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What happened to the connection?


His Monkey

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Almost three months in, and I'm just as lost and sad as I was the day cancer stole my sweet fiance, the love of my life. We only had two years together, and I'm angry that he's gone so soon. February is so cold and desolate here, only a few peeks of sunshine, and feels interminably long...dark and endlessly frozen like my broken heart.

I know he's gone, and no amount of tears or pleading, bargaining or pining, will ever bring him back. What I struggle with is losing the connection we shared. Almost instantly, it was as if we were two pieces of the same soul who finally became whole, and now I feel as if I'm holding one end of a rope that stretches to eternity instead of ending where it used to, in his strong hands and kind, yet mighty heart. 

Others feel their lost love around them, sense their presence as a light which guides them through the darkness of their grief. I do not. I have only emptiness and this enormous void that threatens to swallow me whole. 

I wish I could understand, or at least find some peace with how this happened, but I can't.  And he went so suddenly, there was no goodbye, no last I love you or squeeze of his hand...and I was there when he drew his last breath...I felt the last beat of his heart. It was a precious yet savage moment I'll carry in my heart forever. 

How does all of that just stop? Like the flip of a switch, the last flicker of a candle? I desperately want to believe he's watching over me like he always did, but i feel nothing. 

Thank you for listening.

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His Monkey,

I'm so sorry, my heart goes out to you. I'm starting my second month into this, so anything I say is very limited in terms of experience. 

I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I had the wisdom to impart that would ease your grief, your fears, your uncertainty. I don't, but I'm going to try anyway, and I hope that's ok. 

I lost my wife December 31. I feel the despair, the sorrow and the utter grief that goes along with this, but on top of all that is the overwhelming loneliness. This feeling of being cast adrift, or as I feel, standing on the edge of cliff, drenched in total darkness, just the faint light around me and the brightness that is behind me, my past. But I can't go back, only stand still or go forward. And I can't see. This loneliness has such a powerful effect on EVERYTHING, that maybe that's getting in the way of the "connection", maybe? Not getting in the way so much as casting a shadow over everything else. I know, for myself, that our shared memories keep us connected, our daughter, our life we had, all work to keep that aspect of us "alive". I'm not sure what to say about the spiritual side, I'm no authority there either. I will say this though, as far as I'm concerned, there IS something beyond this. I'm not going to get religious, that's a very personal thing, but I'll just say that things that have occurred, both prior to and subsequent to my wife's passing, that have "shown" me, or have been "revealed", that leave no doubt as to her whereabouts. I've not searched for things, but I'm open to see what I'm meant to see. Again, this is a personal journey for each of us, and I'm just sharing my perspective. 

Perhaps, when you felt that instant "disconnect", that was the shock, the suddenness in which your world stopped spinning. Our emotions are everywhere, scattered to the wind, but sometimes we go numb, empty, and I think maybe that's our minds way of dealing with this trauma, to protect itself from this horrible reality. 

I hope I haven't offended you by anything I've said or suggested. I'm just offering possible reasons for what you are going through. Also, I need to express that for me, I stopped trying to figure out the "why". While here, while I'm living, I don't think I'll get the answer, and ultimately, it doesn't matter. My wife is gone. Period. Nothing will change that. But, I'm alive for some reason. So, I have to choose. Lay down, or take a step into that darkness at the edge of the cliff? I guess I'll step off and see. 

Please, take care of yourself, I'll pray for your peace and comfort, and may you find what you need on this dark road. 

Andy

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Thank you Andy, it helps to read your kind words. My best friend says my faith is shaken, maybe she's right. It is a personal thing, but maybe in time I'll find it restored and have a little peace. And ease the devastating longing for one more touch, one more kiss and hug, one last "I love you." Maybe in time we will all have that. 

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His Monkey---I am so sorry for your pain. I am sorry for all of us here trying to cope with our losses. This is a time when we need to hang on even more tightly to our faith. Yes, it's been shaken. How can it not be? Our faith, our prayers, seemed to have let us down. Our loved ones are gone. Prayer and faith should have saved them. We'll never know the answers in this lifetime. Life, right now, is just a big question mark. What now?

While the tears are running down, hold your chin up and keep putting one foot in front of the other. It's the only way to keep continuing on.

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His Monkey,

It's not so much a feeling like we had before when we had them physically, but continuing our relationship on faith.  When my husband went on a trip, he was away from me physically, that didn't make me doubt his love for me, I knew he still existed, still loved me, I had faith we'd be together again.  Now he's on a BIG trip and my faith must be exercised all the greater.  It's different now, before I knew his return date, now I don't know how long it'll be, but I know it'll happen.  I have our amazing love to sustain me...he hasn't changed, he's still him, our love remains, it's just that now I have to exercise my faith in him, in our love, to carry me.

