My husband died of a massive stroke. Anoxic brain damage was what the doctor said. A world which I had never before contemplated, opened before me.
The previous day, I had felt safe. Our children and grandchildren were well and happy and I was a working gandma, enjoying my English tutoring job.
From the moment that a policewoman came to my door to tell me to go to the hospital immediately, I knew that something terrible had occurred. I had to see my husband. When I saw him, it was to say goodbye.
When the initial shock had worn off, the pain was so intense at times that I found it difficult to find a physical position that was comfortable. Actually, my worst enemy was fear and not only pain. At first, I battled to find air to breathe. Every thought and action reminded me of my loss.
After some time had passed, I knew that I could no longer live the same way as previously. . I had to make it larger, change it, make room for my grief and try and make a different life for myself, which is proving to be a difficult task.