The stars are crying...

This was a strange week. Last week Friday November,2nd was the anniversary of my father's death in 1959. Today it's been 8 years since my husband,my partner and friend died. On Sunday I went to the cemetry to tidy up the plants on his grave.I took some photos of the rock with his name on it. It's a rock from a glacier in Scandinavia, where we always went for our holidays.
In spite of that's said of marriages and divorce in the previous post, I can say that I am happy to have been married to this loving and caring man. I miss him terribly and in the beginning the evenings and weekend were very lonely.
He was always there when I came home from my work, which was in the evenings from 7 till 9. I taught English to adults. I came home at about 10 o'clock. He always made me a cup of tea and asked about the lessons. Nothing much, but we shared our thoughts and experiences. He told about the things which were important on the telly and in the newspaper. When I come home now it's an empty place, no living soul......even my pets are dead.
The first time alone in a hotelroom was terrible. We always tried the TV set first. I made him coffee or tea while he took a shower. We talked about the trip. We were company. Now the room is empty without life....

My husband died alone. He was in coma,but I should have been with him. Instead I was on the phone, for my daughter's mother-in-law rang me. She didn't know that it was after midnight here in Holland. She cried and so did I. When I came upstairs I saw that my husband had gone. I called my Australian daughter, who was staying with her children at my place. We rang my other daughter who lived in another place, and we rang the doctor. Lateron the undertaker came and asked if we wanted my husband staying at home. We said:" yes, we want him here until the funeral"Lateron the undertaker came and showed us some mourning cards. We had the text ready. It was a verse of a hymn, a saying of my then three-year old grandson:"The stars are crying and the moon is coming down..", and an Aboriginal poem.
All the rest of the weeks we had visitors offering their condolences. We had a cup of coffee and told about the past year, when we knew that he was going to die.
He himself didn't want to talk about his approaching death, and that was very, very difficult...