Hi Gucci

I think you'll have had the funeral about a week ago - how did that go?

I know my wife's funeral was amazing - the number of people who came and such an incredible outpouring of affection and love and loss. 

I think maybe that when someone dies so young that happens - we have a wider circle of friends and colleagues at that time of our lives and the cruelty of the loss of someone so young prompts a big response.

Now is definitely one of the toughest times though - they've all gone back to their lives and we're left with a big hole in our lives. It's particularly hard at this time of year when it's dark and depressing and wet outside so much of the time

Often we live our lives looking forward to things - Christmas, a holiday, seeing friends, a big event. Then that's gone - there doesn't seem to be anything worth looking forward to any more. I think that's why they say "Live a day at a time" if you can do that for a bit you'll start to find that bits of a new life slowly start to accumulate.

I'm certainly going to the gym and playing badminton more and I'd certainly recommend something like that if you can find something that you can escape into for an hour or two,

It will never leave you - I miss Melanie like I'd miss an arm and you don't "get over" something like this any more than you get ove an amputation - but it does get easier - slowly, but it does.

Graham

Hi Graham,

Good to hear from you again. The funeral went well although as I had mentioned before her family were a bit funny with me? Don't think they will ever forgive that I knew and they didn't, I think for Jean she knew she had so little time that trying to rationalise it would be futile so tried to keep things to just us as normal as it could be. So yeh I had to get s taxi to the funeral and wasn't allowed to say anything, just her brother. I picked the song as we went in "Tenerife sea"  by Ed Sheeran and they had Paper Roses on the way out.There was a great turnout of around 120, I totally agree with you that when it is someone so young and such a short illness it's such a shock for everyone. 

I don't drink anymore but they had a doo at the local Masonic  so I had 2 cans of irn bru spoke to some people and left. Wasn't really made to feel part of family but I was invited to scatter her ashes the next day

I was taking to a doctor that I have a good relationship with who was saying that the first six months having counselling is pointless as the pain is too much to bare. Every day my soul is torn again when I realise the phone won't ring, Jean won't come through the door and I will never see or hear her voice again.

I take my neice to football which takes my mind off things and am going back to uni in January. I don't see how it gets easier, the memories I have when she lay there dying in again will live with me forever, as will how much I love her.

Good to hear you are bearing up well, keep in touch.

Graeme

I know what you mean about the memories we have of our partners dying - although Melanie died relatively easilly they are by far the most painful memories I have - I try not to think of them too often but when I bring them out of the cupboard and air them I always get emotional.

Sounds like you and I share more than a name. I gave up booze 15 years ago, I was just getting through too much of it, I got to the point when I couldn't remember a day without drink as far back as I could recall and my tolerance for it had just got daft -  but between you, me, the garden fence and everybody else on here, in the last few weeks before she died I'd started again and I've not managed to knock it on the head again quite yet. I'd promised myself I would after the funeral but forgotten quite how hard stopping was. I will though I've done it before so I know I can.

What I'm saying is - watch out for that - it's easy to plead "special circumstances" to yourself and hard to get back up the slippery slope again.

Going back to University sounds a good move - keep busy

I said in another post to someone I miss her like I would an arm - and I guess like something like that the pain will slowly ebb but we'll always be marked by it

I know it will get better - I also know it will never be the same

Stay strong

Graham