Today I went to the funeral of a friend. Even three and a half years down the track, funerals are still a trigger for me. I know you can go stir-crazy thinking about the “what-ifs” but it’s hard not to. Here’s the thing I find the hardest, and I’m sorry if it triggers anyone but this is just about the only place I can go where there are people who truly get it.

On the morning my Chris died I was wondering why I hadn’t had my usual morning “hi honey how are you?” phone call. Shortly after 10am I had a phone call from the site manager at the job site Chris was working on to tell me that there had been an incident and they thought Chris had had a heart attack and would I like to go out there to see him (he was working about half an hour away). My nursing background kicked into gear and I thought there was no point driving there because by the time I got there, he would have been half way to hospital. I wish the site manager had told me how serious it was because if he had I definitely would have gone to him. Please understand I don’t blame the site manager at all, no doubt it was one of the hardest calls he’s ever had to make. I asked him to tell me which hospital Chris would be going to and I’d meet him there. When I hadn’t heard anything for about fifteen minutes more I rang Chris’s phone but he didn’t answer. About five minutes after that the big boss rang to tell me that Chris had died and my whole world was shattered into pieces.

Here’s the thing though. IF I had gone out to him and IF he had heard my voice, would he have fought harder to stay? If I’d gone out to see him, would it have been easier for my brain and heart to accept that he was really gone and not just off on a fishing trip somewhere (which I’m sure my head and heart have a much easier time believing than the truth). What if I’d seen him at the funeral home all decked out in his Canberra Raiders gear (which Nanny was horrified about but was much more Chris than a suit and tie) would it have reassured me that, even though he had died, he still looked like himself? What if I’d insisted on him getting checked out the minute we knew his dad had to have bi-pass surgery because of blocked arteries because, as a nurse, I knew it was probably meant Chris would have a genetic predisposition to cardiac problems. There are so many what-ifs that could have changed the outcome!

It’s really hard to explain but even though I am incredibly lonely, I’m not looking for another relationship, I want my husband back. There’s a line in Gladiator (the movie) when Russel Crowe says to the leading lady “you are so strong, you are strong for son”, and she says “I am tired of being strong” and that’s exactly how I feel today. What if things had been different and instead of being curled up on my side of the bed (because even after three years I still can’t bring myself to sleep stretched out to his side) exhausted from crying myself a river, somehow fate had stepped in and dealt me and Chris and our kids a different hand???? What if instead of feeling alone and lonely I was curled up on the lounge with him, his big calloused hands clasped in mine as he watches some silly red-neck program and we’re both laughing, him at the show and me at him watching the show? What if, instead of facing today alone I had his strong, builders arms firmly around my shoulders, holding me tight and making me feel comforted, even in the midst of grief?

I know all this reeks of self-pity and I don’t mean it to be. I just don’t know how to switch off the head miles tonight and the only thing I’m absolutely certain of is that I will love and miss Chris my whole life!

Always & forever…..