Had my first counseling session with Hospice today.

I have been getting cards, and letters from Hospice telling me I am not on my own, and that a counselor is available to me.

I have been so busy dealing with all the paperwork, phone calls, and visits to offices that I have been having my emotions build up inside of me. I hadn’t opened up to anyone. So I finally called, and as the only time the lady could make it was after office hours, she came to my home. I am so pleased that she did, because once I started talking, the tears started flowing, and everything from the last 6 months came out.

She told me that so many caregivers go with spouses or partners to their doctor, and tell them that they are not coping, as the patient is getting worse, and the doctor doesn’t contact Hospice. Even if the doctor isn’t sure, it is down to Hospice to send someone out to that person to evaluate them. They may not need the service immediate, but have been taken seriously. In most cases, such as Len’s he would have been taken on immediately. He could have been years ago due to his chronic heart failure, stage 4 kidney failure, insulin dependent diabetic, just to name a few.

I found myself crying while going over all that has happened this last few months. I have been holding it in, and an hour just flew by. I couldn’t thank her enough for listening to my babbling on, and she said it was totally natural. I am going to their office in 2 weeks times to have another chat.

I honestly didn’t realize how much I needed it.


  1. It’s normal to hold in for a while and then suddenly, weeks later after we lose a loved one, we fall to pieces. Keeping it inside is a normal mechanism, especially for women. We are trained to function -always.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. They say a trouble shared is a trouble halved, it’s always good to get things out of your system. I looked after my mother for years when she got dementia and you don’t realise how draining it is until they are gone and you can start to get back to normal.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. How brave you are, Susie, to trust this wonderful counselor and how courageous you are to allow your beautiful, authentic self to shine! All these tears amount to the love you have for Len, and all there is, and all there ever will be, that matters, is love! 🤍

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m so glad you reached out and understand how you didn’t realize you needed to talk. I’m also happy you will visit them again. This is a road to healing and being at peace with all that has happened. Giant HUGS sent your way sweet Susie! ❤️🤗


  5. I’m not sure if this helps but I can understand how you feel.
    I’ve just come home, my best friend has just died, it’s hard not to cry, I loved her, I really loved her.
    We’d been together for seventeen years, I don’t know what to say, seventeen years is a hell of a long time with anyone.
    It’s funny, when we first met I thought she was far too aloof, too stand offish, I had no idea we’d become so close, so inseparable.
    We shared everything together, the good times, the bad, I hadn’t realised how much she supported me, I feel so desperately alone.
    Whenever I was depressed or fed up I would talk to her and she would listen in that knowing way of hers and somehow things would always seem better, God I miss her.
    I took it for granted she’d always be there, silly really, I knew she was ill but you always hope for the best thinking it will be alright.
    When I woke this morning and she wasn’t next to me I knew something wasn’t right, I hadn’t realised how ill she’d become, she always bore everything so bravely.
    Instinctively I jumped out of bed calling to her but when I found her collapsed in the loo something told me this was the end, not that I wanted to admit it.
    She was taken in straight away but I knew in my heart it was too late, I hated to see her in pain not knowing what was going on, there should be more dignity in death.
    I suppose there is dignity in death at the final moment when you let go, it’s the bit before that hurts so much, especially when you’re a helpless onlooker.
    All you can do is stroke their head, or reach out to them, not knowing if they know you’re there, but praying they do.
    They did everything they could but in the end she just quietly went to sleep, I actually had to ask, ‘has she gone’.
    I cried my eyes out all the way home, people must have thought I was mad, but who cares.
    The house seems so empty, so strangely quiet, I hadn’t realised how someone’s physical presence could make so much noise, especially someone who used to meow so quietly.
    I’m going to put her in the garden now, it’s still her home, always will be.
    Goodbye Lionella, I love you, I always will sweetheart, sweet dreams.


  6. I’m discouraged to have to go through this again because after almost 18 months, people still won’t acknowledge the severity or the common sense way to combat it. Hope your zoom meetings are helpful.


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