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Doesn't feel right


JustMe840

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It's almost 7 months since Bill died.  I don't have the gift of expressing what I feel or for comforting others with words. I was coming here every day but I stopped for a while because it made me feel like I wasn't grieving "right". I know there is no right or wrong way but, I feel like my behavior doesn't match how I feel. I think part of it is.....Bill drives truck. He went to work on Tuesday, I saw him for about 1/2 an hour on Wednesday on his way by, I got a call at work Thursday morning that he was in a hospital 4 hours from home headed to surgery. I talked to him for about 15 seconds, all he could say was "this hurts so bad", the way he said it was heartbreaking. I'll never forget that, I can hear it now.  I told him I was sorry I couldn't fix it and that I loved him. He said he loved me too. I'm so thankful for that. He was in surgery when I got there, he ended up back in surgery an hour later, he never woke up and died Friday morning from an aortic dissection.

That was August 19. 2016. We had a week vacation scheduled for the 22nd which I took off work, our anniversary was the 25th, my birthday was the 29th, the last Friday before Halloween was the pumpkin carving party we host every year ( I had it without him), his birthday was Nov. 1st, (his 60th & it was going to be awesome, 3 weeks later, Thanksgiving, 1 month later, Christmas, then New Year's, then Valentine's, and pretty soon now, Easter. All of these "firsts" , all in a rush it seemed. Plus I work 50 hrs a week, my 88 yrs. young Mom lives with us, (Me, that's so hard to adjust to.)  one of our two dogs has cancer which I now can't afford to treat, my oldest son hasn't talked to me since 9 days after Bill died (that's a whole thing in itself) and my youngest son moved to Florida in January for a job. (I'm happy for him, but miss him!) 

I haven't had a minute to breathe! I don't have time to think. (which is fine with me actually). 

I write to Bill every night and stop by the cemetery every day. I miss him and everything about him,  and us, so much it's unbelievable. The thing is....I don't cry, but, I've never been one to cry about anything.  I just go along, doing what I do. I'm not me though. I don't laugh or talk much. (Which is shocking if you knew the old me). I don't look at pictures, I haven't moved any of his things and I have no plans to....maybe ever. 

I'm still trying to believe he's really not coming back. I KNOW it, but I can't believe it.  I'm greatly annoyed by the fact that nobody ever says anything about him. Like he was never here. I'm hurt by the fact that other than my mom and youngest son, nobody but me MISSES him. He was amazing! Still is to me. 

I know this is really long but it's been on my mind a long time. I am completely heartbroken that he is gone, but, to look at me, and observe my life, you would never know that I lost my husband. And after all this, it still doesn't say what I mean. Good grief.......I am sorry. Maybe I'll try another time. Hopefully in a lot less words and making a lot more sense. 

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19 hours ago, JustMe840 said:

Hopefully in a lot less words and making a lot more sense. 

You're making a lot of sense. It's half a year that my wife left and I still just function in daily life. None of my coworkers would notice what goes on underneath. I had so many things that just needed to be done that I just did them.
I'm still not at the point to process everything that happened. And from the outside it may appear as if I was doing ok. I do my job, I talk with people, I make jokes. But that doesn't mean that I'm any further than the day my wife died. I was just too busy, and unconciously using this as a way of not having to deal with what happened. Occasionally there are triggers that send me spiraling down a cascade of grief and despair. But the next day I just function again.
Everybody's dealing with this differently, or not dealing with this differently. and I can't tell you how long it takes to realize what reality is right now, how to handle it, what to feel and how to move on. I'm far from that point myself.

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Dear Just Me

I'm sorry to read of your distressing feelings as a result of your devastating loss. I lost my husband 22 weeks ago as a result of a heart incident and my mind too is a complete mess really.  I write to my husband every night as well.  I too, in my logical mind realise they cannot come back but subconsciously I feel as though it's a temporary situation.  I am sad because no one speaks about my husband with me and on top of all this everything is so painful and difficult. I read you are going through tough times with your dog as well, how shocking added to your grief. I do truly empathise.  Do you think you have processed the shock and trauma?  Is there a sympathetic Dr you can talk with at your surgery?  Its ok not to cry but tears help to release tension from your system or we will just explode.  I'm sorry I cannot be more positive but I wish you warmest regards.

