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Francine

One Year Later - I'm still here

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I stayed up really late last night, maybe subconsciously to avoid waking up to today. One year ago today, I lost my Charles. I hate that sentence. I hate the part before the comma and I certainly hate the part after the comma. I hate today. I hate the memories of a year ago today.
 
As I slept,  I reached for his hand, and it wasn’t there to hold. That startled me awake. It perfectly summarizes the beginning of year two though. The start of the second year has also caused me to pause and reflect back on my first year as a widow. (I hate that word also) I needed to identify any progress I made in order to figure out how I am going to deal with my sophomore year in grief. So here it is boiled down to ten things I learned in my first year as a widow.
  1. Survival is possible.  -  The first days and weeks after losing my Charles I wasn’t sure how I’d survive, or if I even wanted to. Losing him literally crumbled my foundation and the pain was unbearable at times. I look back now and see that although it wasn’t pretty, it serves as proof that I can do hard things. I got through it; mostly because I HAD to, not because of some phenomenal strength of character. But nevertheless, I survived.
  1. My Inner Circle has changed.  -  I really struggled with disappointment and hurt over the loss of what I thought I somehow deserved from friends. When they fell short, I felt abandoned. I’m looking back today with a little more “extra grace.” Instead of clinging to hurt, I’m recognizing with gratitude the new people that have emerged in my life. The people who are genuinely concerned about me…the people who are sincerely praying for me and selflessly wrapping me in their love, support and friendship have risen to the top like rich cream. So instead of dwelling in the hurt of relationships lost, I’m focusing on the new, beautiful people God has put on my path. I’m getting better at letting go of hurt, disappointment and negativity. I’m trying to be less selfish about the shake-up of my inner circle.
  1. The pain doesn’t lessen.  -  Although it’s true that maybe I cry softer and maybe even less frequently, the pain hasn’t really lessened. In many ways, it’s intensified. It’s not gone, just changed. There’s been a little bit of getting used to pain in this first year, although my heart is far from cold blooded.  My wound still bleeds, but there aren’t as many new cuts.
  1. I will never be the same person again.  -  At the one-year mark, I’ve realized the old me is gone. She died with Charles.  In her place there is emerging a new, changed person that is being discovered. She’s slightly familiar but not quite the fully recognizable me from the past. Year two is going to be about finding her and giving her what she needs.
  1. I miss him more now.   -  In many ways, I miss my Charles more today than I did early on. Looking in the face of year two, I see more reality than year one revealed. I see a long road ahead without him. This new truth is a very lonely one. I guess year one knew I couldn’t handle all of the revelations at once so it saved plenty for year two.
  1. Memories fade. -  I was afraid this would happen, but it’s still so difficult. I still talk to Charles, still have conversations with my children about their dad and grandchildren about him, and yet lately it’s harder to remember certain things about him. When one of the grandkids asks to hear a story, my mind finds fewer stories to share. I’m sure memories will resurface at different times in life, but I want to have access to every single one at any given time. When I can’t recall something like the smell on his shirt, the sound of his voice or his laugh, it hurts. I don’t want to lose those memories, and yet, they see to have faded.
  1. Other people’s grief, loss and pain affect me greater than before.  -  Losing my Charles has given me new lenses. I am now keener to the pain of other grievers. When I hear of someone who has lost their child, their spouse, their parent, etc. my heart isn’t just heavy, it’s shatteres for them. My pre-widow self wasn’t able to sympathize in the same ways. The brand-new grievers with raw, fresh pain stay on my heart and in my prayers for months and months. Before, I would’ve paused, maybe attended a funeral and sent a card and then life would’ve swept me forward. Now, I think of them often.
  1. Depression is a real thing and faith is still my choice.  -  Other widows have warned me about year two. They’ve told me it’s worse than year one. I don’t know yet if that will be true for me, but I can tell you that my depression really set in the closer I got to year two. It’s real and it’s a suppressive joy-stealing demon. I don’t like that I need help with this, but I do. I refuse to be stifled by its grip on me, so I’ll fight it every way I know how. Depression isn’t about not having enough faith. It isn’t about choosing joy over sadness. It isn’t about digging deeper. It isn’t mind over matter. It’s a real thing, no matter how much faith you have. There’s no shame in getting help for it. And speaking of faith, it has been tested this year. I haven’t lost it; I've learned to trust HIM  and HIS promises even more.  But during this first year I want to admit it hasn’t been easy. At times I’ve been very lonely, angry and desperate for HIS answers. I’ve longed for a glimpse of HIS plan for me now, and I don’t have it yet. I continue to seek HIM and always will, but I wanted to confess this year has been a faith-tester, for sure.
  2. There are still moments that come out of nowhere and take my breath away.  -  Time doesn’t heal all wounds, and it doesn’t make the heart and mind any smarter. There’s evidence of this almost every day. Maybe it’s something the kids say or do that make me happy or proud, or maybe it’s something I’m afraid of and need help working through, and for a millisecond I think about calling Charles' name to share the moment with him or to seek his help. These swift moments are the mind trickery that continues to steal my breath away. It’s cruel how at my core I still can’t always remember that he’s gone. I’m living proof that grief amnesia is a real thing.
  1. There’s no more time for BS.  -  When loss cracks you wide open and leaves you raw and exposed, you quickly learn what’s worth hard work and emotional energy and what’s not. Year one has revealed there’s no room for BS and drama in my life anymore. It has taught me the importance of focusing on things that really, truly matter. I really know now how fleeting our time on earth is and I am determined to make it count. I still don’t know what the future holds for me, but I am determined to make my life matter and make my Charles proud of me.   I want to love my kids and grandkids more, laugh more, help more, stand up for the weak more, hold the hands of the hurting more and appreciate the small moments more. It’s still a long road ahead, one I can’t look down for very long periods of time. Heading into year two, it’s still a very one-day at a time scenario. It will be at my own pace. Sometimes that pace will be slow and painful and sometimes I’ll surge ahead with speed. But I’ll keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Thanks for being there for me this first year and I pray you will you stay with me for year two?   I hope you will. We’re stronger together.  Sorry for the length of this post - but it's a year's worth of memories.

