Feb 14, 2011 - 2:50 pm
It has now been 11 days since my wife died. I have buried her, had the family visit, and sent my mother home. My mom was helping me take care of her the last several weeks.
The emptiness in the apartment is overwhelming. I leave the TV on for the noise, but sometimes find it annoying and have to shut the darn thing off. Even the TV sometimes reminds me of her - she had, of course, favorite shows that we would watch together.
I am not in danger of harming myself, at least, I don't think so. But what I am is profoundly sad. The sadness that I feel is probably nothing unique. I miss her. So much of my life over the last year and a half has been about her, about her medication schedule, about her food, about her visits, chemo and radiation treatments, and scans.
There are friends available, and some family still in town. I'm sure I'm luckier than many of you, as I do have some resources available. I miss being able to hold her, tell her that I love her, prepare her morning cream of wheat, and her presence in our bed. In so many ways, I have been lucky - lucky to have the last year and a half with her after her diagnosis, lucky to be able to be with her at the end, telling her that I loved her, lucky to have traveled this very difficult road with her.
The last couple of weeks I was basically not sleeping, I was worried about her, was worried about the amount of food she was eating, about her breathing, about her weight loss, and now although there are different worries, and plenty of work to be done, I don't want to do anything. I don't cry a lot, but sometimes, when I am driving, or when I am doing the laundry (I've been emptying her laundry baskets), or just thinking about her, the sorrow becomes almost unbelievable.
I have an appointment with a grief counselor on Wednesday, which I know that I need, and will follow up. I just can't believe the intensity of the sorrow that I am experiencing, or the depth of loss that I feel. We were together from about 1997 onward, and due to my feet of clay, only got married after her diagnosis. We lived together for many of those years, though, and I think what I miss the most is hearing her, seeing her walking around, watching her clean up behind me (yes, she did this up until the last few weeks of her life), and just knowing that she was near. I was sad when my father passed away (I was also at his side), but it seems like this loss is more intense, stronger, and more overwhelming.
For those of you who are in my position and have been through this path, I admire you. For those of you making this journey with me, i hope you have a great support system.