In approximately 8 hours time my Hubby will have been dead for 3 weeks.
He fell ill 8 weeks ago.
An eternity.
I do not believe it, still.
I cannot believe it. My mind won't let me.
Why not?
I simply have not had PROOF that John is dead.....certificates mean nothing!
The funeral directors would not let me see him because he had 'deteriorated' too much between dying and his funeral, they thought it too shocking.
I still wanted to see him.
They wouldn't let me.
I needed to see him, to get some form of closure, to see, to know.
I did not see him.
I do not believe.
I don't miss John, I LONG for him.
I wander the flat every day waiting for his call, a text, an email, a message....of course none of these things arrive, but it doesn't stop me wanting them, willing them to happen. I still want to go to Germany to see if he's ok, check that he's alright and he's still 'on the mend'...how fucking stupid is that?! I've also emailed one of the Doctors that was looking after John, the lovely Dr. Gemsa, just to make sure he's not there.....
What if she responds and asks why I'm not with John???? Fuck knows, but at least he won't be dead!
The wonderful Dr. Gemsa
In a way, Dr. Gemsa's response will give me some of that closure I so obviously need. Coming from someone that saw him on a daily basis, to have that acknowledgement from her that he is dead, might make me feel better, might.
Somehow I doubt it but one has to grasp at straws, doesn't one?!
Today was an ok day. I hardly cried. I sorted out 'stuff'.
I chucked hundreds upon hundreds of cookery magazines (it's not like I'm going to look at them!).
I went to the bank and closed his bank account.
I went to the Job Centre and applied for Bereavement Benefit and Widower's Benefit.
I'm a Widower.
I'm a widower at 42 years of age.
There's something very wrong with that picture. Oh yes, I know what it is, my Husband is dead.
I look around the flat and I want for nothing, we have everything we needed right here. But now, things have changed and I may as well have nothing.
Everything means nothing without John.
It's just material detritus gathering dust.
I want for one thing and one thing only, John.
My Husband.
My Man.
The Love of my Life.
Talking of dust, I should be able to collect John in a few days.
Oh joy, that will be nice.....I wonder if it's inappropriate to keep him on the mantlepiece?!
Seriously, where DO you keep ashes?!?!?! Nowhere seems appropriate actually. I don't want him 'on display' but at the same time I don't want him locked in a cupboard.
Decisions, decisions.
I shall leave you with a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - it says it all really:
The day is ending
The night is descending
The marsh is frozen
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red
The snow recommences
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain
While through the meadows
Like fearful shadows
Slowly passes
A funeral train
The bell is pealing
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell
Shadows are trailing
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
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