Life After Losing A Loved One

Roy died on November 8th 2008

These thoughts are written for www.chill4us.com
an internet forum for carers & bereaved carers
and sent to many people via email.

I thank them for their support and encouragement.

Each thought finishes with:

Assurance - Isaiah 54:10 :

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

SUNDAY 1st AUGUST 2010

ACCEPTANCE

I have to accept that he’s not here. That doesn’t stop me telling him off for leaving me by myself, or talking to him, asking him what he’d say in any given situation. The Lord’s also come in for a bit of stick!!! Some people think it’s dreadful that I tell Him off, but I do. It was right for Roy that he was called home, but not for me. Not that I’d change things; I willingly and gladly gave up everything to care for Roy those last few years.

Because I’d been unwell myself with clinical depression, I had to take early retirement, giving us 18 years together during which time we developed a travelling ministry. For those years I give thanks. Now I’m going out speaking again as well as working with Chaplaincy About Town here in Weston, mainly making cards with pressed flower designs and my Christian verses. Going into nursing homes with others on the ChAt team, where I play and sing, helps me to think of others and takes me outside of myself. It’s not easy but it is possible to learn to live again. I’m only 64 & able to get out and about. It’s not always possible for those who know the depth of human sorrow following the death of their soul-mate partner and are left alone, unable to get out and without family or friends to be concerned for them.

Bereavement is a different and difficult journey for each one of us; we all have the same road to travel but not always the same time scale or the same distance. I have to accept that Roy’s not here, this doesn’t mean that I’ll forget him; “Forever in our hearts,” is on his stone at the crematorium. He helped to make me what I am, for that I’ll always be grateful.

I am who I am because of him.

After Roy, new friends

deepening faith

singing from deep within

where once my voice was lost,

not all darkness now

as shadows of the night give way to a new dawn

deep within a glimmer of light

with God’s love HOPE is reborn.

24th SEPTEMBER 2010

AFTER ROY

“Come by yourself tonight, I don’t want to see anyone else.”

The last words spoken to me by my beloved Roy on
Saturday 8th November 2010.

The bell had been rung. Afternoon visiting time had ended.

We both knew that he was dying. There was to be no resuscitation. He’d had enough pain and suffering in the 62 years since his full lower quarter amputation because of an aggressive cancer (1946).

Hard when you’re a boy just 13 years old, especially as there was no artificial limb and you have to go to school on crutches. His Sunday School teacher had a real attack of conscience as she was about to ban him from Sunday School; he was a naughty boy!!

But the swift ending was a shock. Just an hour later, at home, the phone went to say I’d better get back as quickly as possible. I didn’t get there in time to say a last goodbye or to tell him one more time just how much I loved him. The monitor had only a few more seconds to go.

He didn’t know I was there.

My sister-in-law didn’t know I could run up steps two at a time. I didn’t know that I had!

You know the end is coming, but nothing prepares you for its finality.

I used to wonder how people, only seen on TV, could hold their dead loved ones and even kiss them. Now that was all I wanted to do, I didn’t want to let him go, I didn’t want to say “Goodbye.” Almost two years on, I still don’t want to let him go, I still can’t say that G word.

I know he’s finally without pain, as one friend said, “Roy’s dancing with the Lord on two feet.”

Not that we had a marriage without cross words …it could have been called an emotional cocktail with the lid waiting to be blown off the shaker. Roy was a manic depressive and I’ve had clinical depression since my middle teens. We came very close to having that lid blown off a couple of times, but we knew that whatever happened we loved each other. The Lord was in the midst of our relationship and He would keep us together.

The first twelve months went by in numbness.

He’d said the paperwork was in a muddle and that we should spend time together sorting it out. He’d been such an efficient organiser. I knew he was beginning to fail when he began asking me to sort out his computer problems instead of the other way round. It must have been hard for him to ask having been so good at these things.

Yes, he was right, it was in a muddle. For some of the legal documents I had to send up my birth certificate, first marriage certificate, divorce papers and finally our marriage certificate. It must have seemed strange to some folks as my first married name was also Collins. Almost everyone I notified by letter sent understanding replies, offering whatever help they could, as did those I telephoned.

That first Christmas I thought I’d sent out the cards in time to let everyone know, but not so. Some cards still came to Mr. & Mrs Collins, others with notes of sympathy at my loss. People were so kind.

It was a very strange time. I went to my brother and his wife for Christmas; their daughter, son-in-law and his parents were also there. Some of it’s a blur. I do remember playing charades for the first time. At one point I was laughing so much I slid down the wall onto the floor. But the laughter was superficial. How could I possibly be happy without him? Oh, yes, there was a Wii game as well and a pantomime.