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Just Me,

You seem very good at expressing yourself to me.  Keep posting, we're here, we're listening, we care.  Reading about all the things you had to endure right after his death, by yourself (birthdays, etc) is so hard, esp. so soon after.  You're dealing with a lot, I'm sorry about your dog too, that's really hard in and of itself.  We feel so helpless when we can't help them, we'd do anything for them but sometimes money is a factor, we can't help that.  A friend of mine had a dog with cancer that she fed homemade food to and it kept him alive a few more years even with the cancer.  I cook for my dog's Colitis, it's helped him, but her dog couldn't have rice because it's a carb and feeds cancer.  Anyway, it's something to consider.  If you want to know more she can be reached at  mfriedelhunt@charter.net she listed her email in another grief forum under http://www.griefhealingdiscussiongroups.com/index.php?/topic/7888-our-pets-consolers-four-legged-two-legged-fur-finned/&page=24#comment-78851 and I know she'd be happy to help you, her name is Mary.

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JustMe840---- You did more than OK with your posting. We *get it*. You have been dealing with a long list of unsavory things since your beloved Bill has gone to Heaven. Speaking, . excuse me, for all of us here, you are to be admired for your endurance and perseverance.Losing our soulmates is hard enough, but dealing with the rest of life can be so overwhelming.

As time goes on for me, and that is unbelievable in itself, I have been feeling more and more disillusioned with this life. With the people I assumed were family and friends. I have been finding out that I am the only one still grieving the loss of my husband. It will be 7 months in a few days. Family members have moved on and so have friends. I know my husband and I lived in a world onto ourselves over the past 6 years due to most people in our lives wanting to avoid being around the unpleasantness of my husband's health conditions. I was his caregiver 24/7. If I had the chance to go back and do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat. Can't pick your family, and I have been finding out who the true friends are.

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Just Me 840, 

There is no "doing it wrong" it just is what it is. 

Our youngest son's wedding was scheduled to occur just 15 days after my husband's death. My husband's band was the band for the wedding reception.  I had to organize a funeral, 300 people came, and beg the band not to cancel playing for the wedding. We had the wedding, but it was all a blur to me.  After that, I had to sell my home, as I financially could not afford to stay in it.  I was still employed fulltime, but thankfully my employer was very gracious about letting me take time off as needed. 

To the outside world, it looked as if I was fully functioning. But on the inside, I felt like a total zombie.  This went on for at least a year and 1/2.  I was so busy doing things that had to be done, there was no time to think or grieve.

When I retired a year ago, after moving twice in one year, things calmed down enough for me to really feel my grief. 

I still feel like I am living as a split personality.  This fake zombie that goes through the motions of living, and the basket case lost soul who can not figure out how to live this new life without John. 

I have had the luxury (or curse) of free time since I retired, to not leave my home for days on end, eat food out of the opened can, and not be able to remember when I last showered.  But even I can see this is not healthy.  So now I am trying to choose to put on my zombie face and go out into the world several times a week.

My plan such as it is, is to just keep on trying to live in the world, with the hope that one day I will feel connected to life. 

It would be nice to feel like myself again. I miss me.

Peace,

Gail

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Gail,

It sounds like you had a whirlwind of activity, things to do, they occupied your time and energy...when we retire it can sometimes hit us hard because then when we finally slow down we have time for our thoughts, and not all of them are welcome.  It was eight years after George died before I retired.  During that eight years I lost my job, frantically searched for another one (it was during the recession and I experienced age discrimination for the first time in my life).  I had to commute 100 miles/day and it was hard to just keep up with what I had to do, all while aging.  

