After Mags

Everyone grieves in their own unique way. For nearly three weeks I haven’t shed a single tear yet at times my heart is so heavy with hurt that the slow painful breaking of it is undeniable. 

As a carer I’ve kept going for three years, but just as my high energy levels and resilience surprised me during that time so the heavy layers of fatigue have caught me out in the days since Mags died. The legal obligation to notify various organisations and the informing of friends and family is exhausting. Hearing myself repeating the same message over and over and feeling my voice catch on her name is unbearably tough. Wishing my good nights to that side of the bed where she took her last breath just feels weird yet, at the same time, immensely comforting.

Mags was cremated on Saturday. The process she called her “recycling”. There was no service and no family or friends in attendance. A decision we made for ourselves years ago. Instead, Heather and I walked one of her favourite walks early that morning, on what was truly a day for reflection. After Heather left I cooked one of Mags’ favourite lunches, watched the Wimbledon ladies final just as we had done together for more than 40 years.

We held her and told her how much we love her right up until 18.20 on 23rd June. The window was wide open and the purple flower heads of the verbena bonariensis (a favourite) we’d planted a year before swayed gently. The ensuing quiet was only gently disturbed by the evening sun that craned its neck from behind the trees to light up our patch and, from a distance, church bell ringing practice provided an appropriate accompaniment. Mags loved the sound on Thursday evenings. Particularly at this time of year, as though summer had been celebrated and gift wrapped before being set down within the confines of our back garden.

Mags’ ashes are being returned sometime very soon. She’s coming home, and this is where she’ll stay until my time comes. Then, as was her wish, we’ll be interred somewhere together, with the chosen spot marked with the planting of a tree.

How am I? Ricky Gervais nailed it in his wonderfully human ‘After Life’. Mags and I enjoyed every episode, laughing out loud at how ridiculous life is and being stunned into silence by the poignancy. Yes, I’m going to miss doing nothing with Mags most of all.

“People think that all those things I miss doing with Lisa, I could just do them anyway, and that would make me feel better. But they’re missing the point. I don’t miss doing things with Lisa, I miss doing nothing with Lisa. Do you know what I mean? Just sitting at home, wouldn’t even have to go out, or do anything, or even talk, you know, just sitting there, knowing she was there. Sometimes, I’d just look over at her.” - Tony (Ricky Gervais) After Life.