the price of love

A short while ago, I wrote about some of the best writing on the web which spoke to me about terminal illness, bereavement and recovery.

Here is some more inspiration leading from the shock of diagnosis, with sinking heart past the hospital and the school gate, towards the far distant horizon of a new life ahead.

Life – Cancer is a cruel and indiscriminate illness, with a nasty habit of seeking out families in their prime. Marisa was 33 when she was diagnosed, and she fought every day for more time with her husband Mendelt and their three young children.

Marisa’s steadfast beliefs kept her spirit strong, but finally could not spare her body from the ravages of disease, and she died in Mendelt’s arms in December 2007.

How can a husband face the darkest of times whilst sheltering three young children from sorrow and pain? How can anyone resolve the bitterness of separation with the forgiveness of faith? These are questions which exercise all bereaved parents. Long lonely nights pass into bittersweet days as the children’s progress brings wonder and regret than can not be shared. Live life with Mendelt, and you’ll see just what that’s like.

Dying Man’s Daily Journal – How would you feel if the doctors told you, “You’re dying” ? Would you feel anger and fear, or could you accept it philosophically, in time?

Bill Howdle heard those words in 2004. Two years later, he started a diary – as frank and realistic as it is optimistic and inspirational. Bill’s thoughts have deep lessons for us all, whatever problems we think we might have in our lives.

A Journey Well Taken tells the story of Elaine Williams, who lost her husband to cancer four years ago. Elaine recounts the heartbreak and anguish that she suffered, but just as importantly she shows how to cope with the traumas, how to build forwards from bereavement, and how to live life again.

If bereavement is a journey, then Elaine shows you how to reach its destination. And she’s written a book about it, too.

Single Parent Dad – It’s not easy being a parent, and there’s no instruction manual. Raising a toddler brings decisions every day – on food, on education, childcare, and discipline, and so much more.

There are millions of ‘mums blogs’ – but what is it really like to be a father today? A single dad, too, and a bereaved one at that? There aren’t many role models. Society still isn’t used to the idea of single fathers, and neither are mothers.

That’s why any lone father at a coffee morning or stood outside the the school gate knows how exclusive a group of playground mums can be.

Lessons from Lou – Cancer, bereavement, recovery… just three words, and they all run together, one from another. That’s our story here, and it’s Cathy’s as well.

Cathy’s husband Lou died from a brain tumour some two years ago, leaving her with two marvellous sons, many wonderful memories, and a new life ahead. Cathy’s niece is facing breast cancer now – there are always reminders, of this terrible disease – but she’s coping with her own loss, and she’s building a future.

Yet is this journey really so linear? Is there a place where bereavement falls clearly behind you, and you can go forwards from there? The truth is that there’s an eternity of waiting, when bereavement’s long misery just never ends. But eventually, life calls.

One evening a widow wants to wear her favourite red dress. A widower longs for the kind warmth of a woman once more. So does it really end there? No, not at all.

This is the long tail of bereavement that no one can admit. The time when you’re supposed to be ‘over it’ but just can’t quite let go. The is the stage of transition, where you’re moving steadily forwards, yet slipping back in between. Time when the future is calling, when you’re pulled back into the past.

How long does this last – for weeks, months or years? What does it feel like? Is this the disorientation of a few bad moments, or will it recur for a lifetime? How can you resolve grief in the past, whilst living and loving, in a life of today? These are the questions of late stage bereavement, and of life far beyond.

The long tail of bereavement. Now there’s a new thought, for another day ahead.

: : : : : : : : : :