Pete - thank you. The sad situation with my MIL highlights how ‘different’ death can be - as in, it ALL depends on the circumstances. My poor, wretched MIL was 94, and there was almost literraly, both physically and mentally, ‘nothing left of her’…she had been widowed 30 years previously, had seen her son, my husband, die in front of her. She hadn’t seen her surviving son, in the USA, for 4 years since he came over with her granddaughter for her 90th (he never visited after that and I have to agree with him - there was almost ‘nothing left’ of her by then and she may well not have even recognised him).
So, in truth, her death now really is a ‘release’ - for her, most of all, and yes, for ‘us’ (me, my BIL and my grandson). She knew none of us by the end…and it was pitiful to see her lying as thin as a bone, vacant eyed, hollow cheeked and so desperately ‘close to death’…
And death came ‘as a friend and a liberator’ opening the door to the prison her frail life was keeping her…she really did have ‘nothing left to live for’ alas.
Yet with those who die ‘before their time’ and leave us ‘alone’…ah, then that is quite, quite different…
And I second what others are saying to you - that NO wife could have had a MORE devoted husband than your Jill…she most definitely ‘got lucky’ the day…so long, long ago …when she first met you! You ‘came good’, Pete, ALL her life…
Thinking of you now as you navigate this strange, dreadful world of grief and bereavement…and memory, memory memory…SO much ‘memory’ filling up your heart and your head…as it will now, all your years ahead…indelible and enduring.
Kindest wishes, Jenny.