Now I have time, but aging presents it's own challenges, growing old alone.  I soon found I needed a schedule, even if a different one every day.  I volunteered at the senior stie, do my church's books, am on the praise team, a couple of ladies groups that meet regularly for lunch (I can't drive at night anymore).  It gives me a little balance, being with others vs. spending time alone.  There's a million things I could be doing at home, cleaning out stuff no longer used, but it all seems a reminder of a life past that I can't face, how did it all go so quickly?  Kids grown, on their own, a family I once had, now gone and I'm left with the physical reminders I can hardly face.  I wonder if everyone feels this way.  I think it's different when your husband is alive to go through it with you.  I could face anything with him.

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I am experiencing much of what you describe. John and I were a good team. Together we could do most anything.  Now everything is on me and it is overwhelming.

I have two wonderful boys, but they don't live in the same place as I do (or each other).  I don't want to burden them with my depression.  I want them to be happy and live their lives.  It is hard.

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My kids don't live here either.  I rarely hear from my daughter, that is hard.  My son is busy with his life, his family and job.  That is as it should be.  It has been up to me to make a life for myself that I can live, but it's nothing like the life I'd have if my George was here.  I just lost my beloved dog and it's hitting me hard, now I'm left alone with a 25 year old cat that seems only to care for her next treat.  It's very different than SHARING your life with the one that meant all to you.

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KayC,

My heart goes out to you.  I dread the day, in the not too distant future, when my dog Boomer dies.  He was our dog, and after John died, Boomer grieved for John with me.  Boomer's presence in my life these past few years has been incredibly important to me.  A companion I could hug and cry to day or night, a presence on the couch with me watching TV,  a reason to get out of bed to feed or walk him, a million things. He has been a very good listener.  No new dog will ever replace Boomer, because Boomer has been through so much with me.  He is my emotional support being.  I am so grateful that he has stayed with me for so long. 

Yes, in a way I think he has chosen to stay with me, because he knows I need him.  He has many ailments, but he perseveres.  At some point I will have to let him know it is okay to go. 

Peace

Gail

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My husband died after a two year struggle with a downward spiral of health issues.  He finally passed due to a stroke.  The anniversary of his death is October 5th.  Since his death was somewhat anticipated I don't have the shock and trauma of a sudden death.  It isn't any easier; it's just different.  We were both retired, with each other 24/7  and fifty years married.  He was a very sweet man and the love of my life.  Our son and daughter are very supportive as are friends.  My problem is this -- I have this pervasive unsettled feeling most of the time.  It's as if I should do something, know something but I can't figure out what.  It isn't the mind numbing depression some of you suffer.  Being around other people helps but I don't want to be around them constantly.  Days when I don't have anything planned can be mixed bags.  It's like I'm frozen in a holding pattern.  I almost hesitate to put this out there because it seems like my issues aren't as traumatic as some of yours.  I should just be able to accept things and get on with life.  While Chuck was ill he went from one health crisis to another.  The days were overfull with doctors, caretaking and whatever the crisis du jour happened to be.  Now my days are whatever I want them to be and I guess I just don't know what to do with the time.  Why do I have to be such a mess?

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2 hours ago, Makaren said:

It's like I'm frozen in a holding pattern.  I almost hesitate to put this out there because it seems like my issues aren't as traumatic as some of yours.  I should just be able to accept things and get on with life.

I feel "stuck" too.  I know I have things that must be done, but I just can't seem to find the energy, mental or physical, to care.  Many of us have expressed similar feelings.  Recently, it seems to be something many of us are mentioning.  I haven't been able to figure out how to drag myself out of this stasis.  I don't know how to move forward without my love.

My husband's cancer and related health issues consumed the last 18 months of our life together.  Please don't hesitate to express yourself.  Your and your husband's experience and issues are every bit as traumatic as every other member's lives and losses are.  IMO, there is no hierarchy of "My loss is worse than yours" when it comes to losing our soul mates.  Whether it's over time or immediate doesn't matter.  Whether it's because of a lingering illness, an unknown health condition, or from violence, all losses are equal because they are ours.  My doctor and I talked about that a little bit at my last appointment.  I told him that the worst type of loss is the one that happened to my husband and me because it is ours and mine.  The worst kind of loss will always be our own because it is the one we are living with now.

