Today, driving back to the beach, I was thinking about Bren and the pain he suffered in the last months of his life. I have thought about it a lot since isolating against Covid19.
His pain was so intense we had to prepare him for toilet breaks and he would have to recover from them. His palliative care chair was his solace. It was where he was most comfortable. Taking one last trip to the beach was as out of reach for him by this stage as going to the moon.
Although we talked about the logistics of getting him there, a lot, with his palliative team at the time, Bren and I knew it wasn’t going to happen. His want to look at something he couldn’t have wasn’t enough to bear the pain he would have to go through to do it.
So, driving to the beach under strict iso rules today, the wave of grief came as I thought about how lucky I was to be able to go to the beach anytime I like. It’s hard on days like this to be OK without Bren here.
And so came the ugly cry in all its glory, it crashed over me like an angry ocean and then I let it go. I wiped my tears and smiled at the family walking in front of my car to take their daily exercise. The wave came again as I remembered what life was like when we could do that.
It comes and goes in waves.