I heard "What becomes of the broken hearted?" by Jimmy Ruffin on the radio the other day and it set me wondering - what does become of the broken hearted? I have a particular interest in this one as I now consider myself to be in this category of people for the first time in my life having lost my best friend and soul mate. Now don't get me wrong, "What becomes of the broken hearted?" is a very good song, but if you look at the lyrics Jimmy poses a question that he never really bothers to answer which doesn't seem very fair. This set me wondering. What does become of the people whose hearts are broken by whatever event be it by bereavement, illness, divorce or just sheer meanness or nastiness on the part of their partner? There must be a lot of people in this category but they either must either adjust to their new state, hide their broken heart, harden themselves (which I think often happens) or just simply disappear under the carpet. Or perhaps they mend their broken heart somehow and go on to another wonderful relationship eventually. I do wonder which category I will be in but I think it is far too early to tell! Dave was very committed to me having another relationship - in fact so much so that he was eyeing up potential suitors for me on visits to the hospital and around our house when innocent tradesmen visited! I think he would have advertised and interviewed suitable candidates if time had been more on his side! But for me, although I recognise that I don't much fancy being on my own for the next 30+ years it is far too early in the process to even contemplate another relationship. I do find myself "window shopping" lonely hearts advertisements though which is extremely bizarre but unfortunately I think Dave would have to acknowledge that he has spoilt me for other men by doing such a good job of being a husband!
A short post this week as to tell you the truth I am completely and utterly knackered. And the awful thing is I am pretty certain I have not bottomed out yet in terms of upset. Nearly five months of grieving on top of looking after Dave for a very long while have nearly done me in. When I read a book a few months ago that contained advice for people whose partner had died, they said that in the first few months the best advice was to get up, get dressed, drink plenty of water, try to eat healthily and breathe. At the time I laughed at this advice and, I think, in retrospect, tried to do too much to prove this theory wrong (God knows why). I soon realised that this was actually very good, simple advice and adopted a new strategy. The new strategy was to do the above and to put "one foot in front of the other" and "one day at a time" (too cheesy for words). If I had a bad day I put it down to experience and made a fresh start the next day. In the last couple of weeks even putting one foot in front of the other has become tricky and, at times, a bridge too far. I feel like a Mini trying to tow a juggernaut. I would never have believed that one human being could get so tired but my homeopath and doctor do think it is just the grieving process combined with the shock of Dave's death on my body. We have agreed though that if it carries on for another couple of weeks the doctor will run some tests to eliminate nasties like thyroid troubles etc. but in the meantime it is time to try to chill out and relax. Easier said than done in the circumstances!
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Celebrations
And the news from York is (at the risk of boring you rigid) well it's still very tough!! Many ups and downs over the last couple of weeks.
Last Friday was a very special day as we had half of Dave's ashes interred at York Cemetery (the place where the funeral service was held). The other half of his ashes will be scattered later by Emma and I on a favourite walk in Swaledale. On Friday, a small group of family and friends attended at the cemetery. I created what turned out to be a very simple and quite moving ceremony and for the first time Emma let out a lot of her upset and emotion. Although this was very difficult at the time for her it was something that needed to happen as she has been so brave and strong ever since Dave died. I was also taken by surprise by the emotion and found myself shaking like a leaf in Sainsburys on the morning before the interrment and Emma and I had a terrible few days leading up to the event as well. I think it is something of a reality check to put your husband/father's remains in the ground. However, the love and support of the people who came to the ceremony made me feel like we were being wrapped in a warm blanket and I was very present to the love in our life.
The spot Emma chose for the interrment is beautiful as it is in the old Victorian part of the cemetery where all the graves are wild and overgrown. It is very peaceful and when you are there on your own all you can hear is bird song. In a couple of weeks a headstone will be placed on the plot. We did keep the ceremony very private due to the very public nature (and numbers) of the funeral but if any of you would like to go to visit the spot in the future please let me know.
After the ceremony we went back to the ever accommodating Rob and Tricia's for a barbecue. The weather was fabulous as I had hoped and we had a lovely evening although it has to be said there were a few sore heads the next day as some effort was put in to celebrating the occasion!
