Detail from The Death of Messalina by Rochegrosse (1916)
Note:
this is a cathartic narration of my experience.
Earlier this year my husband (W) died suddenly from pulmonary
embolism. He was in his early 40s. We first met at school, when he was 16 and I
was 14. We hooked up two years later. For almost the entirety of my adult life
we were together and for most of that time we were totally into each other (although
we did have problems, and break ups, here and there). I adored him, he was my
universe. Although I’m not sure I knew quite how much I adored him until he
died. He treated me (mostly) very well. He had a traditional approach to our
marriage; he was protective and loyal. He would not have left me for a younger
woman when I got into my 40s (like my sister’s husband did). He was not emotionally
abusive or violent (like my father). He was honourable and true. He didn’t care
for religion but, even so, he had personal values that he upheld and believed
in – he had integrity.
