Five months since my husband died

I met my husband just over five years ago. We connected in a way I thought would never happen for me. I was 35, and not looking for any sort of relationship. I had in a sense given up on life. He accepted me for who I was and I accepted him the same. If you like we were two broken halves with broken edges that perfectly matched to make a whole. He was the kindest, most humble person that I have ever know, and with his help I healed from my life and got better. I went into remission for four years from self harm and suicide attempts. We started a life together and supported each other and I felt loved. Truly loved. I had never felt loved before I met him, not even growing up as a child.
The beginning of this year he got sick, and was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Within two weeks he was too far gone for the doctors to be able to help and so the journey to his death began. From February until 5th July this year I cared for my husband as I watched the disease take him from me. He became less the man I married and more the disease. He was bedridden early May and I gave him round the clock care. I watched him become just like those men that came out of the concentration camps. All through that he was gracious, only once in our life together did he ever push me away or raise his hand and I know that was the medications and the disease, not the man I loved.
It seemed to take so long. At one stage he got a leg infection and I got told there was nothing they could do and the decision was made to stop active treatment. The doctors told me he would only likely last 2 days, seven at the mostly. But weeks later I took him home with me to die. Six long weeks after that he was in his final days. Not able to eat for weeks, and finally unable to drink or even suck fluid. Two days before his death, he uttered his finally words. He told me he loved me. Those words hurt so much now that i'm alone. On his final two days I spent hours with him, I sung to him hours on end. Knowing it was the last time I would be able to spend any time with him. On Friday the 5th of July at 2:50pm I knew it was time and so I turned off the music and I stopped singing. At 3:01pm he drew his final breath. I was alone.
Now my broken heart is not complete. My remission is broken and I am sick once again. I miss him so much but I am struggling to find a way to hang on without the part that completes me.
R.I.P. My love David Wootton I won't ever forget you, no matter how much it hurts

I met my husband just over five years ago. We connected in a way I thought would never happen for me. I was 35, and not looking for any sort of relationship. I had in a sense given up on life. He accepted me for who I was and I accepted him the same. If you like we were two broken halves with broken edges that perfectly matched to make a whole. He was the kindest, most humble person that I have ever know, and with his help I healed from my life and got better. I went into remission for four years from self harm and suicide attempts. We started a life together and supported each other and I felt loved. Truly loved. I had never felt loved before I met him, not even growing up as a child.
The beginning of this year he got sick, and was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Within two weeks he was too far gone for the doctors to be able to help and so the journey to his death began. From February until 5th July this year I cared for my husband as I watched the disease take him from me. He became less the man I married and more the disease. He was bedridden early May and I gave him round the clock care. I watched him become just like those men that came out of the concentration camps. All through that he was gracious, only once in our life together did he ever push me away or raise his hand and I know that was the medications and the disease, not the man I loved.
It seemed to take so long. At one stage he got a leg infection and I got told there was nothing they could do and the decision was made to stop active treatment. The doctors told me he would only likely last 2 days, seven at the mostly. But weeks later I took him home with me to die. Six long weeks after that he was in his final days. Not able to eat for weeks, and finally unable to drink or even suck fluid. Two days before his death, he uttered his finally words. He told me he loved me. Those words hurt so much now that i'm alone. On his final two days I spent hours with him, I sung to him hours on end. Knowing it was the last time I would be able to spend any time with him. On Friday the 5th of July at 2:50pm I knew it was time and so I turned off the music and I stopped singing. At 3:01pm he drew his final breath. I was alone.
Now my broken heart is not complete. My remission is broken and I am sick once again. I miss him so much but I am struggling to find a way to hang on without the part that completes me.
R.I.P. My love David Wootton I won't ever forget you, no matter how much it hurts

I met my husband just over five years ago. We connected in a way I thought would never happen for me. I was 35, and not looking for any sort of relationship. I had in a sense given up on life. He accepted me for who I was and I accepted him the same. If you like we were two broken halves with broken edges that perfectly matched to make a whole. He was the kindest, most humble person that I have ever know, and with his help I healed from my life and got better. I went into remission for four years from self harm and suicide attempts. We started a life together and supported each other and I felt loved. Truly loved. I had never felt loved before I met him, not even growing up as a child.
The beginning of this year he got sick, and was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Within two weeks he was too far gone for the doctors to be able to help and so the journey to his death began. From February until 5th July this year I cared for my husband as I watched the disease take him from me. He became less the man I married and more the disease. He was bedridden early May and I gave him round the clock care. I watched him become just like those men that came out of the concentration camps. All through that he was gracious, only once in our life together did he ever push me away or raise his hand and I know that was the medications and the disease, not the man I loved.
It seemed to take so long. At one stage he got a leg infection and I got told there was nothing they could do and the decision was made to stop active treatment. The doctors told me he would only likely last 2 days, seven at the mostly. But weeks later I took him home with me to die. Six long weeks after that he was in his final days. Not able to eat for weeks, and finally unable to drink or even suck fluid. Two days before his death, he uttered his finally words. He told me he loved me. Those words hurt so much now that i'm alone. On his final two days I spent hours with him, I sung to him hours on end. Knowing it was the last time I would be able to spend any time with him. On Friday the 5th of July at 2:50pm I knew it was time and so I turned off the music and I stopped singing. At 3:01pm he drew his final breath. I was alone.
Now my broken heart is not complete. My remission is broken and I am sick once again. I miss him so much but I am struggling to find a way to hang on without the part that completes me.
R.I.P. My love David Wootton I won't ever forget you, no matter how much it hurts

It will be 9 years this coming July dear sweet David.
Tonight I find myself thinking about you. Missing you, you're sweet smile and warm embrace. How you always used to reassure me that things are going to be OK.
Walking with you, holding your hand. Listen to you play the guitar while you sing for me. You're warmth and comfort filled my life with hope and brightness.
I'll always remember how you cared for me. The back massages in the middle of the night because I was in so much pain. I'm truly grateful to have had you in my life for such a short time.

Tonight lying here in bed, unable to sleep my thoughts turn to you.
Please forgive me for feeling like that part of you, that you left behind doesn't feel as strong in me right now.
I've been crying for over an hour. I'm in pain. It's hard not to think of wanting to join you when I feel like this.

It will be 9 years this coming July dear sweet David.
Tonight I find myself thinking about you. Missing you, you're sweet smile and warm embrace. How you always used to reassure me that things are going to be OK.
Walking with you, holding your hand. Listen to you play the guitar while you sing for me. You're warmth and comfort filled my life with hope and brightness.
I'll always remember how you cared for me. The back massages in the middle of the night because I was in so much pain. I'm truly grateful to have had you in my life for such a short time.

Tonight lying here in bed, unable to sleep my thoughts turn to you.
Please forgive me for feeling like that part of you, that you left behind doesn't feel as strong in me right now.
I've been crying for over an hour. I'm in pain. It's hard not to think of wanting to join you when I feel like this.

I've told myself that this year was going to be the year I don't get upset.
I'm missing you terribly, my heart is aching.

You can't tell when grief will hit you.
Love you so much and miss you.

I've told myself that this year was going to be the year I don't get upset.
I'm missing you terribly, my heart is aching.

You can't tell when grief will hit you.
Love you so much and miss you.

I've told myself that this year was going to be the year I don't get upset.
I'm missing you terribly, my heart is aching.

You can't tell when grief will hit you.
Love you so much and miss you.

Angela

And people say being valued and loved dies not help cure our depression and anxiety, better than medications? You are a testament to the power of love. Genuine unconditional love. We all need to feel safe and secure. Live gives us that.