‘It’s too niche’. That’s what every agent said about this book. A book for men about grief? It’ll never sell.
They might be right, but I wrote it anyway.
One thing that death teaches you is that there’s not as much time as you think to do the stuff you’ve always wanted to do.
I lost my best friend, confidant, giggler, mother to my children, daughter to my parents, friend to a thousand people and a thousand things to me. I lost my memories, my past and my future. I fell apart, a little. I hope that this book helps other men avoid some of the mistakes I made. Or make them if you like (you get six months or so to do whatever you like until folks start judging – used wisely you can really go off the rails).
How to Lose Your Wife is also a book for women who might be interested in the inner workings of men going through catastrophic loss, a love story, a look a modern dating, drinking, running, children and more.
12
Books Sold
25
Chapters
256
Pages
84,000
Words
Excerpts
Part One. Death.
Chapter 1. The Cancer.
“‘Paul! Paul! Come here… quick’.
I heard Alison tearily plead from our bath as she sat there, water lowering, on a late morning in late Spring. Kids at school. Just me and her. In the softest light, she sat staring into hands smattered with clumps of hair, her once curly crown of autumnal reds and golds reduced to a reddened, blotchy, whispery toupee of wintery whites and greys. Alison sat buckled but upright from alarm, her weakened body battered by chemotherapy and asymmetric from surgery, her eyes watery, bloodshot and scared.”
Chapter 2. The Hospital.
For the days between Alison’s arrival and departure, they talked to me kindly and gently without giving away the smallest hint that my life as I knew it was about to change irrevocably. Nurses would make terrific spies; never play poker with a cancer nurse.
Chapter 3. The Goodbye.
If your wife is still with you and things are looking terminal, take a moment to properly say goodbye. Alone. It will steel you for the difficult moments ahead. I don’t have that memory and I miss it. Indeed, if I had another go at things, I would have written something to tell her all the ways I loved her (so many of them I didn’t know until after she left).
Chapter 4. The Aftermath.
Having already had a taste of the micro-celebrity that impending tragedy gives you (I’m sure folks were just concerned, but the Maggie’s Centre did warn me about some individuals being drawn towards the celebrity of cancer), it was nothing compared to the demands of stepping out and playing this new role – The Widower.
Chapter 5. The Funeral.
Today is the day I bury my wife. The clock says 5.53 am. It’s Thursday, February 1st, 2018. February 1st was an anonymous date until today. Not anymore. The morning is cold and still; even nature is penning metaphors now. Everyone’s a fucking writer these days.
Chapter 6. The Ring.
I love love and loved being married. The search for a new partner began as soon as Alison’s funeral ended. What better homage can I pay to Alison than the unremitting urge to want all of that again?
Chapter 7. The Grief.
I didn’t grieve properly for quite some time. Even after a year, I hadn’t tackled my feelings. I don’t think grief is something you ever really get past, it just grows inside you. It’s your choice whether its foliage becomes thorns or blossom. You decide what the memories of your wife become.
Chapter 8. The Children.
In terms of The Kids, I didn’t get all of it right. If you asked them, they might tell you I didn’t get much of it right. If I’d have had my time again, I really wouldn’t have moved forward as quickly as I did. For my sake and for my kids. I tried to be happy as quickly as possible. It may have come across to my children as not caring. It was so much more complicated than that. Part of me literally couldn’t care, there was just too much to confront.
Excerpts
Part Two. Life.
Chapter 9. The Drinking.
“Drinking has been part of my life since I was 18, and it was an unfortunate part of my marriage. An unwelcome affair I indulged in more often than I would have liked: I had to say sorry more times than was fair. I remember once waking up and, before even knowing where I was, Alison had offered: ‘you disgust me’. High praise indeed.“
Chapter 10. The Running.
“I started running in a bid to lose weight, be healthier and win the tug of war with time for what remained of my boyish good looks. And I was single now, ready to face a new life, soberly. My new life represented an opportunity to become sexually attractive and sexually active, something I hadn’t been for a long, long time.”
Chapter 11. The Money.
“I watch slack-jawed as people talk about having their financial affairs in order. I can barely distinguish Gordon Brown and Derren Brown if I’m honest – both represent the same level of impenetrable magic. When ‘Wake Up to Money’ starts playing on BBC Radio 5, it makes me feel a bit sick. I often switch it off. Money makes me feel inadequate and stupid.“
Chapter 12. The Dating.
