Hello everybody.
This is my first post in a club that, as others have remarked, none of us ever wanted to join.
I lost my beloved, precious, perfect partner to cancer in May of this year - 17 weeks ago tonight.
We were true soulmates and did everything together - we really were one unit. I know with absolute certainty that I was the centre of his existence, as he was of mine, and that he would have done anything to increase my happiness. We were together for 26 years. We did not have children, although we had (have) a wide circle of very good friends, family, colleagues and neighbours; and we shared a wide range of interests.
Since my partner’s death, I have existed in what feels like a nightmare. At the start, I was frantic, manically trying to wake up, kick, reach back into my old life. Now I know that I will not wake up and that I must live in the nightmare. I am calmer but the nightmare is still all around me. It is now my life.
I know that I am blessed with huge support from friends and family. And I make full use of that blessing.
Unlike some bereaved people (I know that we’re all different), I never have to force myself or make any effort to go out or see people. Quite the opposite. I crave - really crave - company and interaction all of the time. It’s the only thing that temporarily dulls my pain - like an analgesic. So, I am out a lot, ‘doing stuff’, seeing people, joining groups, having meals, walks, coffees, etc. I also have people to visit (or sleep over - the best thing) very often. I am not yet back at work, although I see colleagues socially.
Hence, I am very ‘functional’ in the sense of engaging with people, situations and activities. By this, I don’t mean that I’m putting on a brave face with people - I’m very definitely not - but simply that being with others is my key coping strategy.
What I do have to force myself to do, however, is be alone. I struggle massively with this. Spending (any) time alone is the toughest, toughest part of the nightmare. When I’m on my own for any length of time, I feel desolate, surreal, anguished. This is not my life. And yet it is.
As well as the awful, ever-present grief of missing my partner - his presence, precious companionship, safety and security, laughter, conversation, great love - I also grapple with a huge sense of emptiness and anomie.
The scale and finality of what has happened terrifies me. It’s still unthinkable to me, even though it has happened.
I used to be a hugely optimistic, happy, emotionally robust person. Now I feel totally lost, broken and empty - despite the love and support of so many who surround me.
Without my partner, life has lost its meaning and all of its pleasure. The things that I used to enjoy so much (and that we enjoyed so much together) - e.g. nature, beauty, history, art, literature, food, old buildings, music, conversation - are flat and grey.
I truly hope and I do believe that I will see him again, someday. At times, I feel he’s still with me.
But until we meet again, it feels that I can never experience beauty or joy again.
I’ve written a short poem about this aspect of grief - below.
Maybe the feeling will change in time. I don’t know. I do hope so. Mainly because I know that my partner would be so sad to think of me missing out on beauty and joy - two things that we shared and experienced very strongly throughout our relationship.
Thank you for reading my first post. x
(On Grief)
There is no beauty.
Desolate world
Devoid of cheer,
Devoid of joy,
Devoid of beauty.
Sunsets, flowers, faces
Are grey and featureless.
Days stretch interminably.
Despite best efforts,
Filled with nothingness,
With anomie.
All is moribund,
Waiting for your touch
To restore.