Sunday would have been our 23rd wedding anniversary. I found myself in the car thinking how strange it was that I was 23 when I got married and would have been married 23 years. This led me to wonder where I would be in the next 23 years at the age of 69 as so much has happened in the last 23 years. What could have been a very difficult day was averted by Julia taking Emma and I out to a country pub for dinner on a lovely summer's evening.
This week the main event for me has been going back to work on a part-time basis. In the last couple of weeks I have felt myself to be ready for a distraction from this grieving business although going back to work is still hard. I think for myself going back to work is hard because it is another sign of going back to "normal" life when absolutely nothing you have left in your life feels normal. It feels as if I have a huge rock in my chest just as I did in the first few weeks after Dave died and similarly I also have a big lump in my throat. And the sleepless nights are back with a vengeance - think I managed all of two hours last night! Still I hope that work will become a welcome diversion and a bit therapeutic as it was during much of Dave's illness - looks as though I just need to get through the pain barrier first.
A friend sent me an email the other day telling me about a programme on tv that Sheila Hancock did in the series "My life in poetry". I haven't managed to get time to see the actual programme on iplayer yet but I read an associated news article on the web. When referring to the death of her husband John Thaw, Sheila Hancock was saying that she got sick of people sending her cards saying that "he was just in the next room" when in fact she was clear that he was in fact stone dead! She said in the article about grieving something along the lines of the fact that grief doesn't get better, you just get better at dealing with it. From my experience so far this would appear to be the case. What I therefore need now is to work my way towards mastery but I won't be holding my breath, as I think this apparent merry-go-round could bamboozle me for some time yet!
Last Friday was a very special day as we had half of Dave's ashes interred at York Cemetery (the place where the funeral service was held). The other half of his ashes will be scattered later by Emma and I on a favourite walk in Swaledale. On Friday, a small group of family and friends attended at the cemetery. I created what turned out to be a very simple and quite moving ceremony and for the first time Emma let out a lot of her upset and emotion. Although this was very difficult at the time for her it was something that needed to happen as she has been so brave and strong ever since Dave died. I was also taken by surprise by the emotion and found myself shaking like a leaf in Sainsburys on the morning before the interrment and Emma and I had a terrible few days leading up to the event as well. I think it is something of a reality check to put your husband/father's remains in the ground. However, the love and support of the people who came to the ceremony made me feel like we were being wrapped in a warm blanket and I was very present to the love in our life.
The spot Emma chose for the interrment is beautiful as it is in the old Victorian part of the cemetery where all the graves are wild and overgrown. It is very peaceful and when you are there on your own all you can hear is bird song. In a couple of weeks a headstone will be placed on the plot. We did keep the ceremony very private due to the very public nature (and numbers) of the funeral but if any of you would like to go to visit the spot in the future please let me know.
After the ceremony we went back to the ever accommodating Rob and Tricia's for a barbecue. The weather was fabulous as I had hoped and we had a lovely evening although it has to be said there were a few sore heads the next day as some effort was put in to celebrating the occasion!
Sunday would have been our 23rd wedding anniversary. I found myself in the car thinking how strange it was that I was 23 when I got married and would have been married 23 years. This led me to wonder where I would be in the next 23 years at the age of 69 as so much has happened in the last 23 years. What could have been a very difficult day was averted by Julia taking Emma and I out to a country pub for dinner on a lovely summer's evening.
This week the main event for me has been going back to work on a part-time basis. In the last couple of weeks I have felt myself to be ready for a distraction from this grieving business although going back to work is still hard. I think for myself going back to work is hard because it is another sign of going back to "normal" life when absolutely nothing you have left in your life feels normal. It feels as if I have a huge rock in my chest just as I did in the first few weeks after Dave died and similarly I also have a big lump in my throat. And the sleepless nights are back with a vengeance - think I managed all of two hours last night! Still I hope that work will become a welcome diversion and a bit therapeutic as it was during much of Dave's illness - looks as though I just need to get through the pain barrier first.