Some people have said to me, "At least you got to say goodbye."  That is true, but I ask them how they would feel watching the love of their life leave them bit by bit while knowing that they couldn't "fix" things.  I ask how they would feel spending every waking (and restless sleeping) moment doing everything possible, but still lose their love.  It's one reason I came here in the first place.  I was so tired and getting angry with people who tried to compare one loss to another.

I will say that we still had good moments just being together while he was fighting the cancer.  We still found some humor, some silliness (such a silly side he had), and the companionship and love of 35 years together (37 years of knowing each other).  One day we were sitting on the sofa together after his home health check up and his nurse commented that she'd rarely met a couple so connected and so able to find joy through so much pain and fear.  My love said, "Well, that's because we don't just love each other, we still like each other."  At that point, I was losing hope, even though I (usually, but not always successfully) kept up my strong and positive outer self.  But all of that time was traumatic.  From the doctor calling us in to give us the news to my husband's very last breath with me by his side telling him for the millionth time how much I love him and how sorry I was that I couldn't save him.  So never doubt that your trauma is every bit as deep and painful as that of every other member here.  Our losses are different, of course, but they are not more or less than someone else's.

What we "should" be able to do is so often based on what a generally uninformed society tells us.  We live in a culture that prefers to pretend that grieving is a finite and preferably short "event" in our lives.  A culture that is so fearful of accepting the uncomfortable facts about mortality and loss that many people, maybe most, don't want to see or feel or even truly understand our experiences and our grief.  There is no such thing as should or normal when it comes to grieving.  We can accept that our husbands have been taken from us, but that doesn't mean we should be expected to or expect ourselves to just put it in the past and move on.  I hate, hate, hate any phrase like "move on" or "get over it."  We never get over this; if we're lucky, over time we learn to live with it.  We never move on from losing our one and only; if we're lucky, we are able to take our loves with us and start to move forward.  But we will never, never be the same.  Please, I urge you to stop thinking that you should be or do anything other than what you are.  If others are uncomfortable about it, then that is their problem and not yours.

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7 hours ago, Makaren said:

I should just be able to accept things and get on with life.

There is no "shoulds" about it.  It's hard, anticipatory or sudden death, it's all hard.  I've experienced both, they're both hard, just different.

 

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Thank you, all.  Yesterday was just one of those bad days.  After I posted and aired my mood, I felt better.  Today I woke up feeling pretty decent.  I can never tell.  Isn't that just the way it goes?  I'm going to insist to myself that I do something creative this weekend, whatever that might be.  I do a lot of papercraft so even if it's only folding up some storage boxes, I'll do that.  I make greeting cards, mostly birthday, and the people I give them to love them.  I need to get back to doing something other than the holding pattern of late.  I would like to discover a way to keep the mood I have today.  An impossible task but I'd rather be striving for a happy day than wallowing in a sad one.

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I've made cards for about 33 years now, used to sell them in our local art gallery before they closed it.  Then I had them in a bakery/cafe until it burned down, lost a lot of cards in that, haven't sold them since.  So for now I just make them for those I know.  Being creative is definitely a good outlet!  I wish we lived near so we could work on them together!

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23 minutes ago, KayC said:

I've made cards for about 33 years now, used to sell them in our local art gallery before they closed it.  Then I had them in a bakery/cafe until it burned down, lost a lot of cards in that, haven't sold them since.  So for now I just make them for those I know.  Being creative is definitely a good outlet!  I wish we lived near so we could work on them together!

I love making cards.  The downside is I end up with so many, I'm buried in them.  When I go to the Y for exercise a group of us sit in the coffee room and solve the world's problems.  I started making boxes to hold about half a dozen cards which I give to the ladies in the group on their birthdays.  It's a win/win.  They love the cards and I can weeded down my stash.  I wish we did live closer so we could create together.

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Me too.  I used to belong to a group that met once a month, for nine years, it was fun to try new things.  Have you signed up for splitcoaststampers.com ?  They send an email every week with an idea, gallery, etc.

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1 hour ago, KayC said:

Me too.  I used to belong to a group that met once a month, for nine years, it was fun to try new things.  Have you signed up for splitcoaststampers.com ?  They send an email every week with an idea, gallery, etc.

