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BEREAVEMENT AND MENTAL HEALTH
) Loss of a loved one can have a huge impact on mental health, and this can be further exacerbated for LGBTQ+ people if they lose a partner and their relationship had not been acknowledged or had caused rifts in a family. It’s not unheard of for partners to be excluded from the mourning process by a family who didn’t accept the relationship, and this constitutes another loss in its own right. This is just one possible scenario that may impact on the mental health of LGBTQ+ people experiencing bereavement and, as MindOut chief executive Helen Jones points out, bereavement is not just about death but many accompanying losses. “For some people, on top of the grief, it might be about what they had to give up, what they weren’t able to do,” she says. “Older people who were not supported to explore their gender identity and now it’s too late. People who had to be closeted in particular professions and the weight they have carried because they couldn’t be ‘out’ at work. “Then there are the people who have been outed at work and there have been some very sad stories.” Helen recounts the story of a man who had a very good career in the services, fell in love with a fellow serviceman only to be outed and forced to resign, following which the man he was in love with took his own life. “It was years ago and a product of its time, but he’s still living with that sort of loss –the loss of a loved one and a possible future with them and also the loss of a career.” MindOut offers a raft of information and advocacy services for people who have been bereaved, as well as peer support groups and counselling services. The advocacy service helps LGBTQ+ people with both emotional and mental health and practicalities. Helen says: “If somebody is dealing with bereavement they might want help to talk to their GP, for example, and our advocacy service is designed to help with negotiating with other services. “It could be practical things to do with property or income or pensions – all the legal and other implications of a death, especially if there’s an existing mental health issue. Advocacy can help a lot.” When it comes to peer support groups, she says they are “a great way to meet other people who are struggling in similar ways, whether that’s in the circumstances or the effect it’s had on them”. Helen continues: “It might be really helpful to speak to someone else who is suffering in the same way. Peer support groups are incredibly helpful because, as well as getting support, you offer other people support. Sometimes when you’re feeling really low you don’t think you can help anybody else and finding that you are doing so can be really empowering.”
A lot of LGBTQ+ people are already isolated, and that word has taken on a different meaning in the pandemic, but many don’t have anyone to talk to “in any depth or meaning”. MindOut’s counselling service, which is up to 12 weeks, “can be really useful for bereavement”, says Helen, helping people to understand how their life has changed, to cope with the loss. Losing somebody often brings up other losses, she adds. “Someone close to you dies and that can bring up grief about other
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MindOut’s Helen Jones discusses the possible impacts of loss on people’s mental wellbeing with Jaq Bayles
people you lost a long time ago. “Also, sometimes people come for counselling about one thing and actually find it’s about bereavement. Counselling can take you somewhere you weren’t necessarily expecting.” Now being run online, the service is low cost and has a “fairly short waiting list”, whereas the NHS wait is 18 weeks.
“People often wait quite a long time before asking for help,” says Helen. “It may be something to do with stigma, putting a brave face on it. When people do ask for help and support the quicker you can respond to that the better.
“The fact is that a lot of people do come to us because they are concerned about other services not being LGBTQ+ affirmative.” And while NHS services are clinically driven, MindOut’s counselling takes a different approach and is more about the person working with themselves. Grief is a complex issue and one that can bring up surprising emotions. It’s said that there are five stages – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – and that’s an awful lot to process. “We don’t talk about death enough,” concludes Helen. “Most of us wander around thinking we are immune.
“Years ago we ran a death café in partnership with Switchboard. The idea is not that you go along to explore your grief but to explore your own attitudes towards death and how you can prepare best for the inevitable. We make a lot of assumptions, particularly that it’s only old people who will die.”
D www.mindout.org.uk
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A POSITIVE JOURNEY
Lunch Positive’s Gary Pargeter has lost many people during his life, but explains why he wouldn’t change a thing about knowing, loving, and being with people as they faced the end of their lives.
Some groups of people have had to face a level of deaths that most in their demographic would never expect to see. Among them are gay men who grew up during the Aids epidemic of the 1980s and 1990s, when a diagnosis of HIV was often considered “a death sentence”.
