Some posts on

The Irish Times - Tuesday - Health - - Health / Bereavement -

Some of the (edited) posts on

“To­day is a bad day for me. I have the grand­kids twice a week while mammy and daddy work, but I keep break­ing down and have to try and hide it from them. They don’t want to see their nanny cry­ing. My four-year-old keeps giv­ing me hugs and tell me Grandad is up in the sky and asks if I miss him. I say yes and she tells me I have his pho­tos near me and that Grandad still loves me from up there. ”

**** “I’m in my own world ev­ery day can’t seem to plan any­thing or put my mind on any­thing for too long. It’s my hus­band’s birth­day to­mor­row and I just want the day over with. I will go to his grave as I’ve bought two lovely roses to sow, one yel­low and one red which he loved, and I know I will be in tears most of the day .”

**** “We have to get out of the house and have some sort of a life. The prob­lem here is I don’t know any other wi­d­ows around my age they are all in their late 70s or 80s and I don’t seem to fit in with cou­ples, even fam­ily at times. I could never go into a pub on my own, that leaves bingo night. I tried that one night but nearly fell asleep. So we will keep try­ing to find a new life.”

**** “I had heard the phrase, ‘I’m spent’, but un­til that time af­ter the shock, adren­a­line of the hospi­tal, find­ing your­self stand­ing in an un­der­taker’s of­fice, then pick­ing out a grave, the numb­ness of the funeral and the surge of peo­ple around af­ter­wards and then . . . ex­haus­tion that I had never ever ex­pe­ri­enced be­fore or since. A lot of us here de­scribe the ini­tial few months . . . quite a few months as liv­ing through a fog where we ex­ist . . . just ex­ist. I found sleep dif­fi­cult. I still do and I couldn’t mo­ti­vate my­self to eat. I cried a mil­lion tears. I know cry­ing is good and es­pe­cially al­low­ing the chil­dren to see that it was okay to cry, but I didn’t know there were that many tears.”

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