A friend sent me an email the other day telling me about a programme on tv that Sheila Hancock did in the series "My life in poetry". I haven't managed to get time to see the actual programme on iplayer yet but I read an associated news article on the web. When referring to the death of her husband John Thaw, Sheila Hancock was saying that she got sick of people sending her cards saying that "he was just in the next room" when in fact she was clear that he was in fact stone dead! She said in the article about grieving something along the lines of the fact that grief doesn't get better, you just get better at dealing with it. From my experience so far this would appear to be the case. What I therefore need now is to work my way towards mastery but I won't be holding my breath, as I think this apparent merry-go-round could bamboozle me for some time yet!
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
An enquiry in to the usefulness of the male species.....
Before Dave died he wrote an A-Z of how to live your life for Emma and I and I was reading it just the other night. In the manual B is for boyfriends and discusses the male species in general. Dave said in the manual that "the thing about men and boyfriends is this: they can provide you with some of the things that your girl friends can't, and I don't just mean the obvious! Some of them know things about cars and boilers and plumbing, and decorating, and all that other useful stuff I ultimately was too bored to be good at." One of my missions over the last few weeks appears to have been to find out the hard way how true that is.
I have sometimes in the past (I am ashamed to admit)been quite disparaging at times of the male species especially with regard to the ability to multi-task. I have watched many females buzz around doing all number of tasks at the same time whilst observing the male of the household with a fixed gaze on the remote control concentrating on changing channels and at times have seen them struggle to drink a beer at the same time.
But in the last couple of weeks I have been forced to change my opinions and eat my words as I have discovered the problems of not having a ready male on tap!! And my extensive research has revealed that the men do come in very handy at times and as Dave says not just for the obvious. I have discovered that men are very useful when you need to accomplish the following tasks:
Moving furniture - after being nearly crushed to death by a bookcase I can confirm that another pair of hands and some brute strength are useful.
Hanging pictures on the wall. How do you do that when you only have one of hands? - it just doesn't work effectively as a solitary activity.
Using a drill - far too dangerous for most normal women to consider (and I used to be a feminist). If you do manage to drill a hole you can be sure it will be the wrong size and in the wrong place and you will have almost certainly fallen off the ladder.
Loading and unloading the cars for a trip to the dump. The dump is a smelly and unglamorous place and the recycling areas are always in the wrong order and it is ultimately very boring. And now it is very pc so you will be met with a glare any time you try to shove something in the "landfill" bin rather than recycling.
Unblocking the hoover pipe when you have managed to fill it with fluff from the new carpet you have just had laid and completely knackered both of your hoovers. Having to accost a passing Irsihman with the patience of a saint to undo all the damage you have managed to do.
Getting a chair out of the attic conversion knowing that it went in through the doorway when you moved in, but finding that it will now not come out and will definitely get stuck fast in the doorway. Embarrassingly the (male)carpet fitter got it out in 30 seonds flat after you have bemoaned the problem and told him you will have to saw the legs off.
Getting the lid off off a jar of jam. Are the French people at Bonne Maman sadistic?
Barbecuing - assembling the barbecue, cooking the food and cleaning the barbecue afterwards - all more suited to the hunter gatherer and the female of the species should just be tasked with drinking the Pimms.
Loading a holiday's worth of luggage in to a very small car boot. Much better to watch the male grapple with this one whilst standing by the car and offering advice. Also preferable for the male to herd all the luggage through the airport and off the baggage carousel whilst you complain how hot you are and drink your Evian.
Collapsing a table tennis table in Provence in order to put the cover on. This may just be me and Claire but it took half an hour and every ounce of our initiative when a random male could almost certainly have completed the task in two minutes flat.
So I feel I must apologise to all you lads out there - there are definitely times when you are very very useful! And your strategies for doing these types of things are far more effective then mine which tends to involve a lack of patience, ranting my bad temper and, if all else fails, crying and looking helpless. So is there anyone out there who wants to adopt a helpless female in York?
