Goodbye Toni

Toni 20/5/2008 - 15/02/2025

 Last August I read an article* about the grief that people feel when losing a beloved pet. I knew that when the time came to say goodbye to our beloved Toni, that I would be inconsolable. 

And so it is. Her death has brought with it echo grief. Grief for Tall. Grief for my children who have all left home. Grief for all the lives I haven't lived because of decisions made on the footpath of life. 

She had been ill, but seemed to be on the mend. At 6:30 in the evening she ate her dinner. At 7:00 she had lost the use of her legs. One trip to the emergency vet. At 8:00 she was gone. I feel like such a failure. I couldn't save her. I wanted her to live to 20 not 16. People keep telling me I did the right thing, but it was me, and me alone, who signed her death warrant. How I wished Tall was with me so we could make that decision together. 

Toni was our "baby". She arrived when the house was full of people. Over the next six years the number dwindled to just the two of us, just as Tall started dialysis. She was rarely alone and doted on Tall. She felt his loss very badly and never really got over it. 

Toni the day we got her 19/08/2008

*https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/article/2024/aug/15/the-surprising-shame-of-pet-loss-you-are-supposed-to-think-humans-are-more-important-than-animals

Solo voyage.

"Grief is like the sea, sometimes the waves overwhelm you."

As time passes I realise that it isn't grief that is like the ocean, it is in fact life itself. Most of the time we bob along experiencing the highs and lows that life holds, the waves are bearable. Most of us will occasionally hit a spot of dead calm, it doesn't last and life would be boring if it did. Even those who we perceive must have an easy life will still have their highs and lows.

It is guaranteed that life will throw up massive waves, deaths, break-ups, changes that we have no control over. Everyone experiences those waves. My life with Tall had more than most. A few times I was washed overboard, drowning in the confusion. Tall was always there to grab my hand and pull me back onto our little vessel, and we would ride out the storms together.  

I think that is what differentiates the loss of a spouse from any other grief. To lose the person who was your co-pilot and rescuer means having to save yourself when washed overboard. It can take months to be able to pull yourself back into your little boat, and when you are back aboard, navigating life's waters is a lonely life. 

More than four years on and I'm still struggling to find my way. The waves keep coming, and I have struggled to get back into my little boat. Four years ago, there were other boats I could call on. They have all sailed off on their own journeys now. Maybe they thought I would be okay alone, maybe I wasn't grateful enough, maybe my plight was too much for them. 

So now I am missing Tall's hand almost as much as I did four years ago. There isn't anyone else to rescue me.

Not so nifty sixty

 Yesterday I celebrated my 60th birthday alone. Well I had the dog, but she doesn't drink prosecco and she can't eat chocolates. 

I opened the cards I had been sent, the ones from my children, and a handful from work colleagues. I then burst into tears and sobbed for the card that wasn't there. I thought about all the other birthdays with Tall and the last present he bought. You can read about it here; last birthday. Eventually the tears dried up, and I went food shopping. 

Despite repeated efforts, I never did get to my target weight. Everytime I get sad I eat. I'm not sure if it is the job itself or that I am the only person there who doesn't have someone, but I have really found the last six months hard. I have struggled to lose any weight at all, at least I haven't gained much. That's due to the walk to and from work though, I have lost all self control. 

The journey continues. Life continues.

Time can do so much.

 I'm two weeks away from the four year anniversary of Tall's death. It all feels very strange still. The four years have seen so much happening, not just to me, but to the whole world, and so the four years feel much longer and at the same time it only feels like yesterday some days.

I was talking to a work colleague recently whose dad died January 2020. She was telling me about how her mom was coping and we shared stories of how silly things can set us off. Her mom, like me, still feels like he has just popped out, and that he'll be back soon. I don't think that feeling will ever go away. I told her that in my head I'm still married, that I still have a husband, I don't think I will ever stop feeling that way and can't imagine ever looking at another man. 

Last week I ordered a rose for Tall. I had seen last year that a prize winning rose grower had created a new rose called Bring Me Sunshine. I don't remember why I didn't buy it, and I only just got in my order for this year's bare root deadline. I can not think of a more perfect name for a rose in his memory. There will be tears when I plant it, just as there were tears when I ordered it. I have come to realise that the only way I can cope, and live any sort of life, is to not really think too much about him. Am I wrong? 

I still miss him when the trees blossom.

I still miss him when I see a classic car.

I still miss him when I sit in the garden.

I still miss him when something happens that I want to talk to him about.

