Life Goes On: Part Three of Three - Moving On, Alone

This is the third and final instalment in my series on life after Sophie, entitled Moving On, Alone, which is exactly what I am now doing.  The road ahead will not be easy for me and I will draw on all the support I have had over the past year going forward as well, but I think I can do this.

Although the one-year of traditional grieving is now past, I find little solace in that at the moment.  I have felt a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders to be sure, but I still have dark days full of despair and longing, and those I expect to continue off and on for some time yet.

Last week for example right out of the blue, I was plunged into a two-day feeling of deep despair as I replayed the final week and in particular the final weekend caring for Sophie before she passed away.  I held a fair amount of guilt about the final morning in particular, and the feeling I could have and should have done more was overwhelming.  This is not uncommon, I'm told, but that doesn't make it any easier for me.

I reached out to two of my most trusted friends of Sophie's who have been with me whenever I needed their support, Kathy Brophy and Norma Chan, for some guidance.  In both cases over the course of two days I was able to regain my equilibrium and start to slowly move forward again.  It is a fragile recovery at this point, but progress at least is still being made.

I thought a lot about that final weekend again on my morning walk today and although I teared up again I was able to work it through and by the end of the walk I was okay.  This, I hope, will be the case for the next while as I continue to recover and heal.

What you need to know about this stage is simply this:  while someone may appear to be okay after a traumatic loss such as the loss of a mate, inside they may be not quite right at all.  I want you to know it is not an invasion of my privacy nor an abundance of nosiness on your part if you just take a moment to ask how I am doing if we talk in the future.  I can't speak for others but for me just a quick check to make sure I am okay is in a way reassuring that I am not walking this road alone.  Others are with me and offering support.

So, where do I go from here?  As mentioned in the last instalment I have my work cut out for me here at the house as there is still so much of Sophie's life to deal with.  Her business, her personal belongings, the life we built here over almost 20 years together.

Just this past weekend I put the finishing touches on the front porch refresh that I feel has changed the look of the home as you approach the porch from a more businesslike setting Sophie required to a more relaxed, welcoming atmosphere of a private residence.  That's not to say the old look was wrong.  It was what Sophie wanted and required for her business.  But now as I private residence again I feel I can do other things, and I am.

The big thing over the next several months will be going through the rest of the rooms in the house and doing the same thing:  taking Sophie's original vision and refocusing it to the new reality of a private residence with a somewhat more relaxed atmosphere.

I have almost completely finished doing this with the main floor kitchen, master bedroom and Sophie's former salon, which is now to become my office very shortly.  But there will be plenty to do in the remaining rooms, the basement and of course the garage.

One of my dreams has been to actually park the car in the garage, something I have not been able to do since we moved in.  I have to reconfigure the fence/gate arrangement on the driveway to accommodate that dream but hopefully next year I can get that done.  It will be an exciting day when the car is parked in the garage for the very first time!

The basement will be my winter project, as there is simply so much down there that never should have been saved but is still there.  I have nightmares about what else I might find down there.  But it will be done.

So all this will take me, at my estimation, to when I actually turn 65 next June and I can then actually say I am retired.  But until then, there is plenty to keep me occupied here, I can assure you.

As for me, we'll have to see.  I had a long and wonderful almost 20 years with Sophie and although it was not perfect, she meant everything to me.  The love in my heart will never diminish, nor should it.  At times I have shook my head at what I found she squirrelled away in this house but then I would smile and say "that's Sophie!"  And that is fine with me.

I hope to find love again; I don't know if it ever will happen or when, obviously, but I remain hopeful I have one last great love in store for me in my retirement years.  I still feel I have a tremendous capacity to love again, but not just yet.  It is too soon for this heart of mine to experience those feelings you should feel when you meet a new special someone.

If it does not happen, I am fine with that too.  I lived alone until I was 44 when I met Sophie, so I am really going back to the way things used to be, albeit in a much nicer setting than before.  But I feel I have the strength needed to carry on alone should it come to that, forever.  It does not scare me.

So we'll see what the future holds.  The past 20 years was richly rewarded with the love like no other.  If it happens again I will be careful, but ready to welcome it with an open heart.  But I will never be needy.  That's not me.