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Know my thoughts are with you today, dear Francine.  Charles will be smiling down upon you today, no doubt very proud of your grace and courage. 

That is a beautiful piece of writing.  Thank you for sharing it with us.  I’m counting on you being around as I go into my third year of widowhood next month. 

Sending strength, much love and many hugs. XXX

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Francine,

Everything you say is true, but the pain WILL lessen eventually, it's just a year is too soon to hope for it, it takes much much time to process our grief, let alone adjust to this different life.

I would like to share what you wrote with my grief group next time we meet...we're taking a winter break but will start up again when the roads get better (I live in snow country).

Yes, we will continue to be here for you.  Don't apologize for the length, it was rich with wisdom of having lived through this first year.

I felt I deserved an award after surviving my year of firsts, so here, I want to give you one...it's been a tough year.

award.jpg

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M88 and KayC

Thank you both for your responses - they both touch me in such a beautiful way, especially today.  God bless you  both!

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I, like you, am so scared of the things I will forget in time. The little things that made up life together. Silly little songs she would sing. Im trying to write things down as much as I can but it’s terrifying. I don’t to forget anything! I wish our whole life had been recorded so I could watch it over and over! Thank you for helping me to feel not quite so crazy. Thinking of you today.

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1 hour ago, Djh0901kc said:

I wish our whole life had been recorded so I could watch it over and over! Thank you for helping me to feel not quite so crazy. Thinking of you today.

Wouldn't that be great if it were; pause it if I wanted to; rewind if I wanted and just be able to watch all the good times and well as the bad ones.  Thanks for thinking of me today; good to know there are others who are going through what we are going through and that we're not alone.

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9 hours ago, Francine said:
I stayed up really late last night, maybe subconsciously to avoid waking up to today. One year ago today, I lost my Charles. I hate that sentence. I hate the part before the comma and I certainly hate the part after the comma. I hate today. I hate the memories of a year ago today.
 
