Yesterday I had lunch with a friend who was widowed 18 years ago. I’ve only known her a few years and didn’t know how she lost her husband. She shared her story with me and told me the feelings she had at the time. Many of them were similar to how I feel and so I was able to tell her things I haven’t told anyone before.
It helped me to express my feelings so I thought I’d share them here – partly to help me, and partly because I imagine there will be others who have had similar experiences. I hope it’s okay to make a very long post.
I met George, my husband, 25 years ago. It was a second marriage for both of us. My first husband was an alcoholic and deserted me, leaving me with a toddler to bring up. I was on my own for 13 years before I met George. He had just left the Royal Navy after over 30 years’ service, much of which he’d spent as a military diver. He was incredibly fit and strong, both physically and mentally. In many ways it was an attraction of opposites, certainly to outsiders, but we had a lot of views and interests in common. I loved dancing, walking, ski-ing and sailing and it was wonderful to have someone to do these with after so many years alone. After having so much responsibility looking after myself and my daughter I felt loved and cherished. Six years later he asked me to marry him and we looked forward to a long, happy life together. We went on ski-ing and sailing holidays and loved to dance and walk, even more so after gaining two dogs.
Then, just three years after we were married, when George was only 49, he had a stroke and was completely paralysed down one side. Because he’d previously been so fit and had such a strong will, he was able to fight back and gradually learned to talk again and walk again, although a slight limp remained when he was tired. He never completely regained feeling on that side and was in constant pain. His temperament changed completely. He lost his temper easily and got frustrated at not being able to do things. He was depressed from time to time. Gradually his movement improved but he was unable to continue running the business he had which involved heavy physical work. He couldn't work for many months and I became the breadwinner. After his stroke, the dynamics of our relationship changed forever.
Although he recovered in many ways and was quite fit and strong compared to many people, I felt from then on that I had to carry most of the responsibility and I began to consider him almost a dependent. That sounds terrible but it’s what I felt, although I never said that to him. Most of the time we were happy and we did lots of things we enjoyed but our marriage was not at all what we had planned it would be. Things were never the same after his stroke.
Not being so active he put on weight, which aggravated an old rugby injury on his knee. He couldn’t walk very far, or dance … and certainly not ski. We were still able to sail together and lived on a boat for a couple of years, which gave lots of happy memories. Eventually we started a new life, moving to Greece and running a sailing school. All the students loved George and the stories he could tell. But he was no longer superbly fit. As he wasn’t as active he put on weight so he looked completely unlike the fit man I fell in love with. He took several medicines every day to control his blood pressure and prevent a second stroke. He still sometimes lost his temper over small things; this is common with people who have had a stroke.
Over the last year things gradually got worse. He became quite overweight and I nagged him about it a fair bit as I was worried about him. He also started drinking more – not excessively but more than someone who’d had a stroke should do. He started doing less and less, and often went to bed very early and didn’t get up until late. I don’t need much sleep so this was a source of friction between us. He could be very grumpy and bad-tempered. I had to take on a lot of things with our business that he had done previously. I was tired and unhappy a lot of the time.
Of course, with the benefit of hindsight, I can now see that he wasn’t well. I know for a fact he kept some of his symptoms from me. And I suspect he was drinking to ease the pain he was in. But, at the time, I just thought he was ‘letting himself go’ and becoming lazy. Twice I told him that it was like being married to a 90 year old as he had no energy and didn’t want to do much. Oh, how I wish I’d never said that!
Towards the end of last year he admitted he wasn’t feeling well and went to the doctor to try to find out what was wrong with him. First they couldn’t find anything, then he was misdiagnosed. Finally, on New Year’s Day he took to his bed feeling awful and I had him admitted to hospital. They diagnosed pancreatitis and said it was probably caused by a combination of the medication he’d been taking for years and aggravated by drinking. He had to give up alcohol completely, which he accepted. He wanted to see our grand-children grow up. He planned to buy a bike to help lose the weight he’d gained.
He recovered and left hospital. A short time later, while visiting his son, he had terrible pain and was admitted to another hospital. He appeared to recover but developed complications. They wanted to transfer him to a specialist pancreas unit but there were no beds. After ten days waiting for a bed he deteriorated badly. They carried out emergency surgery but it was too late. I’d been told he was stable and had gone to visit my daughter the previous day. I rushed back but never saw him conscious again, although I was with him when he died.
Apart from sorrow and loss, I have terrible feelings, partly to do with the circumstances of his death but mainly because I wish I’d treated him more lovingly over the past year. I feel regret, remorse, and guilt. I know that our relationship was not as good as it should have been. I wish I’d taken more time to talk to him and find out what was going on. If I’d known he was feeling ill I wouldn’t have nagged or criticised as I did. He was very short-tempered with me and I think it was probably down to being in pain a lot of the time. We all get bad-tempered when we are in pain, don’t we?
I reacted to the temper, instead of trying to understand the cause.
Since his death I’ve had people from all over the world contact me praising him and his influence on their lives. I’ve been looking at old photographs and it has reminded me of all his wonderful qualities. I feel dreadful that I didn’t appreciate what I had more.
On a ‘good’ day I feel grateful that we had 17 years together after his stroke. I might have lost him then. And we had plenty of fun and laughter and achieved a lot in those 17 years.
On a ‘bad’ day I remember arguments about things that seem so totally unimportant now. Because I wasn’t happy I kind of closed myself off and I know I wasn’t as affectionate and loving as I could have been.
Six weeks before he died, he shared a saying on his Facebook page: Cherish every moment and every person in your life, because you never know when it will be the last time you see someone.
I so wish I’d done more cherishing …
