It’s ten weeks since Anthony died and, in a few hours, it will be exactly ten weeks, including hours and minutes. I know it was evening but my memory of that moment of death, when I was out of his room, is blurry. I was outside with Ming and Amber and, when the nurse came out to say he was gone I thought she meant the doctor had gone.
Many people assume that once someone goes into a nursing home, it is the beginning of the end of a relationship but not for us. Most situations like this are between child and parent and, yes, in terms of age, Anthony could have been my parent but he was my spouse. Of course I understand the heart-break of losing a parent, but losing a spouse is, I think, a special category of loss.
I am so lucky to have had such an amazing marriage. I didn’t realise this until many of my friends’ marriages collapsed and became complicated and unsaveable. The enormity of our love (Anthony’s and mine) only strikes me now, in retrospect and I wish I had appreciated it more when he was still alive.
When the doctor said it might be days, not weeks, I steeled myself for Anthony’s impending death, never, ever thinking it might just be minutes. So the shock is still fresh and raw and uncomfortable and my dreams are full of better-and-worse scenarios.
Time is the best, and most obvious, healer and I am learning how to just wait for time to pass. I really want to function normally again, to get a job, to cook good food, to stop crying because I don’t want this 10-week thing to hit me again and again and again.
10 weeks that must seem like an eternity one moment and then the last instant , in the next. if I were able I would give you a hug. As you say, time will pass and a new normality will form, but you just have to hang in there girl.
Hang in there as the days pass, which they will and a happier state of mind will gradually creep up on you.
Thank you Susan x
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You are wise to honor your grief and give it its due, Julie. You mourn as you loved…deeply and passionately.
I want to say something as wonderful as what Writer Lori says…. but I will echo her thoughts here. ❤
Feeling so lost
That just seems ‘right’ to me Julie. You have been traveling with Anthony for so long. You’re direction was always with him. Being lost right now just makes sense. I read the ither day about a line from a movie or tv show. The man was in a sad place. A dark place. Others were trying to lift him up or cheer him up. He made a comment saying let him be where he is. He needed to be there. (Sorry for a terrible paraphrasing). It just makes sense to me Julie. And I will sit with my tea tonight and “be” with you right where you are.
I am struggling but you make me feel so much better – with all my heart, I thank you x
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What Colleen said. ❤
As difficult as it may be, please don’t stop writing. We need to be reminded that we are not alone in our grief, that it is going to be manageable some day…even if only a day at a time.
Anthony’s death was literally a ‘life-changing’ event. And that of course means that everything that was normal .. all of a sudden is not. You have to find your new ‘normal’ and that of course will take time. It must be very difficult to adjust your thinking… and I believe only allowing one step at a time will bring you to your new ‘normal’.
When you can do so, do one thing different than you usually do. That in my humble opinion is the only way to ‘begin’…. Diane ❤
Tea with my friend.

Oh how lovely!
Could you see the picture?
Oh yes, I see it now. 🙂 It was the closest I could get to being there. 🙂
Julie, I loved your post about hope (which is gone now) and especially the last sentence. I do believe hope is everything. It is waiting in the wings for you. You are going to write about your journey and you are taking Ants with you.
Grief hits us over and over again. Just trust that the intervals will gradually be longer between having the wind knocked out of you. It’s a minute by minute thing. Sending you a big hug.
Yes time is a great healer but sometimes time seems to drag on slowly but the pain will slowly ease over time.