‘Your wife has breast cancer. She may well die, and if she does, you’ll be left all alone to raise the children, to face your grief and to rebuild your lives again.’
Click here to find the start of the story.
The Price of Love is a book about a cancer journey, from the viewpoint of a partner. It isn’t easy to face the likelihood of your wife’s death when she is only 32, supporting her whilst propping up yourself and two small children.
It isn’t easy to face up to the inevitable, to take the blows, to live for now and to brace for the future. It isn’t easy to start to build a new life, whilst honouring the old one. It isn’t easy to go through all this and to emerge safely on the other side, but it can be done, and it must be done.
The Price of Love is about the despair and joy of death and life, and about the nature of friendship and betrayal along the way.
It’s about children, about parents, about love, and grief, and hope.
It’s a human story, for any woman who ever had a family, and for any man who never thought he’d lose it.
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18 responses so far ↓
Tricia Sample // 11 September, 2007 at 17:12 |
Hi Roads. I’m so glad our sites are now connected. I admire your dedication to helping men, women and families through the part of life that involves death. You are doing a great job! Sincerely, Tricia at Loving Farewells.
Roads // 12 September, 2007 at 17:48 |
Thanks for your note, Tricia. ‘The part of life that involves death’ – yes, that’s well put indeed.
Nelly And I // 19 October, 2007 at 14:37 |
Thanks so much for your comment and thanks for your writings. Will put a link on the site if you don’t mind. Nelly.
Roads // 19 October, 2007 at 15:40 |
You’re welcome, Nelly.
Your post earlier today was simply extraordinary, and I’ll link back to it from here somewhere, for sure.
Well done, and best wishes …
Alice Band // 9 November, 2007 at 19:58 |
Lindsey died. It was her funeral last Friday. Spare a thought for Pete and her children Alex 9 and Chloe 5. How can I help them?
Roads // 9 November, 2007 at 20:31 |
I’m so sorry to hear that, Alice.
There’s a lot that you and your family can do. Stand by him. Call him up, all the time. Go round, often. Offer help – not just now (he’ll say no) but in a few months’ time.
Buy him a copy of Kate Boydell’s book ‘Death and How to Survive It’.
Take the kids off him, now and again, to give him time and space to grieve, or organise all that he has to organise now. Invite him and the kids out together, but don’t worry or be surprised if he’s miserable.
Keep doing all those things. For months. And listen. Listen again. And again. Keep listening.
There – that’s a start, I hope.
Roads // 10 November, 2007 at 11:57 |
Alice
Some more thoughts. Ideally there can be no substitute for the support of friends and family, but that’s often very hard for all involved since those people are grieving, too.
That’s why I encourage you to be there, proactively. You’d be amazed how often friends often back away (I’ll have much more to say on this, later) since they can’t confront the bereaved person’s emotions whilst having to deal with their own.
The dynamics of relationships change, with one person missing, making things seem difficult, and uncomfortable, and awkward, and so often people just drift away because of this, however well-meaning they are at first.
People always say – ‘If there’s anything I can do’ – in those first few days and weeks around the funeral. It’s hard to take up those offers then, because you don’t know where you need the help. A few months later it’s a different matter since you know exactly where you need support. But it’s much harder to ask by then, and people will (wrongly) assume you’re over the worst. That’s why it’s important to offer help over a period of time.
Meanwhile, more neutral help is available here:
Macmillan Cancer Support offer great support to the bereaved.
The Way Foundation – a way forward for the widowed and young.
The National Association of Widows – for widowers, too.
The Childhood Bereavement Network.
The Childhood Bereavement Trust.
HomeStart – supporting young families under stress.
Merry Widow – Kate Boydell’s guide to widowhood, with active forum support group.
yaketyyak // 23 November, 2007 at 14:44 |
Yours is such a courageous story – both heartbreaking and heartwarming. I wish you many blessings.
Roads // 23 November, 2007 at 16:24 |
Yak
Thanks for your comment. And I hope you do enjoy your Thanksgiving weekend.
Life goes on, always looking forwards whilst affording healthy respect to the rear-view mirror.
Bill Howdle // 24 November, 2007 at 15:29 |
I am totally in awe of the courage and strength you are showing in your postings. By sharing your painful journey you are providing much needed thought and inspiration to many many others.
I have only read a couple of your posts, but that was easily enough to make me sure I will be returning to read much more.
I admire you and what you are doing my friend.
I do thank you so much for taking the time to leave the detailed post that you did on my site. Uploading pictures, who knew it would be so difficult.
You are doing such a wonderful thing, please keep up your good work. I hope you don’t mind I have added you to my blog roll.
Bill
Roads // 25 November, 2007 at 18:29 |
Bill
A very warm welcome, and many thanks for your kind thoughts.
My tale is as nothing in comparison with yours, but, like you, I hope that its telling will be helpful to others facing similar difficulties.
Best wishes and all strength to you and yours.
writinggb // 29 November, 2007 at 17:18 |
Thank you for sharing your story with us. Grief can be overwhelming in its loneliness. It helps, at least it helps me, to hear of other people’s journey.
Roads // 29 November, 2007 at 19:17 |
I’m grateful for your comment, writinggb.
You’re very welcome here.
I see you’re an English teacher, which reminds me of a favourite anecdote from my school days.
It was the balding, avuncular fellow I remember best from English classes. He rarely taught me, but one day our regular teacher was away, so this chap stood in. We played him up, and were making a hell of a racket.
‘Silence !’ he cried. ‘I can’t bear this noise any longer.’
‘And every time I open my mouth,’ he continued, ‘Some fool speaks.’
rhosie // 22 January, 2008 at 01:54 |
by reading each chapter of your post i can imagined the hardship and trials you’ve been through… I know acceptance was really hard..but i admire your courage to be a source of inspiration and courage for some people have experiencing the same scenarios like you had been…Thanks to your post i become aware and my point of view in life widen has more…I hope by writing your experiences along the journey ease somehow the pain you feel…
Roads // 24 January, 2008 at 00:25 |
Thank you, rhosie.
I’m delighted if you are finding some food for thought within my story.
These experiences certainly changed my outlook on life. I’m sorry that I didn’t benefit from the same perspectives before.
rhosie // 24 January, 2008 at 02:44 |
yeah, it takes awhile for us to cope and understand why such thing happened..it take a process and stages to heal all wounds and to struggle again…I’m pretty sure that your family and friends will always stay at your back to love and care for you and think your not alone through your journey because God loves you much…
God bless you always!…
route53 // 11 January, 2009 at 04:00 |
Roads,
People write to me about my story and how they like it, but over the last few days I’ve read your whole site and I just point them to you and say…Now there is a writer. Fantastic. You capture a husband’s thoughts poetically.
Roads // 11 January, 2009 at 23:33 |
Thank you for your kind words, route53, and welcome to The Price of Love.
The stresses on a cancer patient’s partner are poorly understood, and often ignored. It’s so often a desperately lonely place to be.
I wish you and your wife a safe journey through these difficult waters. May you, and she, find good health and healing at the end of the road.
With all kind regards to San Francisco from London, and hoping to hear more from you soon. And many thanks again.