across the breakfast bar were definitely the early days.

A highlighter pen next to the scraps of paper to highlight anything I mustn’t forget like having my eye operation.

I remember there being a time when I actually had no idea which day of the week it was and I would have to look on my phone constantly.

I also had a notebook that I kept in my bag with a pen attached to it which was handy and then when a job was completed I would rip that page out.

I also found that I would lurch dramatically from being able to function to not being able to function. Sometimes I would have a few good days and I would think oh that’s good I’m getting better and then for no apparent reason everything would just go dramatically downhill and I’d sit on the sofa for days.

I remember promising a friend that if I sat on the sofa for more than a week then I would go to the GP. I did suffer with horrendous fatigue from time to time, but I think this went hand in hand with The 3+ months of trauma that I went through prior to DH’s passing.

I think my advice would be you just have to be ultra nice to yourself and if it all possible allow your body and your mind the time it needs to recover. I think regardless of whether you knew it was coming or not, it’s a monumental shock, and of course the one person who you would rely on to chat things over with and help make it better it’s no longer there to support you.

im about halfway through the madness of grief now and although some of it strikes me as being much like my own experience, I thought I would get something out of it but I’m not sure I am. There’s been some bits I’ve skipped as I felt it was a bit triggering. I’m not sure I’ll finish it.

I'm sure your tucked up in bed now @ByHisSideAlways but I wanted to wish you well too for tomorrow.
I hope you have lots of support around you.
Huge virtual hugs to you from a kindred spirit.

Yes, I think you’re right about it being other widows being the people that help you most. My friend went through it about six years ago and she’s the only one really who’s made any sense of anything - and those of us here. (my parents are both still alive although getting on in years and my mum keeps telling me she understands, and I have to keep telling myself not to tell her to shut up because the reality is she hasn’t got a clue).

Just remembering this poem which I came across just after my wife died and seems to sum things up pretty well

Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass

You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.

He couldn't risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she'd just popped out to get the tea.

I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven't both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call.

Tony Harrison

Beautiful @Emptyandsad .

Resonates with me so much as I put DH’s hat and a pair of his shoes back near the hatstand that is next to the front door recently (mainly as a security thing) and I sometimes wonder if when an unknown caller is at the door will I shout out ‘DH do we need x?” as they will be non the wiser he has passed away and I am alone.

i’m having some anxiety issues about living alone due to recent intruder at a neighbours house where they were in the house and the intruder carried on trying to get in whilst they were stood looking at him. I’m currently waiting on an Amazon order with all sorts of devices to attach to doors and link to my Alexa, so I’ve made it look as if DH’s alive and here (but I can see me scurrying around hiding them when the family comes to visit). Xxx

I feel fine today so I think I was just run down and fortunately have avoided Covid thank goodness.

I can't remember whether I said on here: DH's voice was on our answer phone and I accidentally deleted it. I was distraught.

I had a minor problem with the bill - I'd accidentally removed the BT answer service (with generic voice) online. This was many months later. A very helpful young woman put me through to tech support.

I got another young woman. I explained that I had widow brain, hence the online deletion of the answer service. She told me she would see what she could do.

After a couple of minutes she told me that the service was reinstated "and I can hear a gentleman's voice...Could you use your mobile phone to ring your home phone and check?"

Yup. She'd got the recording back for me. No idea how. A backup somewhere in the depths of BT?

I used my laptop to record that and I've left DH's voice on the answerphone. Partly as a safety measure and partly just because.

Snap @Hisredipad .
I also keep a couple of DH's jackets hanging in the hallway by the front door for the very same reason - though, in reality, if an axe murderer is close enough to suss out that they're men's jackets, it's too late - they're in! - but it makes me feel better if I don't overthink it.

My next door neighbours (father and son), recently found some random chap fast asleep in front of my garage door one morning.
After they woke him up he just got up ran off without speaking to them - neighbour said he then saw him meet up, further down the lane, with a dishevelled young woman - "probably a drug dealer" was his take on the matter.

I contemplated security cameras etc etc after that incident but then thought about all the folk I see posting on our local town Facebook page asking "does anyone know who this is?" and showing film of random people doing odd things around their homes in the wee small hours.

I came to the conclusion that sometimes, ignorance is bliss!

