I’m widowed these last eleven weeks (who’s counting? Me, always will I think) my darling husband of 52 years died from cancer in February this year. Things are raw. Some days I cope better than I thought I would. Then some days I cry, a lot. I grab a cushion and just bawl my eyes out. I feel so hollow inside as if I might just float away.
And yet sometimes it’s the small things that pinch.
No one to bring you a TiB with a cheery good morning, no one to fix a G&T at sundown, or to share chores. Everything now has to be done by me - from washing up, nipping into Sainsbury’s, doing the accounts.
I cried yesterday because the last of my make up remover pads had run out and he bought them whilst out shopping. It just completely undid me. Anyone would think me nuts, crying like that over something so daft. But I did. For the first time in my life I know what ‘keening’ is. Such a forceful tsunami of emotion.
Voting. I’m so glad we still have the ‘old fashioned’ system…