As I slept,  I reached for his hand, and it wasn’t there to hold. That startled me awake. It perfectly summarizes the beginning of year two though. The start of the second year has also caused me to pause and reflect back on my first year as a widow. (I hate that word also) I needed to identify any progress I made in order to figure out how I am going to deal with my sophomore year in grief. So here it is boiled down to ten things I learned in my first year as a widow.
  1. Survival is possible.  -  The first days and weeks after losing my Charles I wasn’t sure how I’d survive, or if I even wanted to. Losing him literally crumbled my foundation and the pain was unbearable at times. I look back now and see that although it wasn’t pretty, it serves as proof that I can do hard things. I got through it; mostly because I HAD to, not because of some phenomenal strength of character. But nevertheless, I survived.
  1. My Inner Circle has changed.  -  I really struggled with disappointment and hurt over the loss of what I thought I somehow deserved from friends. When they fell short, I felt abandoned. I’m looking back today with a little more “extra grace.” Instead of clinging to hurt, I’m recognizing with gratitude the new people that have emerged in my life. The people who are genuinely concerned about me…the people who are sincerely praying for me and selflessly wrapping me in their love, support and friendship have risen to the top like rich cream. So instead of dwelling in the hurt of relationships lost, I’m focusing on the new, beautiful people God has put on my path. I’m getting better at letting go of hurt, disappointment and negativity. I’m trying to be less selfish about the shake-up of my inner circle.
  1. The pain doesn’t lessen.  -  Although it’s true that maybe I cry softer and maybe even less frequently, the pain hasn’t really lessened. In many ways, it’s intensified. It’s not gone, just changed. There’s been a little bit of getting used to pain in this first year, although my heart is far from cold blooded.  My wound still bleeds, but there aren’t as many new cuts.
  1. I will never be the same person again.  -  At the one-year mark, I’ve realized the old me is gone. She died with Charles.  In her place there is emerging a new, changed person that is being discovered. She’s slightly familiar but not quite the fully recognizable me from the past. Year two is going to be about finding her and giving her what she needs.
  1. I miss him more now.   -  In many ways, I miss my Charles more today than I did early on. Looking in the face of year two, I see more reality than year one revealed. I see a long road ahead without him. This new truth is a very lonely one. I guess year one knew I couldn’t handle all of the revelations at once so it saved plenty for year two.
  1. Memories fade. -  I was afraid this would happen, but it’s still so difficult. I still talk to Charles, still have conversations with my children about their dad and grandchildren about him, and yet lately it’s harder to remember certain things about him. When one of the grandkids asks to hear a story, my mind finds fewer stories to share. I’m sure memories will resurface at different times in life, but I want to have access to every single one at any given time. When I can’t recall something like the smell on his shirt, the sound of his voice or his laugh, it hurts. I don’t want to lose those memories, and yet, they see to have faded.
  1. Other people’s grief, loss and pain affect me greater than before.  -  Losing my Charles has given me new lenses. I am now keener to the pain of other grievers. When I hear of someone who has lost their child, their spouse, their parent, etc. my heart isn’t just heavy, it’s shatteres for them. My pre-widow self wasn’t able to sympathize in the same ways. The brand-new grievers with raw, fresh pain stay on my heart and in my prayers for months and months. Before, I would’ve paused, maybe attended a funeral and sent a card and then life would’ve swept me forward. Now, I think of them often.
  1. Depression is a real thing and faith is still my choice.  -  Other widows have warned me about year two. They’ve told me it’s worse than year one. I don’t know yet if that will be true for me, but I can tell you that my depression really set in the closer I got to year two. It’s real and it’s a suppressive joy-stealing demon. I don’t like that I need help with this, but I do. I refuse to be stifled by its grip on me, so I’ll fight it every way I know how. Depression isn’t about not having enough faith. It isn’t about choosing joy over sadness. It isn’t about digging deeper. It isn’t mind over matter. It’s a real thing, no matter how much faith you have. There’s no shame in getting help for it. And speaking of faith, it has been tested this year. I haven’t lost it; I've learned to trust HIM  and HIS promises even more.  But during this first year I want to admit it hasn’t been easy. At times I’ve been very lonely, angry and desperate for HIS answers. I’ve longed for a glimpse of HIS plan for me now, and I don’t have it yet. I continue to seek HIM and always will, but I wanted to confess this year has been a faith-tester, for sure.
  2. There are still moments that come out of nowhere and take my breath away.  -  Time doesn’t heal all wounds, and it doesn’t make the heart and mind any smarter. There’s evidence of this almost every day. Maybe it’s something the kids say or do that make me happy or proud, or maybe it’s something I’m afraid of and need help working through, and for a millisecond I think about calling Charles' name to share the moment with him or to seek his help. These swift moments are the mind trickery that continues to steal my breath away. It’s cruel how at my core I still can’t always remember that he’s gone. I’m living proof that grief amnesia is a real thing.
  1. There’s no more time for BS.  -  When loss cracks you wide open and leaves you raw and exposed, you quickly learn what’s worth hard work and emotional energy and what’s not. Year one has revealed there’s no room for BS and drama in my life anymore. It has taught me the importance of focusing on things that really, truly matter. I really know now how fleeting our time on earth is and I am determined to make it count. I still don’t know what the future holds for me, but I am determined to make my life matter and make my Charles proud of me.   I want to love my kids and grandkids more, laugh more, help more, stand up for the weak more, hold the hands of the hurting more and appreciate the small moments more. It’s still a long road ahead, one I can’t look down for very long periods of time. Heading into year two, it’s still a very one-day at a time scenario. It will be at my own pace. Sometimes that pace will be slow and painful and sometimes I’ll surge ahead with speed. But I’ll keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Thanks for being there for me this first year and I pray you will you stay with me for year two?   I hope you will. We’re stronger together.  Sorry for the length of this post - but it's a year's worth of memories.

