Grandchildren have lost a Pa and a Nana; small children who struggle to make sense of all this. Where have they gone? Where have the fun people gone who never tell off little children and always give them what they want? Who are so funny in their ways. Who smell funny and dress funny.
It is a sad fact of life that one partner is usually left behind; left to run the home alone, left to make all the decisions, left to become lonely in a way that company just does not fix. Lonely for that other half of them that has gone forever.
When people who love each other deeply live together for a lifetime, no matter if it is 10 years or 50 years or whatever, they, in a way, become one person. They long ago sorted out any differences and issues, learned to compromise and accept things about each other that initially annoyed them. They learned that the shared love and companionship overcame those silly things.
They came to rely on each other for strength, presenting a united front to their teenagers who always tried to play them off against each other. They would keep their own shared counsel about some opinions; teach each other not to be so hard or soft on some people. Just smile and think people are people.
They maybe ran a business together where the love and friendship overlapped into a shared love of being entrepreneurs. Not only life partners but business partners.
I have two friends now who, despite having loving and close families, will still look at the door expecting their love to walk in the room. Who will hear or see something and think of how much their partner loved or loathed that. Who will feel or smell something and instantly think of their love.
Friends will try to get them out and about. I hope both my friends will do that. They are outgoing people, very active in their community with varied interests.
I have never been widowed so I can only guess about how people cope with this new status in life, especially those who were very close and loving.
One of my friends, a guy I have known since boyhood and worked with on occasions in our lives, is some months into his widowerhood. He called in the other day for a chat and a cuppa. By the time he was finished, we were both crying with laughter. It was that kind of life for both of us. We were both scamps at school who got into far too much trouble and then, weirdly, became long-serving police officers - a shock to all who knew us way back then.
We share a somewhat unusual humour, irreverence being a large part of it. We shared a wonderful record of canings at school, worn still in our dotage with pride. Physical abuse only made us worse. Some boys are just like that.
It was those old stories that made us both cry with laughter, with my wife sitting there shocked. She didn’t know me then. By the time we met in our late teens, I was almost a sensible boy.
My friend said to me, between his tears, that it was the first time he had laughed since he lost his darling wife. That actually made me cry for real, as did Jen.
My mate said as he was leaving to always tell each other of our love as we never know when it will all end.
This has been a not-so-funny column but my mate made me promise to write something about widowhood; about something I know nothing about. I owe him and my other recently widowed friend at least that.
He wanted to let people know how it is.
Remember, tell your partner every day you love them.