“In some awful way, was I glad that my wife died so I could become 19 again? It’s a sickening realisation that there was part of me that wanted to answer yes. The horror of it. The horror that’s inside us, inside me. In a dark, hidden, locked room at the top of my stairs, a room that I didn’t know existed, I was secretly glad that my wife died so I could have lots of sex. Reading that back long after I wrote it, it makes me feel unwell.“
Chapter 13. The New One.
“Moments after taking my first cautious step alongside Jo, around a pretty, sun-dappled lake in the middle of nowhere, I felt our pace harmonise, our cadences match. As I ambled and she strode, her gentle sparring opened the door on a personal universe that was engaging, imaginative, informed, funny… fertile with possibility. After an hour alongside this new woman, I felt renewal, I felt renewed.“
Chapter 14. The New You.
“Time keeps on slipping, slipping into the future. And so do You. From your wife’s death, so NewYou is reluctantly re-born: you’re on a ride and you wanna get off but they won’t slow down the roundabout. Forward. Onward. You have no choice but to become NewYou – birth begins as death begins. Your wife hands you a baton you’d love to drop but it’s sticky and NewYou can’t let go.“
Chapter 15. The Friends.
“In death, like divorce, people take sides. Some people side with your wife, some people side with you, some people side with your family, some people side with past and some with the future.“
Chapter 16. The In-Laws.
“When you lose your wife, there are layers to the collective grieving process. Think of it as a series of concentric circles, or an onion. Well, it does make you cry a bit.“
Chapter 17. The Bond.
“I lost a love affair with My Fair Lady. We used to listen to it and sing it together . We loved the idea of a stuffy, overly academic and pretentious, pompous professor with an unshakably empiric interpretation of the world alongside a rags-to-riches story of a girl who was cleverer and more beautiful than either of them ever really knew. I have no idea why we liked it.“
Chapter 18. The Father.
“Is the death and funeral of an 88-year-old man who led a full and indulgent life different from a wife and mother taken in the late summer/early autumn of hers? The death of my father-in-law brings back into stark focus the loss of Alison for her sister, her mother and my children. I don’t really want to get involved but I’m representing Alison now. That’s how I’m emboldening myself to the post-dramatic stress of attending another funeral; I’ve told Karen I’m a resource on which she can call.“
Chapter 19. The Mother.
“For me (I’m not speaking for my Dad or sister), my Mam’s death was sad, but not devastating in the way Alison’s was. I said goodbye properly; I’d learnt from my experience with Alison how to do it. I went to see my Mam before she died, I told her how much I loved her and said thank you for everything she’d done for me. She thanked me for being such a lovely son. And that was it.“
Chapter 20. The Lessons.
“When my wife died, time changed. I started to interpret it differently, to bend it and shape it to my will. It became more valuable, easier to endure. I was able to indulge in it or ignore it. To speed it up or slow it down depending on how I felt. I can dwell in the happy moments and stretch them, to experience them as fully as I need. I move past the sadness quickly. Losing Alison showed me the fleeting nature of time. Clearly, it’s not around forever.“
Chapter 21. The Girlfriend.
“Paul thought he was ready to date, he wasn’t. I didn’t know this for a while though, it’s only upon reflection that I can see that. I just didn’t know him well enough when we started dating to know what he was really like as a person. I couldn’t tell the difference between him and the ‘grieving’ him. I didn’t know what was his true personality and what was the Paul that was altered because of Alison’s death.“
Chapter 22. The Son.
“The last thing I remember is Mummy being surrounded by gifts and people – there were always people in the hospital and always surrounded by love. I remember looking at those presents and thinking: ‘oh no, she’s going tonight’. It felt like those presents were a sign that people were saying goodbye. I also remember her appearance being really shocking. I remember her not having much hair – she looked like a different person, not Mummy.“
Chapter 23. The Daughter.
“I remember her getting slowly ill over a couple of months. We went to Bristol for a family break and her limp was getting worse. She was trying to be brave so she could have a nice holiday with me and Elias. It’s strange but, when she was ill, I could sense our family being closer than ever and us kind of thinking what was going to happen in the future.“
Chapter 24. Alison.
“Alison was a dreamer. It may have come across as being too big for her Middlesbrough boots. In those industrial, Labour communities, where unity was enshrined and uniqueness distrusted, Alison’s time was borrowed. She dreamt of faeries and fairy tales, of magic and mayhem – her way of escaping from tepid reality.“
TESTIMONIALS
CONTACT ME
Whether you’re going through something similar, would like to me talk about my book or just fancy a chat, feel free to give me call or email me using the detail below.
ADDRESS
Paul Scott Reaney
69, Crosby Road
West Bridgford
NG2 5GG
PHONE
07748 966697
@htloseyourwife
paul@howtoloseyourwife.com