I will be 73 years old in two weeks time. I lost my husband Michael to lung cancer last October 31st, and although I thought I would be prepared for his loss, nothing could be further from the truth! He was a very healthy 85 years old man who didn’t look or act his age, until the cancer diagnosis was made, and although he responded well to treatment initially, he developed side effects and then treatment had to be stopped. By the time he would have been ready to resume same, the cancer had progressed so far that they did not resume treatment as it would not have helped. My husband’s son from his first marriage with whom I have a great relationship, helped with all the arrangements for the funeral, and all the paperwork associated with a death and I managed to get through that relatively well. I was also able, slowly, to clear out Michael’s clothes, sort through his books etc. which helped me keep sane over the winter months, but now that all that id done and dusted, I am feeling much less ‘capable’ than before, if that makes any sense.
I did not marry until I was 57 1/2 years old, but then I met Michael through mutual best friends who were partners, and the rest was history. He moved to Canada where I lived and then we made plans for both of us to move to the UK in 2012 so he could be closer to his children and grandchildren from his first marriage. I developed a wonderful relationship with them which continues to this day, but they live over an hour and half’s drive from me. Most of my friends live in Canada, where I have no plans to relocate (could not afford the moving costs in any case…) and have no family of my own. I do have a few friends, but none whom I could just call at the drop of a hat if I needed a shoulder to cry on. And I have been crying - a lot - as a matter of act these days. It’s been 7 months for Heaven’s sake! You’d think it would be easier?
I suppose I have had more than my share of losses over the past year… April 2018, I had to put my 12 1/2 years old Hungarian Vizsla to sleep; in October, I lost Michael; and 4 weeks ago I had to put my 11 1/2 years old vizsla to sleep - all three due to cancer! 
It is now just me and my 6 year old vizsla…
I fell guilty because I don’t feel like going out for walks with Fitzkó, I don’t feel like doing anything, don’t want to be around people, etc. I console myself by eating resulting in my putting on weight, making me feel more guilty. Never ending cycle…
I am not lonely, but feel ALONE, and don’t particularly want to be around people. I am an independent individual by nature, having lived alone for 55 of my 73 years, but it is no longer the same as before, when I was full of confidence, happy to be on my own and independent. Now it feels like part of me has died with Michael. I cannot face visiting places where he and I used to go together, I have given up attending concerts to hear the music we listened to together as it is all too painful. Just Saturday I drove to my step-daughter’s place for a barbecue and when driving by the city of Cambridge, I burst into tears as this was where Michael had gone to university, where we visited often and went to Evensong at Kings. I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to go there again?
I keep wondering if this is all ‘normal’ under the circumstances? I always thought that there was nothing worse than losing a beloved pet (I have had 10 vizslas that have crossed the Rainbow Bridge) but losing a spouse is pain like I could never have imagined. I feel I have nothing to look forward to any more. I am getting older, likely to become ill and be alone as I deteriorate. Life looks very bleak…
Thank you for listening…
I voted, took my vizsla for a long walk, met an other vizsla and other dogs, saw swans and their new cygnets, mallards, pochards, Mandarin ducks and all manner of wild flowers. I feel better for having done these things and now I will go and process my photographs to post on my Facebook page. I wish you strength to get through all the funeral arrangements, the funeral and then the aftermath. Hugs to you…