When someone you love dies, the world stops momentarily...and then moves on relentlessly...
And I discover I have been left behind: by my husband and by the world. Life goes on, for everyone else but me. After all the fighting with doctors, with an inadequate system, we have he announcement that there has been a massive oedema. ‘Take your time’ says the doctor. ‘Tell us when you are ready for us to switch off his life support – but tomorrow would be good for us.’
Convenience at its worst.
I couldn’t make that decision and so my darling husband made it for me. His blood pressure started to drop and his heart rate started to slow down. Within two and a half hours, and just as I kissed him on the forehead, the monitor gave a continuous beep... The worst sound in the world. My baby left this world, protecting me until the end of his life.
I believe his Love for me, and for his brothers and sisters, prevailed over ‘convenience’. His spirit knew I was too weak, too traumatised to make such a momentous decision and that I wouldn’t be able to cope afterwards. So he did it for me.
He always was my hero and always will be.
Afterwards, convenience took over again. The funeral had to be arranged at a convenient time: for the other mourners, the priest, the gravediggers, the Funeral Directors.
Fifteen weeks later, I’m still not coping.
I think, by now, I have become an inconvenience.
It has been inconvenient - understandably - for my employer that I have fallen apart; it’s been inconvenient for former ‘friends’ who sent me text messages, two weeks after the funeral , to wish me a ‘Happy Easter’ that I couldn’t reply. It also seems to be inconvenient to visit one half of a couple.
Especially, it seems to be inconvenient to others that I haven’t been able to ‘move on’.
After the funeral there is a huge silence.
LIFE is not ‘convenient’ for me!