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About Solomon'sGirl

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    January 19, 2017

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  1. there's the link if you'd like to read there. It was written by a user on Reddit: “My friend just died. I don’t know what to do.” While the rest of the post has been deleted, and only the title remains, one user’s powerful response is a must-read. This self-titled “old guy” has a few words of wisdom that we can all use. Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents. I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see. As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
  2. Very interesting, and it makes sense. I'm glad you found this. Thanks for sharing KayC
  3. Your post makes me feel that it's okay to be determined. I've always had this desire to be efficient with my time and to be glad about something no matter what. I've struggled since the accident with everything, including my identity. I didn't know who I was without him. I'm starting to remember who I am and always have been. He's still with me in so many ways. I talk to him everyday. I live as if I'm living with him. I might sound crazy, but it works for me. Some might think I'm rushing grief, which we all know you can't. You can set it aside, but you can't rush it. I'm guilty of setting it aside. I get along as best as I can and tend to break down when my daughter is away for the night or more. I push through and I guess almost seem to trick myself into thinking I'm good. I know I'm not. The sadness is always right there. I cry still out of nowhere. A lot of times though I'm in a kind of robot mode with feelings. It's hard to describe. I still feel and experience other emotions. I just have a profound sadness that's hovering over, waiting for the right time to release. However, I'm trying to "reinvest in reality" as you quoted. I've fought it thinking that something must be wrong with me for wanting to try to be okay. So thank you for this post. It's going to help me. And I'm glad you're listening to your wife. It's encouraging to know you, too, feel determined.
  4. I have that book, too. I haven't read it yet. I have 3 books by him. All purchased after the accident because I was desperately trying to find a way to connect to Thad. This is absolutely the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with.
  5. I made myself add the picture to this forum. I'm not sure why. It was during a time when I questioned if this, he, or our relationship was even real. I have a picture of him still sitting in a chair at our table. I have one in our bedroom by the mirror. I see them both everyday. I talk to him everyday. I kinda think I see the pictures as him, which might be weird. I know I'm still struggling with the finality of this. I can't watch videos or hear his voice. It hurts too much and I cry. I really am trying to get away from the sadness, the grief. I've actually wondered the same as you.. do I make myself watch the videos and cry or will I be ok if I just shut them out? I don't think I'll always shut them out. I think I'll want to watch them one day and actually be able to. I just know I can't and don't want to now. All that to say, I agree with KayC. I can relate to this. He loved that I laughed my way through life. I've done the best I can at being the old me while at work and around the kids. I try to be that way with friends. But when I'm alone, I'm incredibly uneasy, distraught. There's a calm in me when I'm being a mom, friend, employee. I have a purpose. When I'm alone I have to fight to remind myself of a purpose.
  6. I know we are all dealing with grief differently probably and some might not believe in the book I'm going to suggest. However, it helped me tremendously. It's called Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian L. Weiss. It helped me feel and see that I'm still connected to Thad. It helped me be okay with living. It helped me see purpose. I saw things very differently, and I needed that. I still have moments and days of just annoyance that I'm here and he's not. I have to tell myself to find the good in the day. I want to find the good in the day. I want to be happy so badly. I fight being down and sad and crying. Boy do I fight it. And when my daughter is away for longer than a day, apparently that's when it's inescapable. No amount of fighting stops the tears and heartache. But what I got from the book is what helps bring me back to "okay". Maybe it will be that for you or someone else. So I had to share it.
  7. I've had one of the roughest weeks yet. My daughter has spent the week with her dad. She's such a huge part of my life and gives me purpose. She always was and did before, but I've realized that since the accident she's all I've got. I've worked, I've hung out with friends, and I've stayed busy. However, I've cried hard every single day. I sobbed while out with friends. Usually I can hold it together around others. At most I'll shed a few tears and then change the subject or something. This week there's just a raw pain, loneliness, and longing for my life before the accident. I miss him. I miss what life was when he was here. I miss my life partner. I want so badly to live here with him and experience life with him. It's just so not fair. I think it's easier for me to pretend everything is okay when my daughter is home. I think this week especially has made me realize that I'm fighting reality and fighting hurting. I don't want to hurt like this. It scares me to think that I'll always feel this way. I don't know who I am without him, and I really don't want to know. I'm still holding on so much to "us" and I don't know if that's healthy or what. I wonder if something is wrong with me and then I come here and read what everyone is thinking and feeling. We're all just trying to figure out what to do. We're doing the best we can. It's weird, I can see me being happy and enjoying life, but I don't know how to get there. And I don't really want to get there without him.
