4Hdad

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About 4Hdad

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  • Loss Type
    Wife, Ruptured Cerebral Berry Anuerysm
  1. Thank you for your words, KMB. I think it is as you say, my mind trying to process what I avoid in waking life.
  2. Hi all, I've been wanting to talk about this, but I'm not comfortable talking about this stuff with anyone close to me. I've been dreaming of my late wife lately, and they are never pleasant dreams. Not nightmares, but still unpleasant. This started off with a dream of her sitting in a chair in our bedroom. In the dream I woke up and she was there, but she was slumped back and unmoving. In the dream, I realized it was only her corpse sitting in the chair right beside my bed. I got up to check on her and she was exactly as I'd found her that morning, only in a different position. She was completely unresponsive. In other dreams, she is alive, but doesn't seem to be interested in me at all. I can't recall what it is we were doing, but what I do remember is the feeling of being ignored or unimportant in the context of the dream. It's the nature of dreams to be fleeting, as in we start to forget them as soon as we are awake, and without some kind of effort to recall them, the memory of them soon dissolves. I also understand that it is the nature of dreams to be a place where we work through and process issues in our lives, and I can see how this translates into my own feelings of abandonment. Not only did she pass away and leave me holding a bag full of surprises whose contents I'm still unpacking, but we'd also drifted apart somewhat these last few years. When she got the horses, she was spending every night with them. By the time she got home, she had schoolwork to do as she was close to attaining her degree from an online college. Weekends were spent with the horses. This left very little time for just the two of us - I went to bed alone just about every night for the past few years. I mentioned that I came to find quite a few surprises after her passing. She was behind on her truck payment. She was two months behind on our mortgage payment and getting pre-foreclosure notices. She had opened lines of credit that I knew nothing about. I had a lot of work to do just to figure out how I was going to make ends meet, and I ended up hitting up my retirement to pay off a bunch of debt just so I can make all of my bills and keep the horses (my daughter truly needs them, and I'm growing closer to them every day as well - they are amazingly therapeutic). While things might seem to be working, I guess I am holding on to some resentments. I made it a point to not be angry or upset with my wife for leaving me in the dark for so much of this stuff - I mean, how can we be angry with the one we miss so much? I couldn't make sense of that, because it didn't seem right to feel this way. But, I guess I'm going to have to face the fact that a lot of this is truly frustrating, just so that I can move on from it. Denying that it hurts being left so in the dark about what was going on in our lives does not seem to be working for me. I can understand and rationalize where she was coming from, and I can wonder futilely if stress from all of this subterfuge may have been part of the reason for her passing so suddenly (she passed from a burst cerebral berry aneurysm; I have no idea if stress can be a trigger for that). At this point, all I want to do is remember back to when we were happier, especially in my dreams. In my waking hours, that's what I do - I remember her happy. I recall her voice in my mind to help me with the kids, on what I think she would have to say on a variety of subjects. I guess admitting it is the first step towards fixing it.
  3. I completely understand. The guy sounds like a real jerk who can't take a hint. Last night I went out with an old friend and my sister. We went to see a band that I love, one that my wife did not really enjoy, but one I may never get the chance to see perform again. This was probably the first social outing that I've been on (other than taking my kids to the movies or out to dinner) since that morning last August when I found my wife. At the end of the evening, I was glad that I went. I love this band; they played a bunch of great stuff, and they are really charismatic and funny on stage. I think I really needed something like that to give me a little hope that there will still be good things ahead. I've all but convinced myself that the world just sucks, and the only things of value it has left are reserved for other people. I don't know if it will stick, but at least for a short while I believed that there is something left for me, too. At some point, I think I'm going to have to come to grips with the fact that the world won't stop turning just because I want off. There is more out there for me besides the kids and the horses. I'll never stop loving my wife, but I'm coming around to the idea that I also don't want to be the absolutely miserable person that I've been since that day. I've gone through every day putting on a face so people won't see me or treat me any different, but on the inside, I've been done with this world for a while now. Maybe it's time for me to change. I don't know if I can, and I don't know if I'll get it right or botch it up, but I think I need to try. For what it's worth, I don't see how you did anything wrong at all. I'd be inclined to think my wife would want me to find some measure of happiness instead of spending the rest of my life hating the world. I hope you're able to find some of those moments of happiness, Mrsviden. We both know the sadness will still be there. Like a tide, it comes on strong and then it ebbs. I think it's healthy to recognize and accept it when it comes, but maybe equally healthy to recognize those moments in-between, and take some comfort in them when we can.