If you don't see it, you don't need to worry about it, and, realistically, if you do see it, other than phoning the police, there's not much else to do - unless, of course, you have a black belt in Taekwondo!

A dog is the best burglar deterrent IMHO.

That's lovely @WearyAuldWumman , that the BT operator found your DH's voice recording.
I can well imagine how devastating that loss would be for you.
Sadly I have no voice recordings of DH which is particularly sad as he had a lovely voice.
I lost all of his text messages, bar 1, when I dropped my very old mobile and broke it.

Another thing, I find strange is, since he died, I haven't had a single dream about him. Considering he's in my thoughts daily, I find it very odd.

Lovely poem @Emptyandsad, heartbreaking, but so true.
It's surprising the random bits of stuff that assume huge importance in your life when you've been bereaved.
My oddest was a freezer bag, of all things, that DH had written the date on, in his terrible handwriting, 2 days before he died.
It became a much treasured item!
Grief truly does send you ever so slightly, mad.

@Wingedharpy ive got a stash of post it notes with things on I have no idea what they are but they are all DH’s handwriting and I can’t bear to be parted from them.
I have a drawer that used to hold his pants and socks and it’s full of just random bits of junk that was dh’s but occasionally I like to open it up and have a rifle through and then close it again

I still have the last shopping last she wrote, stuck to the door of the fridge, with all the ingredients for the Christmas cake she was going to make.

That's never going to get thrown away...

I’ve got random things in my bed with me that I’ve found and don’t want my son to mess with. It’s just those bits of him that I cling to for dear life. I’ve become like that with his family too although we don’t live very near.
I feel incredibly vulnerable. I feel I look it as if I’m stooped over and my skin is see through. Like part of me died too. I feel like I’d be so easy to rob or attack.
It is reassuring to read what you do and feel too.
That’s a lovely poem @Emptyandsad . I don’t know if I’ve said but while we were at the hospital my parents kindly cleaned the house and did all the washing - but that meant that there were no traces of his precious mess and no clothes smelling of him.

Oh, I'd had similar, @Sunshineandbluesky . I had put a washing on and the only clothes smelling of DH were what he was wearing and they were taken away with him.

I have a bottle of his aftershave that he'd left here so when I need to I spray that on a pillow when I'm going to bed. I have hardly anything of his, and a few more things that were connected to him, but few enough that I could literally list everything.

TBH @atiaofthejulii we really don't "need" anything tangible to remind us of our loved ones.
The memories are all in our minds and are with us wherever we go - forever.
We just cling on to the random bits because what else have we got?

DH's funeral was yesterday, it all went to plan and was truly beautiful. We had a piper and DH's uncle took the service, his cousin did a reading and his brother said a beautiful tribute to him. There was probably around 400 people there, he was so well thought of and everyone around him adored him.
I thought going to see him on Sunday and then everything that happened yesterday would make this feel more real but it doesn't. In fact it feels even more like I am watching someone else's life unfold and not mine.
Today I have kept myself busy which has worked. I haven't thought of anything else but DH since he became unwell but keeping busy has allowed me not to be consumed by it all. I am exhausted though and full burnout is close but I am terrified to stop, even now at 11.15pm I'm making a pot of soup because I'm scared to go to bed in case the lid comes off the pot I am trying so hard to keep on.

This is all very outing but I don't care, I'll never shy away from my love or grief for my wonderful husband

I can relate to this in so many ways @ByHisSideAlways .
The feeling that you're looking down on someone else's life, not yours, and taking a peek.
You know, I know, we all know, keeping busy is a diversional tactic to steer us away from thinking about the unthinkable.
That's OK.
It will enter your consciousness, bit by bit, and, unbelievable as this sounds, you do learn to live alongside it.
What you arranged for your husband sounds truly awesome - you did him proud.

Thank you @Wingedharpy I really hope we did do him proud. We hadn't really discussed what we wanted at the end of our lives (we're in our 30s so we shouldn't need to have those conversations) so I had to make it up as I went along and I hope he was happy with it. I thought It was beautiful. He loved his garden so we gave out forget me not seeds at the end of the service for people to plant in their own gardens and remember him. There was lots of food - sausage rolls, amazing cream cakes and Haribo on all the tables - which I'm sure he would have appreciated.
I felt so alone yesterday. There was so many people there comforting me, hugging me and saying so many wonderful things about me and DH. But none of it means anything. There is no one in this entire world that can / will ever bring me any comfort. I just want him. He was the first and only person who understood me. Even if he didn't really understand me he tried his best and made me feel like he understood. He made me feel so safe in a way I have never felt before and he gave me so much love when I genuinely thought I would never be loved.

