Darling David hid love notes for me to find in the Rice Krispies
FOuR weeks after he had died, I found a note David had left for me in a packet of Rice Krispies. That was typical of the man. he was the most thoughtful husband, and he used to write poems and notes for me, leaving them in places he knew I’d find them, eventually.
I’d go to work and inside my lunchbox would be a little rolledup scroll with a ribbon around it. even after he’d gone, I was finding notes that made me laugh and cry all at once.
I met David in 2011, and we married a year later. I never thought I would marry. I’d had a very difficult life; I’d been a drug addict, I’d been to prison, I’d been in violent relationships.
Although my life had turned around and I was running a rehab centre in Wales, I didn’t think a happy relationship was possible. I would push people away when it came to emotional attachment.
Then came David. he had trained as a mental health nurse, but was at the rehab centre because he had issues of his own, with alcohol. One of four children from a close-knit farming family in Lancashire, he had found it difficult to cope after his 16-year-old brother died.
I’m certain we met at the right time. Our experiences were very different, but they helped us understand each other.
he was different from anyone I’d met, a complete gentleman whom you could immediately trust and confide in. Maybe it had something to do with his smile. he had a way of making people feel special and he made me feel like a princess.
We were both committed Christians when we started dating, and we took it slowly. We didn’t move in together until after our honeymoon. By then we were both running the rehab centre. We made a fantastic team in all regards.
I grew close to his family, and we were planning a family of our own. I couldn’t believe I was so blessed, living this life with a husband who loved me so much.
Then in 2014, David fell ill. A sore throat that wouldn’t go away turned out to be throat cancer.
The next three and a half years — most of our marriage, really — would involve his cancer treatment. he had his voice-box and part of his throat removed, 99 doses of radiotherapy, and various operations.
And how he dealt with it all was simply awe-inspiring. not once did I hear him complain, not even when we were on our own.
Losing his ability to speak and eat was really tough, but he battled through, just finding other ways to communicate — his little notes being the most obvious one.
And David continued to treat me like a princess. We loved going out for meals, and he insisted we would still do this, even though he couldn’t eat. he would order a caramel latte and use a syringe to inject it into his feeding tube, while I ate.
he insisted we keep things as normal as possible, and that watching me enjoy a meal was pleasure enough for him.
David set an extraordinary example. If anything his faith got stronger the more he went through. Before the illness he would have to intellectualise everything and envied my ability just to have a simple faith. But the more poorly he got, the more things made sense.
It was horrible at the end but somehow the way he dealt with it — so calmly, so accepting of whatever was going to happen — gave me the strength to nurse him. he spent his last six days at a Marie Curie hospice, where the staff were inspired by how he coped.
I feel extraordinarily privileged to have had this amazing man in my life and I treasure every day that we had.
Saying goodbye to the love of my life was the hardest thing I will have to do in my lifetime, but David knew where he was going, and I know I will see his wonderful smile again.
David Stuart Kelsall, born October 22, 1972, died December 22, 2017, aged 45.