Alan Alexander Gilliatt
January 28, 1944 - April 23, 2011
I hope your light is now shining in a place of beauty.
I will miss you love, so much , every single day.
Be at peace, my dearest man.
It is with the greatest sadness in my heart that I write this. My irascible, vibrant, cantankerous, lovable, generous, kind, stubborn, decent, funny, playful, hard-working husband left this world last Saturday, at 2:30pm, on a lovely warm afternoon while we worked in our garden.
It was the most shocking and horrible experience of my life. I will never recover from the unreality of chatting away as we worked side-by-side one moment, to losing him the next. My only consolation is he died instantly, and painlessly, from cardiac arrest.
I feel so sorry that this happened here, in America, rather than in Edinburgh where he lived all his life. I have talked to his family and several friends in Scotland, but for now, being so far away, there will be no memorial service for him, no celebration of his life amongst the family, friends, military and work people that he knew over his lifetime. It breaks my heart he won't have that.
We haven't lived in southern Oregon long enough to make friends, become part of the community, so other than myself and small family, there is no one here to mourn him. And as if my heart couldn't break more, it does with this thought: After all our months of work on the new house, we had actually arrived at the very last day--house finished, work done, only flowers to plant--and were both eagerly looking forward to a wonderful summer of relaxing and enjoying our labors. And that's the day he dies..?? I can't fathom the unfairness, or comprehend the timing.
My mother and sister came immediately, but after a week, they are gone now, and it's just Ozzy, Max and myself. Ozzy is taking it very hard. He wanders back into Alan's room expecting to find him on the computer; he sits at the window waiting for him to perhaps drive up in the car; he stares at me, his big brown eyes asking where his Dad has gone. Max is less bothered because he's only been with us for a few months, yet he's still unsettled and worried. Somehow I have to find a way to relieve their fears and figure out how to care for them on my own.
But that will perhaps seem minor compared to the magnitude of how I will ever learn to face the silence, and the pain, and the deep, wrenching loneliness of losing Alan. He filled the house, and my life. It is unbearable that he is gone.
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I have no idea if I will ever blog again. I have so many difficulties ahead dealing with two different countries' red tape and rules; and frankly Alan dealt with the UK things so I'm virtually clueless. But even if I had no worries or confusion on that score, I am too numb and hollowed out to imagine ever having anything to write again, once I post this.
I would like to say one last thing: Treasure the people in your lives, hug your loved ones, talk to them, smile at them, appreciate them, every single day. Don't think there's plenty of time, or put things off for another day, or imagine for a moment you can wait to tell them you love them. In the blink of an eye, your chance could be taken away.
We haven't lived in southern Oregon long enough to make friends, become part of the community, so other than myself and small family, there is no one here to mourn him. And as if my heart couldn't break more, it does with this thought: After all our months of work on the new house, we had actually arrived at the very last day--house finished, work done, only flowers to plant--and were both eagerly looking forward to a wonderful summer of relaxing and enjoying our labors. And that's the day he dies..?? I can't fathom the unfairness, or comprehend the timing.
My mother and sister came immediately, but after a week, they are gone now, and it's just Ozzy, Max and myself. Ozzy is taking it very hard. He wanders back into Alan's room expecting to find him on the computer; he sits at the window waiting for him to perhaps drive up in the car; he stares at me, his big brown eyes asking where his Dad has gone. Max is less bothered because he's only been with us for a few months, yet he's still unsettled and worried. Somehow I have to find a way to relieve their fears and figure out how to care for them on my own.
But that will perhaps seem minor compared to the magnitude of how I will ever learn to face the silence, and the pain, and the deep, wrenching loneliness of losing Alan. He filled the house, and my life. It is unbearable that he is gone.
******************************************************************************
I have no idea if I will ever blog again. I have so many difficulties ahead dealing with two different countries' red tape and rules; and frankly Alan dealt with the UK things so I'm virtually clueless. But even if I had no worries or confusion on that score, I am too numb and hollowed out to imagine ever having anything to write again, once I post this.
I would like to say one last thing: Treasure the people in your lives, hug your loved ones, talk to them, smile at them, appreciate them, every single day. Don't think there's plenty of time, or put things off for another day, or imagine for a moment you can wait to tell them you love them. In the blink of an eye, your chance could be taken away.
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