Sandra, he always called me SAHn-drAH.

My best friend helped me out when I was feeling low. Jill is a wonderful friend. I give thanks for Jill, my friend,.

This sad time has opened big emotions for everyone. For my middle son, he suffers the effects of emotional trauma, for his two brothers, anger. They turned on him and castigated him for his faults, of which he has quite a few. There is no doubt his faults, which stem from his sad feelings, low confidence and self-centredness, impact on the rest of the family. However, the others were not here to see him rise to the circumstances, in ways which they did not. They shied away from the sadness and tragedy that unfolded, and my middle son bore the brunt. My daughters too, I kept most of it from them. My eldest daughter had already broken contact with me four years ago so there was nothing to say to her and, anyway, she lives overseas. For my youngest, I needed to shield her from it, and as she lives interstate it was easy to tell her little.

My other two sons spent this last weekend in furious electronic communication with me, trying to get me to drop my middle son in favour of them, citing his behaviour, The eldest son did some distressing things, including distributing photos of my middle son's messy house. It was messy in part because of the trauma of the burdens of the situation, and his brother's action caused great embarrassment and hurt. I helped my middle son to start seeing a counsellor, and just as he was starting to make progress, he was traumatised again by his brothers' rejection.

My Mother is shocked at my two sons' behaviour and tells me to ignore them until they wake up to themselves.

Neither of those two of my sons seem concerned with my immediate welfare. They think my long-term prospects are better if I am not trying to help their brother, but all they did was hurt and traumatise me. It unleashed a wave of grief and loneliness which took me days to control.

I am still fragile. I miss Arthur, I just want to hold him again. I want him to talk to me again. I want to hear him say 'Sandra' in that High English or Italian way he always did, "SARn-drAH'; Sandra and Arthur,

I am tired. I have withdrawn from my university subject and I will take it up later,

For now, I need rest.

Is it better to fight against a sea of troubles...

I feel so bad, that if it wasn't for the dogs, I would rather join Arthur than go on.

Sons and Daughters

I visited my eldest son on Sunday, July 3rd. He made dinner for me, and we went out and walked his dogs. During the walk I spoke to him of that last day with Arthur. He was in Victoria on a job when it happened. He has been distant during this time, and even on Sunday he was more into solving practical things than giving me any emotional support, He seemed to shy away from anything emotional, which I understand. But it did make it plain to me that I no longer had someone who would put their arms around me and hold me, or tell me it will all be okay. I just wanted a hug. I wanted to get into the car and go to my best friend, just to get someone to comfort me. But I know I need someone like my son to think of the practical things too.

This week the local housing agency came and fixed the light switch in Arthur's place. He was waiting for months for them to do that, also to paint his bedroom. His windows and doors needed fixing and again, they didn't come. He always paid his rent on time too, for over forty years in the one house. That disappointed me, though they did put in a ramp for his wheelchair. Arthur would not move into my house, I wish he had, for I am sure I could have looked after him better there, but he wanted us to be in his place, so I respected that. It is hard though, because I have to let it go, the place where many of my memories were formed.

My second son moved his catamaran today, and this caused an argument with my eldest son, over the trailer. I am sure they will work it out tomorrow but truly I do not have the energy for my offspring's squabbles.

I have thought a couple of times that maybe soon I should have Arthur's ashes interred, but I am not ready yet. I had his funeral service too soon for me, I was not ready, but my children, or at least my daughter and youngest son pushed me into having it only seven days after Arthur died. They said I needed to get it over with and they could not stay, as they had return flights and jobs they could not be away from for too long They thought they were helping me, but it was not the case. In the end only my middle son went with me to the funeral service, so the others may as well have left me to have it in my own time. 

My middle son says he stills cries himself to sleep at night, and he is getting help from the doctor.

This has affected us all, in different ways.

Memory

Six days ago, I stood in our old bedroom, so empty but for the bits and pieces strewn around, left after the removal of the furniture. I said 'thank you' to the house, to the room, for sheltering us. And then it came upon me, the waves and waves of memories; the sights, sounds, smells, words, touch, love, anger, laughter, desire. Longing tore at my soul.

I wept as I had not wept before, and memory held me hostage to my pain. I saw again every detail. I felt his touch, his voice. I heard my voice. I saw our dogs, I felt the air, the heat of summer, the cold of winter, the intimate touch of husband and wife, the caress to soothe pain and distress; his to me and mine to his. All this and much, much more cascaded from my memory, as clear as day and yet as distant as the fading moon that shone on our wedding night.

My blessing and my curse I name it, that so easily I can bring it all back, and it is very nearly real.

Compassion.

My son JD assembled his new bed today. I am happy to see him making progress and moving forward. We discussed some of the things we had been through. He said now when he sees old people on TV, he sees them so much differently.  He can see how frail or weak they are and he knows they have not much time left.

I said it was gaining more understanding of ageing than we ever wanted to have, and he agreed. He said one thing he learned, that someone getting slowly weaker and then dying like Arthur did was something he would not wish on his worst enemy.