  4. Mrsviden, it's not ridiculous at all. You love your husband, that hasn't changed, and that is all there is to it. I wouldn't look much further into it than that. A bunch of guys hitting on you isn't your fault. It's not as if you went out looking for their attention. I'd be inclined to think that you should be able to go out with a friend without having to fend off some aggressive jerks. I'm sorry you had to go through that experience. Sounds to me like you were only hoping to spend some time out with a friend, and that night out was intruded upon by a group of assholes with little tact and no manners. Not your fault at all.
  5. Hi Dee, I am so sorry for your loss, and for the careless remarks from your family and friends. It seems that they feel as if, because you are familiar with the tools and have them in your toolbox, you are somehow immune to the emotional places that we find ourselves in, and that's just silly. You're human, and you'll feel the things we all feel, in your own time. I don't know if it's true or if it's just a myth that many therapists see therapists themselves, but there are some folks on this site who might recommend that you look for someone specializing in grief counseling. They are of the firm belief that those specialists simply have the tools we need at the time. My wife passed away suddenly from a medical issue last August with no warning signs. Before this, I saw my own therapist for years, and he was excellent in helping me work through a lot of garbage from the past. Now, he is my oldest daughter's therapist, and I am so grateful for his help. I feel like I've been able to take a lot of lessons I'd learned working with him and keep applying them to this new and unwelcome way of life. Of course it doesn't address everything, and it doesn't fix everything, but it helps me to come to grips with the absolute powerlessness of the situation. In any case, welcome to this site. You'll find a lot of great people who can relate to the things we are experiencing, having gone through it. I hope you're able to find some measure of peace today.
  6. Hi Ashley, I am only 7 months into this, and the only thing I know for sure is that we don't have to figure out how to move forward right away. We'll all have to figure it out eventually, bit by bit, but I know that for some of us, just getting through the day can be an hour-to-hour, even minute-to-minute thing. The only advice I can give you for when it starts to feel overwhelming is to give yourself a little bit of room to breath and remember that we don't have to come up with all of the answers at once. We just have to get through this moment. In my case, everything was all just shock for days, but even then, I had things to do: funerary arrangements to make, logistics to work out on how we're going to make our household function on a single income, and trying to figure out how to maintain some sense of normalcy for the kids. That busyness kept me from sinking too deeply into sadness and anger. Sometimes when it comes, I don't fight it, but I choose to feel it. I feel the sadness, and I feel the overwhelming anger at the injustice of it all. I feel like I can do that because I know I won't be able to stay there for too long. The world keeps spinning and I have to keep moving with it, not out of choice but necessity. I'd like to think that, if it had happened to me instead of my wife, she'd find moments of solace in the midst of the overwhelming powerlessness that the loss of our spouse brings to bear. I find them when I think of her. Odd that in the midst of the saddest times of my life, when I am missing her the most, I am reminded of how lucky I was to have found her in the first place, to have spent the time that I did with her. And yes, even though I miss her terribly, I'm finding that it is better for me to remember her warmly, and to know that she loved me, than to be angry for what I lost, because nothing will change what happened. It's not always easy, but I seem to keep coming back to that. I hope you find some peace, Ashley, and a way to return to that peace again and again in the future. Take care of you.
  7. Hi Bobbers, Wow, I'm sorry you're having to go through this alone. This is a safe place for working through these feelings. Feel free to vent here as often as you need. I'm almost at the 8 month mark, but I know that for the first month I was pretty much in a state of shock. I've found that the shock wears off and reality does set in, but that in itself isn't really comforting. The reality I've found is that none of this is fair, and life isn't fair. Religion, mysticism or metaphysics offers no comfort for me. All I know how to do is to put a framework around what, to me, is essentially a pointless existence. For me anyway, that framework is built around raising my kids and setting them up to be the best version of themselves they can possibly be. Their happiness is what's become most important in my life. That's not an easy thing, especially considering what's happened, and sometimes I screw it up, but at the end of the day, it's what is most important to me. It's what I use to keep me going. Is that enough for me to be happy, too? I guess it will have to be, because I'm all they have to depend on every day. I'll be happiest knowing they've got the best shot they can at being happy themselves. It's really all I can do. I've found that there will be moments when life is bearable. I will always miss her, and whenever I'm doing something I know she would have enjoyed, I feel incredibly sad, if not guilty. She's constantly on my mind. I'm still new at this too, but I don't believe that that feeling ever goes away. At this point, I'm not sure I want it too - I don't ever want to lose that connection. Keeping that alive in me is worth whatever pain comes along with it. People have tried to offer reasons or answers or explanations for why the universe does this or that. I've always been polite about it, because I realize that they're really only trying to help. People have their own beliefs, and that's just fine with me. My personal belief is never exactly in-line with what most people consider normal. They'd probably see it as depressing, or absurd, and that's just fine with me, too. Sorry to ramble. Just know you've got a bunch of folks here who've gone through what you and I are going through. Take care, Bobbers.
