You don’t have to be around bereaved folks for very long before you know that most of them have something in common; I call it gentleness.

When a loved one dies, their partner is left with a host of mixed emotions and memories.  There is the long illness, the doubts about the treatment, the neglect of long term friends, the inappropriate well meaning but somewhat repetitious words - but most of us have this terrible feeling of loneliness.

It becomes so easy to dwell on what one could have done, what others could have done better, why friends were so neglectful, and why you feel so alone.

I know how I felt after Collette died.  The feelings of frustration, of no knowing what to do, not being able to do more, having no sense of control and somehow feeling guilt because she was gone and I was still here.  I have the idea this feeling has something to do with the age difference in relationships of all kinds. We also hear talk about feelings of anger and I think we have to talk about that. Frankly I have seldom heard any one talk about how angry they were that their loved one died.  Sometime a person will remark that they wonder where she or he is now that they need them. These remarks are usually said in a joking manner. The path to gentleness is not easy for some.  They may be left with real issues about the treatment of their loved one.  It is only when we listen to the experiences of others that we can truly appreciate the care that was available.  Sharing of experiences is good for all of us. 

In the normal course of events women tend to live a bit longer than heir husbands.  Of course this is partly because men usually marry a younger woman.  Sometimes the age difference is quite marked but from what I have read the difference is about five years.  In my case I never thought that Collette would die before me.  I remember thinking about that during Collette illness and it was disturbing to me.  I have heard many men tell me the same thing with the same sense of disbelief.  Most bereaved men tell me that they have almost been overwhelmed at the prospect of being alone after all those years.  I can remember sitting with my family around me the day Collette died and realizing that for the first time in over forty-four years I was now alone.  Truthfully I can say that I never had any feelings of anger about Collette’s death.  I was sad that she was gone from me and our family but at the same time grateful for the years we had together.

However the world we live in is forever changing.  The age difference is now not so great.  I hear about successful marriages and relationships that are just the reverse. 

It is so easy to blame yourself for situations that are totally out of your control. To resent the fact that that long term friends found it difficult to visit.  I wondered what I could have done better. Why this had happened to both of us.  It was so easy to question the very purpose of life. To be angry and frustrated with myself that there was not a single thing I could have done to change what had happened. 

I thought about all these things.  I also thought of how Victoria Hospice had helped us.  I remembered how dignified Collette’s death really had been, how peaceful she looked, how she was able to greet our children with her slow smiles and how she enjoyed that last gin and tonic we shared at three o’clock on the morning she died.  What I remember most, is how she assured me that she didn’t mind dying because she couldn’t live in her body the way it was. She told me so one day when I was in the depths of despair. 

Frankly I was puzzled when Collette’s best friend was unable to face coming to the funeral.  I wasn’t angry, just disappointed and perhaps, to be truthful, I didn’t even try to understand.

As time went by and I became more involved with my bereaved friends it slowly dawned on me that my feelings were not unique.  Most of my friends had similar experiences, faced the same problems, felt the same loneliness, had the same neglectful friends, and most of all felt unable to express their feelings easily.

After a time I began to understand that Collette’s friends also had great difficulty with her death.  They had lost a good friend, and, of course, they had their own feelings that I had no way of understanding.  Our children had lost one of their parents.  Her sisters had lost one of the family.  When Collette died I was not the only one with this terrible sense of loss.  I tried to put myself in their place and it helped me to understand how her death affected them.  I became a lot more tolerant.  I now accept that Collette’s friend couldn’t attend the funeral and it wasn’t a reflection on the closeness of their relationship. 

I have talked a lot about the feeling of gentleness with most of my bereaved friends.  We have had many long talks about the necessity of understanding the reactions of others, trying not to judge, saying thanks, accepting offers of help, and being closer to our families.  We have become a lot gentler with others.

Once I had realized that I had done everything I thought I could have possibly done I was able to be more gentle with myself and that enabled me to be more gentle with my friends. 

I do my best not to intrude on other’s grief and to be respectful of their privacy but sometimes when the time is right I have found it helpful to tell my own story.  I have found that letting other bereaved people know how I feel encourages them to talk about their own bereavement. We all learn from one another and I really appreciate this sharing of experiences, which gives all of us a broader view of the bereaved condition.  We have learned much from each other.  The good experiences and also some that were not so good are shared with each other.  We all have wonderful happy events and memories in our lives.  It is always amazing and enlightening to me to have people relate events in their lives that were so similar to our own.  Slowly we learn to remember how good it is to laugh at parts of the life that we have shared with our loved one.  

I have always been amazed how my bereaved friends relate to the beauty of nature.  There is something almost magical about a peaceful walk in the sunshine or sitting quietly on a bench looking at the ever changing ocean.     

Life is good.  All of us are all a bit gentler with our families, our friends, ourselves - and with the past.