“My wife Karen has always been super organised, and so when we received the heart-wrenching news of her terminal diagnosis, she got to work making a will and getting my name put on all the policies, like our house, car insurance and our bank accounts. She was adamant about making my life easier when she was gone; she was amazingly selfless like that.”
“When she passed, even though I had the support of my adult children, I didn't want to burden them, so I kept everything to myself and in some ways, denied myself my own grieving process.
“When I phoned the bank, I was pretty overcome with emotion and am so thankful that the woman I spoke to was very empathetic, and noticed that I needed help. In hindsight, it was a really good thing that she offered Violet’s services, as I had no idea there were free services out there for people in my situation.”
When Violet Guide Marian first reached out to Michael, it had only been three weeks since Karen had died. Michael’s initial questions were around the process of dying and if Karen knew that he was by her side. Over the course of the three phone sessions, the topics ranged from ‘is my grief normal?’, to suggestions on keeping her memory alive.
“One of the first things we do on a guided call is to ask a caller to tell us a bit about what’s happening for them right now. In this way, we are providing a safe environment for people to express their feelings, without any fear of judgement. In Michael’s case, it was getting him to acknowledge his grief and by normalising it, he could give himself permission to just go with it.
“I remind everyone I offer care to, that grief is like the ocean, it comes in waves. All you can do is learn how to swim in the ocean. It’s important to allow a person who is grieving a loved one, time and space to feel it and process it, on their own terms.”
Michael’s own suggestions on dealing with grief:
There will be many firsts. First anniversary without them, birthday, Xmas, birth of a child; but it’s important to mark them. Mother’s Day was only five weeks after Karen had passed. With Marian’s encouragement to mark the day, even though she knew it would be hard for us, we honoured her by having Mother’s Day lunch at her favourite Chinese restaurant.
We ordered her favourites - Scallops shumai and egg custard tart. It was a day of laughter, tears and memories.
I now know that grief is normal and how I was feeling is normal. I have good/bad days. Sometimes it's just a moment, sometimes it’s the whole day, but I am now living more in the moment rather than projecting too far forward. I have stopped overthinking it, if I have the ‘sads’, then that’s simply what it is. At first I was comparing myself to how others deal with grief, and I felt that I had dropped the ball. Now I know everyone has a different ball and we need to play with the ball we have got.
It helps me to keep the house how Karen liked it. I recently cleaned out her bathroom with our daughter, but I wasn't ready to do this with her wardrobe yet. Instead I am trusting the process. As Marian said, “you’ll know when it’s time.”
I talk about Karen a lot, and I make sure our granddaughter knows about her too. Before Karen’s diagnosis, we were looking after our granddaughter weekly. When Karen was diagnosed she made me promise that I would continue doing that. What a wise woman, as she knew that hanging with my granddaughter would bring me back to earth!
I’ve also let my children know that I still want to talk about their Mum and hear their stories about her. People feel guilty about smiling and laughing, but remembering Karen brings me happiness also.
Working from home, Karen and I would have drinks and nibbles after work some nights. Craft beers, Bourbon and Coke, biscuits and cheese - it was our thing. When I told Marian about how I really missed doing this, she said I should be sitting down and having a drink and toasting her empty chair. It’s these moments that make all the difference to me.