Strange, isn’t it? I finished my first blog this time last year with the full intention of blogging regularly. Well, that didn’t happen!! And here we are 12 months later!

Ten years on …

Older, definitely! Wiser … maybe? We had all the intentions of making this 10 year anniversary special. We made plans to remember Geraint and Kevin’s first wife who died 10 years ago in December. We have made it to ten years without those two special people and we felt the need to mark it. We planned a combined family holiday altogether in May and we went! Half of us went down with the Noro virus while the other half feared they would go down with it. We WILL remember that week but not necessarily for the reasons we intended!!

Tomorrow is the day I usually dread – thanks to the measures I took last year to not be bound up in complex grief (see last blog!) I don’t have that problem this year.

For this week, November 18th-22nd, we planned a few days away. Me and the 3gingers. Picture this… a beautiful cottage in mid Wales away from the busy-ness of life; stunning views everywhere we could look; and a hot tub. A hot tub!! The place was located and booked, time off from our work places organised – my 3 gingers and I were going to spend time together reflecting on the 10 years that have passed and just being together. I miss us ‘being’ together – the laughter the 4 of us generate, the teasing, watching my 3 gingers be my 3 gingers, seeing how they/we interact, the memories and easy way we talk about life then and life now – ten years on. Those were our plans … I couldn’t wait!

They are GOOD plans but God always has better. Over the last couple of weeks my Dad, my rock of the last 54 years, has become seriously ill. He has bowel cancer and, knowing he will be taken Home to his Saviour soon, has been putting his affairs in order. Now he is in hospital and being made comfortable by the amazing, caring staff. What do I do? Go away for a few days or stay and enjoy his company? We waited until just a week ago and then made the decision. We would cancel going. We would spend time with Dad/Taid. We can do Mum and 3ginger time at a later date. Now we can be with Dad/Taid before death breaks that bond.

So what of the last 10 years? I remember, during those awful days in limbo between Ger’s death and the funeral, thinking ‘I won’t feel like this in 10 years,’ and I don’t. I don’t feel the sudden emptiness of having my soul mate torn from me; I don’t feel the strange sensation that I am living someone else’s existence; I’m not feeling like I am watching from a distance while my life changes dramatically beyond my control; I don’t feel the RAW emotion of my husband being gone.

What DO I feel? I am married again. Not remarried. When I redo something it is usually because the first attempt went wrong – I redo the cake that sunk in the middle; I retry the exam I failed; I replace the bulb that is broken. My first marriage did not go wrong. It ended with ’til death us do part!’ He got to heaven before me.

I haven’t remarried. I have married again.

Do I still think about Geraint? Every. Single. Day. How can I not? But ten years on it is different. While Dad is reminiscing Ger comes into the memories; when I am with the gingers Ger is always mentioned in some context or other and rightly so; when I am on my own a memory will pop in my head and invariably make me smile; when I see Deiniol’s handwriting Geraint comes to mind since it is so similar; watching Sioned love science and maths like her Dad; seeing Meinir’s bright hair and ‘ginger’ skin like her Dad’s; hearing them tease/play jokes – just like their Dad!!

I think about Geraint but I am not the Al part of ‘Ger and Al’ anymore.

Do I feel sad? Yes. It isn’t all the time and it isn’t the raw, almost unbearable emotion that comes with immediate separation. It is just the sadness of grief. Sometimes it comes with tears, sometimes a sigh, sometimes a heart-pain and sometimes all three and more. When I hear that someone else is widowed young my heart goes out to them, to what they are going to have to face in the days ahead.

How did I cope? The first weeks after Ger died God was good in that the weather was bad and the children had snow days. It helped to have them around – we walked in the snow and enjoyed being in the house, in the warm. Together. Then family and friends – the meals from people in church, the cards and texts, the emails and assurances of prayer. All this kept us going but ultimately it was God. He was close. He kept us. He knew what we needed before we did and supplied it.

Ten years on … He is the same God and He is the One who is keeping us, the One going before us putting His plans in place; His plans that are better than our plans.

“For I know the plans that I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

So …. here it is! My attempt at a blog!

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

9 years ago I was told that I have ‘a story to tell’. Since then various people from different parts of my life have told me the same, encouraged me to write a book, write a blog etc etc! Today seems like a good time to start … why? Read on …

 

This was me 10 years ago. That is my husband, Geraint – know  as Ger, and we were out for a family meal. We look relaxed and happy and we were!! But Geraint had MS, Multiple Sclerosis. He had been diagnosed with it for 16years at this point, but had been suffering with the symptoms for some years prior to diagnosis. But that is ‘A Story to Tell’ for another time!

19 months later Ger died. His MS had deteriorated and his body could no longer stand what the MS was doing. This is the story of what happened and how those of us left survived the trauma of losing such a lovely husband and devoted Dad.

Apparently I am experiencing what the professionals call ‘complex grief.’ It is 9 years at just gone midnight Monday morning (19.11) that I lost my husband and my 3 gingers lost their Dad. Our kids were 17, 15 and 13 years of age. What is this complex grief?