You've had some great responses here, and I think there's truth to all of them.  I hope our words are of some consolation to you.

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Thanks to all, it is a comfort just to not feel so alone in this. And your kind words give perspective and most of all, hope. For a better day, feeling better, and continuing to find reasons to move forward. Stepping into an unknown tomorrow where everything is different, and so far from what I hoped it would be, is hard work indeed. 

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The hardest part of all of this is that we, as humans, need and crave those connections to other humans. We are a social species by nature. A good example is the use of solitary confinement in prisons; there's been a lot of talk as to whether it actually amounts to torture to prevent even the worst humans from having fulfilling and regular social interactions.

I remember reading something about how grief is actually part of our social survival response. Because we need and crave human companionship and connection so badly, when that connection is suddenly taken from us our minds go crazy, trying to figure out anything to reverse the state of affairs, to bring the connection back. That's why we may fantasize about some magic cure to the situation, why we wish that time-travel was real or why some people turn to spiritual communication. We absolutely crave to continue the connection we had desperately. It's natural. That's what makes grieving so hard. (Note that the same thing happens in a breakup, it's why you'll see people begging on their knees to be taken back after a breakup... but with the loss of death, no amount of begging will bring them back, and that's not something our minds are able to handle very easily.)

Some people may speak of "codependence" as a bad thing, but the fact is we are all co-dependent. We need each other. We need human connection and companionship. Without it, we would all basically be grieving all the time. So it's not a bad thing to think that you depended on your partner. Yes, you did depend on them. Maybe not for money, shelter, or anything like that, but you depended on them for one of the basic human needs: companionship. 

That's why it's important to feel the grief. I am still only basically 2 weeks into my sad new life, 3 if you count the last time we spoke (because she was alive but in a coma for a few days). I still continuously find myself thinking of her and even considering her when I make decisions at work. Because we worked together, we always had each other's back, so I'll still think "Ok, is this going to work for her...oh wait..."

You as an individual get to decide how spiritual you are, how much you believe that our loved ones are out there watching over us, or even that they are able to communicate. Can they? I'd say it's not just possible but likely, but that's me. It may or may not help you, also; my pain is that even if I could talk to her regularly, even if there was a literal "spirit phone" that I could pick up and talk directly to her, the fact is still that she's not here in person experiencing the world with me, so I would still have to grieve a lot...

 

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Thank you fzald, and everyone here, for your reply. I truly appreciate the time and obvious honesty and care you took in writing your responses. I truly believe I'd be doubting my sanity right now if I didn't know others were going through my same struggle. It's exhausting, messy, inconvenient, terribly sad and painful, but I'm resigned to giving myself the time and patience to experience it. I suppose that's the only way it gets better. Going to those old favorite places, listening to our favorite music, doing what feels right in the moment, I hope, keeps the connection alive. 

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His Monkey

I'm so sorry for your loss and the pain I know you're still experiencing.  I don't know anyone dying of cancer but I can only imagine what you must have gone through.  Two years is a short period of time, but it is evident that you loved a lifetime.  It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.  The light that is within you; the light of your fiance and the loved you shared that is resonating for all to see.   I don't know anyone who died of cancer, so I can only envision what you must have gone through.  While cancer may have physically taken away his life, it did not touch the love you shared for one another in your mind, heart and soul.  I do know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of your fiance; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again (whatever that means) but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to. You are, however, braver than you realize, stronger than you seem;  smarter than you think and loved more than you know.  God loves you and wants the best for you.  Difficult roads often leads to beautiful destinations.  Don't underestimate yourself; you are a strong child of Most High, the Creator.  Even through this pain, HE wants the best for you for all of us. 

I don't know why things happen the way they do; why many that live deserves death and some that died deserved life.  We have to believe and trust that God, in his ultimate wisdom,  is in control and knows what is best for all of us.  I know its difficulty, but God has a reason and HE is going to  make everything good. God never fails. Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the staircase.

I pray that God gives your strength, love and peace.

 

 

 

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Francine, Thank you. You have that great ability in using words in better context than I. I get much comfort from reading your posts. If only my fractured mind and broken heart could remember others words on a daily, moment by moment basis. I allow myself to sometimes get too sunk into that deep pit of grieving.