One of those men is Lunch Positive founder and manager Gary Pargeter, who was diagnosed HIV positive at the age of 25 and lost three partners and countless close friends to the disease. Yet his journey through loss has also been one of positivity and learning. In those days, of course, there were not the treatments available that there are today and not only were gay men facing the horror of the disease, they were also the subject of stigma and homophobia at the very time when they were experiencing greater social and sexual liberation. Many faced fear alone, without the scope of support available today, or they were supporting others at a time they themselves were unwell, fearful, and contemplating death. true and Gary found himself suddenly having but I had to rethink my life. I tried to continue to work but the demands were too great to do that and be there for my partner, so I gave up the job and focused on Gary, which I don’t regret.” At that time very little was known about HIV and Aids and there was no treatment giving a proven change of prognosis. The older Gary’s health deteriorated rapidly – he had ‘Aids dementia’ and died within a year of diagnosis
GARY & MIKE, PRIDE 1994
Gary and his partner – 11 years older and also A second partner, with whom Gary had called Gary – had been in a long-term enjoyed three very happy and adventurous monogamous relationship and hadn’t felt the years, died in 1996, and a third in 2007. Gary need to be tested, but when the older Gary’s was with each of them at the time of their health began to rapidly deteriorate, the couple deaths, at their requests, and in each case he decided to take the ‘Aids test’, as it was then found himself the one delivering the news called, together. that they were going to die. “What do you say It was June of 1992 and, given how Gary had seen his partner deteriorate, he felt it was a “foregone conclusion” that if he got a positive diagnosis Gary would too. The worst proved to someone you love very much when they ask if they are going to die? Honouring our love and relationship, I could not bring myself to not tell the truth.” at the age of just 36, with Gary at his side. to realign his priorities. “When we got the diagnosis my whole focus was on Gary as he was so unwell. I had a lot to look forward to “What do you say to someone you love very
much when they ask if they are going to die?”
Gary had been out on the scene since his teens and says by the time he was in his 30s most of his friends had either died or were no longer on the scene because their health had deteriorated. “I was in good health,” he says. “I had a few minor ailments but no Aidsdefining illness. All my focus was on staying as well as I could, trying to be happy and comfortable and enjoying time with the people around me. “The most meaningful thing I could be doing was what was right for them, rather than what was right for me. That wasn’t through any kind of martyrdom, it was about working out the perspective of where you are in the scheme of things.” He says the deaths of his partners and friends were all very different and some very difficult, but “it was really important I was there in the end, not just in terms of giving myself to the people I loved, but in terms of coping going forwards knowing I had gone through the whole process and fulfilled their wishes so I felt no sense of guilt or regret.”
Gary continues that he felt fortunate to be in Brighton and around many people who, despite having a worse prognosis than his, were being “very kind and considerate of each other”. He adds: “For some people, of course, it was awful and they were extremely frightened. But Brighton was and still is a place where there’s a general approach of looking out for one another.”
The city’s HIV resources were not unsubstantial and Gary was able to access talking therapies throughout his 20s and 30s. “Over the years I matured and had time to reflect so I was able to cope better, to the point when, in 2007 in preparation for my then-partner’s death, I felt much more in control of the plan and what I should be doing.” While Gary admits to having had his “dark moments” when “life has felt very tough”, his overarching approach is: “I feel so privileged to have known all the people I have. While it upsets and angers me when people didn’t get the chance to live full lives, you have to accept the reality. I am fortunate to be able to take away some really happy memories. I wouldn’t change a thing, the people I’ve met and lost have had the deepest impact on my life. I’d rather have known and felt the pain of loss, than not known them at all.
“I’d rather HIV wasn’t a disease that existed, but I wouldn’t turn back the clock on any of those life-changing experiences, the acquaintances, friendships and loves that I’ve gained as a result of it.”
