“my husband died in long-term care two years ago, and i just can’t move on from what he endured.”
this from a reader who read
a healthing story about how covid had uncovered disturbing gaps in the way residents are looked after at long-term care homes
.
“it’s good to know someone else is aware of the so-called ‘care’ these people receive,” she wrote, explaining that her husband passed away two years ago while in ltc. she alluded to repeated crises and close calls in the days and months leading up to his death.
grief has no expiry date
the words in her letter were heavy, and reminded me of every person i have ever met who has suffered loss, experienced a life-threatening illness, or witnessed something terrible — there was that familiar intense tone of a person who is broken, wounded and grasping for some sense of solid ground. “l” was reaching out because even though it had been two years since she lost her husband, she still wanted to talk about it. the people around her? well, not so much.
“the people i know think i should just move on,” she wrote. “but i feel exactly the opposite.”
it can be difficult to listen to someone’s trauma, no doubt. who wants the sunshine and rainbows of their life darkened by a friend or family member who just can’t seem to move on? and then are those who just don’t have the patience for it — those who believe that grief has a time limit: two months after the funeral, sure, be sad; but if you’re still crying in your coffee at six months, well, it’s time to pull up your socks, grow a pair and move on.
but grief has no expiry date
.