Once the funeral was over and friends and family had returned to their own lives, it finally hit me that my Husband had died.  I was then thrown into a never ending tunnel of feeling lost.  I had no purpose to my life and I just couldn't comprehend that my Husband was not here.  He was not living away, he was dead.  He was never, ever, ever going to come home.  I would never see him again.


To say I was lost without him was an understatement.   The days after his death were wrapped up in organising Christmas, dealing with the never ending paperwork to register a death and also to organise the funeral.  Once the funeral had finished, there was nothing  else that I needed to focus on.  I therefore  had to focus on the fact I was now on my own.  I was a single Mum to a 6yr old and a now 8 month old.  We were no longer a family of 4, living the perfect life.  We were now a heartbroken family of 3, trying to work out how on  earth we were going to survive the rest of our lives.

Drugs and Alcohol

Wow,  theres a title I never thought I would be writing  about.  However, it's important to me that I write about every aspect of what I went through and therefore drugs and alcohol fits in here.

After the funeral I kept it together for a couple of weeks before I realised that I wasn't coping.  Since Gary's original diagnosis I had something  else to focus on. I was able to put the grieving process on  hold by looking after everyone else except me.  I prefered it that way.  If I didn'think about what I was going through, it wouldn't be happening and therefore I wouldn't need  to be sad.  At the funeral, I kept my emotions in check, by making sure I had a glass of wine constantly in my hand.   If I felt my emotions start to show, I had a sip of wine.  It was easy.  Once I had managed a few sips, I was happy to laugh and joke with friends about events in the past and funny stories that we had all shared.  It wasn't  until I got home that the tears flowed and believe me, I cried a river.  As I lay in a single bed in my daughters bedroom that night, I cried myself to sleep with the thought that this was now my life.  Would I ever be happy without the aid of alcohol ever again?

By the end of January, it was clear that I was not coping.  Both the children were sick and I had spent several visits to the Doctors.   I'm  sure the illnesses of the children were grief related.   Nathan was affeccted the most,  his skin suddenly being covered in spots and cold sores around his mouth.  Darcey was constantly being sick at bedtime, which meant many sleepless nights and changing the bedsheets in the early hours of the morning.   It was on one of  the Doctors visit that I finally plucked up the courage to explain to the Doctor that I wasn't  doing so good. I think she probably guessed when  I burst into tears as soon as I stepped into the surgery.  She gave me several names of support groups that could help but more importantly she perscribed me some anti-depressants.   

I was a little unsure if I wanted to go down the pill popping route but I was so low, it was either that or give up on life all together.  I had actually contemplated  the latter on several occasions but I couldn't put my children  through losing another parent, so apart from thinking  that suicide would end my troubles, I knew I would never go with anything.   The main thing that hit home to me once the pills were subscribed was how my life had suddently changed.  Last year,  I was a wife to a most amazing man, living relatively comfortably in a lovely house with one  child and another on the way.   Fast forward one year and  I was now a single parent, living on benefits and taking anti-depressants.  What on earth had happened !   I won't however slag off any of this.  Yes, I was now a single parent and accepting certain benefits was helping  me to piece together my newlife.  After maternity and Gary's  sick  leave we were really struggling, particularly when the sick pay stopped in September as he had been on it for too long.