I used to follow splitcoaststampers religiously.  I still check in and I receive the newsletter, too.  It's fun to even touch base with someone else who likes to do cards.  I'm going to try and get into the mood to do a couple of cards for my stash tomorrow.  I'll let you know if I succeed.

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Thank you all for your responses in this post.  Coming here has made me sad....but also helped me feel I'm not all alone with my feelings.  Every one of these posts brought on tears I can hardly read through.  I'm just beyond 5 months from losing everything life meant to me.  I too spent two years devoted to managing Winstons health needs and what little we could do to make the best of each day.  He wasn't open to discussing our reality and where it was going....we lived day to day as best we could....till suddenly I am deeply in my aloneness. As yet....I barely live....I accomplish nothing.  I sat on my porch yesterday watching the humming birds fight over the feeder.....so sad thinking about how Winston would spend hours in his rocker enjoying the river, reading , chatting, hugging ...and planning our next project or camping excursion.  Now I sit there , rarely...too depressing ,  feeling the deep pain and silence . I wonder how can I ever enjoy life again....not just because I'm alone....but because HE is not here to share it all with me ? 

I don't know if it would have helped me ...but now I'm pained by thoughts about all the things we didn't talk about .  I genuinely spent every minute of the 2 years being exactly what I thought he needed and wanted......which included not talking about  the illness or our future.  Now I'm overwhelmed with wanting to shower him with all the ways I loved him ...how he helped me survive my earlier dramas....how critical he was to my survival.   In reality , it wouldn't have helped him....I just can't stop feeling I didn't do enough , say enough, help enough . I , too, occasionally wondered about the difference of sudden loss vs more time ? Ironically....ones who wrote , it's just different , are so right.  Further....as the time went beyond 4 months and with more difficult treatments and life losses....the daily pain of seeing, feeling , knowing he was experiencing all encompassing physical and emotional losses .....his mules....his creative skills...shooting/reloading.....his dream farm ( watching it deteriorate ) ...and whatever else he decided to hide within his macho exterior ( maybe his worries for me ?? ) .  I didn't want to burden him...so when he seemed to prefer the silence....I supported it.  Now....I'm faced with the extreme pain ...in a world that either doesn't know what to say/do....or doesn't understand what it's like ...or simply needs and wants daily life to be fun and productive ?  I do too....but so far....I'm lucky I still eat ...and only because there are restaurants. 

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Mulelady I am so sorry for your pain as I am for my own....and for all of us going thru this.... it is pain ..maybe not physical but very much mental and emotional pain..I would rather go thru physical pain if I could have my husband back with me by my side. I so relate to your post about things you didn't say/talk about as that is so what I am experiencing .. how I wish I had spent more time listening to him , talking to him, just sitting by his side, I wish he had told me more of his fears as I believe he was scared thinking he would have another heart attack but he was always so stoic about it , always saying he was gonna live to be over 100, he was a very active man so I believe he probably thought he was healthier than he was, at least he never wanted to talk about it, he believed if you don't talk about bad things they won't happen ..that worked so well :sad: 

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On 9/22/2019 at 6:22 AM, Mulelady said:

I wonder how can I ever enjoy life again....not just because I'm alone....but because HE is not here to share it all with me ? 

That's it exactly.  I've never lived alone before.  I went from my parent's home to a house with roommates to living with my husband.  When I was a young adult, the prospect of living alone did not scare me at all.  In fact, in my early 20s I was thinking about how I'd like that because I was growing irked with my roommate(s).  Now, it's not that I can't stand my own company or that I think I'm incapable.  It's that my love is not here with me to share everything and all life's ups and downs.  I was married to my dearest for well over half my life and he was everything to me.  I can be in a room full of people, even the people who love me and my husband most, and still feel alone.  It seems pretty common for those of us who were lucky enough to find our soul mates.

