Hi, my husband died last Monday after only a 3 month fight with the most awful disease, pancreatic cancer which had invaded the liver. Although he had been ill and visited the doctors and even had an mri scan 18 months ago, nothing was found until september 1st, when it was far too far advanced to offer anything but palliative care. The reason I am posting is that his last months were not easy, he was always a very driven person, always doing and rushing around and expecting everyone else to be the same. When he got the diagnosis, he was in complete denial and started taking things apart around the house, the kitchen, the shower, pipes and tools everywhere (most are left half done). I know he had the best of intentions and was so determined to do things, but in the end all it has left me with is a memory of a horrendous 3 months, between trying to support him but not encourage him, to nursing him (which was really hard), seeing him in the last stages but still in denial, and finally getting a call at 4 am in the morning. I feel so guilty that the memories I have are not good ones, but also scared of the future without all his practicality, no nonsence go ahead attitude. He never let anything beat him... but this thing he could never win. Sometimes I come across an item that stabs me like a knife thru the heart. Some things in the fridge I bought to tempt his failing appetite. His writing in a notebook, telling me when the trim the fruit trees! His socks in the washing machine. I wish I had memories of laughter, shared moments, hugs and chats, but I don't and yet I feel so so so alone. My daughter and son in law don't really understand why I am so upset/scared/hurting as all they saw was the shouting, and I understand that completely... but life just isn't that simple.