The grieving husband of cancer victim Rosie Choueka has resumed her popular blog, recalling their final tender moments together.
Following her tragic death in mid-June, the community rallied round the family of 38-year-old mum of two, after a year in which she wrote about her fight against breast cancer on a blog called ‘Fighting Genghis‘.
On June 11, the final entry was posted, in which she said ‘the blog was ‘never meant to be a competition’. “It was just my story of what I have been going through over the past almost year.”
This week, husband, Elliot posted the first entry since her tragic passing, in which he writes:
“Before Rosie passed away, and in one of the letters she left, I (Elliot, her husband) was asked to keep writing her blog..”
I want to start with an apology. My writing will never be as eloquent or as inspiring as Rosie’s (yes there’s that word which she so hated; but she inspired me along with hundreds, if not thousands of others). But I hope to emulate her ability to impart knowledge which will be of comfort and interest to those of you reading it. I also hope to continue to write in Rosie’s spirit – openly, honestly, pulling no punches.
Each message I receive from Rosie’s friends, colleagues, clients and admirers is a double-edged sword. The kind words of warmth and support do just that. They support. For those who recount their personal memories of Rosie it makes me proud all over again to have known her. But the flip side is the reminder of what the world has lost, what the family have lost, what I have lost. I am not a self-pitying person. I have no time to be. I have two adorable children to look after. But in the moments of solitude I feel intensely sad. The senseless end to a brilliant life, a brilliant mind and a brilliant career. The gaping hole that has been left behind.
Rosie supported me through some really tough times. We were a team – ‘Team Choueka-Choueka’. She was selfless beyond anything. She was supportive, loving, caring and intellectually without peer. I fell in love with her massive brain and her magnetic personality. I am completely unable to contemplate a life without her and simply can’t accept that the time has come when she’s not here. I realise that no one knows when their time is up but just 38 years of a vivacious life is just too, too short for this giant of humankind. I feel sad; I feel empty. I miss Rosie.
In the final moments of her life I was able to carry out one immensely important act. I carried from our daughter, who I had just spoken to, a hug and kiss for her mummy. On returning to her room I dutifully passed on the hug and gave Rosie a kiss on her lips. For the first time in hours she kissed me back. She didn’t open her eyes but she responded to my touch. And then moments later she was gone. I will always remember that. And when Natalie reads this she will know that she was with her mummy as she slipped from this world. Goodbye my darling.”