  8. I took the kids and mother in law out for dinner on her birthday. That was something we all needed to honor. Our anniversary came and passed, and I did not do anything special. She was on my mind all of that day and all of that night, much like every other day. Actually, I had intended to do something simple, just dinner alone then wander in a bookstore or something, but had forgotten that I'd had an obligation for that night. It was one made in advance and I was not thinking of the date at the time I agreed to it, but it didn't feel right to cancel. The day passed uneventfully. Work, kids and horses, then company when I didn't feel like having company at all.
  9. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. I've been sad and depressed every day, so tomorrow shouldn't be all that different, and I know I'll get through it the same way I get through every day. It's just another reminder that we'll never have another day together. Our anniversaries were always pretty simple affairs; a small gift and a card, a dinner date, maybe just walking around together in a bookstore afterwards (we were both bibliophiles). Once we got the horses they ate up a lot of her time in the evenings, and between them and her school, we hadn't been spending as much time together as I'd have liked. I don't feel as much regret behind it as I maybe could, but the truth is we just had too many responsibilities that got in the way. After all of the barn chores are done, I may just go out to dinner alone tomorrow night, maybe take the kids, maybe not. I feel like I ought to do something to honor this day besides sit around the house and hate the world. Some of us have been doing this longer than others. If you've passed milestone dates like anniversaries, is there something special you do to honor the day? This will be my first anniversary without her and I honestly have no clue what to do.
  10. Hi fzald, Thank you for expressing yourself here. I know the feeling of what you are going through in your last words, of just going through the motions and getting things done, but wishing on the inside that it would all just end. Having had and lost the most precious thing to us in life, where is there left to go? It all seems to be downhill from here. For me, though, while I feel that way quite often, I have too much depending on me to stay in that mode of thought for long. Two girls, one in college and the other in her first year of high school, depend on me for all of the same things they always have. As much as I think I am done with this world and everyone in it, it just isn't so. I've also got family that, while their dependence on me isn't an issue, I know my giving up would cause great, great hurt. And I'll tell you, I have no wish to hurt anyone in this way. I've seen the devastation that losing a parent has had on my own kids, and on my in-laws. As much sadness as I have, I just can't give in to it, no matter how much I wish I could. I don't know if I've ever really had a fear of death. It's not something I thought about much until I lost my wife. Even now I don't fear it, I sometimes even long for it, but that, to me, is an easy way out of my pain. I'd just end up transferring the balance of that pain to others, and that's something I would never want to do. I've never believed in an afterlife. I've never had a reason to, even after my father passed away suddenly in a car accident some 15 years ago. I sometimes wish that I did believe it, though, just so that I could have the hope of seeing my wife again. Plus, I like the idea of her being happy somewhere. It's comforting. While I still do not really believe it myself, I've found that I now have an appreciation for the idea that I never had before. On that note, I'd like to share something with you. The other night, I heard a song for the first time that really hit home. It's called Jealous by the singer Labrinth. It's somehow sad as hell and completely uplifting at the same time. It's quite a beautiful song; while it was actually written about a breakup, it captures the beauty and comfort in the idea that our loved ones are still somewhere, happy and at peace. If you decide to look up that song, be ready for the emotion in it - to me, anyway, it is very powerful and uplifting. In the meantime, please do take care of you, fzald. We don't need to have all of the answers right now. Maybe we will find those answers someday, and maybe things will eventually change for us. Who knows? Certainly not me. I keep going back to the line from Men In Black, when the guy says, "You know what they say, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," and his partner responds, "Try it." Peace to you, fzald.
