Please dance with me …


Please dance with me  …

Memories fade a bit. I see snapshots of us dancing, hear his voice saying; “Please dance with me.”I remember the times spent listening to music too. When he became ill, in an effort to get him to recall some of the closeness we’d shared, we danced to music from the 60’s. Whether he enjoyed it or not, I will never know, but I did.

The first time I heard the word widow, I froze. Was someone referring to me? My grandmother was a widow. My mother was a widow. But me? I don’t look the way they did. I have wrinkles and some old lady spots on my arms and legs, but, how can I be a widow? I was part of a couple for 53 years and I was not sure how I would be able to live as a single entity again

At the support group for widows, we took it in turns to give information about our situations and when it was my turn, I said; “My name is Jill. My husband suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and died suddenly. He was a chartered accountant.”

And then I felt as though I were reducing him to a label.

This entry was posted in Grief and Grieving on by .

About Jill

Author of books and articles on support and experiences of living with a mentally ill family member. My aim in blogging is to let others see how a loving family, with a father and husband who is able to give unconditional love, can help the family cope. Many call me the blogging grandma.'

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