Week 3 tomorrow and i still cant come to terms that he is gone forever..i find myself sitting and waiting for him to miraculously show up to explain they had the wrong guy but disappointment sets in when reality hits..i hate life..i dont see a purpose..i dont feel the joy i had when he was here with me.its not fair.God is a bully

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Francine,

thank you for your reality of losing your Charles.. 

I lost my Rick just a little over 2 mos. ago and I thought I was doing so well until this Christmas season started.. the sounds of music that we loved and played.. the reminders of our time we had together last year and this is about the time we found out it was cancer that was going to take him.  But we thought it would be at least 3 to 4 years before he’d leave or be healed.  I preferred to not accept it.  

Obviously it didn’t happen.. once he started chemo and radiation, he was never going to be the same.. it just got worse every day.  Then finally the day came that it was time to have hospice do their job.. well 1 week turned into over 5 weeks.. I never slept at home until I watched them take his body away. 

Today I look at our pictures and ask myself if this was real.. I see us together but Im not sure anymore... now I want to wake up from this nightmare.. our difference is I had only 2 1/2 years with him.. the man that I knew that was the real deal.. the real love and the one I wanted to spend a lifetime together.. I know.. I am thankful for the time we had and thank God for the time he gave us.. but my selfishness wanted more.. but he’s gone and I know he won’t ever come back.. 

and as far as finding different friends.. well I discovered that part first from divorce.. but after a death you have those that are right there with you and promise they will be there if you need them.. his friends and yours., that lasted about 3 weeks.. people go back to life as it was.. they don’t realize what you are going through is the most devastating loss you will ever have.. I wasn’t worried about all the everyday stuff like taking care of everything and being independent because I was all if that and still am.. the problem now is doing it and grieving at the same time.  I have a few friends that check in with me daily still.. my children are ok but don’t know the extent of my loss.. they are all grown and have grown kids .. so our lives were not like most.. Rick and I didn’t live together either.. but we spent most of that time together.. if we weren’t together we were on the phone with each other.. we always prayed together and went to church together. But the time we were together in hospice only a very few people came to see him and no one relieved me and I was alone with him when he passed except for hospice..  even his family didn’t come to help.  

This has been one of the loneliest things I’ve been through and most heartbreaking.. 

i think you are a very brave person and may God bless you and give you the strength to keep going.  

This season will pass and hopefully life will bless us all and maybe friends will come around..  

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1 hour ago, bea said:

Week 3 tomorrow and i still cant come to terms that he is gone forever..i find myself sitting and waiting for him to miraculously show up to explain they had the wrong guy but disappointment sets in when reality hits..i hate life..i dont see a purpose..i dont feel the joy i had when he was here with me.its not fair.God is a bully

I am so very sorry for your loss and know your pain; especially today which is bringing back the memories and events of a year ago.   I was like you; couldn't or wouldn't accept the idea that I would never see my Charles again and didn't believe it.   I too hated this life, didn't want any part of it if it didn't include my Charles.  The words "purpose"and "joy" didn't fit my life anymore and I was mad at the world, everyone in it, including God himself.  I only wanted to be with Charles no matter what and if that meant dying, than I thought, bring it on.  I was already dead on the inside so why not be dead on the outside, right?  But as the darkness that I was in seemed to dissipated somewhat, I was able to see a bit clearer.  Clear enough to know that when you are suddenly plunged into darkness, that darkness is profound, and you cannot see anything. But wait a while, let your eyes adjust, and if there is a glimmer of light anywhere, you will begin to see and you will make your way through. The darkness will not be quite as dismal as you first thought. Even in the darkness there is enough light to pull you through.  And for me, God was that light and still is.  Right now, you are hurting and think that HE is the bully.  But here’s truth; in it all, HIS light still shines. It never flickers out, it doesn’t hide itself away. Because HE never changes and will not be overcome by darkened days. HIS words are clear and constant, guiding our path, HE gives hope and purpose through every treacherous step along the journey.  Thank you for your post; it meant so much to me.  Know I'm praying for you.

