Grief

A rather odd post title, I suppose, but one which will explain my long absence. In early February, my ex-boyfriend died suddenly and too young. For many reasons, this has been extremely difficult for me, not least because we split up three years ago, and nobody tells you how you'll feel. What can I say about the last three months? I've been quieter than I've been since I first started talking, cried more than I thought possible. It was a massive shock, and although I found out later he had been unwell for a couple of weeks, no-one had told me. I think they all expected him to get better, although I have tortured myself with variations on why he didn't say anything. His parents invited me to the funeral, which was very kind of them, as although we parted (reasonably) well, I haven't seen them since it ended. His father asked me to visit the chapel of rest with him as well, which was easier than I thought, although it was the first dead body I had seen and I hated that it was him. A lot of people were shocked when I told them I'd done that, but it was a mark of respect and I felt I owed him that. My dad came to the funeral to act as a buffer, as he was concerned that some people would 'blame' me - we live in a small, old-fashioned working-class community where everyone knows each other's business, or likes to think they do. I spent much of the wake looking after my ex's 90 year old grandma. So in the intervening weeks, has it got easier? Yes, to an extent. However, I think about him first every morning and frequently throughout the day, some days more than others. My boyfriend has been wonderful, but of course it's hard for him to see where I'm coming from, particularly as he and the ex didn't get on (even before we were together) and my parents seem to have made a decision not to mention him; likewise my friends recall only the negative side of the relationship. This is not unreasonable as they obviously were privy to my decision to end it, but... I think there are two things that make it difficult for me: the first is that I still live in the area where he's from and we lived and socialised. So many things in my surroundings can trigger an unexpected memory, and I look for him constantly. The other issue is that he and I went to Australia together for a working holiday, which was the best experience of my life and I know his too. Much of the time there was just the two of us, and that period was the closest we'd ever been. It is impossible for me to accept that all the memories of that trip are now only mine, and no-one else knows what we did, remembers odd things we found funny, interesting or weird. I have had some very kind emails from the people we met while we were living in Melbourne, who had fond memories of him. So I'm starting to pull myself together, but it's hard. As a small aside, one thing that really did help was running, and it still is. I find that half hour remarkably therapeutic, despite the fact that my regular route takes me past a score of memories every time. I went for a run on the morning of the funeral and it calmed me down and was a great way to take up part of the morning, rather than fidgeting around the house and getting uptight and more anxious than I ultimately was. And it's certainly helping me now, too. Cheers KS xxx