Yesterday, I logged into Facebook to write a Happy Birthday message on my late friend's husband's wall....I guess I can refer to him also as a friend now.... What prompted me to write this post, was something I saw on his profile and my reaction to it. Under his relationship status, where you might expect to see married, single, or even "it's complicated" was the word 'widowed' and that word hit me like a kick to the stomach....
Of course I know he's a widow, she was my best friend, I was at her bedside many times in the lead up to her passing away, and I spoke at her funeral..... So why then, when I saw that single word on his facebook profile did I bury my face in my hands and cry?
I've read two great posts on twitter this week about grief.... the first by the very talented blog writer @Rohan_Kalli entitled There are no rules in grief and the second by someone I'm new to following @HappyProjectLDN entitled On grief. Everyone deals with grief differently, in their own time, and sometimes sharing in other people's experiences can be a part of the healing process....so you know you're not alone in those feelings of anger, regret, guilt, sadness...
I guess you could say the first stage of my grief came before Sarah even died....that stage was denial. She knew she was going to die and had a certain amount of time to prepare her friends and family for this fact....but I just couldn't accept it as readily as she did. I had faith in the doctors and the research and failing that I'd decided we would try every powerfood growing on earth. One day we were planning a coffee morning, less than a week later one of her old nursing friends phoned me to say she was out of hospital and had been made as comfortable as possible at home.... that was the day the denial ended.
I visited her at home 4 times in the week before she finally passed away... the evening I got the phone call to say she was gone, came the relief stage. It sounds awful to say that I was relieved she had died, but anyone who has watched someone they love waste away in front of their eyes, will understand. That evening my close friends and I got together and flattened more than a couple of bottles of wine - a celebration of her life, and the fact that she was no longer suffering.
The weeks that followed were the 'getting on with it' stage - helping to contact friends re funeral arrangements, collecting her girls from school if needed and generally trying to be useful. The trouble is, when you're a friend, rather than the child/mother/lover of someone who's died, people expect your grief to be less in some way... it's different, yes, but I don't think it's any less... even more than 2 years on there is a huge hole in my life. I am fortunate though, that I see bits of her through her 3 daughters (now 9, and twins of 12).
The guilt/regret stage seems to be the longest standing with me....guilt that I went through the denial stage, instead of being able to talk to her about what she wanted for her daughters' futures....regret that I didn't hug her more, because I didn't want to get upset....more guilt that I couldn't spend more time with her when she was very sick because I had a baby at home....guilt that I had that baby when I knew she had desperately wanted another but couldn't....the list goes on. All of these things are more than likely in my head, I don't think Sarah ever held any of these things against me.
There has been anger too....anger that a 36 year old, fit and healthy mother, should die of cancer. And there are just simple moments of sadness, like yesterday, at the realisation that a man is trying his best to bring up 3 girls without their mum, and moments when I just miss her being around.
I guess the 'good' part about my grief comes from what my friends and I have continued and achieved in Sarah's memory. She was an avid Race for Life supporter, and since her death we have raised over £40 000 for Cancer Research UK through our Little Legs for Life and other fundraising events. Raising money for charity of course in no way makes up for the loss, but perhaps makes me feel as though I have contributed something positive as a result of it.
One thing is for certain, as long as we have memories, there will never be a 'healed' stage - we move on, but never forget.
#kickcancer
N x