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Thank you Francine.my heart is with you during your sorrow.          Me and my precious Ron the most amazing artist

received_1785876571431225.jpeg

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Francine,

I haven't posted in a,while but after reading your beautiful words I just wanted to reach out and say that your Charles is definitely proud of you. You have helped so many here with your kind thoughtful words and advice. Your compassion for others always shines through even when your suffering through your own grief. I hope year two gives you peace and strength. I have learned so much from your words, thank you:wub:

Diane 

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1 hour ago, Dian said:

I have learned so much from your words, thank you

Today, surprisingly, is going quite well so far; I'll see later on what this evening brings.    I'm constantly learning by being on this forum; learning that I'm never alone and there are others who *Truly Get* exactly what I'm going through.   I truly appreciate your response. It brighten my day, especially today.  Thanks so much.

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4 hours ago, SusieRicky said:

Francine,

thank you for your reality of losing your Charles.. 

I lost my Rick just a little over 2 mos. ago and I thought I was doing so well until this Christmas season started.. the sounds of music that we loved and played.. the reminders of our time we had together last year and this is about the time we found out it was cancer that was going to take him.  But we thought it would be at least 3 to 4 years before he’d leave or be healed.  I preferred to not accept it.  

Obviously it didn’t happen.. once he started chemo and radiation, he was never going to be the same.. it just got worse every day.  Then finally the day came that it was time to have hospice do their job.. well 1 week turned into over 5 weeks.. I never slept at home until I watched them take his body away. 

Today I look at our pictures and ask myself if this was real.. I see us together but Im not sure anymore... now I want to wake up from this nightmare.. our difference is I had only 2 1/2 years with him.. the man that I knew that was the real deal.. the real love and the one I wanted to spend a lifetime together.. I know.. I am thankful for the time we had and thank God for the time he gave us.. but my selfishness wanted more.. but he’s gone and I know he won’t ever come back.. 

and as far as finding different friends.. well I discovered that part first from divorce.. but after a death you have those that are right there with you and promise they will be there if you need them.. his friends and yours., that lasted about 3 weeks.. people go back to life as it was.. they don’t realize what you are going through is the most devastating loss you will ever have.. I wasn’t worried about all the everyday stuff like taking care of everything and being independent because I was all if that and still am.. the problem now is doing it and grieving at the same time.  I have a few friends that check in with me daily still.. my children are ok but don’t know the extent of my loss.. they are all grown and have grown kids .. so our lives were not like most.. Rick and I didn’t live together either.. but we spent most of that time together.. if we weren’t together we were on the phone with each other.. we always prayed together and went to church together. But the time we were together in hospice only a very few people came to see him and no one relieved me and I was alone with him when he passed except for hospice..  even his family didn’t come to help.  

This has been one of the loneliest things I’ve been through and most heartbreaking.. 

i think you are a very brave person and may God bless you and give you the strength to keep going.  

This season will pass and hopefully life will bless us all and maybe friends will come around..  

I'm so sorry for your loss and know your pain. From your post, it is quiet evident the love you shared with Rick, while short in length, will last a lifetime.  That in itself is a blessing, and its easier to count your blessings rather than your problems.     It's unfortunate that his family was not there for you or Rick, but I hope you find some solace in knowing you made his last weeks happy ones.  The harsh reality is that once everything is over, people generally move on with their lives leaving you all alone to walk this lonely and painful journey of grief.  Little does anyone care that for the griever, everyday is a constant battle to start and being strong all over again.  And we do, because we have no other choice.  Loneliness and heart break become our normal emotions that hurt all over our bodies.  But again we endure that also. 

I want to personally thank you for your kind words; they mean so much to me, especially today.  

