She ain’t heavy, she’s my mother in law

There are some weeks I have found that can take you to the edge, the one just gone was a prime example. The stress in waiting for that ever dangling probate carrot coupled with endless bills makes me want to cry and scream of the unfairness of it all. The “why me?!” shouts to the Gods above make you feel selfish and useless at the same time especially when you don’t have that calm, solid shoulder that you always leant on at times like these.

I was loading my car for the morning walkies on Tuesday when my phone rang. I didn’t recognise the number but unusually I answered it, ready with the ” don’t you think it’s a little early for PPI?” retort but it was my mother in law, Jenny. Jeremy, my wonderful, kind and loving father in law had had a heart attack and died. Shock, disbelief, guilt for the “why me” earlier thoughts went through me and then the realisation that we were both widows now. And Jenny had lost not only her son but her husband too in the space of only 8 months. And then there’s my sister in law, Frannie who had already had to fly back from Australia when her only brother died, now had to do the same for her Dad. I felt sick. There was me shouting about ‘me me me ‘ when , for them, it was a double whammy.

Callum and I drove down to Jenny on Saturday morning. We would have gone on Friday but of course, something always puts plans awry. Danny Boy and Arry had a very rare spat which ended up with Danny having stitches in his leg, my dogs seem to be getting as wound up as their mum at the moment. However we got there, 3 dogs in tow (not Danny Boy, rest for him). Jeremy’s car blocked the drive entrance which was the first oddity as he always moved it before we got there. I had to get in it to shift it forward, that felt wrong and intrusive for some reason. But I did and having unpacked car and dogs, I hugged Jenny and we went inside whilst Callum took the dogs into the garden. The last time we did this was at Christmas and unpacking the car meant unpacking presents, wine and treats – not an orchid to say sympathies or several boxes of cheesy biscuits because Jenny wanted them.

Over the weekend we talked, cried, reminisced. It struck me how different the two of us approached the early days of widowhood. Jenny had nearly 60 years with Jeremy, I had 28 with Tony. Both of us have led an independent life from that of our husbands’ in the sense that we had different interests and friends as well as time doing things as a couple but how we cope with the loss is purely our own. Jenny is one of the strongest characters and Jeremy adored her for it as we all do. She’s a ‘get on and do it’ kind of personality so it was tough to see her crumble and cry, something I still haven’t done but feel it’s looming in the near future if the last few weeks are anything to go by. I found myself suddenly being the ‘expert’ widow and giving advice when asked even though it felt the wrong way round as Jenny has always been the oracle when I needed her. And Jeremy too.

The next few days and weeks are, I think, the easier ones. Organising the funeral, thanking and inviting friends, sorting out paperwork, orders of service, catering etc keeps your mind focused on everything other than yourself. I will be on standby for whatever is needed from me but I know that it is the days and weeks after that Jenny will need us most. And Frannie and Steve (her other half). For them, life has given them the best reason to shout “why me?!”