JD was the only one of my children closely involved with helping Arthur and me, as the rest live away. I also did not burden them with my troubles, but JD and I have shared an intense life experience. It is even more remarkable because JD did not even very much like Arthur, differences in temperament being as they were.  That is what makes JD's effort so remarkable. It is one thing to do this for someone you love, it is another to do it for someone whom you do not.

JD wrote Arthur a letter and put it in his casket. I do not know what it said, but I know JD had great compassion for Arthur and I hope it helped JD.

JD also was a great comfort during the service. I know this all took an emotional toll,on him, but his character has shown through in all this and I am so very proud of him.

The Luxury of Tears.

Two days ago, I felt an internal shift. I had this tiny calming feeling, that Arthur was with me, in some way. I do not know if it is real or the result of my mind, desperate for relief, tricking me into thinking it is so. It was nothing dramatic, just a feeling that all was not lost, that Arthur knew what was happening to me. Is my psyche finding a way to care for me, or is there actually a link with Arthur, a thread so fine only a distant echo of our lost connection can traverse its span? I do wonder.

Today is one calender month since Arthur's funeral service and I have not contacted the director about interring his ashes. I am not ready yet, for that.

I applied for a part-time job this week. Arthur left me some money but I cannot stay out of work for very long. My children suggested I retire and they give me an allowance. I told them they need to save for their old age as having funds makes all the difference to quality of life.

I tell Arthur what I am doing,sometimes, am I being silly? I hope Arthur is with God. I fear the atheists' idea that death is the end;  it is a horrible thought.

I am keeping grief at bay, I tell myself not to give in to grief and I hold it off. I am not weeping all the time. There was a time when I could weep and there was someone there to comfort me. His arms would encircle me and I could cry my hurt into his shoulder, when the relief of tears was my privilege. Arthur is not here to do that for me anymore and I am afraid to weep alone.

Driving Home

My friend's birthday dinner was nice, with about a twelve people attending. Her mother and sister were there but her mother has early stage dementia and my friend's sister took her mother home early. My friend's Mum remembered Arthur and said he was a lovely man. I appreciated that.

I enjoyed the company and especially I enjoyed talking to another couple who had a Tenterfield Terrier. We spent some time showing each other dog photos on our phones.

I stayed overnight with my friend and her husband. I sometimes did this over the years. I would stay the night because of the laws about driving and drinking alcohol. Arthur would always be glad when I got back. I would ring to say I had had a couple of drinks and would be coming back in the morning. He would get a bit short with me and not be too pleased about it, but when I came back next morning (or sometimes after lunch) he would be at first a bit grumpy. Sometimes I got a bit upset too, but mostly he was just glad to see me. Of course this was before he got sick and needed me to care for him. While he could still get out of bed and look after himself, I would be away for some hours, mostly with my son to do things.

As Arthur became frailer I could only be away for a couple of hours, while the workers were there. I once took a puppy to someone down the coast and was away for about six hours . He was alright, and I had made arrangements with my Mum for her to be on standby if he needed her but everything was alright. I felt bad about leaving him alone for that long. Now I wish I hadn't gone, because I rue any feelings of loneliness that Arthur had. However, Arthur was glad the puppy went to such a lovely home, with an older couple whose old dog had passed away.
 
In the last months I would just go out while the workers were there, down to the shops. There were even doctor's appointments I never attended, and if any of my family or friends asked me to anything I would say no. I told the Terrier club I could no longer help with fund-raising days anymore and I stayed in the home with Arthur.

This dinner party was the first time I accepted an invitation since 17th May, and it was only because it was from my best friend. Late at night we talked and she revealed to me that her first experience of death was as an eight year old girl when the family doctor's daughter was accidentally run over by her father driving his car out of the driveway, and the doctor committed suicide a few weeks later. Evey decade of her life she lost some-one she knew. I contrasted this with my situation, I told her that as my family is scattered across the country and I didn't have any contact with my extended family, this is the first time anyone close to me has died. I once met Arthur's cousin Dorothy when she visited Australia. We drove all the way to Queensland to see her when she came out to visit her sister Katie, Arthur's favourite cousin. Ten years later we visited England and Arthur's home village. Katie was still living in Queensland near her son, but Dorothy had passed away. I told my friend that was the first time I had stood at the grave of someone I had known in life. That was in 1994.

My friend told me she is impressed at how I am handling this. I told her it is because I am still in shock, still horrified, and I probably have post-traumatic stress. It did help, though, to talk and put it into words. 

On the drive back I took a detour along the seaside road for a while and gave thanks that Arthur got to see the ocean one last time during his stay at the nursing home for respite. I cried as I was driving. I was driving to my Mother's house, I was not driving home to Arthur. I should have been driving home to Arthur, to him being glad for me to come back home, to being greeted by the dogs and Arthur. I was always a bit worried that he would be a bit unhappy but he was always glad to see me. Now there is no-one to care if I come home or not, or to miss me and be happy to see me come in the door. I just wanted to go home to Arthur and I seem to be knowing it will not happen. I do not want to know this.

It is just over one month since Arthur died, and I am getting further in time from when I was with him in life. It is getting longer since I was with him alive and I do not want the time to go, I do not want to be further away from Arthur.

Like today driving back from my friend, I just want to go home.