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Some may say that this is a pity post or attention seeking, to those of you who do, then read no further, because it is neither, and this post won’t be for you.

15 Years ago, I was waving my Fiancé off with her sisters as she went to spend the traditional night away making merry, whilst I’m making sure all the wedding preparations are in place for the big day.

How many groomsmen have an MS Project plan for all the wedding activities? or a Visio table plan, which included a fake version because friends were nosey as to what the table names were going to be called?

Nor did we think Janice’s best friend who had been in an horrific and life altering head on collision caused by a driver driving on the wrong side of the road, would have been with us as Chief Bridesmaid nine months later?, but through sheer determination she was with us.

I sat up until 4am still trying to write my speech, which had been written and rewritten so many times in my head, before deciding to just go with what I’ve written since it’s mainly thank you’s and doesn’t need to upstage the best man.

A few hours later, my friends arrived with champagne and sausages for a cooked breakfast, before heading off for the ceremony. A lot happened on the way over, but that’s a story for another day…

The staff at the venue took one look at me and decided that I was a “Fainter” looking so white, they were taking bets on when I’d faint. They lost 😉

Tomorrow should have been our Crystal Wedding Anniversary, instead we only made it to silk before bastard cancer took her young life away too soon.

Fifteen years together as a couple is a significant milestone. Crystal is the traditional gift for a 15th wedding anniversary. It represents the clear and sparkling love between husband and wife.

The modern gift is glass or a watch, thought by many to be a symbol of the time you’ve had—and plan to have—together.

Whilst life moves on for all (myself included), I’ve listened to the cries of get over it, move forward, you should be fine by now, the truth really is stranger than fiction. Before joining the widowed club, I (like many of the muggles) don’t really consider the consequences of death. The overwhelming sadness that engulfs your soul, as you try and battle your way back to find some resemblance of your old self or to simply function. Year 1 is a blur of fog and autopilot, it’s like you’re watching yourself from a TV screen. In the second year having been through all the firsts, the realisation hits you harder that you’re alone along with your future plans, or lack thereof. You’ve contemplated the act of checking out so many times, it would be much easier wouldn’t it? To the point that… Never mind…

Once you’ve seen the absurdity and cruelty of the veil of life lifted momentarily, you wonder what the point to anything really is, and so the depression hits hard in year two, beyond anything I’d imagined as people tell you to buck up, smile, I know how you feel I lost my pet gerbil last year too… (True story that) struggling with motivation.

Everyone has their own lives to lead with their own problems, but for many they have their partner to offload to in an evening. Those same people that judge our actions do so from the comfort of not knowing the crippling pain that awaits them. I’ve had people liken the death of your wife to divorce… Let me tell you, its nothing like it, because one or both of you could swallow your pride and pick up the phone and apologise to the other. You know that they are still living and breathing, and didn’t have their dreams and ambitions wiped away from an unjust and cruel disease that takes a person painfully, without dignity and without mercy.

There are times you feel you are normal again, and those days grow longer between bouts of guilt and anger, and sometimes you feel like life is moving forward and without notice bang… the flashbacks start up again, the feelings of helplessness, of guilt of playing the “What If Game” start up again in your mind where you left off last year.

I’ve felt the pain and anger rising for the last couple of weeks and feeling helpless to control it in anyway, the sleepless nights/disturbed sleep, or too much sleep, the feeling of not being in control of yourself.

It will subside, of that I’m sure as it always does, I think it may be the change of weather or I’ve reached that time of year again when events from four years ago replay in mind on a loop, still looking for the answers that are not forthcoming, annoyed with the hospital that had 40 significant failings in safety and care, and how utterly unsupportive MacMillan were during the time we needed them most. It is a sham of an organistion.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you Janice, I’m sorry you’re not here another year… If I could trade with you I would without hesitation. I’ve been fortunate and lucky to have had some amazing friends on this shitty journey and you know who you are.

Happy Heavenly Anniversary my Angel 💔💔💔

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