DEATH AND THE CITY
Sussex-based author, performer and playwright (among other talents) Rose Collis here updates the intro to her fascinating book about Brighton & Hove’s relationship with death to reflect the impact of Covid-19 on the city
) In his diary, the writer JR Ackerley noted a quote from Sophocles’s Antigone: ‘We have only a little time to please the living, but all eternity to love the dead’. He died the next day. That, for me, sums up what death brings: sadness, tragedy, irony and, occasionally, gallows humour. Ten years ago, it occurred to me that, while I had only attended four weddings in my life, I had been to a disproportionately high number of funerals and memorials – the first when I was just seven. And since my early 30s, I’ve been involved with almost everything to do with funerals: written obituaries, registered deaths, collected hospital paperwork (in the UK and abroad), chosen and liaised with undertakers and clergy, chosen hymns and secular music, picked out coffins, selected crematoria, collected ashes, given eulogies and even sang solo at a funeral. Over the years, my research has borne out what I had long suspected: that Brighton is a perfect microcosm of the British national experience of death, in all its forms. Hence, my book, published in 2013. Brighton teems with innumerable idiosyncrasies and uncanny landmarks that have had a profound effect on both the national consciousness and history. You doubt me? Well…
The first person ever to die in a car crash was from Brighton: in 1898, 42-year-old Henry Lindfield. Until recently, Brighton & Hove had the highest number of suicides in England and Wales. The death of Whitehawk girl Maria Colwell in 1973 brought the issue of child abuse into the public consciousness for the first time and resulted in radical changes in the law and social care policies. The murder of Brighton teacher Jane Longhurst in 2003 led to the creation of a new law to make possession of ‘violent and extreme pornography’ a criminal offence. The unsolved murders of Moulsecoomb schoolgirls Karen Hadaway and Nicola Fellows in 1986 became one of the prime examples cited in the successful campaign to have the 800-year-old double jeopardy law revoked in 2006. This led to the conviction of their murderer Russell Bishop – found ‘not guilty’ of the killings in 1987 – in 2018. And which city is the leading contender for the Banana Skin Award? Yes, you’ve guessed it… step forward Brighton & Hove, where people are more likely to die in road crashes, falls and accidental poisonings than almost anywhere else in England, according to figures released in March 2012 by the Public Health Observatory. The last outbreak in Britain of once-deadly infectious disease smallpox (now eradicated worldwide) occurred in Brighton in the winter of 1950/51. Emergency vaccination centres were opened and, by the end of the outbreak in February, 85,918 people had been vaccinated. The cast of Mother Goose at the Theatre Royal, including Beryl Reid, were quarantined and then had to queue for vaccinations, ‘principals first’. And some of this might sound a tad familiar: the National Union of Teachers, the Crusader Insurance Company and the National Union of Journalists all cancelled their conferences in Brighton. Local football and rugby fixtures were also cancelled. A Brighton printing company had an order of 3,000 programmes for a boxing tournament at the Albert Hall cancelled at proof stage. Funeral directors refused to handle the bodies of the smallpox fatalities; a café in Chichester put up a sign saying ‘Visitors from Brighton not welcome’ and staff on trains from Victoria shouted ‘All aboard the Plague Special’. The first cases of HIV/Aids in Brighton were diagnosed in 1982, and the first reported death (the 45th in the UK) came two years later. In the next 25 years, 482 people in the town died from the condition, the majority of them gay men. Aids is particularly significant in our history because it was the first time in Britain that a disease was used as a weapon with which
to attack, vilify and stigmatise a so-called ‘minority’ section of society. And a very effective weapon it was, too – engendering bigotry and hatred, and leading to unnecessary deaths from lack of state provision for treatment, research and social care. Instead, the government spent £20 million on a 1987 TV and leaflet campaign –the famous ‘tombstone’ image that did much to engender panic, and little to educate and prevent. By 1992, 5% of deaths from infectious diseases in the 25-44 age group were caused by Aids; 93% of those who died were under 50. By 1984, there were 2,500 recorded cases in the UK. But, trust me, as I watched a seemingly never-ending procession of gay male friends, colleagues and acquaintances succumb to the ravages of the virus in that era, those figures felt much higher. And there has evolved, for me, a sense of déjà vu in the current pandemic – that it is those who have either contracted it, or known people who have, who are the most concerned about it.
If they haven’t – nah, not so much: it’s just an inconvenient hindrance to shopping and social habits.
To date, four people I know have contracted it: none of them in care homes, and three under 60. Only two have lived to tell the tale – one of those who did not was our own dear David Harvey. And, almost inevitably, it was in Brighton & Hove that the only public memorial in the UK to those lost to Covid-19
has appeared: the tribute made out of stones which appeared on Hove Lawns in July which spelled out ‘44,602’ – the number of our fellow citizens in the UK lost by that date. Spain had nine days of official mourning for its Covid fatalities. I am not holding my breath for this country to do the same. But I will not forget them.
