Today is our 3rd anniversary as Civil Partners.
Three years ago today we were down Lewisham Registry Office being legally attached.
This is not the anniversary I had planned!
Three years tomorrow we had our fantastic Humanist Celebration at Chestnut Lodge in Cobham, home of our wonderful friend, Raymond, who also died earlier this year.
Our very special friends and family were there and it was THE best day of my entire life.
Our very special friends and family were there and it was THE best day of my entire life.
John will have been dead for three months on Thursday (THE worst day of my entire life).
John fell ill four months on Thursday.
This week is a fucker!
This week is a fucker!
The day/date doesn't really matter anymore, not in the grand scheme of things.
Does it matter that just about everything that happened relating to John's illness/death happened on a Thursday?
Not really.....it doesn't change the fact that he died.
That we are without him.
That he has gone.
As I've said before, it felt like we were just getting started, warming up for the long haul.
We weren't supposed to finish yet.
Not like this.
Not now.
Someone has got this horribly wrong!
Photographs, memories, possessions - these are all I have now to remind me of my Husband.
I can't kiss them.
I can't cuddle them.
I can't love them.
I know I was the luckiest man alive to have almost 10 years with John.....but that luck died with him.
Now I just grieve every day.
I find myself praying, begging, pleading for this to be a dreadful mistake, a horrible nightmare.
As HUGE a cliche as it is, the W. H. Auden poem read out in Four Weddings and a Funeral says it all really:
I know I was the luckiest man alive to have almost 10 years with John.....but that luck died with him.
Now I just grieve every day.
I find myself praying, begging, pleading for this to be a dreadful mistake, a horrible nightmare.
As HUGE a cliche as it is, the W. H. Auden poem read out in Four Weddings and a Funeral says it all really:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message, "He Is Dead"
Put crepe bows around the white necks of public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves
He was my North, my South, my East, my West
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought that it would last forever, I was wrong
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods
For nothing now can ever come to any good
Dear John,
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry to hear of the loss of your husband. I found your blog while searching for some information about how to handle grief.
My mother past away 10 weeks ago tomorrow after a very short illness. She was only in hospital approximately 36 hours before she died.
Although your situation is obviously completely different to mine, I find your words and your feels echo mine.
I have lost my mother, my best friend, my soul mate in a way. I am an only child and my father died nearly 10 years ago. I am single with no children. The loss of my mother is unbearable and no one understands what I am going through - neither my friends nor my family.
I doubt if my words have helped you at all, but I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your feelings and to let you know you are not alone.
Kind regards,
Janine
Janine
ReplyDeletethank you for your comment.
I am glad that people find my blog and, in some strange way, I hope it helps. It doesn't "help" me, but it does get it out of my head and onto the page as it were, once I've typed it I rarely read it again, it's done, until the next instalment.
I truly hope that you find some comfort for the loss of your Mum, it must be terrible when no one arounds you understands. I am extremely lucky in that I have the Boys, my family, John's family and our friends, all loved him immensely.
You have my condolences.
Best wishes,
John