“Would you like to go out for dinner?” It seemed innocent enough. Just two people who know each other, sharing a meal instead of eating alone. (I didn’t realise at the time that I was heading for a disaster. 😕)
I’ll get back to that story, because this post is about the whole ‘dating thing’ after losing a partner. I’ve never been one to shy away from controversial topics (evidenced by Should You View Your Loved One in a Coffin, and Is All Grief the Same)….however I’ve been putting this topic on the back burner for a long time.
Why? Because ‘re-partnering’ is a massive topic. Because it can open a door to judgmental opinions. Because I would need to ‘bare my soul’ and share stuff that I’ve kept tucked away. And because it really doesn’t apply to me….or does it?
I couldn’t have imagined ever having to consider this. When Norbert died, it was like I entered into a strange alternative universe, having to make decisions like what he would wear in the coffin. And then I was asked “What would you like to do with his ashes?”
Seriously? I mean…whoever thinks about this! What a gut-wrenching decision! There is one right answer though, and discussing this sad subject with others has helped me to realise what that right answer is.
Whatever you do, don’t take MY lead in this important decision. I mean, I sent my husband into the afterlife with no underwear on! Yes, you read that right. He attended his own funeral….COMMANDO! 😂
I’m not giving myself a hard time about it though. When the person you love dies suddenly, there is so much you are not prepared for, but I was particularly unprepared when the Funeral Director said “Can you please bring in a set of clothing for Norbert to wear for his funeral.”
As I walked through my (our) house for the last time, my footsteps echoed in the empty rooms. The blue floral curtains I loved were still hanging at the windows and the mirrored alcove that Norbert had built looked strangely bare in the corner of the lounge room.
Carefully I laid out all the keys on the kitchen bench, slowly removing the final key to the front door from my key chain and adding it to the number. With tears in my eyes and my head filled with visions of ‘what might have been’, I walked to the front door and closed it behind me for the very last time.
As I said goodbye to the house where Norbert and I had lived together until he died, I asked myself…”Any regrets?“
This question has been going around and around in my head for a long time now. I’ve needed to write about it but oh…..what a contentious topic! I could just imagine how some might react:
“Are you saying your grief is worse than mine?”
“How can you ‘compare griefs’ – are you suggesting a hierarchy?“
“Don’t you dare judge my feelings when you don’t know me!“
Oh dear. [shudders] My fear of this reaction is why I haven’t broached the subject in the past. I have a strong self-protection instinct… but I also have a need to explore and understand what is going around in my head AND maybe what might help others to understand what’s going on for them too.
Perhaps I should continue to shy away from the topic, but our society doesn’t ‘do death’ very well at all, and I believe it should be something we talk about openly.
So here goes….. [braces herself]…..
I have a friend called Carmel who is an expert in grief support. Why do I think that? Because without her, I’m not sure I would have survived the first night. I’ve asked her to write a Guest Post…….
Hi, I’m Carmel. I had been out for the day and arrived home around 4pm and decided to check my emails. There was one that had the subject heading ‘Norbert killed in a tragic accident‘. Wha…????