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) Death And The City by Rose Collis is available as a POD paperback and Kindle book from www.amazon.co.uk D For more info about Rose, visit:
www.rosecollis.com
GENERATION COVID
University graduate Rachel Badham reflects on what the pandemic has taken from young people and how the LGBTQ+ community in particular has suffered
) As a student, I pictured the defining event of 2020 to be graduating university. For other young people, this year might have been characterised by starting university, entering employment, or simply enjoying the summer months with friends and family. However, as my social media feeds have become flooded with photos captioned ‘the closest I’ll get to a real graduation picture’, or ‘first time seeing my partner after three months in lockdown’, it has become painfully evident that the coronavirus pandemic has resulted in life-altering changes and losses for young people across the globe.
I had never considered the fragility of my own life and, like many people my age, I find that youth comes with a sense of invincibility. Yet, as I spoke to friends who were afraid to leave their homes and who began to worry about their health, I realised that I too perhaps had reason to be concerned. Young people with existing health conditions or compromised immune systems were, almost overnight, left with no choice but to self-isolate or risk exposure. Even healthy young people such as myself were presented with a risk that we didn’t expect to collectively face as a generation. Headlines such as The Independent’s ‘Coronavirus: 12-year-old among latest confirmed deaths as England’s hospital tally almost outstrips Spain’s total fatalities’ topped some of the most harrowing news stories of 2020 due to the disbelief that young lives had become so vulnerable during these new and frightening conditions. In the early months of the pandemic, an Express headline branded coronavirus ‘terrifying’ due to the fact that ‘young, healthy people’ were at risk as well as the elderly. The pandemic has not just caused loss of life in the younger generations, but has led to a new awareness, and with that a new fear, of our own mortality. One of the most widespread effects of the pandemic in young people has been loneliness and emotional distress, as we have suddenly lost the social life and daily structure that we once had. I, along with many fellow students and friends, support the lockdown and believe it’s essential for reducing the impacts of the virus, but we have also found that it has taken a toll on our mental health.
While the young generation has often been subject to criticism for heavy reliance on technological devices and social media, my experience – and that of the majority of people my age who I’ve spoken to throughout the lockdown period – is that virtual contact could not possibly replace socialising face to face, and many have been left feeling isolated as they lack human connection. Loneliness does not equate to the seriousness of losing a life due to Covid-19, but the consequences of isolation on someone’s mental wellbeing may be life-threatening, particularly when the national lockdown has reduced the ability of mental health services to provide resources for those in need. Loneliness is affecting all age groups during the pandemic, but for university students who are generally accustomed to a highly social style of living, the sudden loss of interaction has been challenging for many.
Young LGBTQ+ people have also been hit particularly hard, as their access to supportive communities has been limited. With recent studies – including The Link Between LGBTQ-Supportive Communities, Progressive Political Climate, And Suicidality Among Sexual Minority Adolescents In Canada, published in Preventive Medicine –demonstrating that young queer people are less likely to suffer mental health problems when in a supportive environment, many are now lacking access to essential wellbeing resources. The Trevor Project’s National Survey On LGBTQ+ Youth Mental Health 2020 also demonstrated that nearly half of LGBTQ+ youth have engaged in self-harm within the past year, 60% of whom were gender non-conforming young people. Queer people’s mental wellbeing is already vulnerable and, as leading mental health charity Mind has tracked a decline in people’s ability to access vital services during the lockdown, it’s the young LGBTQ+ community who have been some of the most affected.
I’m thankful that the lockdown period didn’t dramatically affect my mental health, however as a young queer person the pandemic has brought a sense of disappointment as summer Pride events were cancelled across the globe. In 2018 and 2019, Brighton & Hove Pride was one of the highlights of my summer and an event where I felt a great sense of community. These cancellations, combined with the loss of my graduation ceremony, meant that my opportunities to not only be proud of my academic accomplishments, but to be proud of my identity were no more; a loss felt by both university graduates and LGBTQ+ young people alike.