Time has done so much to change my life. I never imagined I would be where I am now as we sat and discussed what would become of me. I will be forever grateful that I knew him and will always hold the joy and happiness that he brought me in my heart.

Bring Me Sunshine - David Austin Roses

Goodbye 2022

 Hello 2023. 

What a transformative year 2022 was!  This time last year I had no idea how far I would travel, I had no plans, and was still living with some of the effects of my grief. A year on and I've lost 28 pounds in weight, have a job that I love (even if I don't always like the patients) and am happier than I have been in years. 

Looking back I can now see how hard life had been even before Tall died. The truth is that life changed when he started dialysis. We tried to live around it, but the fact is it's hard to carry on as if life is normal when  every other day is dialysis. When the cancer returned things became even tougher and the last few years I was swallowed up by the role of a carer, never really relaxing even when we were trying to be normal. 

I've reached a point where I look back and say to myself that I wouldn't want that life again, even if it meant I would have Tall back. Does that make me a bad person? Should I still be wishing he was back with me? Of course I would like the man I married back. The man who would dance like no one was watching at every opportunity. I don't want the man who was stuck on oxygen, that needed a wheelchair to go to hospital appointments. 

I still had moments in 2022 when I missed him so much I thought my heart would stop. When I cried so much, I didn't think I would ever stop. Yes, I still talk to him as if he is just in the other room, asking him to give an opinion about something I am contemplating. I don't think there will ever be a time when I don't miss him, like everytime I go in the loft or try to reach something from the top of the wardrobe.  Not long after Tall died a neighbour from across the road came to speak to me. She lost her husband 30 years ago and she said she still misses him when she is doing the garden, after all those years.

The fact is, that for the first time in quite a while, I am actually sitting on New Year's Day looking forward to the year ahead. 

A promise

 I realised as I lay in bed last night that the end of my previous post might have made out that Tall was controlling, that he tried to tell me how I should be. It couldn't be further from the truth.

Tall championed me. He always had faith in me, even when I didn't have faith in myself. He never tried to change me, unlike my first husband, he simply loved me for who I was, warts and all. In return I loved Tall in exactly the same way. It's one of the reasons that I know we were soulmates, we loved each other, never wishing to change a single thing about the other. So I feel I owe it to Tall to explain what I meant about not being the woman Tall had wanted me to be. 

We had months knowing that Tall's health was declining, months that Tall used to get his affairs in order. One of the things he wanted was to make sure I would be okay. We had many conversations about what would happen to me when he was gone. Many of his plans didn't work out as friends and family, that he was sure would step up, simply stepped away. Along with his plans on how to continue the business was the plan that I should find someone else. Despite my repeatedly tearful replies that I could never love someone else, Tall insisted I must try, saying I had too much love to give to spend my life alone. Eventually I agreed, if only to stop him talking about it so often. Three years on, and with the clarity of reaching a different place in my grief, I can see that my acceptance of Tall's suggestion wasn't so much for me, but for him. He needed to know that I would be okay, even if he was leaving me. I realise now that the guilt he was feeling must have been awful for him. We had spent so many years joined at the hip, and he knew how hard it was going to be, having to continue our journeys alone. The promise that he made me give him eased his passing, and I know that he would understand that in my own way I have kept that promise. I have rediscovered the Good Cheer Pixie, and with her help, I don't need anyone else to love me.

The path to nifty sixty

 Three weeks in, and the job seems to be going well. I find myself dreaming of Tall most nights, I guess because I can't tell him about my day any other way. There are so many things I want to tell him. One of the real pluses is that the walking there and back has helped with my aim to be a healthy BMI by my birthday next year, hopefully it will be sooner.

 As part of my healthier lifestyle I looked back at the possible reasons why at the start of this year I found myself heavier than I had ever been. Eleven years ago, when we were planning our wedding, losing the weight was easy. I managed to keep the weight off until our very dear friend P. died, just before our first wedding anniversary. In 2017 I lost some weight again and vowed I would never allow myself to to put it back on. That lasted until Tall and I realised that he wasn't going to recover from the second SCT like he had after the first, and it was clear his health was going to slowly deteriorate. After his death the weight continued to creep on, little by little, not helped by the isolation of lockdown in 2020. 

Clearly I am a comfort eater. I use food to console myself when grief strikes, be that the loss of a friend, the loss of a future or the loss of a soulmate. I have come to realise over the last couple of months that, in reality, eating and drinking to excess doesn't actually make me feel any better. I still wake up the following day with a massive hole that can never be filled by wine or cream cakes. I need to find my happiness elsewhere. 

