Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

I went to grief counselling today

Such a dramatic term. But the woman I saw had been recommended to me from several different sources and I know that she dealt with Hospice for years, supporting dying patients and their families.

I don't really remember everything she said. I cried a LOT. I used half a box of tissues and the front of my shirt is really soggy.

I do remember, however, that she put forward the idea that Ron had sent me back to Australia early so that he could get on with the complicated, heartrending and necessary business of dying, whether he knew it or not.

I felt that too, and had done right from the start, which is why I agreed to go. Something within him couldn't progress any further down that inevitable path unless I was not around to see it. He had a clear idea of where he wanted me to be and what he wanted me to be doing, secure in the knowledge that the only thing that could lift me out of potential fatal depression was a life I could slot back into, a job I had  a passion for. So, he set things up that way and I did what he wanted.

A gift from the living to the dying.

I've been pondering this for a few days now, ever since a comment on an earlier entry, where the writer implied that leaving him was a fairly shitty sort of thing to do. Those sort of snide comments have been showing up for a while and I have a fair idea of their origins and why they are being written but petty details like that just don't seem to matter right now.

In fact, nothing seems to matter right now. The world seems to have shrunk to me and him and everything else is seen through a layer of insulating bubble wrap.

By the way, I got that job, but that doesn't seem to matter either. I'm not excited, thrilled or even at all interested.

The only thing that was even the slightest bit non-sad today was when, at the end of the hour long session, the counsellor said softly to me, "Our time together is coming to an end...".

good work

6:07 PM, 8/10/2008 .. Posted by sunflower

I am so glad you are strong and determined enough to get some help. Well done.
Ignore unhelpful/unsupportive messages. At the end of the day the person commenting doesn't know your situation, is not you and can not make any judgements. You were there and you know what's in your heart, your intentions, your fiancée and what transpired. So try to stay strong in that. No none knows your truth but you. People can have their opinion, try to make mischief even but always go back to the core of what you know inside is the truth. Everything else is immaterial.

Hope that makes sense.

xxx

Untitled Comment

11:04 PM, 8/10/2008 .. Posted by Anonymous

It wasn't meant to be a snide comment. Merely questions about the relationship as a stumbler onto this blog. Not meant to make things worse, just a curious observation as I obviously know neither of you. Personally I'd want to be there until the end to make things as comforting and make sure my s/o was as well taken care of as is possible. That way they're not alone in their last bit of time on this earth. The one I love I wouldn't leave without a crowbar being necessary.

Sorry, my mistake

11:53 PM, 9/10/2008 .. Posted by kat

I feel defensive because I can see how this might appear to others and I don't want to reduce it to the lowest common denominator, which of course it is. It's my personal drama and only special and different to me. To everybody else, it's just a voyeuristic episode of 'Passions'.

I feel like somebody physically peeled me off his not quite comatose body, fingernails dug in and resisting, and threw me as far away from him as possible.

I was actually going to write later on about his reasons for sending me away and mine for going. That is, as soon as the sogginess dried up a little and I could stop my face peeling off from Hcl tears.

I NEVER wanted to to leave him; still don't.