Now one of the biggest burdens the younger generation faces is the challenge of how we will adapt to this ‘new normal’, and how we will recover from the economic impacts of the pandemic. Like many other students, the pandemic left me concerned about the availability of graduate jobs and, on a broader scale, a large proportion of the younger generation has struggled financially during this period, with the BBC reporting the number of young people on benefits doubling during lockdown. What is for sure is that the young generation has faced social and economic losses that no one expected to contend with in 2020. As I mourn the loss of my graduation ceremony and of Brighton & Hove Pride, I can only imagine the sorrow felt by those who’ve lost jobs, loved ones, and any sense of stability and hope in this time.
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D www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii
/S0091743520302152?via%3Dihub
D www.thetrevorproject.org/survey
2020/?section=Introduction
D www.mind.org.uk D www.mindout.org.uk
SHOULD I MAKE A WILL?
Phil Hodges, of Lings Solicitors, offers some advice on the importance of getting your affairs in order
) I know this is not the most exciting thing you’ll ever read, and maybe the last thing on your mind, but the fact is, no one knows what your wishes are without a Will. A Will is a legal document, which sets out who will inherit your estate after your death. If you have a partner or a close friend or relative who has some indication of your wishes and you feel that’s enough for them to deal with your affairs on your death, then this couldn’t be further from the truth. A Will is the only way to ensure your wishes are legally binding. Even if you are clear to your friends and family what you would want to happen, that doesn’t necessarily hold any legal weight unless you put it in a Will. Your estate can be more exposed to potential disputes when there is nothing legally drawn up by a professional to ensure a) everything is legal, and b) the advice is independent without any inferences of undue influence. Many people consider making a Will when they reach certain ‘milestones’ in life, such as buying their first house, tying the knot, having children, or retirement. I am approached by people at varying stages of life who have decided to make a Will to ensure that their affairs are in order to reduce the burden on their loved ones when they have gone, and everywhere in between. The truth is there isn’t a
FIVE REASONS TO MAKE A WILL 1 To appoint one or more people you trust to administer your estate (known as executors); 2 To provide for an unmarried partner, who wouldn’t otherwise inherit if you did not leave a legally valid Will; 3 To appoint a person or persons to look after your children (known as guardians); 4 To ensure that your personal possessions, such as family heirlooms or items of sentimental value, are inherited by those you would wish to receive them; 5 To ensure that your pets are looked after.
single ‘right’ time to make a Will, but it is something that should be considered regularly – even if you already have a valid Will in place, you should review the terms of your Will on a regular basis to ensure it is still an accurate reflection of your wishes. As part of the Will writing process, the team at Lings Solicitors can also advise on the most tax-efficient way to distribute your assets. Inheritance tax is often referred to as the ‘optional tax’ as, with proper planning, the inheritance tax liability could be significantly reduced or even completely eliminated. If you die without a valid Will then the law dictates who will receive your estate, known as the ‘intestacy rules’. These rules are very strict and do not make any allowances for your individual circumstances. More recently, with the growing number of couples choosing not to marry or enter into a Civil Partnership, there has been strong criticism of the intestacy rules for not allowing any provision to be made for surviving cohabitees. Although there have been calls for reform over the years no changes have yet been implemented. You can prepare your own Will, however be cautious when using a DIY at-home Will kit or standard template, as these ‘one-size-fits-all’ documents do not take into consideration your individual needs and circumstances, and could mean that your estate is not distributed in the way you had intended or vital inheritance tax reliefs are missed. Your Will could be one of the most important documents you ever sign, so it is essential that it is right for you and your loved ones. Often the reason for putting off making a Will is that it can seem a daunting task. My team at Lings Solicitors are legally qualified with years of training to advise you, and as a legal firm we are regulated by the Solicitors Regulation Authority to ensure high standards to protect you. We are praised by our clients for making the process friendly and straightforward. We endeavour to use simple, jargon-free language wherever possible and take the time to make sure our clients understand all the options available and help them to make the best decision for them. We have even been told that we have made the Will writing process a ‘pleasure’. Now wasn’t that a fun read? Tell your friends and family - they may be thanking you one day.