  11. Lynneg, I sympathize and am sorry for your loss. Today is the six month mark from when I awoke to find my wife. She'd suffered a ruptured cerebral aneurysm and passed away during the night. She was 40, I am 48. I don't know how long it took me to accept this loss. For a long time, I would wake up each morning unaware of what had happened, only to suddenly remember that she's gone. For a long time, I'd anticipate her coming through the door each evening, only to remember that that's never going to happen again. I can't say how long it took to process, but now, it is only every once in a while that I'll catch myself anticipating her arrival, only to remind myself of the truth once again. Those moments have become more infrequent as the weeks and months have passed. I guess that's a good thing. I can say that at six months, I'm getting through each day intact. I get up and do what I have to do, and that is all. I have two daughters that, in all honesty, are the only things keeping my going. If it weren't for them, then basically everything worthwhile in my world would have disappeared with my wife. Until I lost her, I truly had no idea how much I'd taken for granted. I'm no longer a husband, or a best friend, or a lover. Now I'm just a dad, and that is all I'll ever be, and it will have to be enough. Nothing else seems to matter.
  12. I did the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons, with the exact same results. None of that was interesting in the least. I've played it out some in my head and realized that not only am I so not ready for anything like that, nor convinced that I ever will be, but that even if I found a new relationship, it wouldn't be fair to that other woman. I've already had and lost everything I ever wanted. In the spirit of 'never say never,' I cant say what the future will bring, but it just doesn't feel like that is ever going to change. About a decade ago, a friend of mine lost her husband. They were in their 50's, together since high school, and had never dated anyone else in their lives. Over the years since, I never expressed but always hoped that she'd get to a place where she could find someone, just so she wouldn't be alone. She's a lovely woman and a wonderful person, and I wanted to see her happy again. Of course that never happened, because she'd already had everything she ever wanted. It took my experiencing what she had experienced for me to even begin to understand what she felt. I can't tell you if it's ever going to change. I just don't know. But, even if I don't believe I'll ever get there, I'm going to try to be open to the possibility that I just might someday. We're both still very new to this, and we don't have to have the answers just yet.
  13. Fzald, you don't have to apologize for expressing yourself here. Nobody here will tell you not to feel what you're feeling. For what it's worth, I am right there with you. All I can say for certain is that you don't need to make sense of any of this right away. I can't offer any advice on how to regain the passion you once had for making this world a better place, but I'd say it's better to keep yourself open to the idea of someday finding something that can spark that passion inside of you once again. Staying open to the possibility that I'll someday give a damn about something other than my kids, is about as far as I can open that particular door. I try to stay open to the idea of it, but that doesn't mean I'm convinced that that day will ever come.
  14. Fzald, I hear you and I feel for you. After one month I was still spinning. Everything was an unknown. I had no idea how I was going to move forward, in any respect. I'm still there in some ways. And, I'm with you still on the feeling of having a suddenly pointless existence. All of these things like the house and the job have only become means to an end - but it's an end to which there is no longer any meaning, other than the kids. They're the only reason I have to go on, honestly. I'm not a suicidal person, but if I didn't have those kids, I'd just as soon be done with it all. I do my best to keep up appearances, for them and for everyone else, because nobody wants to hear how meaningless and empty the world truly feels. I avoid the platitudes that way, for the most part, that well meaning-folks can sometimes offer when they're trying their best to lift us up. I appreciate all of it, I really do, but none of it does a thing to relieve the emptiness for someone like me. My wife wasn't perfect, but she was mine. We married young and went through a whole lot together, the very good and the very bad, across a couple of decades where we both grew into the people we were. I have no idea where I'd be if I didn't have her in my life, and I know in my heart that if our roles had been reversed and it had happened to me instead, she'd be feeling the exact same way I am - lost and alone in the world.
  15. Tomorrow will mark 6 months from the last night I got to spend with my wife. I went to bed before her; she stayed up late, as she was enrolled in an online college. That had become something of a routine for us and I'd gotten used to going to bed alone most nights. In a sense, I'd already been missing the intimacy of having her there with me at night. I still hear her in my mind. She was funny and opinionated. So, as much as I miss her every day, I still have that part of her with me all the time. In that sense, she's still with me and always will be. Physical intimacy, though, is something I've had to mourn every day and every night. As everyone agrees, it's not just sex (although that is a part of it), but her touch, her smell, just her presence, is very, very hard for me, because it's not something I can ever have again. I will admit to the thought of what it would look like to date again someday. That day is a very long way off, if it ever comes. Never say never, they say. But you know, there's just nothing out there that I want. I had what I wanted and it's gone. I am human, and I desire companionship, and so I'll leave the future open for that possibility someday. For now, though, there is simply nothing out there that could take her place, and for me it feels like that's what it would be - a poor substitute for what I truly desire, which is forever out of reach.