I have realised too that the changes I have made are so much easier without Tall. There's no one adding hot cross buns or Easter eggs to the trolley. No one suggesting we get a bottle, or two, of wine. No one asking for sausage and bacon sandwiches whilst on the dialysis machine. I thought that I would miss my crutches, yet in reality I am finding life without them quite easy. I can walk past the things Tall would have picked up and smile, remembering fondly what he would have said and done. 

 I think it might just turn out that I'm going to be alright on my own. Not quite the woman Tall told me I should be, but a woman that I am content with. 

 

New beginings

 As I approach the three year anniversary of Tall's death I am finally starting to feel more at peace. There is a sense of being content, not the heady over excited feeling of complete giddy happiness, but it is a massive change from the way I was feeling two years ago, or even last year. I often think about Tall and reflect on the good times we spent together, and the bad times too. Life was a roller coaster during what seemed like far too short a time. The bad years made the good ones all the better, and even the last two years were a bonus given how we thought Tall was going to die in 2017. 

I am still having to learn how to stand on my own two feet. It is strange how much I relied on just having another person's opinion on life, someone else's take on world events or the best way to do something. As I have probably said before, I might not have actually followed the advice, but it was always great to have another point of view. I now manage to do little jobs for myself, today I changed the saddle on my bike. There was a lot of cussing and I could have done with another pair of hands as I struggled to hold the spanner on one side of the bike while I tightened the one on the other. Tall would have managed with his long arms!

Next week I start a new job as a receptionist at a doctors' surgery. I have to confess when I sent off my CV I didn't think I actually had the experience or qualifications. As it turns out it was the years of being self-employed with Tall that actually helped. The years of dealing with customers and keeping the books paid off. I know that Tall would be really pleased for me. He always said I had people skills and that I underestimated myself. Life is going to be so very different, I haven't had a job with set hours for fifteen years. I have had the luxury of being able to shop when I like, walk the dog when I want and please myself about almost everything. I won't be working Mondays and Tuesdays as I'll still be looking after my granddughter, the rest of the week is anyone's guess. 

I think Tall would be proud. I am going to believe he would be with all my heart, and that he would be happy that I seem to have reached a stage of contentment and peace.

Nearing the end of 2021

Well there are only a couple of days left in 2021. Another year which is been tough for many of us. The pandemic rumbles on, especially here in the UK, where the government's policy of herd immunity has seen the deaths of many.  

Personally I have been fortunate in that covid hasn't, yet, touched me or my family. As with last year I have spent time reflecting on how tough it would have been had Tall still been alive. I suspect we wouldn't have been so lucky, as no doubt at some point Tall would have had to attend the hospital for treatment.  

I still miss Tall, and I have come to realise that the only reason I can cope with my grief, is that I simply don't think about him very often. When I do the tears start to flow. I feel guilty that I don't think of him as often as I should, but I have to protect myself. I'm not sure whether it is healthy for me psychologically. I just hope I'm not storing up trouble for the future. 

I had hoped that this year I would make progress with making new friends. I joined a few groups via an app, but haven't been to many of the events as initially I was too scared to travel home alone late at night and more recently they have been cancelled because of the rising cases of covid. I will persevere and hopefully as the evenings become longer and the weather warmer things will improve. 

One thing is for certain, I'm not looking to meet anyone new. I have no need for romantic love, I need the easy friendship that seems so hard to find. I have struggled this year with keeping up with the friendships I do have. I haven't emailed people anywhere near as often as I should. Hamstringing myself with thoughts that I have nothing interesting to say so best not say anything. It is why I haven't written a blog entry for over six months. 

Looking back over the last two and a half years I can clearly see that I have made progress with my grief. Am I where I want to be? Not yet. Do I actually know where I want to be? Probably not. To be honest it is difficult to separate my own thoughts and those which Tall had. His welling meaning "lectures" on what I should do when he was gone have left their mark. Some are easily banished, like meet someone new, others gnaw away at me as I struggle to see how I can be the person he thought I could. 

As I have said before I don't do resolutions anymore. The last two years have shown how unpredictable life can be and plans are so easily destroyed by unforeseen circumstances. The only plan I have is to keep moving forward. 

I wish you all a happy and healthy 2022. 

It could have been....

