When Rosemary Pavey-Snell's husband died of cancer, her world was shattered. Despite being a counsellor and psychotherapist herself, she had no way to prepare for something so terrible. But she remembered what her husband, Allan, always used to say before going to bed: "It will be all right in the morning". Most of the time, he was right. She remembered those words often, but she still experienced the same thoughts and feelings as anyone else who loses someone special. At times, she was in denial. She called upon her faith for strength. She found it difficult to ask others for help. Regardless of whether you are suffering from a loss, counselling someone, or just trying to be a good friend, this personal journey through grief offers hope that mourning may eventually turn to joy. "Rosemary Pavey-Snell gives us a poignant and, at times, heart-rending account of her own grieving after the unexpectedly early death of her beloved husband. From this experience she then provides an invaluable resource for counselors and pastoral workers who find themselves involved in the accompaniment of the bereaved. This is self-revelatory writing at its best and will be an invaluable aid to all those who have the privilege of walking alongside those in grief. It will also be a sure comfort for those who are themselves struggling with the absence of a much-loved companion". -Brian Thorne, emeritus professor of counselling, University of East Anglia, Lay Canon of Norwich Cathedral

IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT in the MORNING

By Rosemary Pavey-Snell

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Rosemary Pavey-Snell
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-0679-0

Contents

Introduction..................................xiiiMy Story......................................3My Grieving...................................7Turning Points................................25"In Denial"...................................39Guilt.........................................43Anger.........................................47Loneliness....................................49Dreaming......................................51Feeling Sorry for Oneself.....................55A Lack of Confidence..........................57Physical Changes..............................61Hope..........................................65Bibliography..................................67

Chapter One

PART ONE

"It will be alright in the morning"—this was my husband Allan's answer to everything! I was frequently told this when wishing to discuss a problem last thing at night in bed. He would try to convince me that our great faith would solve everything by the morning, whereas I was sure he just wanted me to go to sleep and shut up. He was trying to demonstrate that by faith it would be alright! Mind you, it felt that for most of our lives together he was correct—it really did feel much better in the morning.

This book is written for therapists and those helping people who are "going through" a time of grieving, somehow allowing them to see that it will be alright in the "mourning". If you are one of those people please read on, especially if it does not feel alright in your mourning.

The understanding of this concept was not in the forefront of my mind when I began my personal journey of grief. The ramblings of my story are certainly honest and may show the depths of despair and pain which are often prevalent should a loved one be taken away from us. It can also show the hope that things do get better.

My Story

He was an optimistic extrovert who loved life, God and everyone he met. That I'm glad to say included me.

Our marriage began on Easter Monday, 1961. I promised to obey—he promised to love me which we managed to do for forty years—well, most of the time!

The two children we were blessed with are now in their forties. Both have wives, who are not only daughters to me, but between them have produced seven wonderful grand children. The youngest three have been born after his death. The last granddaughter was only with us for ten days. I see in each one something of him, but then I would, wouldn't I? On becoming grandparents, our love and caring moved up 20 thousand notches!

Each person who knew Allan felt they were his special friend—that's what he communicated to them and, of course, to me as well.

As we approached our sixties, we planned a move to the south coast of England to take up the business of semi-retirement. Allan began to get pain in his back, with it worsening each day. We believed it was because of lifting heavy things ready for the move. The day before the move, with packing going on in our house, he had a check up with a specialist. The timing was not great but it was the first appointment we could get.

By this time it was hard for Allan to walk upright and when the specialist saw him he gave his decree of "That's not muscle pain that's cancer!" A short time elapsed and then a scan which confirmed the specialist's view.

Our comfortable happy life disappeared into the depths of despair and we fell apart. Allan stayed in hospital for radiotherapy treatment while I moved to our new house with the help of my sons. There was no cancelling of the house move as contracts had all been signed and the chain was ready to go.

One week later Allan walked through the front door of our new home he so wanted to live in. We cried together. Another week later he fell as he tried to climb the stairs. Three weeks later I crawled through Christmas with Allan in a wheel chair.

New Year's Day he entered hospital never to return to me in our new house. He died on January 12th. It was only seven weeks and two days from the first diagnosis of melanoma until his death.

During this time we had some friends, and the elders of their church, who came and prayed for Allan and for his healing. Some church members took it on themselves to pray twenty four hours a day and people were even praying as far away as Kenya and other places around the world. We believed, as much as we could, that he would be healed.

Allan was given bible verses, poems and encouragements from many visitors during that time. You name it—we claimed it! I am definitely not making fun here but I just want to be honest. Love and support were oozing out of our friends and family. I am exceedingly grateful.

I don't have a reason even now, whilst writing this, as to why Allan died much too early.

My Grieving

The first day of grieving I did not cry. I had kissed him after he left me with the soft touch of his hair resting against my cheek. I wanted that as a memory that I would always be able to feel. I still can.

The next day we told the grandchildren. Their pain I will also never forget. Alice who was six sobbed and sobbed on her mother's lap, while Jack who was just four looked on motionless. It was only later that we saw a solitary, quiet tear falling as he asked "will I never see Grandpa again?"

All the family mourned in their different ways. As for me in shock, in denial, whatever you want to call it I made up my pretend world that Allan was still around and coming home soon. I couldn't bear it any other way. I still pretend sometimes.

Someone, who had been through a similar experience, said later to me that it is like nothing has changed but everything has changed. Those of you reading this in grief will understand that, while you go through the motions of everyday life that has not changed, it feels like nothing will ever be the same again.

Each morning I would put the rings he had given me back on my fingers and wonder how he could be gone. My heart ached and ached so much and so deeply. Even physical pain was there sometimes and I thought I was having a heart attack. Anyway, would that be so bad? I really wouldn't have minded going too! "Oh Allan! I just want to be with you" I said, hoping so much that he could hear. I wanted him to know how much our separation meant to me.

The spirit world of God began to be the most important idea to me. One night, as I lay in bed, sometime between the funeral and the memorial, I felt a touch on the right side of my face so lovingly. I wanted it to be Allan. It may have been a comforting angel. Wonderful!

Is there a link between God's spirit world and our physical world? In the ensuing days, I thought a great deal about the two worlds, wanting, so desperately, to bring them both together. I thought of the beginning of the world when Adam and Eve walked with God. I presume this was a spirit world as God is a spirit. Adam, however, had been created with a body. I am only writing this as it was what was going on for me at the time. I am not suggesting it's written in stone.

Can these precious creatures, that have left us, be in both worlds at once? Some would suggest that this comes later but what does later mean in a place where there is no time or clocks? We can try to get our minds and hearts around these notions but the definite knowledge escapes us. We do know, and this verse comforted me a great deal, that:

"Yesterday, today and forever Jesus is the...