So that's it.  This series of essays has been somewhat cathartic for me and has resulted in tears more than once, but I felt I had to get it out there.  I am a writer after all.

After today I will take a short break from these duties in this space to recover and hopefully in early September I can return with my weekly arts updates as I did in the past.  But we'll see.  In the meantime, thank you for reading, commenting, supporting me and simply just being there.  It means the world to me.

Take care until we meet here again!

August 24th, 2021.

Life Goes On - Part Two of Three: The Grieving Process

 Continuing my three-part series of short essays on what has happened the past 13 months since I last wrote in this space, I title Part Two of Life Goes On as The Grieving Process.

As I wrote last Tuesday, my wife of almost 20 years Sophie passed away from stage four stomach cancer just over a year ago, August 2nd of 2020 to be exact.  The shock of the brief illness and resultant repercussions for me were massive, and I feel I still have not recovered from the shock of it all.  I doubt that will come for some time yet, if ever.

Sophie and I discussed many things while she was still in the hospital awaiting the final diagnosis, including final arrangements.  She was adamant she wanted to be cremated but had given no thought whatsoever to what was to become of her remains afterwards, and she never did give me the final answer before she passed away.

When the time came to make that decision, I wrestled with it but ultimately came to the decision to keep her ashes with me in the house.  The urn we picked out for her was beautiful and I felt rather than have it hidden away somewhere I had to travel to in order to visit with her, I would have her where she worked so happily for all the time we lived in the house together.  So today, as is the case every day, Sophie resides in what used to be her salon, soon to become my permanent office in the house.

To me it was the only decision I could make and I am glad I made it.  I have spent many moments seated beside her over the past year grieving her loss, or simply telling her how my day was and what I was thinking.  I still do that now, albeit with a little more circumspection than I had in the first year.  There will come a time when I make my own funeral arrangements I will have to decide where then we both go certainly, but for now this works for me and brings me comfort at a time I have desperately needed it.

The pandemic affected a lot of things over the last year, not the least of which was the grieving process those of us who have lost a loved one must endure.  The visitation was carefully orchestrated to perfection and after that, I spent a lot of time home alone dealing with the myriad of legal machinations that inevitably follow the death of a close family member.

It also limited the amount of time I could receive visitors looking in on me due to the second and third lockdowns.  When I could, it would be very carefully planned out and of course, little or no hugging at all, which I personally found I missed tremendously.

My sister and brother, the only surviving family members now beyond me, both live a good distance away and neither was in a position to come down for either the visitation or the time afterwards.  I have still yet to see either one in person although we still keep in touch regularly by phone and video chat.  It is not perfect but under the present circumstances they were the only options open to me.

As a result I, and many others in a similar position, have had to endure the grieving process alone, without a lot of human contact.  It has been quite onerous I can assure you, but there was little else I could do.  If nothing else, it proved to me and others how mentally tough I have had to become over this period.  Oh sure I have broken down and cried privately quite frequently, often when I realize the enormity of the job I still have ahead of me, but in public largely I have remained stoic and reasonably upbeat.  I have to be.  I have no other choice.

Any number of friends, both Sophie's and mine, have done what they can to help over the past year and to all of them I offer a sincere debt of gratitude for your herculean efforts.  I can't and won't name you all; you know who you are.

But for the most part I have had to trod the path of recovery alone, on my own, with nothing but my thoughts and an iron will to see this through to the bitter end to sustain me.  It has been lonely to be sure and many times I admit I would despair my predicament, but eventually I would gather up the courage to carry on and so I do to this very day.

There is now, even over a year later, plenty to do.  Having died without a will, Sophie left me with a very complicated legal process to negotiate and with the help of my lawyer, financial advisor and accountant I have managed to deftly negotiate much of the legal and financial jungle in this first year.  Basically at this point I am down to working through the governmental avenues still to be negotiated, but I have hopes that too will soon come to an end.

I have been lucky, really.  It could have been much worse and tested me more than it already has.  It may still, I just don't know.  But I promised Sophie I would remain strong for her as I advocate on her behalf and I continue to do so, and will continue to do so until I reach the end of this process, however long it takes.