Well, I relive the 18th and 19th November 2009 each year, moment by moment, wherever I am. This is what I remember …

Wednesday, November 18th, we woke up after very little sleep. Ger was very poorly and the district nurses had gently hinted that his time had come. They visited faithfully and sensitively on the previous days, and continued to do so on the 18th. Ger’s breathing was laboured and I knew my lovely, gentle, long-suffering husband was going to leave me. I was calm. I was as sure as Geraint that he was going to be with his Saviour Jesus in the very near future. I knew I would soon be going through the worst of moments when he breathed his last, but I wanted to be there for him and with him. We had faced the battle of MS together from the beginning and we would see it to the end – together.

The kids went to school. My parents came over to help me out – I needed to pick up our car from it’s MOT and needed a lift to get there. As Dad and I were doing that I had a really strong sense that the kids should not be in school but we should all be at home together. I phoned the school, Dad picked them up after we had picked up our Citroen Despatch Wheelchair Accessible Vehicle (it passed!) and we all settled down at home. Various people came to the house and read the Bible with us but eventually, by the afternoon, we were just us. The 5 of us and Flash, our faithful, black labrador. I am so thankful for all the medical people who helped me look after Geraint at home where he wanted to be. I am grateful for the daft, black labrador who made us laugh every day.

What did we do? We watched Top Gear Winter Olympics. We sat on the beds in mine and Ger’s bedroom with Flash snuggled up and we watched one of Ger’s favourite DVDs. Ger didn’t see anything. His body was slowly giving in to the MS. But we were with him. Together. I took a photo of the kids, Flash and Ger – selfies were unheard of then so I am not in it. I am the observer behind the camera. I am seeing the man I love surrounded by my precious, beautiful gingers spending the last few hours with their Dad. It seemed to be the most natural thing for us to be all together. We had always been together – we all chose to be together. We knew it was going to become difficult – we didn’t know just how difficult – but we also all prayed together. We knew very clearly that God was with us and, however painful the following days would be, we would be fine. But nothing would be the same.

I continued to do everything Ger needed to be comfortable. We all stayed in or around our bedroom and encouraged those we loved and who loved us to come and say good-bye. But we were always glad when it was just the 5 of us and Flash again. The kids eventually went to bed. I sat with my soulmate and held him. I told him about our day. I told him I loved him. But then I panicked …. the kids hadn’t said good-bye! I didn’t know how to tell them to say a final good-bye to their Dad so I woke the girls and told them to say Good-night for a last time. Deiniol was still awake so he came down as well. They hugged their Dad and said good-night and went back to bed. Probably not to sleep but upstairs. Waiting…

Ten minutes later, at 12:20am, Ger went to his Lord. He died. I held him – even though you have spent days expecting this to happen it still takes your breath away. I can’t remember if I cried. I do remember praying. I remember feeling very calm. I had no idea what was going to happen now. But one minute at a time. I tidied Ger’s body up. I put his favourite clothes on him. I talked to him the whole time, thanking him for 20 precious years., promising to the best I could for our three lovely children. Children we had prayed for since they were (large) bumps.

I called the kids down, they hadn’t gone back to sleep. Deiniol took over, he supported me even though he had lost his Dad. Our son. A very dear friend came and did everything needed for Ger’s body to stay with us until the doctor could certify his death in the morning. She was so caring. My parents came. Ger’s parents came. My sister and family came. It’s all a blur really, but a good blur with lots of love amidst the tears and heartbreak. I was heartbroken. I haven’t felt pain like that since.

We all fitfully slept in the lounge for the rest of the night. We took it in turns to sit with Ger – of course he wasn’t there but we kept his empty shell company. I had dressed him in his favourite polo shirt and cargo trousers. The room was cold and quiet. We read the Bible and prayed together lots. We cried. We were now 4.

Then the morning came, an end to the strange peacefulness of the night. I can’t remember much. I remember our GP coming and being so terribly kind. He told us to look after ourselves now, after years of looking after Geraint. I remember the funeral directors coming and taking Geraint away. That was the hardest – I had to let other people now care for the body of the man I had loved and cared for for over 20years. We were now truly separated – we had lived the ’til death us do part’ we had vowed 20 years previously.

And in all this Flash… he stayed by us, he kept us company wandering from one to the other of his human family nuzzling each one of us as we sat still and quiet. He didn’t understand but knew something was different. God is good giving us such beautiful creatures to care for but who provide unconditional love and comfort to their families.

That is what I will live through tomorrow and Monday. But this year it will be different. This year I am confronting this complex grief and being thankful for those days; I am sharing it with others who may be helped by knowing you will survive because someone else has; I am talking about it with those who have prayed for me and my gingers over the last 29 years; I am not going to be afraid to feel the pain of loss at this anniversary even though I feel it to some degree every day; I am going to be ok because of the great I Am, because of the God who has conquered death and gives us such hope. I will be fine through the pain of loss because of Christ and His love for me.

And Kevin. My lovely, long-suffering, eye-rolling new(ish) husband of the last 7 years. The man God has given me to walk this difficult time. He gets it – he has been there.

So there we are … I will have more of my story to tell after Monday when the emotional tsunami has abated and I am on more of an emotional even keel – well as much of an even keel a woman of my certain age can be!