I have sometimes in the past (I am ashamed to admit)been quite disparaging at times of the male species especially with regard to the ability to multi-task. I have watched many females buzz around doing all number of tasks at the same time whilst observing the male of the household with a fixed gaze on the remote control concentrating on changing channels and at times have seen them struggle to drink a beer at the same time.
But in the last couple of weeks I have been forced to change my opinions and eat my words as I have discovered the problems of not having a ready male on tap!! And my extensive research has revealed that the men do come in very handy at times and as Dave says not just for the obvious. I have discovered that men are very useful when you need to accomplish the following tasks:
Moving furniture - after being nearly crushed to death by a bookcase I can confirm that another pair of hands and some brute strength are useful.
Hanging pictures on the wall. How do you do that when you only have one of hands? - it just doesn't work effectively as a solitary activity.
Using a drill - far too dangerous for most normal women to consider (and I used to be a feminist). If you do manage to drill a hole you can be sure it will be the wrong size and in the wrong place and you will have almost certainly fallen off the ladder.
Loading and unloading the cars for a trip to the dump. The dump is a smelly and unglamorous place and the recycling areas are always in the wrong order and it is ultimately very boring. And now it is very pc so you will be met with a glare any time you try to shove something in the "landfill" bin rather than recycling.
Unblocking the hoover pipe when you have managed to fill it with fluff from the new carpet you have just had laid and completely knackered both of your hoovers. Having to accost a passing Irsihman with the patience of a saint to undo all the damage you have managed to do.
Getting a chair out of the attic conversion knowing that it went in through the doorway when you moved in, but finding that it will now not come out and will definitely get stuck fast in the doorway. Embarrassingly the (male)carpet fitter got it out in 30 seonds flat after you have bemoaned the problem and told him you will have to saw the legs off.
Getting the lid off off a jar of jam. Are the French people at Bonne Maman sadistic?
Barbecuing - assembling the barbecue, cooking the food and cleaning the barbecue afterwards - all more suited to the hunter gatherer and the female of the species should just be tasked with drinking the Pimms.
Loading a holiday's worth of luggage in to a very small car boot. Much better to watch the male grapple with this one whilst standing by the car and offering advice. Also preferable for the male to herd all the luggage through the airport and off the baggage carousel whilst you complain how hot you are and drink your Evian.
Collapsing a table tennis table in Provence in order to put the cover on. This may just be me and Claire but it took half an hour and every ounce of our initiative when a random male could almost certainly have completed the task in two minutes flat.
So I feel I must apologise to all you lads out there - there are definitely times when you are very very useful! And your strategies for doing these types of things are far more effective then mine which tends to involve a lack of patience, ranting my bad temper and, if all else fails, crying and looking helpless. So is there anyone out there who wants to adopt a helpless female in York?
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Going underground
Well, what a week. This one was always going to be tricky as it involved Emma and I being separated for 5 days as she went off on a school trip to Berlin. I really really wanted her to go and have some much needed fun but at the same time it was difficult as we had not been apart since Dave died. As those of you who have been reading the blog for a long time know we used to call ourselves The Three Musketeers when Dave was alive. Sadly now we can only manage to be the Dynamic Duo but we are so close after all our experiences that you can't put a credit card between us. We function as each other's best friends looking out for each other as much as we can. I dropped Emma off at school on Friday morning and did a very embarrassing thing that should definitely not be done when your daughter is 15 and you are standing outside her school - I cried my eyes out. I had no plans to do that but biting my lip failed miserably and the tears rolled. With my wobble came a wobble from Emma - started with a chin quiver and then a few tears so we stopped worrying about who would see us and gave each other a monumental hug! And then off she went......