 

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18 hours ago, bea said:

Week 3 tomorrow and i still cant come to terms that he is gone forever..i find myself sitting and waiting for him to miraculously show up to explain they had the wrong guy but disappointment sets in when reality hits..i hate life..i dont see a purpose..i dont feel the joy i had when he was here with me.its not fair.God is a bully

It is common in grief to have our very faith shaken to the core, but it usually returns as our clarity of mind begins to return and we see that God didn't set out to ruin our life but rather we have mortal bodies that give out...there will be a time for "forever" and no more goodbyes, and I look forward to being reunited with George when that time comes for me.  Meanwhile, God is with me as I go through this and I hope you can feel Him bolstering you in the years to come.

Of course you don't see a purpose, your purpose died along with him.  It will take much time to process his death, more time yet to build a life for yourself that you can live, and even more time to find purpose in your life.  It won't ever be like "before", but it can be livable, doable, and even some moments of joy along the way.  I pray for good things to come your way, no matter how small, so you can see that glimmer.  When they do, try not to compare them to before, that is self-defeating, but try to embrace whatever good you can see, no matter how small, no joy is insignificant as we begin to live in the present and appreciate what is today.  I began this practice on day 11 and it has been life changing for me.  I wouldn't be where I am today without this practice of living in the present and practicing gratitude.  Sometimes it's hard to see beyond our pain and resentment, but the more we practice this, and yes it does take concerted effort, the more we begin to experience improvement in our outlook.  Oh God I know this sounds pollyannaish, I'm sorry, but it's not, it's very real and very vital to our grief recovery...which isn't something we're ever "over", but a lifelong process that we adapt to.

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Francine,

It is 3 months today for me. THANK YOU for being here. You and many others have helped me. It gives me hope that I can move forward while loving and respecting Lauri.

I have not posted too much lately because everything is just so much to process sometimes. Things have been sort of rough since Thanksgiving.

God Bless You!

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5 hours ago, Paluka said:

Francine,

It is 3 months today for me. THANK YOU for being here. You and many others have helped me. It gives me hope that I can move forward while loving and respecting Lauri.

I have not posted too much lately because everything is just so much to process sometimes. Things have been sort of rough since Thanksgiving.

God Bless You!

The good thing about this forum is that we all help one another and that's the way it should be.  Three months seems so fresh in one's grief, not that I'm a expert at one year, but I love it when someone so fresh in grief has hope and not hopelessness that one might feel at three months ( I know I certainly did't).  This life isn’t permanent. No matter how horrible things are now, things will change.  When my Charles made his transition, my life was filled with hopelessness. I knew it would change, eventually; it just had to. But when you’re so deep in that pit of sadness, it’s hard to see how God will bring you out. People would tell me “this too shall pass,” but in the middle of hopelessness, there’s little anyone can say or do to make you feel better.  By God grace, I’m not in that dark place and if I or anyone else on this website can give just one person hope, then we have done our job.  And yes, there is hope - it give me hope that we are moving towards healing especially during this holiday season.

Know you are in my prayers and sending you a virtual *hug*.

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9 hours ago, KayC said:

It is common in grief to have our very faith shaken to the core, but it usually returns as our clarity of mind begins to return and we see that God didn't set out to ruin our life but rather we have mortal bodies that give out...there will be a time for "forever" and no more goodbyes, and I look forward to being reunited with George when that time comes for me.  Meanwhile, God is with me as I go through this and I hope you can feel Him bolstering you in the years to come.

Of course you don't see a purpose, your purpose died along with him.  It will take much time to process his death, more time yet to build a life for yourself that you can live, and even more time to find purpose in your life.  It won't ever be like "before", but it can be livable, doable, and even some moments of joy along the way.  I pray for good things to come your way, no matter how small, so you can see that glimmer.  When they do, try not to compare them to before, that is self-defeating, but try to embrace whatever good you can see, no matter how small, no joy is insignificant as we begin to live in the present and appreciate what is today.  I began this practice on day 11 and it has been life changing for me.  I wouldn't be where I am today without this practice of living in the present and practicing gratitude.  Sometimes it's hard to see beyond our pain and resentment, but the more we practice this, and yes it does take concerted effort, the more we begin to experience improvement in our outlook.  Oh God I know this sounds pollyannaish, I'm sorry, but it's not, it's very real and very vital to our grief recovery...which isn't something we're ever "over", but a lifelong process that we adapt to.

Thank you. I will try

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Thanks Francine for this beautiful post. In my 4th month now and you are one of the lovely, compassionate, kind people who’s helping me to somehow survive  just by reading your posts. Thank you for all your help. Just like you I try to keep my FAITH in  HIM. 