 Monday would have been our 10th wedding anniversary. Some people say it still was, but it isn't really the same celebrating alone. I looked at the photos and remembered how ridiculously happy we were. Happy to be joined by those we loved and who loved us in return. It might only have been a small wedding party that walked to the resturant after the ceremony, but every single person was there because they wanted to be, not out of any sense of duty. 

I feel robbed and more than a little bit angry that out time together was so short compared to others. I console myself with the knowledge that we were lucky to have found true love, even if it was all too brief. 

My first, my last, my everything.

How are you?

I'm okay I guess.

You don't sound too sure.

Well I still burst into tears in the middle of the street. 

Today I did just that. As I was walking the dog a neighbour drove past in his Lotus 7, he's older than Tall and has quite a collection of cars, all of which Tall adored. I reflected internally on how unfair it all was, but resigned myself to the fact I couldn't change things.

As we neared home a different neighbour was polishing his 1967 Mini, I just burst into tears. One of Tall's first jobs was working as a mechanic on Mini's, it was also his very last job.  A month before he died he helped out "the lads" at the garage he always used. They had had an old Mini sitting there for over twelve months, unable to work out why it wouldn't start. The mechanics, who are both in their thirties had no experience of working on older cars. Tall knew exactly what the problem was. He got them to take off the carburettor and he brought it home. He ordered the parts he knew he needed online and then sat, with his oxygen on, fixing it. He took back the carburettor and got them to refit it, he was then given the honour of starting the car up. It started first time. I cannot express how proud he was, knowing that he could still make a difference even when stuck in a wheelchair on oxygen. Me, I'm just so incredibly sad that he isn't here to still make a difference. 

Rainy days.

 It seems to have been raining for weeks and the only thing that appears to be flourishing in the garden is the grass. It is of course too wet to cut and it wouldn't be advisable given the lawn mower is electric. Tall once thought he would get away with it, and we had to buy a new mower. 

I thought having gotten through the anniversary of Tall's death that everything would be okay. It isn't. The dark rain clouds are not just literal, but also mental. No amount of volunteering, keeping busy or filling the day can stop the waking up in the night sobbing because there's a Tall sized hole that simply cannot be filled. A loneliness that is there even in a group of people. Even after two years I find myself wanting to tell him about something I have seen or done. To ask him his opinion on a choice I have to make. I long to have a conversation about nothing and everything, to talk about the stars under the night sky. 

I should be finding myself, instead I am simply finding that I am nothing without him. All around me people are getting back to normal. Back to their lives of holidays and coupledom. I am aware that there are those who might be in a relationship that is unhappy, I know that I am better off than them. Still, seeing people together, holding hands or simply sitting side by side, makes me sad.

No matter where.

 Yesterday West Brom. lost to Arsenal. It isn't the first time and hopefully we will have a chance to beat them or get beaten again. For next year at least that opportunity will only happen if we are drawn against each other in one of the cups. West Bromwich Albion have been relegated to the Championship. I can't be sure what Tall would say, but I can imagine. I learnt over the years how passionate he was about his team. His euphoria when promoted and disappointment when relegated. Through it all though he was a supporter. He would always tell me of the time when they were in the third division and hardly any fans turned up. He would proudly say that even if they were relegated to the fourth division he would still support them. 

That really sums Tall up completely. He was loyal to his team and his friends no matter where they were or what they did. Boing boing Baggies.

The garden

 I have been trying to spend as much time as possible outside when the weather allows. May has so far been the complete opposite of April, he have had days of rain and days of heavy showers with sunny intervals. The temperature has dropped considerably and so for now many of the plants need to stay in the greenhouse. I'm not keen on being out in halestorms either.

The year that Tall died I couldn't bear being in the garden, no matter what the weather. Every tree and plant reminded me of him, of how he would never taste the fruit from the trees or simply sit until the stars were out, enjoying the summer evenings.  In the midst of my grief I couldn't sit outside and i couldn't sit inside, I forever seemed to be wandering between the two, tears streaming down my face. Last year was better, although I didn't know what to do with it other, than cut the grass. I put up the pool and spent a few of the warmer days cooling off in it. Tall loved sitting in the cool water, although it wasn't something he was really able to do after 2017. Unfortunately, in my solo attempt to put it away at the end of the summer, I ended up tearing it, so I don't have one for this year. I think the decking might be better left clear in case I can have people around. This year I am planting hanging baskets for the first time since 2018. I still have to buy more plants and snap-dragons will be one of those that I will buy. Tall loved them. 

