[[-pieces of my heart-]]

Daddy and Mummy

Danish 3rd Birthday

Faris 1st Birthday

Monday, October 24, 2005

4| | |no hugs, no morning kisses....| | |3

last nite i read an article in a magazine which really touched my heart and not to mention i really want to go back home and hug my husband tight.....in a way it also taught me not to takes thing for granted...just want to share it with you guys....read on....

It's the little things I miss most. No more Saturday dates with a movie, tea and a stroll in the park, no eating out on Fridays with the kids, no one to pick me up from work. No hugs, no bed-wrestling, no morning kisses from him if I'm sleeping in, no looking forward to cooking his favourite food. After one and a half years, I should be over the worst bits, but small things still make me cry. Only last Friday, I lost the bracelet he'd given me for my birthday. The chain must have snapped, and I'm not sure where it slipped off.

When I realised it wasn't on my wrist, I didn't panic... I felt numb, just like i nen I heard he'd left me. But I fretted over it so much that I fell ill on Sunday. I've been crying a lot since then, especially now that I have to sell my apartment to raise cash. The changes are inevitable, but extremely painful.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Joe had promised me we'd grow old together. We'd been college sweethearts and dated through university. Just before we got married, we drew up an "agreement" - a list of things we liked and didn't like about each other.My list was long. His only had one item: "I want to grow old with you". I knew then that he loved me so much that he was willing to overlook my shortcomings and simply love me.

But instead of that lifetime, we only had 13 years.

Initially I felt betrayed because we had so many plans and suddenly I was left all alone to bring up our three children. Our youngest was only 11 months old. How could he have left us like that?

Of course, I don't blame him now, and I know I couldn't really expect him to keep his promises as these things are beyond our control. But knowing and feeling are two different things.
We knew that Joe would most likely die before me. He had diabetes, and doctors had warned him many times that people with early diabetes were more likely to die at a young age. An endocrinologist even told him when he was in his 20s that he would have a "honeymoon" period for 10 years before his body started breaking down.

But he was optimistic, and so was I. We didn't think it would happen to us. A friend's father, a young diabetic, lived past 70. Joe thought it was possible, and so I did.

Which was why Joe made no will or nomination for his EPF funds. He never thought it was important; he always said "later". Besides, he always believed that if something happened to him, I'd be strong enough to overcome the odds. How he overestimated me. Perhaps I could have been strong - but only if I'd been prepared for what was about to happen. I wasn't. His death came out of the blue . and I never knew what hit me.

When the police came knocking...It began like any other Sunday. We had breakfast, and Joe said he was going to wash and polish the car before we went on our usual family outing - a ritual we looked forward to each week as it was a time to bond with the children and each other.
I stayed home to cook lunch, and the last words we exchanged were playful banter, deciding on the menu for the meal. A meal he never had the chance to eat.

When he didn't return home by noon and calls to his handphone were left unanswered, alarm bells went off in my head. My biggest worry then was that Joe might have fainted from low sugar levels caused by his diabetes.

I was just about to leave the apartment when a policeman knocked on the doorr. My husband had collapsed at the car park and had passed away, he said.

Could I please come and identify the body?I just kept hoping and hoping that somehow, there was a mistake and that my husband was still alive. Then I saw Joe's lifeless body on the ground.All I remembered of the next hour was crying on his chest, reciting prayers and feeling how cold his body was.

Our whole life together flashed in my mind - our moments of intimacy, fights, laughter... everything.

No time to grieve

If I'd had my way, I would have just curled up and cried as much as my heart would let me.I didn't want to care about anything or anyone any more. But there were my children to look after, and the family finances to sort out.

Having quit my job after my third child was born, I was then working part-time and earning RM1000 a month. I kept thinking: How was I going to feed a family of four and pay for the house, car and the other bills with that little income?

Joe's diabetes meant he didn't have insurance, so I had to pick up the apartment repayments. And as he hadn't made an EPF nomination, I couldn't touch his money until the Public Trustee had sorted out his affairs.

I had to go back to work almost immediately so that I could bring my income back up to RM3000 again. I'd be the first to arrive at the office, and then sit in a corner and cry.Every morning was a reminder of how Joe used to send me to work, kiss me goodbye and tell me he was going to pick me up later.

His sudden death meant I couldn't get the closure I so desperately needed. Because of Joe's illness, we'd talked about death several times before. Despite that, I wasn't prepared for his death to come so soon.

I felt cheated - by not being at his side when he died, I didn't get to share his last moments or say my final farewell.

One way I cope now is to picture him still with me, and imagine his responses to my conversation. This way, I can let go gradually. I also write to him in a log that I've kept since he passed away. I tell him how much I miss him, what I have to do, the dilemmas I face and the changes that are taking place.Sometimes I paste in lyrics of songs that reflect my feelings, such as "Against All Odds", to show that he's the only one who really knew me at all, and "Everything I Own", to tell him I'm willing to give up anything and everything just to be able to touch him again.

I may miss all the things we used to do together, but that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to doing all that with someone else. I want a man, but not just any man. I want only the one I lost, so I don't think remarrying is an option for me.

My children need a father, but nobody can fill that gap but Joe. No one can be as good a father to them than the one they lost. I'll have to be both mother and father to them,and if that means having to spend all my waking hours with them, I'll do it.

I still feel Joe's presence all the time and talk to the children about him every day. That's my way of ensuring they come to terms with their dad's death, and that they're able to remember him with more than just the sadness that surrounded his sudden death.

Recently, my daughter confided in me that she couldn't remember her father's voice. That upset me, so I dug up home videos of the family for them to watch. It comforted the children to see images of their dad again, alive and well, and remember the good times they'd shared.I've since made a will to protect my children, because I don't think they'll be able to handle it as well as I did if anything were to happen to me. I'd rather die in comfort knowing they will be taken care of.

The children are my only reason for living while I wait for my time to join Joe. Sometimes I see time flying past; other times, it's really slow - especially when I have to do things alone, like watching a late-night movie. And when I watch movies with friends, it is never the same.
Life is now about going to work, coming home, helping the kids with their homework, playing with them and spending time with my friends when I have the chance. I'm already driving my own car (the old car was sold off when Joe died) and soon, I'll be moving out of the home I shared with Joe.

There will be more changes in the future, and I have to remain steadfast. Joe would have wanted me to.

~copyright protected Her world magazine November 2005~

● Written by: aLdriNa ● 1:58 pm ● 0 Beri Komen Anda

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