Into 2009 I’d sit day after day staring at the telly, not knowing what I was watching. If it hadn’t been for Sandy, our lovely Shih Tzu, I wouldn’t have gone out to walk in the park where I’ve now made some good friends. He spent a lot of time sitting on Roy’s lap and went out on the disability scooter, sometimes for two or three hours at a time. A week before Roy died Sandy suddenly started coming to me. We’d sit there looking at each other, “What’s got into Sandy? Why’s he coming to you?”

He must have known. He’s getting over Roy as well, doesn’t sit on my lap as much as he did in the beginning, doesn’t follow me to the bathroom either!!!

I’ve been through some of the stages of grief. The eating for comfort was a really good one. When I felt size 20 was becoming rather close I weighed myself. Oh dear, sensible eating plan required. It wasn’t too hard getting down to a size 16, keeping it off is quite a different matter! And where did all the energy go, what happened to sleep? What I’m finding still is that people who’ve experienced grief really understand, some have walked, and still walk, by my side. Those who haven’t travelled that lonely road, although well meaning, have no conception of the sense of loss, or of feeling that you’re only half a person, the other half’s gone. The loved one you’ve cared for, your reason for living and loving has gone. It’s no use saying “buck yourself up” or “come on it’s time you got out & about.” How can I? The one I’ve cared for, my reason for living & loving has gone.

The second year’s been different. Reality’s been much more evident. Time passing hasn’t stopped me crying. If anything, there have been more tears, not the sobs of anguish from deep within, just tears running down my face, sometimes for no reason at all. An example :

It’s 21 months now since I lost my soul-mate, Roy. Some days I think “You’re not doing so badly, girl,” then others, like last Friday, are horrendous. And all over a coffee pot. Not just any old coffee pot, it was the first thing he bought me, it was from a working potter. I wanted to try out some new coffee bags. Do you think I could find it? Opened every cupboard, nowhere to be found. Sat on the edge of the bed crying like a baby, “I’m sure we haven’t broken it and we wouldn’t have given it away in one of our de-clutterings, would we?”

As my grandmother would have said, “If it had teeth, it would bite you.” It was on the bottom shelf of the unit in the hall!!!!

Then today we had a baptism of a young man, well, young to me!!! I gave him one of my pictures which decorates a verse Roy wrote about God caring for us. This afternoon I thought of the memories I have and the simple things in life which I treasure, like the coffee pot and the verse which he wrote, which I share with you.

who listens to your every prayer

bless you and keep you in His loving care

NOVEMBER 7th 2010

ANNIVERSARIES ARE DIFFICULT TIMES

Tomorrow will be the second anniversary of Roy’s death...tears come while thinking about it, his chair shouldn’t be empty, there should still be two places laid at the table, Sandy should be having rides on the disablement scooter.

Last Tuesday I was at a bereavement session about coping with holidays, being the only one there who had already experienced Christmas without my loved one. One man had recently lost his son who was a young man, someone else their father and several wives whose husbands had died. But it wasn’t a sad, dreary experience. The two people who guided us through some ideas were positive, saying something similar to that which the lady at the funeral director’s said to me, “Do what’s comfortable for you.”

Even those who’ve lost a loved one can’t really walk in your shoes. We’re all different and there will be times when we want to go through such sad days on our own and in our own way. Grief is a very personal experience. Right from the day Roy died I stayed on my own...wanted to be on my own. Kind loving friends and family offered to come, or for me to go to their home to sleep, but I wanted to be on my own. I remember sitting at the kitchen table that Saturday night, calling out loudly or crying, depths of anguish and emotion which I didn’t know existed. Where did it come from? (I didn’t ever see mother cry, not when her parents died, or my father. I don’t know why.) There were some papers on the table, on the back of one something which was written quite some years before, it was read in amongst the rawness of my loss.

To the lonely,

I will come to be your companion,

for I know what it’s like to be lonely

To the weak in spirit,

I will come to be with you,

for I have faced temptations and difficult decisions

To the unsure,

I will come to lead you like a shepherd,

I understand

and have spent much time with my Father in prayer

To the alcoholic and drug addict

I will come to take away your cravings and dependency

and give you my love in your heart

To the depressed

I will come to nourish your soul

and give you a purpose for living

To the homeless

I will come to say “I understand”,

for I was a homeless refugee

I will come to give you a place in my kingdom,

for I was a stranger in an alien land

To the sick

I will come to hold your hand,

for I know what it’s like

to suffer and experience pain

To those who weep

I will come to wipe away your tears,

for I know what it’s like to cry

To the mourning

I will come to share your sorrow

for I know what it’s like to lose a loved one

To the dying

I will come to be your companion

as you journey towards the celestial city

which is your home.

