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, the apartment was so large and empty. Mornings I ran away from home and 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 also miss the closeness of pillow talk when we discussed our children, grandchildren and other issues that only wives and husbands talk about.
I know better than most that it is not what happens to one in life that counts, but how one deals with the situation. It is what I pass on to people who have Alzheimer’s disease or a mental illness in the family as a coping technique.
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 and yearning. I seldom felt hungry or tired and one day simply slipped meaninglessly into the next.
Friends were very supportive but they had their own lives to lead. Grief is a universal feeling but differs according to the survivor’s personality. Recovery? I don’t know about that but I do know that I can learn to incorporate memories of my husband into the different life that I am building for myself. Move on is the operative word here.