Once she was gone on the coach I was okay. Yet again my wonderful friends were there with plans to keep me busy and occupied for the duration and that plan would have worked but for a severe case of PMT and a couple of other things that happened unexpectedly that completely knocked me off balance. It is not appropriate to say what the incidents were on the blog but in my current fragile state they were enough to sideswipe me. This is the thing about this grieving business. You can take so much and look to others as if you are doing well, but you don't have the normal levels of resilience and can crumple like a house of cards and once you start to crumble you feel a bit out of control. The only way I can describe the feeling is by saying that you feel like you have lost your "groundedness" (if that's a word and if it isn't it is now). On one of the widow's websites I have looked at some of the people there describe it as entering the Goblin Pit - a place of misery and despair where the goblins are after you and you have to try to drag yourself out of the pit to escape them. Well this time I think the goblins had me pinned down for a good couple of days! I can tell you that there were lots of tears and a feeling of helplessness that I am only just coming out of in the last 48 hours or so. If you saw me during that time you wouldn't necessarily have known what was going on as I was using every ounce of my resolve to try to function normally only to collapse again when I returned home and was on my own.
When you go downwards like this there is only sheer grit and determination that can get you out. Sometimes I wonder how much sheer grit and determination one person can possibly have and whether my sheer grit and determination quota/ration will run out and I will be stuck down there in the Pit for the rest of eternity!
So I have had another blip and live to fight another day. I do feel a bit like I am running out of steam again after the last few months but who knows. Only time will tell. But before I go another story to finish.......
The only night free in my hectic "schedule" over the weekend was Saturday and I made my own plan for that. I decided to have a truly indulgent/therapeutic night and watch a weepie movie and have pizza and ice cream (not normally allowed on the Weightwatchers Plan I am currently following!). I tried to think of the saddest film I had ever seen and I thought it was a film from the 80s called Beaches. The film stars Bette Middler and Barbara Hershey who are two lifelong best friends and one dies of a heart problem called cardiomyopathy. I can clearly remember Dave and I watching the video in our house in Crowthorne and both Dave and I crying our eyes out as it was so sad (although Dave said in typical fashion that he only had something in his eye). I managed to get a copy of the film and gleefully shoved it in the machine with my box of tissues at the ready. Watched the film whilst stuffing my face but I was soooooo disappointed. Grand total of only 4 tears. It really wasn't even on my new Sadness Scale. My conclusion? If that's the saddest film ever I now need to write a film as well as a book because my story with Dave is far far sadder than that and it's actually true! Now the next question is - who to cast in the leading roles.......?
Once she was gone on the coach I was okay. Yet again my wonderful friends were there with plans to keep me busy and occupied for the duration and that plan would have worked but for a severe case of PMT and a couple of other things that happened unexpectedly that completely knocked me off balance. It is not appropriate to say what the incidents were on the blog but in my current fragile state they were enough to sideswipe me. This is the thing about this grieving business. You can take so much and look to others as if you are doing well, but you don't have the normal levels of resilience and can crumple like a house of cards and once you start to crumble you feel a bit out of control. The only way I can describe the feeling is by saying that you feel like you have lost your "groundedness" (if that's a word and if it isn't it is now). On one of the widow's websites I have looked at some of the people there describe it as entering the Goblin Pit - a place of misery and despair where the goblins are after you and you have to try to drag yourself out of the pit to escape them. Well this time I think the goblins had me pinned down for a good couple of days! I can tell you that there were lots of tears and a feeling of helplessness that I am only just coming out of in the last 48 hours or so. If you saw me during that time you wouldn't necessarily have known what was going on as I was using every ounce of my resolve to try to function normally only to collapse again when I returned home and was on my own.
When you go downwards like this there is only sheer grit and determination that can get you out. Sometimes I wonder how much sheer grit and determination one person can possibly have and whether my sheer grit and determination quota/ration will run out and I will be stuck down there in the Pit for the rest of eternity!
So I have had another blip and live to fight another day. I do feel a bit like I am running out of steam again after the last few months but who knows. Only time will tell. But before I go another story to finish.......