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1 hour ago, His Monkey said:

Thank you fzald, and everyone here, for your reply. I truly appreciate the time and obvious honesty and care you took in writing your responses. I truly believe I'd be doubting my sanity right now if I didn't know others were going through my same struggle. It's exhausting, messy, inconvenient, terribly sad and painful, but I'm resigned to giving myself the time and patience to experience it. I suppose that's the only way it gets better. Going to those old favorite places, listening to our favorite music, doing what feels right in the moment, I hope, keeps the connection alive. 

I wonder sometimes if making myself go do the things we enjoyed together, go to the places we loved, and all that, would help with grieving. It would hurt terribly, but would that hurt be worth it in terms of helping me grieve?

I have barely listened to music since my girl passed, other than when I'm somewhere where music is already playing in the background. There are so many songs she loved, so many songs we loved together, we didn't have "our song", more like "our endless playlist". 

Sometimes I feel like keeping the connection alive - talking about her, thinking of her, all that - is holding me back. Like, I just got off the phone with my mom after a 2 hour 30 minute phone call. For most of it, we reminisced about my girlfriend (my mom really liked her - a lot). It was relaxing. It felt good. I even smiled, talking about our special times together, and hearing my mom tell her own memories of her. But afterwards, now I feel a crash. I feel like I'm lower than I was before I called her. I feel like all the pain I didn't feel for those 150 minutes is now hitting me all at once. Once again, I'm remembering and realizing she's gone for good, she's never coming back, and no matter how many good memories we did get to make, there are way too many "could have beens" to ever be OK.

 

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2 hours ago, Francine said:

Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.

Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the staircase.

Thanks everyone. My tough guy is indeed with me in my heart and thoughts, every waking moment. I just spent nearly two hours talking to him, driving home from work and then just driving. Can he hear me, is he aware in some way of how desperately I miss him? We can't know, I guess, but I do know if he were, and couldn't help, it would devastate him. Tonight I said to him that if it were possible for him to come back to me, I'd never ask him to return to that cancer-ridden body, so much pain and worrying about me.  I have very little faith right now, but the one thing I hope is true is that he has passed on to a place where he is free and unburdened by what happens here.

This man was diagnosed with cancer on July 30, 2016 (day after my birthday so I'll always remember, of course) and died on November 12th, and never spent a minute feeling sorry for himself. All he did was fight and give me the last bit of life he had, and more love than many will experience in a lifetime. I'll always be grateful. 

If he could do that for me, I'll do my best to walk on for him. Even when I can't see the staircase. 

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There you go, it takes faith and bravery...being brave isn't the absence of fear but facing the unknown in the midst of fear.  It takes that to walk our journey.

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On 2/10/2017 at 7:18 PM, Francine said:

Three months today. I'm still here, which feels wrong, but I know he didn't want me to suffer this way. The day the doctors told us of the cancer, I remember the first thing he did was look at me and squeeze my hand...more concerned for me than he was for himself. How I loved this extraordinary man, and how he loved me right back. I am still brokenhearted, but I can't help also feeling profoundly grateful for the short time we had with each other. 

Being here without him has been easier since joining this forum, and I'm grateful for everyone here, too. 

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His Monkey, this isn't really relevant to your post, but you are a beautiful, expressive writer. I am three months into the loss of my darling to cancer too, and was only just writing recently about how big and empty that yawning chasm feels. I'd like to tell you that you will never lose your connection to your man, honey, even if it does feel like it. I don't know if you've ever read any material on continuing bonds, but here is a terrific article on it that you may find helpful: http://www.whatsyourgrief.com/continuing-bonds-shifting-the-grief-paradigm/

Knowing that I don't have to subscribe to stupid, inappropriate or just plain hurtful things like "let go" and "move on" has helped tremendously in sustaining my connection to my man. Even so, sometimes there will be those times for most of us when all we feel is the crushing absence, and the dreadful loneliness Andy speaks of.

You are certainly not alone.

Louise

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Thanks Louise, the idea of changing/continuing/nurturing the connection, the relationship, feels infinitely more right than feeling like I'm up against some ridiculous time clock to move on and let him go. I feel anyone who thinks it's even possible to do that, simply hasn't experienced the love of a soul mate. 

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Mrs. Plummer, His Monkey---Your postings reflect the only way I can see in continuing on. Keeping the spiritual connection open with our loved ones. We are being watched over and protected.I talk to my husband because I believe if they can see us, they can also hear us. I've run into a couple of obstacles since my husband has been gone and I believe he and God have provided me with the answers or out of the blue help I needed. There is no way I am *letting go*. We don't have to. We are going to be reunited someday, so why would I *let go* until then? I know I have to move forward in this life, but my husband will walk beside me also.

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