@Ellie1 People say the most insensitive things. My neighbour has been moaning about her husband for weeks. When I was with her someone asked how he was. Still alive!!! was her reply. She had no idea. I am also dreading Christmas. We always stayed at home so my father had a nice time. Dad died in January and we were going to go away for Christmas this year. Now I don’t have either of them. It’s going to be bleak.
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I have 3 stepsons, my son lives in Canada and my daughter lives in London. All have asked what my plans are for Christmas. I have told them I will be at home on my own. My lovely daughter said she would come down to stay with me for either Christmas Day or Boxing day. She has other family she goes to besides me but now that looks like it won’t be happening because of London being on high alert. I would love to visit my son and his family in Canada over Christmas but can’t do that either. My stepsons have partners with their own families so won’t want to have their stepmother crashing the party. You’re right. It does all seem very bleak. The end of 2020 can’t come too soon for me. Psychologically I am hoping next year will be the time when I can overcome some of these overwhelming feelings of utter grief and lonliness although February will be the 1st anniversary of my husband’s death. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I hope you have some family to see over the Christmas period.
Take care.
x
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@Ellie1 I also can’t wait to se the back of 2020. I have two daughters who live nearby. I will probably go to one for Christmas Day. I just wish John and I were going somewhere nice as planned. We would have been happy to stay at home as well. We just loved being together. Oh well we just have to get through this as best we can. Take care.
Dear Alston 56,
You didn’t let anyone down. What you are going through is the nearest thing to hell we can know. The ghastly realization of separation, from all that makes life worth living, is a feeling that increases over the first few months. The anaesthetic of shock, cushioning us at first, wears off and we are left totally exposed to the pain. It is hardly surprising that you were suddenly overwhelmed in the store. My own experiences trying to shop have shocked me. My husband liked shopping and was very good at it so I never had to do it, which was a blessing because it is something I have always disliked intensely. My cousin has kindly taken me twice but I have simply frozen in panic then hurried round buying things I didn’t want and forgetting items on the list in my hand. I can’t see the signs and labels through my tears and feel a fool. I’m in the way of other shoppers trying to observe the distance rules and get in a muddle at the checkout.
My husband died 5 months ago and in February we’d have been together 60 years. His death was a shock to everyone as he was fit, healthy and athletic. I have no family apart from my cousin, who lives in a nearby town and my brother hundreds of miles away with a busy life if his own and who confesses to being unable to understand my grief.
On this site I have found people who DO understand and, through them, gained the knowledge that I need make no apologies for feeling the way I do and also that making progress through this pain has no set time scale. I am not losing my reason, however much it may feel like it at times.
I have found it helpful to block thoughts and memories and focus completely on each task in hand. I can behave as though nothing has happened and keep it up for hours at a time. There is pay back of course. The meltdowns come, triggered by the slightest thing. Concentrating on happy times doesn’t help me at all as it just twists the knife, reminding me of what can never be again. There were no bad times. Our long marriage was blessed ( except with children) and we made a point of counting our blessings, always beginning and ending with each other. Of course we have known loss and sorrow but have been able to cry in one another’s arms. " As long as we have each other." Now there are no arms to hold me, no voice to tell me this can be weathered.
You are suffering, not a single loss, like that of a favourite pair of shoes, damaged in a rainstorm, but the loss of your way of life. This encompasses a multitude of losses. People who have not suffered it cannot understand. Sometimes it knocks us to our knees or pushes us against a wall in a supermarket. Your wife, my husband, all our dear ones, know how much they were loved and appreciated. Let us try to stop telling ourselves we should have said this or that, done more, showed appreciation more frequently.
Love and God bless.
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Dear @Prof,
Thank you so much for your very kind comments, they touched me very deeply. Your opening sentence, “You didn’t let anyone down” is so, so reassuring, especially at this time when I question and doubt every decision I now have to make on my own. (Had to pause there to stop a sudden flood of tears. I have found myself breaking down more often over the last 3 weeks or so). And you are so right, I (and everyone else on this site) have lost my way of life, my very reason for living, and I hate every painful second of it. I do believe that my wife knew (knows) how much I loved her, and that I would do anything for her. I am so sorry for the sudden loss of your husband too, I often wonder if we can ever really get over that shock. I do miss the comforting support of my wife, as you miss the support of your husband. My wife was always, always there for me and I always tried to be there for her too. But now I am just half a person, if that, struggling to find a reason each day for survival. Thank you again, and God bless you too.
Dear Alston 56,
Allowing ourselves to grieve is surely the least we can do, without regard to anyone else’s expectations. If they have suffered it, they understand. If not, there is no point in trying to explain.
My husband lived and cherished me for nearly 6 decades. I found a love letter he was writing to me in which he said he would fight any dragon for me and how he would walk into any room with me on his arm and think, “I’m glad this one is mine.” He did so much for me and I know how much I was loved. NOW it’s my turn to do something for him. I am suffering like this so that he won’t have to. Through my sobs, I tell myself that this is my last gift to him. I’d have died in his place given the chance but I have been given something greater - living in his place. I couldn’t bear to think of him suffering like this. My dear one will never know sorrow again. This tough sustains me and I offer it to you. God bless you.
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@Prof My how your words resonate with me. How heartbroken and sad we are and yet somehow we manage to struggle on. Love never dies does it 
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That is a truly lovely post. Thank you. X
Charliemolly your post has really helped me to see things another way Thankyou