The only night free in my hectic "schedule" over the weekend was Saturday and I made my own plan for that. I decided to have a truly indulgent/therapeutic night and watch a weepie movie and have pizza and ice cream (not normally allowed on the Weightwatchers Plan I am currently following!). I tried to think of the saddest film I had ever seen and I thought it was a film from the 80s called Beaches. The film stars Bette Middler and Barbara Hershey who are two lifelong best friends and one dies of a heart problem called cardiomyopathy. I can clearly remember Dave and I watching the video in our house in Crowthorne and both Dave and I crying our eyes out as it was so sad (although Dave said in typical fashion that he only had something in his eye). I managed to get a copy of the film and gleefully shoved it in the machine with my box of tissues at the ready. Watched the film whilst stuffing my face but I was soooooo disappointed. Grand total of only 4 tears. It really wasn't even on my new Sadness Scale. My conclusion? If that's the saddest film ever I now need to write a film as well as a book because my story with Dave is far far sadder than that and it's actually true! Now the next question is - who to cast in the leading roles.......?
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Joining the 'Hood
In recent weeks, one of the words on my mind has (for obvious reasons) been "widow". Prior to joining the 'Hood (Widowhood that is) I had not really thought about it but as I have had to start filling in forms and put myself in the "widow" category rather than "married" I have started to find the word more and more unattractive. The immediate image that comes to mind is of a rather old and crumpled woman wearing full length black Victorian mourning attire and despite the Scottish Widows advertising campaign showing a very attractive younger woman in the aforementioned attire, little has been done in the way of "rebranding" in recent years.
Having ventured in to a relatively large group of widows and widowers a few weeks ago at a gathering run by the WAY Foundation (Widowed and Young)in Leeds I can tell you the familiar images of a widow are very outdated! The WAY Foundation supports widows and widowers under 50 and they really don't look any different to any other human beings. I walked in to the restaurant where we were meeting with another widow from York and we were looking for a group of people with obvious "signs" of widowhood but no there was nothing obvious! Just a group of people getting together and sharing their experiences and trying to support each other through a truly horrendous experience whilst knocking back a few bevvies. And it has to be said that because this (widowhood)is such a truly horrendous experience there is very much something in the unsaid between a group of people who have all been unlucky enough to have the love of their life die unexpectedly at the prime of their life. I think this is because the emotions you go through are so hard to explain to anyone who has not experienced such a monumental event. But these people just KNOW.
So back to the word "widow". I notice myself wishing to avoid being labelled as a widow at all costs and I prefer to refer to myself as "a person whose partner has died". I have tried to analyse what it is about this word apart from its inherent unsexiness that I don't like, but I think it is because I don't want to be defined in life just by this word. The problem is that at this moment it is the thing that is most on my own mind and the thing that most people think about as soon as they see me! But when I was married to Dave people didn't just think of me as a married person and they didn't call me a "married" - my relationship with Dave was just one of the many facets of my life (although obviously a very important one!). So I guess that I hope in time, being a widow will become less predominant and that I can go back to just being Sarah again.
Having ventured in to a relatively large group of widows and widowers a few weeks ago at a gathering run by the WAY Foundation (Widowed and Young)in Leeds I can tell you the familiar images of a widow are very outdated! The WAY Foundation supports widows and widowers under 50 and they really don't look any different to any other human beings. I walked in to the restaurant where we were meeting with another widow from York and we were looking for a group of people with obvious "signs" of widowhood but no there was nothing obvious! Just a group of people getting together and sharing their experiences and trying to support each other through a truly horrendous experience whilst knocking back a few bevvies. And it has to be said that because this (widowhood)is such a truly horrendous experience there is very much something in the unsaid between a group of people who have all been unlucky enough to have the love of their life die unexpectedly at the prime of their life. I think this is because the emotions you go through are so hard to explain to anyone who has not experienced such a monumental event. But these people just KNOW.
So back to the word "widow". I notice myself wishing to avoid being labelled as a widow at all costs and I prefer to refer to myself as "a person whose partner has died". I have tried to analyse what it is about this word apart from its inherent unsexiness that I don't like, but I think it is because I don't want to be defined in life just by this word. The problem is that at this moment it is the thing that is most on my own mind and the thing that most people think about as soon as they see me! But when I was married to Dave people didn't just think of me as a married person and they didn't call me a "married" - my relationship with Dave was just one of the many facets of my life (although obviously a very important one!). So I guess that I hope in time, being a widow will become less predominant and that I can go back to just being Sarah again.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
The PEP Tree......