The toll on me has been great, I must admit.  I tend to stay home a lot now keeping close to the cats, both of them knowing things have changed and I need their love and support, even if it takes rather unusual forms. But we're the Three Muskateers here now and will continue to be, living with their mantra "One for all and all for one!".

I decided to retire from my job at Canada Post in January of this year as I found, even though I could have stayed on until 65 as I had planned to, it was simply becoming too difficult for me to maintain the early morning hours and stress involved with the job as well as deal with Sophie's estate and the work that needs to be done here at the house.

I miss the money of course, although my financial advisor assures me I have nothing to worry about, and I miss the people I used to work with certainly, but it was simply becoming too onerous to carry on.  So retiring a year and a half before I planned to is what I did, and so far I have not regretted the decision.

Most of my days now are spent keeping up this large Victorian home Sophie and I fell in love with 20 years ago, and that for me now has become a full time job.  There is still much of Sophie's belongings I still need to dispose of, most notably the rest of her extensive and stylish wardrobe still in her closets.

Sophie was also a bit of a hoarder so that has added to my work load and I expect that to occupy a lot of my time for several months to come.  But while doing so I am reimagining the home in my image, all the while honouring and celebrating her vision for our home over the years.  I have been busy converting the home back to a private residence from a home & business model as it once was, and that has allowed me to take creative licence in a way I never would have been able to before.  So that part has at least been enjoyable to me.

Will I sell?  No, not for quite awhile for sure.  I tell people I will be spending so much time making it my space now I want to enjoy it, so yes eventually when I tire of the upkeep I will likely sell but for now, we are still inseparable in this house and always will be.

But that leads me to the third and final part of this series, and next Tuesday I will look at Part Three:  Moving on, alone.

Thank you for reading.  Until then, take care and thank you everyone for your support.  It means the world to me.

August 17th, 2021. 

Part 1 of 3 - life goes on.

 I have not written in this space for almost exactly 13 months now, and frankly I didn't know if I ever would again.  My life took a sudden turn last July and as I noted the last time I posted here I needed to step away to deal with a sudden illness in our family.  So today, I will begin the painful yet necessary process to write what is in my heart, difficult though it may be.

Last July 2nd, 2020 my wife of almost 20 years Sophie Koutroulakis entered hospital for excruciating back pain.  She called an ambulance to take her to hospital about 1:30 in the morning after being unable to take the pain any longer.  It would be the last time I would ever see her descend the front steps of our home under her own power ever again.

Little did either one of us know what was to come.  I almost still can't believe what happened, so over the next three Tuesday afternoons I will attempt to put my thoughts and emotions into words in this space, as I describe in three parts what happened, what followed, and what is yet to come.  I hope you will bear with me during this very difficult process as I embark on the next chapter of my life.

When COVID struck and Sophie was, as was most everyone else, forced to close her business for a time, we both thought it would be a short break from the rigours of life and then she would be back in the salon again, busy as ever as the spring and summer season were almost upon us.  But Sophie never opened again.

Initially Sophie revelled in the free time, watching her favourite TV shows, catching up on movies she had recorded on the PVR, and working her way through her ever-growing mounds of old magazines.  She commented one day "If this is what retirement is like I think I will look forward to it!"  She made lunch and dinner for us every day, remarking to a friend on the phone one day I was "eating like a king!".  So I was.

All the while I was still working early mornings, coming home to clean and organize the basement every day.  It was, for a while, a remarkably happy time in spite of the difficulties surrounding the growing pandemic.  Sophie was, I recall, happier than I had seen her in a very long time.

It was not to last.

In early April Sophie woke up one morning and discovered a growth on her neck, right next to her jugular vein.  Obviously alarmed she called her doctor and after several trips to the hospital that month to undergo tests it was determined to be a blood clot.  No explanation could be found for this occurrence but Sophie was prescribed blood thinners and in short order the clot dissipated.  It did reappear briefly about a month later but again went away.

No one could have predicted what was to come but perhaps it was indeed an early warning sign.  There were frequent follow up visits to the doctor and hospital throughout April and May followed by an emergency extraction of two teeth in Fonthill, further adding to the complexity of the growing situation.

