51/2 hours until I can go to bed.
What can I do to fill the hours?
I've just eaten the remaining bit of a lemon current scone, so I won't need dinner. Or, if I do, I have a plate in the fridge with a piece of lasagne left over from a couple of days ago.
Brian, my sweet and dear husband, left this earth one week ago. His funeral was last Friday. Shiva was Sunday evening.
We married 43 years ago in the "round building", the government building in Duncan that issued drivers licenses and occasionally preformed marriages, needing only one witness.
I learned later that the woman who wrote our information down noted that I was Guwish.
43 years: more than 1/2 my lifetime.
The care-giver role I have worn has lost the cared-for.
Time and space seem to have no reason to be- to exist at all.
Our wonderful cat Oliver tells me he wants to eat, so I check the clock.
I see that it's only three o'clock so I urge him to wait a little.
Whole days haven't been 'seen' by my head.
I think it's the opioid meds I took for a recent injury, though someone more knowledgeable than I, says it is grief that has erased memory.
Grief so great that as we sat Shiva, a time to share stories about Brian, I have absolutely no recollection of words that were spoken, or of people who were gathered together.
I'm being told to be kind to myself: suggestions welcomed.
Jackie we are thinking about you today and many days this past week. If you are up for a walk, I am off work quite a few days in the coming weeks or we could visit over tea. I remember when my mom passed it had been so long taking care of her needs, always being tethered to home that I did not what to do with myself. I was relieved that her suffering was over and sad for my loss. Grief is exhausting. Thank you for sharing those precious photos. What a handsome couple! And I love the picture of Brian with Oliver. He will bring you fury comfort in the coming days and a reason to get out of bed. We love you lots. Hugs Hugs Hugs - SW
ReplyDelete“Guwish” is better than “Gooish”, i suppose, Jackie. As for the Shiva - it may sound strange to depict it as beautiful; however, beautiful it was, filled with tenderness and deep care.
ReplyDeleteDear Jackie,
ReplyDeleteAs I read your blog, my heart ached, for you. I can only Imagine the void you are experiencing, now that Brian is gone from your side.
" You have people who care and love you."
That is so eloquent, Jackie. I especially love the final sentence.
ReplyDeleteJackie, it was a loving group of people who came to the shiva. There was mention of you driving a big truck and sweet memories of Brian. There was a gentle feel to the evening with many many friends there who obviously love you. ❤️❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteGrief is a holdfast securely holding us from the anguished torment tearing
ReplyDeleteapart our memories.
Thank you Jackie for sharing your thoughts, your memories and these fabulous pictures. Such a handsome couple and good looking puss cat. This made me think about the time after losing my mom who I became caregiver for in the last years of her life. I almost did not know what to do with myself - a mixture of relief for the end of her suffering and sadness for my loss. When you are up to it, we could spend some time walking or drinking tea. I have some time off right now and in the coming weeks. Sending you lots of love. SW
ReplyDeleteA portrait of grief and mourning. Sending love.
ReplyDeleteHi Jackie,
ReplyDeleteOur condolences to you and your family. So sorry for your loss. Brian will be missed. Cherish the memories. We were so honored to know him. Take care of yourself.
Love…Carol & Mark❤️❤️
I’m kind of hanging in. I’m asking a friend to help me make up Brian’s bed upstairs. To pretend it’s a guest room.
ReplyDeletethat is absolutely beautiful Jackie I Love you, Hilary with one L!
ReplyDeleteDearest Jackie,
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you and trying to find words, but I don't know how. Such a loss overrides all else, like a big wave that comes ashore and washes everything else away. The cat, the garden, the rain emerge from the fog and fade away. What is there to hold on to? Some truth, a verse or song, a scent, an object that carries the feeling you need in this time?
After my mother passed away, I would wrap myself up in a fleece robe I had given her, knowing she had been wearing it, and it felt like getting a warm hug from her, and I felt comfort in that moment. Is there something you can touch and hold, a memory or a thought? Something tangible or intangible.
I did not know Brian well, but I could see how the two of you were blessed indeed to have found each other as your life companion. It makes the pain of loss hard to bear, but the love remains always. All that love you two created still exists. Again recalling my mother, who had read in Rudolph Steiner's work that the departed feel our grief and understand it as love.
There may be a creative pathway that opens up for you in time. if you would like someone to walk with, I am here. We don't even need to talk if you don't feel like it, whatever works for you.
(((((((((Hugs))))))))) and love from Ann
<3
ReplyDelete