Alone – part 2 – Nightmare Continues

I have been on my own before, but that was different.  Even when he was on Defence Force duty, it was assumed that he would return, in spite of landmines, ambushes and attacks.  He has been in hospital before, but it was assumed he would get better and return.  This is different.  No assumptions.  He will not return, he is gone, he can only live on in my memory.  Nearly 60 years of shared memories, but now there is only me to remember.  

Phones ring, people talk, people sympathise, I smile, I reply, I say I am all right.  Flowers are delivered, a beautiful bouquet, the flowers deserve to be arranged nicely.  I shove them into a tall vase.  It’s good enough.  More tea.  Sons arrive.  My mind is blank.  I want to sleep, I want to forget this day and pretend it never happened.

When the funeral director arrives, she is most concerned about me, very polite, very caring.  Already she feels like a friend.  She explains all the procedures, and is quite surprised that I know what sort of service I want for him.  Two sons are with me, I think they all expect me to cry.  I feel too numb, too cold, too empty to cry.  A little voice inside me keeps reminding me that we are talking about the funeral of my husband.  But I must not be upset, I must be strong and capable  – he was so tired of fighting, he wanted to go, and he went with a smile.

I tell the director that I will arrange the programme and email it to her.  She is surprised again.  I helped to organise my father’s funeral, I organised my mother’s goodbye.  I can do this, I know I can, I will.  But let’s replace the word “funeral” with “Farewell” – it’s easier, and doesn’t sound so final and everlasting.  I keep my word and send her the 45-minute timed programme, complete with recorded music details.