What used to be a rare requirement is suddenly, at my age, an almost weekly occurrence; writing a condolence letter to a bereft spouse or partner. BUT WAIT. Perhaps don’t.
When my beloved husband, Mark Sebba, died of a sudden heart attack nearly nine years ago I was flooded with the blighters. We were abroad when it happened and, from the moment I told my children and a couple of close friends the news, I was pinged with emails from people who generally started with the words ‘I realise this is not a suitable medium, but I wanted to let you know immediately….etc’
Actually, I quite liked those early emails because in the immediacy of my pain they helped in a strange way to cauterize the wound. I could reply just as fast and there it was, done and dusted. What nearly dragged me down with my husband’s death was the steady stream of letters from the more than hundreds of people I barely knew, as well as those I did, long, carefully worded, well phrased, handwritten in fountain pen, messages intended … well, what exactly were they intended for?
The need to reply to them all was a task that simply made me sadder.