As part of Dying Matters Week (10th - 16th May) please see this personal perspective on bereavement, widowhood and aloneness from Jan Warren.
It is with the great loss of a loved one, that we discover the weakness of our emotions. I am often surprised at the swift onset of tears which appear without any seemingly poignant trigger.
I recall I went to the cinema with a friend to see Little Women. It holds an abundance of childhood memories, which unleashed a myriad of emotions. Tears flowed and in retrospect covered such a wide variety of issues.
Of course to David my wonderful, funny random late husband and with his loss the deep, deep loneliness.
I know I’m much more prone to tears now, so no longer try to challenge the reasons. And neither should you. They are all part of our grief and of course the broken hearts we carry that we ‘duck tape’ with our memories.
I’m very honoured that I have a wonderful friend, with whom I can correspond, who truly understands the level of grief the loss of a partner brings. Loss of parents, siblings, friends and very sadly children are hard to bear but the loss of a partner with whom you have grown, aged and who have helped to mould who you have become over the decades of your relationship, is something totally different. They were often the better side of you. The ying to your yang. Your reason for sharing every part of your life …mind, body and soul. Intimate, secretive, earth moving, challenging, teaching, so many things, indeed …… our everything.
I can only say again that this level of despair does come in waves and sometimes surprises us by its ferocity and depth. But being below par physically or at ‘anniversary moments‘, we tend to indulge ourselves in raising memories to the fore that we know will end in floods of tears. (And remember it’s allowed, there’s no moratorium on grief).
I admit, I dread Christmas. Last year, I indulged in a few hours of deep, deep despair and, I’ll admit, self pity. I didn't think I could pull myself out of it. But as is often the case, my ‘mini me’ daughter sent me a photo of her car radio on her dashboard of a song that had appeared by chance on their radio, on the way to Christmas dinner with friends. It was Blackbird by the Beatles. One of, if not THE favourite of David’s eclectic mix of music. It both cheered me and changed my tears from distraught self pity to joy of memory.
Losing a partner through bereavement is a bitter sweet existence. But we endure and oh those lovely memories.
2020 has been a difficult and reflective year for many. The displays of kindness, Captain Sir Tom and his marvellous fundraising, ‘alone time’ in the true sense of the word. Missing colleagues, friends and most of all family. We who have lost our partners through MND have a ‘jump’ on the rest of the population. Our ‘aloneness’ is a constant. That special person with whom we shared everything , who could set our hearts racing, or with whom an argument could be a precursor for a lovely making-up. We know and understand ‘aloneness’. So be kind to yourself and imagine if the world had chosen you not your loved one. Wouldn’t you want them to have lived happily, contentedly and always smiling making more beautiful memories?
To learn more of my bereavement story, I recorded a podcast with ‘The Midlife Movement’. Here’s a link if you wish to listen to our discussion.
I hope it helps you.
https://podcast.app/surviving-widowh...m_medium=share
Jan Warren
Vice Chair of Trustees
Motor Neurone Disease Association
It is with the great loss of a loved one, that we discover the weakness of our emotions. I am often surprised at the swift onset of tears which appear without any seemingly poignant trigger.
I recall I went to the cinema with a friend to see Little Women. It holds an abundance of childhood memories, which unleashed a myriad of emotions. Tears flowed and in retrospect covered such a wide variety of issues.
Of course to David my wonderful, funny random late husband and with his loss the deep, deep loneliness.
I know I’m much more prone to tears now, so no longer try to challenge the reasons. And neither should you. They are all part of our grief and of course the broken hearts we carry that we ‘duck tape’ with our memories.
I’m very honoured that I have a wonderful friend, with whom I can correspond, who truly understands the level of grief the loss of a partner brings. Loss of parents, siblings, friends and very sadly children are hard to bear but the loss of a partner with whom you have grown, aged and who have helped to mould who you have become over the decades of your relationship, is something totally different. They were often the better side of you. The ying to your yang. Your reason for sharing every part of your life …mind, body and soul. Intimate, secretive, earth moving, challenging, teaching, so many things, indeed …… our everything.
I can only say again that this level of despair does come in waves and sometimes surprises us by its ferocity and depth. But being below par physically or at ‘anniversary moments‘, we tend to indulge ourselves in raising memories to the fore that we know will end in floods of tears. (And remember it’s allowed, there’s no moratorium on grief).
I admit, I dread Christmas. Last year, I indulged in a few hours of deep, deep despair and, I’ll admit, self pity. I didn't think I could pull myself out of it. But as is often the case, my ‘mini me’ daughter sent me a photo of her car radio on her dashboard of a song that had appeared by chance on their radio, on the way to Christmas dinner with friends. It was Blackbird by the Beatles. One of, if not THE favourite of David’s eclectic mix of music. It both cheered me and changed my tears from distraught self pity to joy of memory.
Losing a partner through bereavement is a bitter sweet existence. But we endure and oh those lovely memories.
2020 has been a difficult and reflective year for many. The displays of kindness, Captain Sir Tom and his marvellous fundraising, ‘alone time’ in the true sense of the word. Missing colleagues, friends and most of all family. We who have lost our partners through MND have a ‘jump’ on the rest of the population. Our ‘aloneness’ is a constant. That special person with whom we shared everything , who could set our hearts racing, or with whom an argument could be a precursor for a lovely making-up. We know and understand ‘aloneness’. So be kind to yourself and imagine if the world had chosen you not your loved one. Wouldn’t you want them to have lived happily, contentedly and always smiling making more beautiful memories?
To learn more of my bereavement story, I recorded a podcast with ‘The Midlife Movement’. Here’s a link if you wish to listen to our discussion.
I hope it helps you.
https://podcast.app/surviving-widowh...m_medium=share
Jan Warren
Vice Chair of Trustees
Motor Neurone Disease Association
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