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.
This post is taking AGES to write as I only have 9 fingers. Well, 9 operational fingers. One of them is out of action thanks to a ‘kitchen incident’.
Anyway, let me tell you the story of what happened last Sunday night, and importantly, what I’ve learned from the (somewhat stressful) experience.
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?“
I have always put in too many hours sitting in front of my computer. It used to be a major part of my work-life but even after I retired I seemed to find activities that would end up with me hunched over a keyboard, inviting an aching neck and shoulders. Still do! 🙂
I also remember many times while I was immersed in my work at the desk that I would feel strong hands coming from behind me, deftly massaging the tight muscles. “You’re working too hard,” my husband Norbert would say while his fingers found the knots in my neck. “You need a break. Why don’t you stop for a coffee?”
Oh, how I miss loving hands on my shoulders. I miss the “You’ll be OK” hug when I was feeling down. I miss the peck on the cheek as he ran out the door. I miss hugging him. And I miss intimacy.
This post isn’t meant to be a maudlin list of everything I’ve lost since Norbert died though, as I like to keep things a lot more pragmatic and useful. The loss of touch though is…well….a touchy subject! If you no longer have your partner it’s not a craving that is easily replaced.
There are some things you can do that make the loss of touch a little less brutal though. Nothing will fill the gap left by your loved one, but some things might help.
Imagine this. You’re juggling a dozen or more brightly coloured balls, keeping them carefully spaced apart and all in the air at the same time. It’s not easy but you are well practiced and so your hands grab each ball at exactly the right time to grasp it, and flick it on it’s way before the next one comes around.
And then…. they all fall to the ground at exactly the same time. Crash!!!
What if this was your life, and all the balls are the various aspects of your life that you keep in motion. Confidently and with the expectation of somebody who has managed their own life for a long time, you know what is going to happen next.
And then your partner/soul-mate/love of your life….dies. Crash!!!
“Eng-a-land swings like a pendulum do, Bobbies on bicycles, two by two…”
You’ve got that song in your head now, haven’t you. Sorry ’bout that. 🎵 England was my first trip completely alone since my husband Norbert died, so I thought I’d put together some of my loveliest memories, and also share what I learned from the occasions when I turned into a panic-stricken idiot!