Twenty-fifth September, 2009 - my husband finally succumbed to cancer and passed away at 11pm. It was a blessing for him in the end. He had hung on far too long. He wanted to go, we all told him it was "OK" to let go . . . but still his body was stubbornly strong.
Five minutes before the palliative care hospital rang me my dog was pacing around the lounge room and then came and sat outside my room. That's the only indication I ever got of anything from the "other side." Despite what people told me I did believe I'd have some sort of communication or sign from him once he'd gone. Or I'd feel some sort of closeness. It's not like that at all. It never has been.
Two years. It feels like such a long time on one hand, and such a short time on the other. Last year I couldn't bring myself to do anything on the day. I spent it in the garden, and felt sad.
This year I decided I should plan better.
So I saw a close girlfriend last night. We got out my wedding album, we talked and laughed and cried. I got to remember the relationship and the man before he got sick. It's been a long time since I've been able to remember that. It was lovely.
Today I had lunch in the city with another girlfriend - bless her heart, she'd broken up with her partner the previous week. Despite feeling fragile and sad she still came out to lunch with me. It was a good day. It was nice to be out, in the sun, surrounded by other people.
The 2nd anniversary- it's OK. I still have no sign from him, no feeling of his presence. But it's OK.