I will probably always get a little sad in the garden, Tall created so much of what it is now. Some of it I wish I could change. Maybe next year I will have the greenhouse moved to the wasted space on the drive and use the concrete pad where it sits now as a dining area. I remember back in 2019, a few months after Tall died, that the neighbour across the road, who lost her husband over twenty years  ago, was telling me that she still got sad in the garden. There's something about the continuing of life in the plants that acts as a reminder of the life that is no longer lived. Tall will always be in the trees.

I can't help it.

 I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was remember what we were going to do this evening two years ago. Tall was an avid fan of one particular football team and on 3rd May 2019 the were holding a Question of Sport type event with two teams of former players in aid of the club's charity foundation. Tall knew it would be his last chance to visit his beloved ground and his last to see players he admired and adored. 

The evening turned out better than he could ever have hoped. Whilst he was sitting there alone, I had gone to the bar to get myself a drink, the compere of the evening came across to talk to him. Tall it seems told him exactly what his situation was. He then arranged for some of the players to pop across during the interval to say hi. Tall was overjoyed, even more so as his number one hero actually stopped and talked to him the whole interval.  

I will be forever grateful to Bomber Brown for the immense kindness he showed Tall and to those other players who spent the time talking to us, without fear despite Tall explaining he had just weeks left to live. 

I am trying to make happier memories, today just isn't one of the happy days. 

A start

 As part of my attempt this year to make Merry May Memories I have moved my office (okay the laptop) back into the conservatory. It means that I can look out of the windows and watch the birds. Admittedly they aren't particularly exotic, I really only get sparrows with the very odd visit from goldfinches, blue-tits and great-tits. Last year I seemed to have a much greater variety, which is strange as I am not doing anything different this year. 

As we move into summer the conservatory may become too warm, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime it means I get my dining room table back, having also thrown away some stuff that had been slowly piling up since Christmas. There is still a lot to declutter, but one black bag  of rubbish is progress for one day. 

 

Not helping.

 I've woken up feeling blue, and it isn't a very good start to Merry May. You see yesterday was my last shift working for the ONS on the Census 2021 and I am going to miss actually talking to people. I am going to miss the weekly team meeting online and the seemingly simple fact that I had to text my team leader at the end of my shift to say I was finished and home safe, and that they would reply. 

The past six weeks have been tough at times, especially the first few where walking for three hours, clocking up between five and seven miles during the shift, had my knees screaming. There was one weekend when I thought I might have to resign, I didn't think I could cope with it anymore. Yet I perservered and now I am going to miss it. 

I seem to be in the middle of the perfect storm again. As people in the UK are getting excited about being able to go to the shops, have a drink outside at the pub and meet up with up to six people outside, I am reminded that I am alone. That I have no one to meet up with or to go to the pub with. My little, very part-time job has ended just as everyone else seems to be off enjoying themselves and I have the anniversary of Tall's death looming on the horizon.

I know only I can change things, I just wish I knew how. I wish I had that one person who I could trust to help me find the way through.

Melancholy May

 I know there are still four days of April left, yet already May is casting its shadow. May has become a month where bad things happen. 

In May 2006 Tall caught chickenpox from my daughter. He happily stayed at home with her as he had had it as a child (so he believed). He sadly caught it again, and it made him really ill. The chickenpox lead to shingles and he spent over a month in bed. 

In May 2010 in the midst of chemotherapy Tall was admitted to hospital with slurred speech, a drooping face and difficulty swallowing. The swallowing problem wasn't a sore throat but an actual inability to swallow food without aspirating it (it went into his lungs and lead to pneumonia). His consultant was concerned. Was the chemo the cause of his problem? Had the myeloma spread into his spinal cord and onto his brain? They did an MRI, nuclear imaging and a lumber puncture. I remember being taken into the quiet room by one of the doctors who told me of their concerns. Tall was scared and so was I. It eventually turned out that he had had a massive sinus infection, something that we only found out from a different consultant months later. 

In May 2017 Tall had to go into hospital for a second SCT. It nearly killed him and he ended up in ITU / ICU will sepsis. We were told that as he had no working system of producing blood cells and had no kidney function that if his heart stopped or he struggled to breathe that they wouldn't be resuscitating him. I can remember him saying it was alright to me as I sobbed uncontrollably . Before he had been admitted we had agreed that I would visit him twice a week as it was a long journey from home and he'd only be in a few weeks judging by the previous SCT. I ended up visiting every day, leaving the house at ten in the morning and getting back at eight in the evening. I had calls in the middle of the night from him saying they were trying to kill him, telling me to call the police as he was being held hostage. After several weeks he was moved out of ITU, unable to walk, unable to eat, a mere shadow of himself. Eventually he discharged himself as he felt he was making no progress, and so he came home unable to walk.

