Last Day Of 2011, My Last Year as Arthur's Wife.

I say goodbye to 2011, and I say goodbye to Arthur, for the first time. Goodbye, my Husband, goodbye our Earthly life as husband and wife. I loved you then, I love you now, I love you forever.

In the turmoil of grief this record stopped on 18 July 2011 because on 19 July 2011, the unthinkable happened. Two of our beloved dogs, the litter-brothers Ajax and Stamp, got out of the yard. Despite my desperate searching, I have not found them. The grief of their loss, the broken promise to Arthur in his final hours of life that I would care for our dogs, the endless fruitless search, has sapped me and brought me to the brink of total despair, and pitched me into endless pain.

I am still staying with my Mother. I have not the energy to move out. I know I must put my grief on hold to search for our dogs or I am useless to them. I know their Mum and Dad, little Chelsea and Trafford miss them terribly, as do I.

When I asked and prayed and cried to Arthur for help in finding them, and he was not able to help me, I knew finally how alone I was. I think his eternal energies are for keeping them safe and being with his son, Anthony. With his Downs Syndrome, Anthony sadly has dementia, and he is now in a special purpose nursing home run by the government for people with intellectual disability. It is a good place but I see in Anthony that failing strength I saw Arthur go through, though without any dementia. I know Arthur needs to use anything he can from Heaven for Anthony. He knows I am strong.

I miss Arthur like the heart misses blood.

Each morning, in the haze between sleep and wakefulness, my first thought is a prayer for the soul of my beloved Arthur, and the second a prayer that this be the day I find Ajax and Stamp.

Christmas Eve was too sad to write about until now. I always lit candles and by their light Arthur and I ate Arthur's favourite treat, fruit mince pies and drank  a glass of port wine as we listened to Christmas Carol records, with our dogs sitting next to us. In preparation I always decorated the house and set the Manger scene under the tree and a Star on top.

I would join in the carols and Arthur would hold me. It was a time for just him and me and our dogs with love. Christmas Eve was our special time together.

This year my Mum visited my brother on Christmas Eve. I was alone, with Chelsea and Trafford, and Mum's little dog Shep. I lit the big lavender candle that was at Arthur's funeral service. I found two fruit mince pies and a tiny glass of Scotch. I put on carols on You Tube with the laptop, the ones we always listened to. I held Arthur's suit jacket, the one he always wore on ANZAC Day with his medals that I had sewn in place many years ago. I sat Chelsea and Trafford with me, and just remembered.

I remembered the Christmases past, Arthur's smile, the children opening presents, Xmas dinners at restaurants for us all, baking for Xmas, decorations, trees, his arms about me, his kiss and the way he said he loved me.  I remembered holding him when he was too weak to hold me, and the last Christmas in 2010 when I sought the best seafood, Alaskan Crab, prawns and oysters, cold meats, salads and ice-cream, all set in a tempting cold buffet.

My Mother, my son Jason, Arthur and me, enjoyed a lovely informal Xmas lunch. Jason hooked up the laptop and I located You-Tube videos from England. Arthur saw his home town of Brightlingsea, historical videos of Manchester United Football Club, and many other things he was amazed and happy to see. It was a magical, special day, the last we Christmas we ever shared together.

This Christmas Eve I held his suit jacket to my breast and cried out the tears I have held back since the day he died, or at least some of them; the others are still behind the dam wall, that is flood I too much fear.

The year 2011 ends, a part of my life ends. I go from wife to widow and happiness has died within me.  The clock moves on and drags me with it, away from my old life, into the one I do not want.

The only happiness for me now is to find Ajax ad Stamp.

May 2012 bring that comfort.

 www.ajaxstamp.com

The Mysteries

Yesterday was the 17th of the month and I spent it with my Mum. In the shower, of all places, I prayed for Arthur and asked God to care for him, and to let Arthur know I still remember him, and that I am trying hard to get on with life. I said I was sorry I did not care for him better, that in the last days I did not spend every minute with him that I could, that I got too tired and that I was not always there when he wanted me to be. I asked God through Jesus Christ to care for Arthur.

