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I lost my husband of 26 years on Sept 14th this year. He had been completely bedridden for the last 22 months of his life and had many issues prior to that. I had spent time in anticipatory grief for many years, and so I didn't really think when the time came for him to actually die that I would grieve that much. Boy, was I wrong. Anticipatory grief and actual grief are 2 different things, both of which we have to go through to get to the other side. And so I am doing what most folks that are grieving do, and that's taking one day at a time. Some days are better than others, but in everyday I look for the joy(my favorite word)in it. I am grateful that the Good Lord has blessed me with a positive outlook, and I know that this too shall pass, and that I will come out on the other side, a stronger and better person.
And while yes, these first holidays without my husband have been difficult, I am still choosing to celebrate them, as he would want me to. Especially Christmas. He knew how much I loved Christmas and all that it entails, and he enjoyed it too, so I know that he certainly wouldn't want me moping around on my favorite holiday. And so I won't. There still(most likely)may be tears, at some point in the day, but I will also be grateful that I once again get to spend Christmas with those I love the most, my family.
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What a wonderful question to reach out to us with. I was just yesterday looking at my Bro's last Christmas in his Assisted Living. The first he was out of his own home with his beautiful decorations. He loved Christmas (as did my Mom) while I never much liked it. Chose his cards so carefully, many I still have. He died in May. This Christmas is the first I am doing it MY WAY in 78 years. I am giving to charity, no presents. All the grandkids are grown, and not only understand it, but approve. I am enjoying the lights and cards. And yes, thinking of my bro.
For me there is no grief. There truly wasn't much. He didn't want to stay and was ready to go. He feared the future and losses; he and I are both SO into control; he knew his diagnosis of probable early Lewy's Dementia would means losses in future that he feared. At 85, a gay man, he had had a good life, one in which he saw so much change. He was ready. I could only feel relief that he didn't have to go into darkness, here with losses of self, of dignity. I celebrate him every day of my life and always will. I think of him, reread his long fascinating letters, make a scrapbook of collages to him, and thought I would tell him were he here.
I am at peace. I know he is at peace, and quite honestly that has overall been how we lived our lives, fascinated with humanity and its wonder and fragility, at peace with our lives. For me things aren't a lot different. I looked at him on his pictures from AFL last year, all done up in reinbow antlers, those silly felt things with bells, grinning out at me. I just can't pick up the phone, you know? I just can't plan a plane trip to him, lunch out at Billy Reed's. But he is with me; I feel the same about my parents. It is as though they haven't left me.
I am thankful for your asking. I think about it a lot, especially on walks.
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