A Love Story That Never Ends

By: Reagan Cartwright

Ursula and I met in 1985, at the small downtown Houston bank, where we both worked. Within three months, we got married. Ursula’s four daughters, all grown, welcomed me into their family. 

Ursula had a wonderful personality, a dry wit, and people liked her. However, like me, she was more of an introvert than an extrovert. We both preferred a quiet evening at home together, as opposed to going out on the town with others.

Ursula’s health decline started quietly and slowly. Increasingly, she became frustrated when simple tasks became difficult, then impossible, to accomplish. Ursula loved to sew and knit. When her daughters were growing up, she sewed them outfits for school. Then, as the grandbabies came into our world, she delighted in once again knitting and sewing for children. Ursula also prided herself on her math and accounting skills, which had aided her in her career in banking, and with the FDIC. Then it started. She could no longer balance her checkbook. And, devastatingly, she could no longer thread her sewing machine, much less sew with it. Ursula’s acuteness, her awareness, even her mobility, were all diminishing. 

By the time that Ursula was diagnosed as suffering from vascular dementia, she was no longer capable of understanding what that meant. Her type of dementia is caused by a series of small strokes, so minor that one is not aware that a stroke has occurred. I was told that her condition was untreatable…. progressive…. and terminal. 

For months after Ursula’s death, I was still in my caregiver’s mode. I still slept with the phone by my side. I found myself at the grocery store, mentally picking out items that Ursula might still be able to eat. I felt wound up, ready for the next battle, the next obstacle in caring for my wife, my beloved. I was still on duty. During her illness, my sole job in life was caring for, and advocating for, Ursula. My mind, my body, did not know that my task was over…. not successful, maybe…. but over, nevertheless.

Three months after Ursula’s death, I realized that it was time to reach out for help, to find counseling and most importantly, a support group. So, I looked over the resource list the hospice had given me, and began Googling some of the organizations on that list. As soon as I received the Grief & Loss Center’s website, I felt like it might be what I was looking for. And when I watched Laurie Taylor’s “In Times of Grief and Loss” video about the Center, I knew this is the organization I should contact.

I started with weekly counseling sessions including Hope, the center’s therapy dog. I also joined the monthly Spouse/Partner Loss group along with an eight-week group. I appreciate the unique concept and structure of the Center that includes adult groups designed for specific losses and the children’s program for pre-K through high school students. Although the Center offices are housed in a church, it is non-sectarian.

The Grief & Loss Center relies on donations from the community to continue most of its services at no charge. Since I came into the arms of the Grief & Loss Center, I have made small but regular donations, yet I have never felt that I had to donate in order to continue to receive its benefits.  

One of the greatest benefits I’ve received is a deeper understanding of the complex grief process. One of Ursula’s daughters recently let me know that her mother’s birthday created more sadness than she had felt in previous years. For me, it's as if you are walking down a long hallway, and when you finally arrive at the end of that hallway, you expect there will be a door to go through and all will be okay. But when you reach the end of that long hallway, there is no door to go through. Instead, the hallway makes a sharp turn to another hallway and just keeps on going. 

I’ve learned, through counseling and group support, that we will always grieve and that grieving means we love. Grief can come in spurts or it can come in waves, but we will learn to gradually accept our grief as a part of being alive. One can live a healthy fruitful life and grieve for our loved ones at the same time.