  8. I think I talked about my dream in another post, but I'll share here. It was a little over a month after he passed when I had the dream. In real life, I had been crying to him about how I missed him and just wanted to hug him again. I wanted him to know how much I love him and to just see him. So the night before my brother was to come stay with me, I dreamt that I was in our kitchen just waiting for him to get here. I heard the door try to open, but it was locked. I thought it was my brother until I heard the door being unlocked. At that moment I thought out loud that there's only one other person that has a key.. And sure enough he came in and peaked around the corner. We immediately hugged.. I pulled back to look at him and he was crying. We just hugged tight and then I woke up. I was kind of bummed when I woke up because I wanted to dream of him longer. But I read something that said when you have a visitation dream, they'll wake you up right after so you'll remember it. It felt real to me. I believe in that. It's painful waking up and being without them in the way we'd like to be. But I find some comfort in knowing that he's still here, just in a different form.
  9. I'm so sorry. Everyone here has lost their partner. Although our stories aren't exactly the same, our loss is. I've been through every stage of grief almost daily.. except acceptance. It's difficult to accept that this is reality. It's something that I can't go a day without thinking about. Sometimes I smile when I think of him, but I still cry every day. Some days are harder than others, but every day is strange to me. Something is always off. I try to keep busy because when I'm alone with nothing to do, I cry.. sob actually. You might feel alone, but you're not alone. We're here. Post as often as you want. Everyone here has been extremely helpful with whatever it is I'm feeling, which has brought much needed comfort to me. I hope you find comfort, too.
  10. I saw the movie last weekend and remember the song. It made me think about my relationship and about all of us here. I know it's just a movie, but I really connected with that part. I'm glad you shared it on here. I'm sorry you're having rough days. I am, too. This is day two of spring break. We had so many plans for this week. Instead, I'm alone and crying mostly. Hope you can work through your thoughts. We'll be here when you're ready.
  11. I might not understand what's going on, but I will say that I wasn't in the right mind for a couple weeks after my significant other passed. I'm still sometimes a little off. My mom and sister both actually tried arguing with me just days after he passed. I say try because I didn't really engage in much. They were feeling helpless. I finally got to a point where I realized what was going on and told them that I just have zero energy to argue or care about anything other than Thad. Every single thing they were upset about seemed petty to me. We moved past it fairly quickly though. It took them understanding that I loved them and appreciated everything they were doing, but I just couldn't possibly be my usual self at that time. I still have to remove myself from certain situations/conversations. So with all that being said, your cousin might be hurt that you blew her off. However, she should also be understanding of what it's like to lose your partner. It's hard to do unless you've actually lost them. I'm sorry for what was said. It seems very insensitive. I don't have Facebook. I haven't posted anything on any social media about what's happened. But I've alway been a private person. I do talk to those that I see in person. But grieving is different for everyone. How I handle it might not work for you and vice versa. Honestly, how I handle this doesn't even work for me at times. It's just difficult and sad and unfair. So if you want to post about it, then post about it. Whatever helps you, do it. I'm so sorry she's not being supportive as you would like her to be.
  12. I have the same feelings. I talk to him. I share my days with him. Even when I'm trying to keep moving forward, I bring him with me. Yes, it's something that helps me get through the day, but it's also because I just feel so much of him with me.
  13. I had a conversation about this very thing just a few minutes ago with someone. I've worried so much that I'll forget things. I bought a journal to write things down. It's hard to do. It brings up lots of memories, and I cry a lot while writing. But it helps me with my fear of forgetting.
  14. Thank y'all for your responses. It's comforting to know that you get what I'm saying and feeling. Everyone here are the ones that truly understand how I'm feeling at any moment. My sadness for what I've lost can be overwhelming, however knowing that you all feel the same loss brings me some peace. My heart still hurts, yet my mind calms when I'm reminded that I'm not alone. I try so hard to understand death. I replay some of the last moments with him and just can't understand how someone so connected to me is now gone. I've been replaying those times and then picturing him lying there at the funeral home as if I'm trying to connect the dots. It sounds horrible. My mind is just trying so hard to understand in hopes that I won't hurt so badly anymore. I've accepted every other death I've ever known, but this with him has been incredibly difficult. He was such a huge part of my life, my other half. I guess that's what makes it so hard to grasp. How can a part of me be gone like that? Doesn't seem possible since I'm still here...
  15. I was offered a job at the same school Thad worked at, 2 weeks after he passed. We always talked about both being teachers one day and working together. Everything we wanted to do is starting to happen. Only one thing is missing. I do feel that he's looking out for me. Several things have made me feel that way