A few people have enquired about the tree that PEP planted (with the help of Emma and I) in memory of Dave so here is a photo courtesy of Jane (thanks Jane).
Emma and I will shortly be sponsoring a little copse of a dozen saplings just outside Leyburn in Wensleydale one of Dave's favourite places for walking. It will be nice to watch them grow.....
Monday, 4 May 2009
Try a little patience.....
Well it's a couple of weeks since I last blogged. Seems like longer as Emma and I have jumped through lots of hoops and been riding the rollercoaster of emotions at an even more terrifying speed! Somehow when I was in the early days immediately after Dave died the predominant emotions were ones of numbness and shock (even though I had known he was going to die, it was still a shock when he actually did). The brain seems to be very clever and somehow protects you to a degree from feeling the terrible pain when you are on your knees and waits till you have recovered a little and then on a regular basis allows very painful emotions to surface at times when you are better equipped to deal with them. The predominant emotion for me currently is just an overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss and an almost constant feeling of missing Dave. As a consequence of this, there have been a lot more tears. Emma has also been very sad and this has resulted in a feeling of powerlessness for me as as a parent all I want to do is make things all right for and this is one I cannot solve. Her "journey" through this will be her own as will mine and there is little that I can do other than be open and available to listen.
I have still been keeping myself busy and fighting any hermit-like tendencies. There are still quite a lot of things to sort out with regards to Dave's affairs and I have also been de-cluttering the house, although at this stage I still cannot bear to throw out any of Dave's clothes and personal things as it just doesn't feel right yet. I have also been sorting out the interrment of Dave's ashes which is taking place in June ( our wedding anniversary). If you ever want a sobering experience, go and put yourself eye to eye with your husband and best friend's ashes when they have been cremated. I did this the other day at the undertakers. Viewing the most important person to have ever been in my life so far as a pile of ashes in a brown plastic jar really brings home the fragility of life. I would love to be able to show them to anyone who thinks they are oh so important or significant or takes themselves far too seriously!
I have also been reading a lot to try to make some sense of what has happened although I am not sure whether that will ever be possible! This week I have been reading an excellent book called "Life lessons: how our mortality can teach us about life and living" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler. The authors have worked with people who are dying in hospitals and hospices all their lives and have written some very interesting books on the dying process and the grieving process. This book, however, is different as it is all about the lessons they have learnt about living life from working with people who are dying. One of the most interesting things I found in the book is a part where they talk about how there is a tendency for people to only want the "rosy" side of life, for only good things to happen. Yet if you reflect back on your life it is sometimes the saddest and most difficult things in your life that have taught you the most and shaped you as a person. The message being that not all lessons in life are enjoyable to learn, but they do enrich the texture of life. Most people are just thrown to avoiding the difficult stuff and playing safe, but it is only in facing huge challenges that we grow. I know this to be true and have a feeling all this difficult stuff I am facing is leading to a life I would never have imagined before, although what that life is currently eludes me!
Related to this future, one of my biggest challenges at the moment is in facing what David Kessler and Elisabeth Kubker-Ross call the lesson of patience. I have never been a particularly patient person. I have always been pretty smart and got annoyed with people who were not as quick on the uptake as me. One of the things that has happened to me since Dave died is that a lot of negative feelings have been surfacing: sadness, pain, loneliness, anger, frustration, annoyance at other people etc etc. This is very hard to be with for someone who is normally relentlessly cheerful and upbeat, who cannot stand people who moan all the time and for someone who normally breezes through the things in life that others find difficult. I am also well known for being (as my friend Helen always puts it) "totally irreverent" and unserious about life. I know that both Dave and I have, in the past, probably really annoyed certain people on a number of occasions by simply not taking them seriously enough or attaching the right amount of "gravitas" in dealing with them. So now I find myself having to, as I put it, "wade through treacle", life most of the time is very significant and it really isn't much fun! I find myself wanting to breeze through this "grieving thing" but it does not seem to be something that you can just breeze through (not without causing yourself some permanent long term damage anyway). So, here I am being taught my particular lesson of patience. There is nowhere to get to, nothing that can be done to fix the situation and so I have to sit in amongst all these negative emotions and just dwell there in my very significant life! Waiting and wondering what course or path life is going to take next. So, as a discipline, I am inventing "the possibility of being curious" about all of these difficult emotions which are surfacing and enquiring in to what the universe is trying to teach me.