 

My thoughts and prayers are with you. 

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I am approaching the first anniversary of losing my Kevin.  Reading what you wrote, Francine, gave me the comfort of knowing I'm not alone with how this all feels.

Thank you to ALL OF YOU who continue to come here, continue to listen.

<3

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19 hours ago, Paluka said:

I have not posted too much lately because everything is just so much to process sometimes.

Yet I have seen your posts and wished they had a "like" button here.  You are there spot on for others, even in your own grief.

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9 hours ago, Maria0419 said:

Just like you I try to keep my FAITH in  HIM.  My thoughts and prayers are with you. 

Thanks so much for your post.  In the beginning it was so hard to hold on to my faith even when I didn’t feel like it.  Faith is not a feeling or an experience, but a decision or choice we have to make.   Faith is not something you lose, it’s something you choose or reject and I, for one, am glad you have decided to choose it. I can’t imagine life without Jesus. Holding onto faith has been a struggle, but to live without it, is unthinkable.  It is so vital to the Christian life.  Scripture  Hebrews 11:6 states, "And without faith it is impossible to please God".  Yet faith is such a powerful gift from God (Ephesians 2:8) Christ told His disciples that, with just a tiny measure of it, the size of a mustard seed, they could move mountains.

So please, keep your faith in HIM no matter how hard it gets; keep trusting in HIM; HE is always in control even when your circumstances may seem out of control.  Know that I am here, we all are whenever you feel like coming to this site.   Know you're always in my prayers.

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10 hours ago, Stonesie said:

I am approaching the first anniversary of losing my Kevin.  Reading what you wrote, Francine, gave me the comfort of knowing I'm not alone with how this all feels.

Thank you to ALL OF YOU who continue to come here, continue to listen.

I believe we're never alone even though we may feel like we are.   Whether happy or sad,  God is with us always!  I believe in scripture and in Matthew, 28:20 it states, .... and surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age".   My first year without my Charles was the hardest season of my life. I lost my husband and myself (to a certain degree); however in the midst of my deepest heartache, God is healing my broken heart and in HIS goodness, has given me what I needed and longed for most — a understanding that my Charles is OK and a REAL relationship with HIM.   Thanks for taking the time to read my post and respond; it really meant a lot to me.   Know that you are always in my prayers!

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I'm having a horrible day, where is he?????? why can't he still be here, I do not want to live this life without him, I can't do it

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 Oh Bea

I'm so sorry you're having a horrible day; God knows I have had many of them many times and undoubtedly will have more. For me, prayer helps, crying helps and trusting in God.   Try to inhale, then exhale. Everything is going to be OK eventually and actually it will be better than OK, just you wait and see.   I truly believe Ron ( strange, that is what I called my Charles - his name was Charles Ronald and everyone called him *Ron* for short) is still here, right next to you, he never left you - you just can't see him, because he's there in spirit.     You are strong and CAN do this and you  WILL do this; if not for yourself, than for Ron, he would have wanted you to. You never know how strong you really are until there is no other option except to be strong. And that's what we are, strong women getting through the most devastating time in our lives.

I didn't know Ron, but just from your picture, it's evident the love you shared for one another and know that that love will always be.  Nothing and no one can ever take that away.  I know the season you're facing now is dark and very lonely and you feel disconnected from the life you once knew. But know that God is always there with you, lovingly and patiently waiting to connect to your heart, mind and spirit through Christ alone!

Bea, you don't know your own strength; God didn't mean for us to break.  Life is tough especially without Ron and will, undoubtedly get tougher; it won't be easy; nothing in this life generally is.  It catches you off guard and unprepared and makes you think what you ought to do next.  To suffer is common to us all; to suffer and still keep your composure, your faith and your poise is remarkable.  The pain we suffer will change us profoundly and our sufferings will shape our perception of this life, its values and priorities.  Stay strong Bea, you will make it through and Ron is watching over you to make sure you do.

I've got you in my prayers.  Sending you a virtual *hug*.  God Bless

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On 12/8/2017 at 12:32 PM, bea said:

I'm having a horrible day, where is he?????? why can't he still be here, I do not want to live this life without him, I can't do it

Oh Bea, I know, we've all felt that.  You don't have to do your whole life today, just do TODAY.  Today you can do.  Hang in there, Hon.  (((hugs)))

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