The irony of the situation was, that the one person who could have helped me though the grieving process, was my husband and it was for him that I was grieving. I continued tutoring English but when my last student went home, our apartment seemed so empty. Mornings found me running away from myself but when night fell and I was all alone; there was no one to greet me with a smile and a hug, or to tell me how much I meant to him.I miss the closeness, what we called pillow talk, when we discussed our children and grandchildren, for example.
I know better than most that it is not what happens to one in life that counts, but how one deals with the situation. This is what I pass on to people in support groups who have Alzheimer’s disease or a mental illness in their family. It helped me cope when the going got tough.
There were times when I had the distinct feeling that family and friends would have felt more at ease if I had skipped the step called grieving. There was this feeling of all-encompassing disbelief, a feeling of sadness, yearning and denial all at once. I seldom felt hungry or tired and one day simply slipped meaninglessly into the next.
Friends were extremely supportive but the time came when they had their own lives to live. Grief is a universal feeling but differs according to the survivor’s personality. Recovery? I don’t know whether I will recover completely but I do know that I can learn to incorporate memories of my husband into the different life that I am building for myself which I refer to as moving on.