And in doing all of this, I will bear in mind another quote from the book from someone called Ronnie Kaye, a two time breast cancer survivor who said "In life when one door closes, another door always opens.......but the hallways are a BITCH!"
I have still been keeping myself busy and fighting any hermit-like tendencies. There are still quite a lot of things to sort out with regards to Dave's affairs and I have also been de-cluttering the house, although at this stage I still cannot bear to throw out any of Dave's clothes and personal things as it just doesn't feel right yet. I have also been sorting out the interrment of Dave's ashes which is taking place in June ( our wedding anniversary). If you ever want a sobering experience, go and put yourself eye to eye with your husband and best friend's ashes when they have been cremated. I did this the other day at the undertakers. Viewing the most important person to have ever been in my life so far as a pile of ashes in a brown plastic jar really brings home the fragility of life. I would love to be able to show them to anyone who thinks they are oh so important or significant or takes themselves far too seriously!
I have also been reading a lot to try to make some sense of what has happened although I am not sure whether that will ever be possible! This week I have been reading an excellent book called "Life lessons: how our mortality can teach us about life and living" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler. The authors have worked with people who are dying in hospitals and hospices all their lives and have written some very interesting books on the dying process and the grieving process. This book, however, is different as it is all about the lessons they have learnt about living life from working with people who are dying. One of the most interesting things I found in the book is a part where they talk about how there is a tendency for people to only want the "rosy" side of life, for only good things to happen. Yet if you reflect back on your life it is sometimes the saddest and most difficult things in your life that have taught you the most and shaped you as a person. The message being that not all lessons in life are enjoyable to learn, but they do enrich the texture of life. Most people are just thrown to avoiding the difficult stuff and playing safe, but it is only in facing huge challenges that we grow. I know this to be true and have a feeling all this difficult stuff I am facing is leading to a life I would never have imagined before, although what that life is currently eludes me!
Related to this future, one of my biggest challenges at the moment is in facing what David Kessler and Elisabeth Kubker-Ross call the lesson of patience. I have never been a particularly patient person. I have always been pretty smart and got annoyed with people who were not as quick on the uptake as me. One of the things that has happened to me since Dave died is that a lot of negative feelings have been surfacing: sadness, pain, loneliness, anger, frustration, annoyance at other people etc etc. This is very hard to be with for someone who is normally relentlessly cheerful and upbeat, who cannot stand people who moan all the time and for someone who normally breezes through the things in life that others find difficult. I am also well known for being (as my friend Helen always puts it) "totally irreverent" and unserious about life. I know that both Dave and I have, in the past, probably really annoyed certain people on a number of occasions by simply not taking them seriously enough or attaching the right amount of "gravitas" in dealing with them. So now I find myself having to, as I put it, "wade through treacle", life most of the time is very significant and it really isn't much fun! I find myself wanting to breeze through this "grieving thing" but it does not seem to be something that you can just breeze through (not without causing yourself some permanent long term damage anyway). So, here I am being taught my particular lesson of patience. There is nowhere to get to, nothing that can be done to fix the situation and so I have to sit in amongst all these negative emotions and just dwell there in my very significant life! Waiting and wondering what course or path life is going to take next. So, as a discipline, I am inventing "the possibility of being curious" about all of these difficult emotions which are surfacing and enquiring in to what the universe is trying to teach me.
And in doing all of this, I will bear in mind another quote from the book from someone called Ronnie Kaye, a two time breast cancer survivor who said "In life when one door closes, another door always opens.......but the hallways are a BITCH!"
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