I still keep thinking he is coming home soon. I know he's not but my brain is not letting me accept that. Although DH was very ill in hospital and the idea of him dying had been something I had considered it all happened so quickly. Then afterwards lots of family visited and I've been dealing with the funeral and it took up a lot of time and energy and I genuinely haven't thought any further forward which is totally fine I know but I guess I just feel a bit lost.

I'm glad that things went to plan at the funeral, @ByHisSideAlways , but so very sorry that you've had to go through this at such a young age.

Bless you @ByHisSideAlways .
Not surprising you feel lost.
You are lost - someone pulled the rug from under you and it feels like you're trying to rebuild your foundations on quicksand.
You are so, so right.
You should not have to experience this agony in your 30's - but, as we know only too well, life is just so bloody unfair.

@ByHisSideAlways , I am pleased your DH’s funeral went well.

My DH’s went in a blur but I was pleased with it, well as much as you can be in the circumstances. I too didn’t sleep, I had a house full and all I wanted to do was dejunk my wardrobe, I crept about a bit and ate snacks with the dogs. I then had huge gusto moments during the following months of doing things but then slumped on the sofa for a fair bit too, and life ever since has been a yo-yo of doing stuff and not doing stuff. (Currently I am appraising duvets in the loft, and in a fit of despair launched most of them all into the back of the car to go to the tip).

i finished Rev Richard Cole’s book today, and ….., well ….., yes it’s sad, yes a fair bit resonates but I didn’t find what I thought I’d find in it. Not that I know what I am looking for. TBH I got more out of @Emptyandsad ’s poem, anyway a good friend who I thought might have read it as she reads lots and lots of all types of things (some of which surprises me) hasn’t read it so I’m sending it her way tomorrow and then we can have a good discussion about it over lunch sometime.

I walked the dog today, across the fields where DH and I used to walk with all the dogs we’ve had. I’ve been mulling the fact I haven’t seen a Robbin for a few weeks I think. So I had a little chat in my head with DH and asked him where he was and hoped he was abroad in a place I know he’d definitely check in on and that he was OK. And as I came up out of the field and towards the kissing gate that leads to the lane there all fat and healthily round like the ones you see on a lovely Christmas card was a Robin whom I could almost touch before he flew away.

@ByHisSideAlways i think to feel lost is a big part of the process of grief, everything we normally do is just ripped apart that it takes an enormous amount of brain space to make sense of it. Normally we can sort things out, juggle things around, make things right. There’s no making things right when you lose the one you love so much and especially at such a young age is so cruel.

I was fortunate that DH and I had many years of knowing what was coming and we did occasionally talk about my life without him (although there was a time when I may have gone first). He was a warrior of his disease and a brave research patient whose ‘testing out various drugs’ kept him alive for many years more than he may had had without. But even so I’d not really thought about being on my own that much. In my head he’s still in hospital somewhere waiting for me to go see him and bring him home, although he actually is, except he’s residing in the sideboard and not on his prized sofa.

life will continue to be a blur for sometime I expect, you go through the motions of life without actually being aware you’re doing them. I find it extremely bizarre at how quickly Friday’s seem to come round. The only advice I can offer is to make sure you eat and drink as properly as you can (I resorted to a lot of frozen Cook meals from the garden centre with huge helping of vegetables, but not potatoes because I’m not fussed by potatoes). Be kind to yourself and allow others to be kind to you.

thinking of you, and all of us, sending big virtual hugs xxxxx

And my final thought for my very late night …..

(if you’ve read Rev Cole’s book), I thought it extremely sad that although together they were obviously quite apart. Me and DH basically lived blissfully in each others pockets, all day, every day - well except for the days when he was on the golf course and I was off doing my hobby thing but we always made it back to have lunch with each other and a cuppa ‘on the north terrace’ in summer (a posh name for a tiny patio with a cafe set at the end of a very small garden), or snuggled under soft blankets on the sofa in winter.