I’ve been writing a lot lately about my wife – her cancer, her treatment and her death.
Now that she has died, I am in mourning. I don’t know how long this will last or what it will be like.
In some ways, I’ve been mourning since March 2018, when she was first diagnosed.
It’s tragic that she died from lung cancer. What she went through in her final year of life was horrible. I wish she never had to suffer like that.
But now she’s gone and no longer suffering.
After 29 years together, I have to rebuild my life without her.
In my heart, I knew someday this would come. Ellen was 19 years older than me. She had a history of cancer in her family. Her mother and aunts all died at an early age from cancer.
Even knowing this I made a deliberate choice – to love her, marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. My fantasy was that she’d live to be 100, I’d be 81 and nobody would care about our age difference.
It’s strange to be 50 years old and suddenly single. Even stranger, I’m a widower.
I don’t even know what that means. All I know is that my identity as husband, provider and caretaker is gone.
This is not a tragedy. I am not a victim.
This is life.
So I am “In Repair” as I cobble together my new life.
Obviously, there’s been significant changes.
As Ellen’s primary caretaker this past year, my life was consumed by caring for her. Now I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want.
For 29 years, we were best friends. Ellen knew me longer and better than anyone else. Now I have to make new friends and reestablish old friendships that I’ve neglected.
Taking care of daily responsibilities like finances, pets and chores is not a big deal. We shared them for decades. Then as Ellen’s health declined, I assumed responsibility for most of these. If anything, these basic tasks are easier now that I am only responsible for taking care of myself.
Dinner and nighttime has been a major adjustment. I eat dinner alone every night. Well, almost alone – except for my Snickers and Buster who huck me to give them “cookies” and table scraps. I no longer eat in front of the TV. Instead I read or blog. My meals have become very spartan – meat/chicken/fish and vegetables. Except for days when Zack visited, I have not eaten takeout since she died. I no longer buy any junk food so avoiding candy, chips and ice cream is easy because it’s not in the house. Dinner used to be “our time” to relax, unwind and be together. What I do today is not terrible. But it is very different.
I’ve reignited my volunteer work. I belong to an organization that helps people. I used to be very involved but hadn’t been since we returned to Florida in 2016. A week after Ellen died, as soon as I felt like I wouldn’t break down in public, I jumped back into a daily routine with them. It has been really good. Every day I meet with like-minded people and have the opportunity to help others who are less fortunate.
I am exercising like a madman. I just bought a new bike too. I’m going to take advantage of this slow period in my life to see how much I can replace driving with biking. We’ll see how much my 50 year old body can tolerate.
Most of the “death projects” are completed. Paperwork, notifications, accounts and reorganizing the house are nearly done. Some will drag on longer due to bureaucratic delays, but my list has gotten much shorter.
I have not written any thank you letters yet. I want to send these to Ellen’s hospice team, her nurses, her pharmacist, her pain doctor and the other people who treated her well this past year and made her life better. Every time I sit down to write these, I get too choked up. I’ll write them eventually. Just not today.
In the future, I’ve got some big decisions to make:
- Should I sell my house and downsize?
- Should I relocate to an entirely different city or state or country?
- Should I try to get my consulting business back on track or shut it down?
- Should I look for a job?
- Can I cut expenses so drastically that I don’t need to work again? Would I want to live that way?
- Should I be dating? Do I even want to?
My friends and family tell me not to make any major decisions right now because I’m emotional, I’m not thinking entirely rationally and I’m grieving.
They’re right of course.
So I am taking each day as it comes and waiting for a clearer mind before I make major life-impacting decisions like these.
My friends and family worry about me.
They read my posts, hear the sadness in my voice and ask if I am OK.
Some days I’m fine. Other days I’m not.
But I am not hiding in my house avoiding life. I’m not neglecting to eat or sleep or exercise. I am not punishing myself for outliving my wife.
When Ellen was first diagnosed with lung cancer, I held her in my arms and sobbed that, “I didn’t want to live without her. I’d rather be dead.”
She held me and replied, “Oh baby, don’t think that way. You have a lot of life left to live. You need to live it and try to be happy.”
So I will.
I miss my wife every day. I will miss her for the rest of my life.
But I have to start living without her and so that’s what I am doing.
I am In Repair.
I read this post 6 years later. I was not “in repair” when I originally wrote this post. I was grieving and a total fucking wreck. For the next two years, I was devastated and life was touch and go for me. It’s better now.