If you would like to discuss making a Will or any other legal matter our team will be happy to help. To contact them: N call: 01903 700303 E or email: reception@lings-solicitors.co.uk D or visit: www.lings-solicitors.co.uk
Other Legal Services
Lings Solicitors offer a range of other legal services including: • • • • • • • •
Powers of Attorney
Deputyship and Statutory Wills
Trusts
Estate Administration
Lease Extensions
Residential property
Commercial property
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LOSING THE ONE YOU LOVE Roger Wheeler’s personal account of bereavement
) No one likes talking about death – but we should, as confronting one’s own mortality is a good thing and there’s no avoiding it. The death of a lover is possibly one of the hardest things anyone can experience. Everyone is different, we all handle such catastrophic events in our own way and there’s no guide book. My wonderful husband, Michael, died suddenly in my arms – there was no warning and he was just 44 and perfectly fit. Without being too dramatic, my life ended in a heartbeat. Our lives were so intertwined that not only had I lost the only man I had ever loved but also a part of me. After nearly 18 years of real happiness there’s nothing, I’m alone.
How did we meet? A question I’ve been asked many times.
Back in the early part of 2003, in the bad old days of Gaydar, I was innocently looking around when a young Irishman popped his head above the parapet and said “Hi”. He turned out to be one of life’s exceptional men, although I didn’t know that at the time. Some weeks later we met in Dublin – he lived in Galway and cheekily bought himself a ticket on my flight home, not knowing how well we would get on. If it hadn’t gone well he would have simply thrown the ticket away. He liked Brighton, so after a few months moved over. Michael Wall – quite simply one of life’s brightest, most charming, intelligent, handsome and wonderful people anyone could wish for. We fell hopelessly in love, eventually, and settled into domestic bliss. We got Civil Partnered in 2006 and upgraded to marriage in 2014, happiness forever. Meeting him changed my life forever. Some years later he was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety, the result of childhood abuse and professional homophobia. Over the next few years he became very anxious and depressed but we continued with our happy, almost idyllic life and were managing his condition, changing jobs a few times but developing some skills that were very much in demand. Then August 9, 2019 happened. A day I will never forget, nor do I really want to. Grief is almost an illness, one from which you will never recover. You feel totally lost, life suddenly has no meaning. I wonder why I’m bothering with anything, there’s no one to share my thoughts with, prepare meals for and do all the thousands of small things that as a couple I happily did. Initially, friends I never knew I had called to express their concern. I got many cards expressing deepest sympathy. These I couldn’t open as all their lovely words do is bring the whole sad affair back into sharp focus. I’m a long way from accepting the fact that my wonderful Michael is no longer here. I have his photos all over the house – I kiss them every day – and his ashes are in a beautiful box in the sitting room. Every cupboard and drawer I open brings memories of him, his clothes remain exactly where he left them, and nothing is to be changed in the house. I don’t care if people think it’s odd, no one comes round in any case. Of course I talk to him all the time, telling him what I’m doing, where I’m going etc, but I’m reassured that everything I do is perfectly normal, I’m not going crazy. That’s good to know. I cry, I yell and scream every day (invariably on my own). Professional therapists tell me that crying is an essential part of the grieving process, although breaking down on the bus is embarrassing. But in extreme grief, tears will come with no warning, there’s nothing you can do – simply let it happen and let other people think what they like. It’s like a large black cloud that suddenly appears, drifts over your head and then goes. My dreams are vivid, always featuring Michael, and when I wake I’ve forgotten what’s happened and I think he’s gone to make the morning tea. Then I remember. Hundreds turned up for his funeral, former colleagues I’d never met. It seems that everyone who came into contact with him was somehow affected, everyone loved him. Some of Michael’s Irish family were there. They’d never bothered to keep in touch after he came to Brighton, but his youngest sister did say to me that I’d given him the one thing he’d never had – love. Hard to believe, but I know it’s true; his father’s ‘love’ was not of the kind you would normally expect between a father and son. It was something from which he never fully recovered. I have never heard from any of them again. That catastrophic event of August 9, 2019 was followed a few weeks later by the death of James Ledward; I lose my husband/lover and one of my oldest friends in quick succession. I know about grief. One of the first lessons I learned is that I’ll never recover from Michael’s death. My doctors have advised that my feeling of extreme sadness could last five or more years. I’m reminded that Queen Victoria experienced grief for over 30 years after the death of Prince Albert. I was told not to expect to feel better after a few months – I don’t. In fact, for me, each day is worse than the last.