Late one Friday night in May Sophie passed out briefly with the resulting fall causing back pain to grow more intense throughout the rest of the month and throughout June.  Through it all Sophie kept in contact with close friends and even made a couple of visits on her own to friends' homes.  She began plans to reopen the business June 30th in spite of the growing back pains.

But the final week of June the pain became so intense Sophie found it difficult to walk or even sleep due to the increasing pain, so several trips to a nearby chiropractor were arranged, which helped somewhat but the gains were minimal.  Finally on July 2nd. in agony from the increasing back pain and unable to even lie down or sleep, she made the decision to go to hospital.

As expected Sophie languished in emergency throughout that Friday and Saturday undergoing tests and was finally admitted to hospital early on Sunday morning, July 4th.  That began three weeks of intense testing and exploration that early on revealed Sophie's back pain was caused by something far worse than anyone could have imagined.

She had cancer.  The exact location eluded the team of doctors looking after her for almost the next two weeks.

As Sophie's mother died of colon cancer at a relatively young age years ago that seemed a good place to start.  Nothing.  A lump on her breast also seemed a likely candidate.  Again nothing.  And so it went, day after day, one painful exploratory procedure after another, with a specialist in bone cancer being called in from Toronto before the final diagnosis was made at the end of the second week.

It was stage four stomach cancer, and as I later found out from her doctor, it had evidently spread to her spine by June, thus causing the ever-increasing back pain.  I still remember taking the phone call from Sophie on the Friday night with news of the diagnosis, and the grim realization she did not have long to live.

There were efforts to get Sophie to a specialist at Princess Margaret Cancer Centre in Toronto or even to the cancer centre in Hamilton, but the cancer was so swift there was no time.  Sophie was sent home in late July, and lived for another week and a half before succumbing to what we believe to be cardiac arrest early Sunday morning, August 2nd.

Throughout this period Sophie received friends while in hospital when allowed to do so and often found herself comforting those who stood there in shock at the news of the prognosis.  In many ways she was the rock that kept us going rather than the other way around.

At home Sophie had around the clock care as she lay in a hospital bed in her salon, with her closest friends, the ones I came to refer to as Sophie's Angels, staying with her by day and a nurse with her by night.  She returned to hospital twice that first week for appointments but she proved almost incapable of travelling at all and I am of the belief the visits back to hospital likely hastened her deteriorating condition due to the difficulty in getting her there.

The decline while at home was almost immediate and incredibly difficult to watch.  I should mention I had kept working throughout this entire time, not by choice.  Once she knew she was arriving home in a couple of days I looked into taking a leave of absence from work in order to care for her but Sophie was adamant I should keep working.

I still remember a call I received the first Friday morning she was home, while I was on a break at work.  She was defiant and angry with me I should even consider taking time off work when all her friends are available and willing to stay with her until I arrived home each day.  So reluctantly, I kept working.

The final week was the most difficult I have ever experienced as I tried to manage long hours at work starting at 3 am, coordinate appointments for Sophie and care for her while at home.  I still don't know how I made it through.  But thank you to Sophie's Angels for being there every step of the way:  Lisa Raham, Mary Kudreikis, Denise Papaiz, Olivia Rinaldi, Norma Chan and countless others who offered their time.  But the greatest thanks goes out to Kathy Brophy, who stickhandled so much over that period of time coordinating just about everything.  These ladies and all the others were with Sophie to the very end and have earned my eternal gratitude.

Sophie had only turned 60 in March of last year, still as strikingly beautiful as ever.  I look now at a photo I took of her the night we celebrated with friends and it is hard to believe less than 5 months later she would succumb to cancer.

The following 12 months has been one of incredible loss, loneliness and the feeling I could have and should have done more for her in the final days than I did.  But more on that later.

I will rest my mind now after having gone through this cathartic, painful process of writing again.  I decided to wait until the one year of grieving is done before I attempted this, and hope it at least answers some questions for those who don't know the full story.

Next week, Part Two:  The Grieving Process.

August 10th, 2021.