I’m coming up to my sixth year as a widow, my husband died 23rd August 2013, after eight years of oral cancer. I moved and have never been sorry that l did, far to many memories where l was. 18 months after my husband died our sone and his wife separated, it was nearly as bad as the death of my husband, so six years down the road after having moved to a smaller property in the same area, l have a wonderful home, no money worries, as far as I’m aware no health worries although l started smoking again, six a day, they help. But the aching sadness and aloness is far more acute than when the death occurred.
I’ve always been up beat, glass half full, counted my blessings and still try to do that, but quite frankly this is not a life, it’s an existence. I didn’t expect to ever be as bubbly and colourful as I was ten years ago, but hoped I’d find some semblance of peace, l haven’t, they, who ever “they” are say time heals, so why do l feel soooo retched, and so much sadness, hoped things would be a little easier.
I still get up, shower do my hair, put on my make up and sally forth, but people think after five years that you are OK, so try to avoid when l can. Had one comment ahhh but you have your dog, so I’ve got a consolation prize, l get that people who still have partners/husband can’t emphathise and if I’m honest, l feel l should be “getting there” again where ever that is. I’m the first of my peer group to be in this position, and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I wonder if my grief is boardering on depression, l hope not. So another day got through.
I needed to rant, tomorrow another Ground Hog Day.