He didn't remember the calls and he didn't remember the DNR he had agreed to. It was only by chance, months later, that his kidney consultant mentioned it in passing. Tall hit the roof and was furious with me for having agreed to it. I clearly remember it was him that told me he had agreed to it. 

That event in 2017 left him scarred. Tall's heart and lungs were damaged by the infection that very nearly killed him. His body had lost all its muscle due to prolonged inactivity and no matter how much he ate and how hard he tried to train at the gym that body mass never returned. It was that May which ultimately lead Tall to May 2019.

You all know what happened May 2019, how a very tired Tall, whose health had deteriorated since October 2018, finally gave up. 

This year I want May to be different. I want to make Merry May Memories. I am going to ask followers on Twitter, readers of the blog and friends on Facebook for ideas on how I can turn my frown into a smile.  

 

The second is worse.

 I had read other people saying that the seconds can be harder, yet up until today that hadn't been the case for me. My second birthday, my second Christmas and Tall's birthday had all been easier. Today being my second Valentine's Day without Tall has been much harder. 

As I said last year we never really went in for all the roses and chocolate stuff. Yet reading what I wrote last year feels surreal, I can't believe how unfazed I seemed to be. I wish I was feeling that laid back this year. May be the whole pandemic and lockdown are taking their toll on my mental health. May be I am just feeling a bit more raw. I'm not longing for a card or a dozen over priced roses, and I can buy my own chocolate and wine if I feel the need.  I am longing for my Valentine to be here next to me, to have him holding my hand as we watch the world pass by. 

The last of the first.

 As the first month of 2021 reaches its end I find myself wondering where the days went. One minute it was a new year, the next it was Tall's birthday and now it is the final day. In these strange times it is difficult to look back and see any thing that has actually been achieved, life feels like walking through treacle. No matter what time I get up in the morning I still get to the evening many days without a meal prepared or even a clue what to eat.

The same is true of the time since Tall died. It doesn't feel like it was only yesterday, but it does feel like it was only last year instead of it being 2019. Twenty months without his company. There's still a lot of things I cannot do. Some of them are very practical things like getting the Christmas tree down from the attic, I had to make do with a small one that used to be in the kids' bedrooms. I am very wary of getting jobs done around the house and garden, jobs that I am no longer young enough or strong enough to tackle or that I'm even capable of doing. Tall once tried patching up some missing plaster and he couldn't do it either. 

Then there are the emotional things. The things I cannot change or get rid of. Tall's razor is still on the bathroom shelf. There are still tins of rice pudding in the pantry. The bed needs a new mattress, something Tall told me I should buy when he was gone, a fresh start. I cannot let it go. 

A few months before Tall died my youngest son and his then girlfriend came to visit. Everyone knew what the situation was, Tall wouldn't let anyone be under any illusions. We went out for a walk with my youngest daughter and granddaughter, and the dogs to a small local park. Whilst my granddaughter played we talked about death and what to expect. My son's girlfriend told me about her grandfather's death at home. How the family had all been there. She told me that even though he had died around lunchtime her grandmother had wanted to keep him there and spend one last night with him. The family told her she couldn't. When I was told the story my initial reaction was that I couldn't possibly sleep next to someone who had died. It was only when I found myself in that situation that I realised that is exactly what I wanted to do too. I didn't want the body taken away. I wanted to keep Tall next to me forever. If I could have had him stuffed I would. The best I can do is keep the mattress that he died on. I can lie in his dip before moving over to my side of the bed and that gives me comfort.

It may not be for everyone. I know from widow's groups that there are some people who cannot use the bedroom after their loved one has died, who cannot use a loved one's chair or bear to see their things. We all deal with death in our own way. How we cope is as individual as our fingerprints.

For those whose loved ones have been cremated there seems to be many ways of dealing with death. There are those who have the ashes buried in a special place they can visit. Some people have ornate urns so that they can be kept in pride of place at home, waiting until they too die and the ashes can then be put together and left for next of kin to deal with. Some ashes are scattered, and some are turned into fireworks. I have heard of people getting their loved one's ashes tattooed into their skin. Whilst some of these things might not be for me I realise that everyone has to be free to deal with their grief in a way that suits them. I have learnt to be less judgemental. If their choices are hurting no one, not even themselves, then they should be free to get themselves tattooed or sleep in a dead man's bed.