At that afternoon tea...only attended as a last minute decision and really swayed by the picture of the scones with jam and cream on the invite ( yes, I really am that shallow) I suddenly found myself in the company of only one other 'wife' ( who is so lovely and we have kept in touch) the rest were all recently bereaved and were all widowed. I was wearing a red gilet and red shoes and carrying as always my red Cath Kidston bag and wondering if I was wearing too much red? Seems this was not so as the lady I sat next to was dressed , most fabulously , from top to toe in red . This lady said the words to me which have burned in my mind since, " I've been a widow for 9 weeks" . I was so utterly horrified at her words. With the realisation that I would one day be saying those same words. Those words filled me with fear , with horror, with a sense of unknowing what was ahead. I started to sob , I spent a lot of that afternoon sobbing. I really felt justified when I later found out we should not all have been in that mix together. It was an administrative error. It was wrong. However , good did come out of it, a bereavement group was set up from this event and whilst I haven't been , I did receive an invitation....along with my condolence card from them.
Today, I can say , with tears, with horror that I too, have been a widow for 9 weeks. I have not had a husband by my side for 9 whole weeks, for 63 whole days , for 2 months and 2 days. Neither Scott nor I liked the word widow. He would get very upset at the thought of me being one but hey...I get very upset at actually being one. Neither of us liked me being known as his carer. I was simply just his wife, someone who loved him so much that I would have done anything for him at anytime of day or night. Going from being that person who was constantly alert to pain , to distress, to difficulty breathing, eating, talking. To being the person administering medications , to monitoring their effects , their side effects. To being the keeper of the diary inside my head, knowing what, where , when
...and how we were going to get there. To being the writer of the journal. To being the person who would sit quietly , just happy to 'be with' . To being so focused on 'caring ' for Scott , as in caring and loving him .
Being a widow of 9 weeks means you no longer have to physically do any of these things. The challenge of having been so focused on one person for so long and then not having that person there is so difficult. The adjustment to a life of not having a husband with you is so hard. The ache of physically just missing their presence at your side, never being held again by them. Told and the telling of I love you's , which were said so very, very often. The busyness and the focus of a day consumed with making sure needs were met has just suddenly gone and as a widow of 9 weeks standing I am finding the lack of focus difficult to adjust to. There is just a vastness where that focus used to be , an empty space....within me and around me.
We still hoot with laughter, we constantly look through photos ( because that's all we have now, no more chances to do our 'selfie of the day ' , we started this in January when Scott's health was
declining.) , we still eat and I still cook for 5 ....I'm not really sure of portion size for 4 yet! We still smile and remember dad moments, we had so many. We still go about our everyday motions of work / university/ school and there is a constant sense of movement within our house as we are in and out doing these things. Walking dog , feeding dog, loving dog. He is less forlorn than he was but currently feeling sorry for himself with an ear infection and only putting up with ear drops for the treat he gets afterwards. Yet , above and beyond all these things we do , because we have to do them , we just all ache with missing . With missing my husband, my best friend , my children's father, my dog's daddy. We just miss him, the person he was, the laughter he created, the love he showed. It's a whole Scott sized space in our lives now. An awareness of this is where he should be but he isn't.
There is still horror in the mailbox ( there actually is...snails who eat letters and a cockroach on a letter the other week!) yesterday's mail left me so distressed and upset. Then , this morning I check and see if my email regarding this has been responded too and it hasn't and this causes distress to me....absolutely not to them. Some person, in the UK ...just doing their job , not feeling any sense of urgency or even downright manners in a need to reply. In the same mail, letters from our old hospital
asking Scott for a donation, asking me twice and then even asking the previous owner, who hasn't lived here for 6 years , for a donation. If I hadn't been so distressed from opening the first letter these ones might have been bearable. Again , I can appreciate that they are just computer generated but still difficult to get mail like this.
So, we continue on this new path of life, with its unknown twists and turns , bumps and hollows, corners and hills . A path not of our choosing. But a path we must make the most of ....because we can.
Just a quick Hello, mhags.
ReplyDeleteNot often able to lurk, read, post at present, but I do think of you all.
We breathe in, we exhale. We do it again, and again.
Somehow we go on.
Because we do, we think and we remember. These are still raw things sometimes, oftentimes, then - because we are still here - we can make ourselves bo another thing, walk round the block, lift our heads, look at changing clouds, pull a weed,say a new Hello to someone.
We on mse love your family, every part that you have so generously shared.