A tear rolled unchecked down my cheek as I think about my Edward. Making it clear to the lovely coffee ladies that I wanted to be alone for a while, I sat nursing my cup of tea. It has been a normal Sunday service but, by chance, one of the hymns was a favourite at weddings. In fact, we chose it for our own wedding service. It was just last Friday I knew I had lost my beloved husband.

We met in the summer of '57. New to the village, I lived with my parents, caring for them and working in the nearby town. He had just been demobbed from National Service. Grasping the opportunities that National Service had given him; his life had been transformed. Leaving his small Berkshire village to travel to live in Yorkshire was an exciting prospect and combined with learning a new trade proved irresistible. On his return he was delighted to see who he thought was a pretty young woman not there when he left.

That first time he saw me was funny. I was kneeling at the flower bed pulling out some stubborn weeds, getting red in the face and quite cross. He stopped to chat, still smart in his demob suit. He told me tales of army life and how he learnt to drive a tank. A tank! I couldn’t even drive a car. He’d stayed on beyond National Service, learning carpentry and mechanics. He often passed by when I was busy in the garden. We never seemed to run out of things to say and one day he invited me out for a meal. Having a car he could drive me into the nearby town. How exciting it was to be taken out to a proper restaurant for a nice meal! I laugh, recalling how nervous I was the first time, taking great care to choose one of my more modern frocks, a rare purchase from the store in town. His face lit up which soon put me happily at my ease.

After that we fell into a pattern of meeting regularly on Saturday evenings for a meal or to take in a new film at the Pictures. Outings on Sundays swiftly followed. In the car we could venture beyond the narrow confines of the village, sometimes going as far as Clacton on Sea. During that heat wave in early August we swam in our local cold swimming pool, flinging ourselves down on towels to dry in the sun. Laughing and chatting, we were very much in love. Such a long time ago now it all seems!

The coffee ladies bustle around me wiping tables and keeping everything clean and welcoming. I have another sip of my tea.

What an occasion our wedding was, my mother ran up not only a most beautiful gown with tiny, tiny buttons up the cuffs and down the bodice but also two lovely bridesmaids’ dresses. Being a gifted needlewoman, she earned extra money from making clothes for special occasions for the few wealthy folk in the neighbourhood. That March day dawned cold but bright. Edward looking dashing in his new non demob suit. He had saved up hard for a brand new suit. Coming home to a new brother, he could see that money was tight for his family and did all he could to help. I was so excited to be marrying this interesting, kind and friendly man. I had never met anyone like him before. Being deep in the countryside, most of my friends never ventured beyond the local town let alone out of the county. Yet, here was someone with tales to tell yet, nonetheless, found my company as pleasurable as I found his.

Afterward the wedding celebrations we travelled to London to take in the sights before taking the night-train on its long journey from London to Cornwall. That wonderful journey; with it’s never to be forgotten view of the early morning sun as we rounded the corner at Dawlish. Our eyes sparkling like the sea. Each day we awoke to a delicious breakfast with long days of leisure to be savoured. We walked for miles across rugged moorland, rewarding ourselves with delicious cream teas with thick clotted cream and fresh strawberry jam and savouring every minute of our splendid honeymoon. Evenings were spent strolling around harbours, where little fishing boats were bobbing gently in the fading sunshine; I think we tried a different fish dish every night.

And so our life continued in the busy, hurly-burly of family life and work; children (one of each) and elderly parents needing much of our time. Still we found time to dance and laugh and have outings to the sea.

“Would you like some more tea, dear?” one of the coffee ladies asks as she brings a cup over for a lady who has seated herself at my table in the corner. I sigh. All I want is a few more precious moments to myself before leaving the sanctuary of the church. After all, it was only just last Friday I knew I had really lost my beloved Edward. Quietly, the coffee lady is telling me this lady is new to the area and has lost her husband unexpectedly. Indeed, she added in a low voice, she was finding widowhood so very hard and was very lonely in this new area. Sitting there in silence for what seemed a rather long time I then took a deep breath. Straightening up I know it is now time for me to return home. I have not lost my husband, merely mislaid him.

That awful formal diagnosis of Alzheimer’s on Friday confirmed my knowledge that my dear Edward had become a mere shell of his former self. Never to return. The decline has been gradual and I have been in denial, until Friday when it couldn't be denied any more. Those countless mislaid items, the hunt for socks in places where socks aren’t normally to be found, the phone calls from the police to please, please collect Edward. My life has become a nightmare. Would he still be at home when I return from the shops or would he have thwarted my efforts to keep him safe and be out and about ‘having fun’ as he put it. Hurriedly, I put on my coat and set out into the rain to head for home. I am still a wife…albeit a carer as well now. I square my shoulders and smile. Today I say a quiet hello to her as I leave but next time I will befriend the lady who has indeed lost her husband. She may like to keep me company while he dozes I think. For the first time in a long while I smile at the prospect of the future.

By Karen Hedges

Website: http://karenhedges.co.uk

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