After a few weeks the phone stopped ringing, all those friends seemed to disappear. The reason is simple – as a couple we were an attractive, fun addition to any party or social gathering. Suddenly I’m a single, sad, lonely man who bursts into tears at a moment’s notice. Who wants that at a dinner party? Some of my oldest ‘friends’ turned out not to be. I received several quite nasty phone calls, too painful to recount, but a very close friend said just one word –‘jealousy’. I had achieved something that they had never experienced.
I was, and still am, vulnerable and easily hurt. Many neighbours and casual acquaintances are very fond of issuing vague invitations, meaning it when they say it but instantly forgetting. So this very sad man suddenly thinks ‘great they’ve asked me over’ when in fact they were just being polite having no intention of actually issuing specific time and date. That hurts. One of the worse things is the complete lack of human contact; obviously no one will ever physically touch me but it would be nice to actually talk to someone, but they don’t know what to say, so avoid talking. I realised just how much I had relied on my husband. Michael did all the household maintenance, I know I can do it, but he enjoyed working on the house and garden. He mended, repaired, painted, re-wired and established a fantastic tool room, which I was almost forbidden to enter. When visitors were due he’d clean the house from top to bottom; today I hardly bother. I’ve become quite lazy, not like me at all. But as there’s no one here, apart from me, who cares if it’s a little untidy? Yes, occasionally I do take a deep breath and start the dishwasher and washing machine, but ironing? Michael was a high-flying data protection officer so had to have clean shirts etc every day. I regarded it as my job to see that everything was in order. He could iron his shirts, of course, but it was just one of those things I enjoyed doing for him. I cooked dinner every night, but now I’ve lost interest in food. It took many weeks before I could be bothered to cook a meal. Also I didn’t drink for about 12 weeks after he died. I do now, but am very aware that I must keep it under control. Alcohol is a depressive and I’m told that I’m suffering from reactive depression. This can also last for many years but I’m told that it will eventually lift. I was told to distract myself, so I joined a gym. Healthy, yes, but then I got too enthusiastic and now have to slow down. I’m also tired all the time, simply due to stress. I didn’t realise I was stressed, but apparently I am. Sleep can also be a problem; my doctor prescribed a very mild sedative, but only for a short time. It worked, but now I rely on simple herbal tea, which seems to work too. The time between his death, his funeral and the weeks after dealing with the endless bureaucracy has become a blur; I have very little recollection of anything. Suddenly it was a lonely Christmas and now it’s summer again and a year has passed. The pandemic and its associated problems have passed me by. All I can think about is how I’ve lived for 12 months without him; it seems impossible. That’s my story to date, life is not good, in fact life is hell, and there’s no pleasure in anything. I miss Michael more every day and of course still love him, I always will, true love never dies. I don’t want anyone else in my life. People laugh and say “never say
but cannot”
never”, they’ve never experienced the love of a truly wonderful man, but without any doubt I can say never. I’m now really quite old, I don’t want anyone else in my life. Michael is with me, in my heart and in my head. I rarely think of anyone else. Several very spiritual friends tell me that Michael is with me; whether this is true or not, I do feel his presence. The human brain tells you what you believe. It’s true I’m a sad man. But there’s a good reason for my sadness. No one will ever know how I feel, no one can, and everyone is different. On the anniversary of his death I was persuaded to invite some close friends for drinks and supper, it was an evening of mixed emotions with toasts and lovely words being spoken. One of my closest friends said he would have completely approved and they actually felt that he was there with us.
No one I know can fully understand and appreciate my feeling, I know of no one who has had this experience. Friends comment that they know and understand, they really don’t, why should they? They’ve never had this experience. When someone you love dies, it changes your life forever. It’s not something you ‘get over’ as the loss becomes part of you. You have to learn to handle your new life and pretend to the world that you’re fine; it’s all an act you can get good at, until you come home to the empty house.
Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with nowhere to go. But I hang on to it, that and my memories of course. Memories are just memories, but they’re all I have.
