Reality Check - The Hardest Thing I've Ever Had To Do? - Feeling Guilty

I've said before that caring for Carol was the hardest thing I've ever had to do - and I'm quite certain that will remain the case throughout my life. I don't see how feeling so helpless and watching as your soulmate has to go through such a dreadful disease day after day could ever be equalled.
But let me say that right now, at this moment, living without Carol feels like it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I can't concentrate on anything for very long and find myself sitting or standing and just staring into space for periods of time. I can't recall what I've been thinking about when I eventually snap out of it - time just seems to have passed by.

I'm still off work - and they've been very understanding so that's one less thing weighing on my mind. The people side is a big problem - I'm struggling to be around people in general. I don't want to talk to anyone right now - I stay in the house a lot. When I'm walking the dog I keep my head down listening to the ipod and this locks me away from the world and into my own thoughts - but as I've said it's strange trying to pin down those thoughts later into anything that makes sense.

The New York trip was a reality check for me. The planning and organisation, and to some extent the build up were a distraction over those recent days - and now I've also booked a lot of other things for weekends during March, things that are meant to be looked forward to I suppose. But they're also designed to distract me from reality - just like New York tried to do for those few days.

That reality is that I'm only ever a split second away from breaking down, from bursting into tears. Don't get me wrong there are long periods of calm, and I'll sit watching TV or keep busy on the laptop but the wave is right there. That's what it's like - a wave that washes over me all of a sudden - a feeling that moves through my whole body, it's an actual physical thing that happens and it can't be stopped once it hits.

That hollow feeling in the stomach is a constant - a sure sign that something's missing - and my heart actually aches. It's almost impossible to explain what true heartbreak "feels" like - because I never thought that hearts could actually break. I've experienced loss and sorrow in the past but true heartbreak is something new - loss as an actual physical feeling is hard for me to put into words  - but I'm sure there are others out there who will know what it is I'm trying to say.

I was lonely in New York - there's a difference to being alone and being lonely. The being alone doesn't worry me too much as I believe I can cope with that going forward. But it was the feeling of loneliness that set me off on Friday night. I was already upset having spoken about Carol at Liberty Island earlier and doing so much without her during the day - and then seeing that store she loved so much so unexpectedly got me thinking about everything Carol isn't going to get to see or do now - and that's a can of worms that has been opened again and again over the last few years, never mind the last 8 weeks. 
That feeling stayed with me for the rest of the weekend, even as I tried my best to keep busy. I kept seeing Carol in all of the places we'd been together and that's why I was more than ready to come home.

Because what's also very difficult to deal with is an overwhelming feeling of guilt behind everything that I / we do. It's an unwelcome emotion and a feeling that ideally should have no place in the grieving process. But we don't live in an ideal world and guilt sees us questioning everything we do - simply because Carol won't get to do it herself now.
In New York I was trying to work out whether I was "enjoying" myself - how can I "enjoy" myself when Carol isn't here - what right do I have to "enjoy" myself when Carol isn't here - can I remember what "enjoying" myself actually feels like?
You see guilt is indeed an unwelcome emotion - but it needs dealing with along with all of the rest. 

Sorting out Carol's affairs is still ongoing. I've found a couple of other policies that needed action - it will probably take me another month or so to finalise everything.
I'm also organising a memorial vase with Paul that will go on George and Annie's grave in Altrincham. It will be a place for Paul to sit and chat with Carol whenever he needs to and brings the family together again.  
  
On a lighter note Carol's ashes are now with us at home. I'm wearing the star necklace with some of them inside and the casket I ordered has arrived. It's perfect for Carol - designed like a jukebox with photo's of Carol on each side and an inscription on the top. 


Sorry if this post seems to be one long moan but I'm trying to get across how things are at this point. I know things will change - and every day is different - but it's a long process that we're still very much at the beginning of.

I miss Carol - plain and simple - every single second of every single day I miss Carol. I miss her smile, her voice, her laugh, her touch, her presence, her beauty, her heart, her sense of humour, her love of life and her soul. These last 8 weeks have seemed at times like 8 minutes and at other times like 800 years.


Life without Carol - right now that's the hardest thing of all....