Love and loss in lockdown

Devastated by the death of his partner, Dave Berry’s lockdown is a bubble of grief and soulful gardening, writes

They were engaged for most of their 17-year relationship. Marriage would get talked about, but there was always something that seemed more fun or important to do than formalising a love they already knew to be true. There was time for that later. Until there wasn’t.

Julie Bristol was diagnosed with cancer in August last year. She died, aged 69, on February 20.

Her fiance Dave Berry, 57, was left alone. Then, at a time when he needed friends and family more than ever, he was locked down with his grief at his Palmerston North home because of the threat of the coronavirus pandemic.

Berry felt trapped in a house full of memories that was suddenly, painfully, empty.

The lockdown had skittled his grieving process; many of the practical steps to help him move forward were impossible, he said. Bristol’s estate couldn’t be settled, her belongings couldn’t be distributed as she had wanted, and Berry couldn’t sell the house for somewhere smaller, as they had planned.

Even visiting her headstone has not been allowed under level four restrictions – it was too far away from home.

‘‘It’s all at an impasse and you can’t move forward, you’re just stalled. And you’re stalled on your own.’’

Early on, he tried to focus on his work as an air traffic controller at Palmerston North Airport, but from April 17 all flights were grounded.

Being in the house is difficult. Bristol’s touch is everywhere. She had chosen practically everything from the furniture to the colourscheme of the walls.

‘‘It gets a little easier every day, but you’ll turn and see something and it’ll set you off again.’’

Relief is found in daily walks and exercise, and most of all in the backyard. Bristol loved gardening. It was her idea to get a house with a big garden, which she filled with her favourite plants.

Berry feels close to her there, and his thoughts are kinder, as he dutifully tackles the tasks she had wanted done. ‘‘In her last months, she’d tear up because she couldn’t get out to the garden. She didn’t even have the energy to deadhead the roses.’’

He smiles at the thought of her feigned exasperation at his efforts. ‘‘She was always the one who’d tell me what was and wasn’t aweed. I still feel like I’m going to get in trouble, it’s really quite surreal. ‘‘Julie would be cursing up a storm at my chainsaw gardening.’’

Berry has learned not to rush through household chores, and to add little things to make the list longer. That way there is always something to do, to distract him from his grief. He hoped sharing his experience would help others. Even stuck in a bubble, it was vital to reach out. Regular video calls with Bristol’s family had been a godsend, he said. The times between those calls were the hardest.

There was no way to avoid grief dragging him down memory lane, but the trick was to savour the sweet memories and let the painful ones pass.

His other lifeline is finding something to look forward to, no matter how simple, such as gathering around a table with friends again, sharing a beer and a yarn, when social distancing is finally done with.

WARWICK SMITH/STUFF Dave Berry tends to his late partner Julie Bristol’s roses. Stuck at home on his own, surrounded by her things and his memories, he has found solace in their garden.

Dave Berry with his late fiancee Julie Bristol, who died in February. Berry has struggled to move through the natural steps of grieving while confined to his home alone.