I thought about life and death, and the fear I have that my religion is wrong and there is nothing after death. It is the logical and scientific way, but it is so final and frightening. I do not understand how it can be though. It does not make sense that something as complicated and mysterious as life can just stop and all that we think and understand just stops. We must, I believe, transcend our bodies, because we are more than our body, which is limited in its existence. There are Mysteries to which we mere mortals aspire but cannot know fully in this life.

So my understanding is that Arthur is beyond my earthly reach, but I am not beyond his, that he has an awareness of me, but he is in the light of eternal love.
 
It does not dampen my longing, though. I long to go home, to go back. I am two calender months from when Arthur died, and my grief is still a frightening lake of dark water. If I go in too far, I cannot see the bottom and the other side is shrouded in mists. I fear I will float across the water, bobbing up and down as waves engulf me, and never see the shore again.

I could grieve and grieve and grieve until there is no more to be wrung from my wretched soul. What happens then? Where is Arthur in my life if I am not grieving for him?

Dear God, I miss his touch, his voice, his smell. After Arthur died, when I took the pillow from under his head, the little cylinder-shaped pillow he always asked to be put under his neck, it was warm with the last warmth his body ever shared. I held it to me and cried to the nurse. "It is warm, when it is cold he really will be gone."

I want to feel my husband's warmth next to me in my bed. I long to hold him close and feel his skin on mine, I long to touch him and hold him. I want to hear his strong heart, the heart that just kept going when all of his body was failing around it, the heart that loved me so.

Love is a Mystery.

So Frail.

I am truly sadly shocked at Arthur's condition. He is home, he came back on Wednesday. He slept two nights in the hospital bed in the lounge room. The day and night brought cold so I bought an electric blanket to put over him. Arthur took a sleeping tablet on both nights but it didn't help much. It was strange for us to be sleeping in different rooms.

My middle son, the only one of my children who helps me (the others live in other cities), came today and lifted Arthur into our bed and propped him up on pillows. He looked a lot happier. I made him some soft food (egg custard) and crushed his pills for him to swallow, and he had sweet tea to drink.

Arthur is sleeping a lot. He shows little interest in television, or what is going on in the wider world and that scares me. He did watch some of the news last night, though, but no programs.  Normally by Friday he has mapped out his weekend football viewing choices and set up the recording schedule on Foxtel IQ. I hope this is just tiredness from the move home. I fed him his food and passed him his drinks, and made him comfortable. He has me and the dogs for company and I hope he picks up soon.

The AXXXX co-ordinator and OT came out with the first service visit and assessed him. He is at maximum service level now anyway. The nurse came came today because Arthur had a dressing from the nursing home, on his bottom. She found a small skin break and applied a fresh dressing.

While the respite worker was here I went back to the nursing home to get Arthur's gear. At Arthur's suggestion I bought a bowl and filled it with fruit for David, his room-mate. David was younger, still mobile, and they were good together. They talked but respected each other's need for privacy. When Arthur was leaving, David gave Arthur a little Buddha statue and also a little clock and tried to give him his watch, until the staff stepped in. I bought David a little dog statue. They have each something that is important to the other. David wished us luck. He said he would not be leaving the home until he was dead. He said he was in another one before, but this one was nicer. David doesn't smoke, is very friendly and respectful. He has family who visit, and he talks of his mother, and what she was wearing when she died. David has a clear understanding of death and seems to accept it as a reality.

Arthur is sleeping now, without a sleeping tablet. He is next to me, with the dogs all around, under the wool quilt. I have my computer next to the bed and I can type in the warmth. I am more relaxed with him here, and for a little while I can pretend nothing has changed, just for a minute. As my memories fill in the present moment, they lure me into thinking tomorrow the sun will come, and Arthur will wake me with the sounds of vegetables being prepared for the evening's meal, the scent of the grapefruit he has squeezed and the aroma of coffee with toast. I remember those Sundays when Arthur would make me breakfast in bed, as I was getting up early for work every weekday.  Or maybe I will think it is a Saturday morning in the local soccer season, in the 1990's and we are going to get up early to pack the car to go to the soccer club (where Arthur was the Team Manager for over 25 years) for the day. 

But it will not be. We will wake to morning of the 7th of May, 2011, when the only thing we share is pure love, and pain.