DECEMBER 19th 2010

ROY`S CHRISTMAS TREE FROM 1995

A neighbour very kindly helped me unearth the Christmas decorations in the garage one afternoon this week. They were buried somewhere under bags of recycling which is waiting to be taken away. On Saturday, Nigel, one of Roy’s sons, helped to put them up. We didn’t really have an special traditions about Christmas, probably because we weren’t blessed with children and Hilary, Nigel and Timothy were all grown up by the time we met. Last year I bought a ready decorated tree complete with lights. Yes, they came on this year. Oh no, they went out again and however much we tried nothing could persuade them to come back on so it looks like I’ll have to go forth into the wintry weather to buy some lights. Also in the box was a small tree, about 10 inches high, the pot beingcovered in sacking.

Christmas 1995, that was really different!! Roy was waiting for a triple by-pass, which was to be carried out in Coventry, about an hour’s drive from home. As he was in a great deal of pain he was phoning the hospital every Monday to see if there’d been a cancellation. The Monday before Christmas there was a place for him; we had to be in Coventry by 2.00pm. With very little time to prepare I was desperate to get him a Christmas tree small enough to fit on the locker. Only time to get to the local shops and all I could find was this small tree with about six red berries on. The lady in the shop put on a few little gold circles and I found a gold bow at home to go on the top. The weather was similar to what we have at the moment, snowy and cold with icy roads. Next day a successful op. and on Christmas Eve the other men who’d had their op on the same day went home, but not Roy as his temperature was raised. So on Christmas Day I drove to the hospital and shared a lovely dinner with him. By now he was desperate to come home. The nurse said, “No, I haven’t seen you on the stairs or getting in & out of the bath.” These were particularly important as he was a full-quarter lower limb amputee. “No problem,” was his swift reply, “we live in a bungalow and there’s a corner seat in the bath.” Having been seen by a doctor he was allowed home. I don’t think he realised how bad the roads were. By the time we arrived home he was absolutely exhausted and thought he’d done the wrong thing!!!! That was some Christmas Day!!!!

This little tree will always be part of my decorations, to remind me of that time and to give thanks that we had another 13 years together.

It’s certainly a bleak midwinter outside this evening. My prayer this week is that you’ll all be safe, well & warm, that Christmas Day will be a good day, bringing, as it will, remembrances of times past. Remember with affection and gratitude all those you’ve shared with loved ones, from childhood to the present day.

I don’t think I ever told him that on one of those nights driving home from Coventry it was dark, cold and snowing and I started to go down the wrong sliproad to the motorway!!!!

* * *

DECEMBER 26th 2010

ROY’S CHRISTMAS TREE part 2

I hope that you’ve all had a good Christmas Day, as good as it could be, wherever you might have been and whatever you were doing. On December 13th one suggestion was that we pray for those in tragic circumstances. I’m sure we’re all much in thought & prayer for the family of the missing Joanna Yeates. This evening the police have said that the body in Bristol is almost certainly her-a young vibrant, intelligent woman. Whatever will Christmas be like for her loved ones in the years to come?

When I went to bed after writing Roy’s Christmas Tree last week I realised that there were two significant events not mentioned about his Christmas in hospital. As I was leaving the first evening I literally bumped into a lady chaplain, who went to see Roy straight away. She visited every day after that. On Christmas Eve he requested communion for the following morning. There were three other men in the section with him. One was quiet, didn’t say much, kept himself to himself. One was a fireman who’d inhaled a lot of smoke at a “shout” and was quite poorly, but he chatted and was friendly. The third was an Asian gentleman whose son was a GP. At that time the policy of the hospital was to allow visitors all afternoon and evening and his family came—lots of them, with little children running around, making a noise, quite disturbing for the other patients and by the time they went home, he was exhausted, might even had wished that they hadn’t stayed so long.

On Christmas morning the chaplain arrived as promised. The fireman asked if he could take communion and the Asian man sat with them. Afterwards the fireman said, “That’s what it’s all about.” As ill as Roy was at the time, he was still a witness for his Lord by asking the chaplain to come that morning. We never know what effect we have on people in what we do or say. I’ve said before, sometimes a smile for a passer-by is all they need to brighten their day, to make it worthwhile.

In the top drawer of my bedside cabinet there’s a small card that was with some flowers from Roy in hospital which were delivered on Christmas Eve. He’d asked one of the nurses to find the number of our local florist, rung them up to explain his situation and they accepted his order even though he had no means of paying. How can I ever forget that Christmas? Christmas 1995 is indelibly etched on my heart.