I always wanted my man to die first. Yes, awful but… hear me.
I knew if i died he would be devastated and I thought i was stronger to handle this ripping apart better. Also decades ago, i kinda thought i could be the merry widow but as time went on and we grew closer and older i knew i would be left adrift too.
By then though i had lost my mother and father, so i felt confident that i could survive this loss too.
Now i don’t know. A friend told me the second year is worse. I can’t really compare the scale but i gotta say this is bad.
I think some of it is a kind of delayed ptsd or whatever — images keep flashing into my mind of when he was paranoid and held me scared “how many of my children did you eat?”
And then the joy the love – even in the depths of dementia when we were truly souls meeting beyond the screens we usually put up to secure our inner being.
Right now, I think he was right when, years after he went into long term care, he announced with rare lucidity, “I’ve been thinking, and i think we should die together.”
But i try to forget when we first got a semi gentle diagnosis and he was skipping across the lawn afterwards, and said, “What is wrong with you? all the joy has gone out of you.”
2 responses to “Dark Valley Hard Path”
My theory is – first year – shock, second year – devastation in dealing with what no longer is nor ever will be. Not to mention just the misery of loneliness that only the bereft know, and it’s so much worse around family holidays. I get it, despite not losing a partner to death.
I’m sorry Delores – you definitely had one heck of a good guy. 😞💕Susan
Thanks for sharing your heart- thoughts.