After going on 15 months, I do have moments and times of light and pleasure.  But under it all, I am thinking, "You should be here, honey. You would love this."  I still hate going out of the house because I have to come home to a place that now feels like purgatory.  I have to focus on the short term.  It's too upsetting to look too far ahead.  People have started asking me when I'm going to start traveling again (like my mom did after my dad died, and more power to her).  My answer is "Never."  It's not just the loss of income and having to budget carefully, though that's a big concern.  It's that I have no interest in revisiting our favorite places or visiting the places we had planned for "some day."  Just 3 months before he died, my husband had apparently been dreaming the night before and asked, "Do you want to go England, Spain, and Italy?" which was something we'd talked about for a long time.  He was in the hospital and on heavy medication at the time.  I replied, "I'd love to just as soon as you're all better."  But I was thinking in the back of my mind, "What if that never happens?  I'll be all alone."  Another time, he asked me my "top ten" items I wanted to do with him.  I started to name a few of the things we'd planned, but it all came down to "I just want us to be together."  Sometimes I wonder if he was thinking he'd somehow let me down.

It's not that I don't strive for those better moments and times.  I actually do.  But I also do not chide myself if I don't succeed in finding them "today."  I'm okay with looking at my husband's picture and telling him through tears, "You need to come home now.  Why can't you come home?  I don't want to be here without you."  I know that I will have days that swing all over the place.  This morning I had yoga and then coffee and bagels with friends.  It was enjoyable.  Then I came home and pushed down my grief for a while by making myself not think about what we've lost, by making myself numb to the world around me.  Later still, I got very upset just thinking about all the projects and little "to do"s that have to be done without my best friend at my side.  I think I may always be a swirling mass of conflicting feelings and emotions.  I know that in this life I will never feel "complete" or happy in the way I was before.  They (whoever they are) say that you even miss the little things that bugged you.  Yep, I even miss those.  It hurts that his woodworking designs and project notebooks aren't in piles I have to remind him to put away.  I hate that I don't have to clean up his water and soap "puddles" on the bathroom sink.  Because we've loved the whole of them, we miss the whole of our lives together.

 I am lucky in many ways to have family and friends who have been supportive, even when I've shut myself off from everyone and everything.  I know I'm not suddenly an idiot or an incompetent ninny.  But I am so tired, physically and emotionally, that I just can't seem to care about much of anything.  Right now I am still learning how to live with my loss, with a grief that is so painful I don't think the depth of it has a name.  Some hours and days are better than others.  It is a little easier to bear than it was a year ago, so I suppose I could say I've made baby steps forward.

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Mulelady,

I am so sorry for your pain, and for Sandra's, I know how hard it is in the first couple of years, it's indescribable.  Every decision, every action you took, it was with thoughts of him, I can't think how you can have anything to regret...except that we ALL are haunted by regret, it's part of grief.  We're hard on ourselves.  What would they say to us if they could?  We must give voice to it ourselves.

The loneliness we feel IS because of their absence.  We feel it keenly, no matter how many years go by.  We had bought a porch swing to sit in as we got older...only "we" didn't get older, there is only me...and I've let my cat have the porch swing.  He loved watching the hummingbirds...this is the first year I didn't put out a feeder, because the bees were profiting more than the hummingbirds from it.  

George never wanted to talk about retirement, he was too busy living, he loved working, being active...only to discover his heart wouldn't allow him old age or retirement.  I guess it would have done no good for him to talk about it, it never happened.

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foreverhis,

It's been six years since I've done something fun for myself, gone to the coast or our women's retreat...I've been caregiver for Arlie and it was too much for a regular dogsitter to comprehend what all I did for him, to trust them to do it right.  This year I signed up for our women's retreat at the coast.  My DIL called today and wanted me to come watch the grandkids for a couple of days...during my time away.  I feel guilty turning it down because I've always WANTED her to ask me to, but I know I need this, before I have another dog to take care of.  Sometimes we have to be good to ourselves and budget our time/$ for US, even if...maybe even ESPECIALLY if we don't have our husband here anymore.  They used to be so good at taking care of us, pampering us even as we did them, now we're left alone here and have to do that for ourselves.  I know it rings hollow, maybe we'll get better at it with time.

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Mulelady, KayC, forever this, and Sandra K -- All of your words mean so much because they resonate on me.  I have things planned during the week but the weekends have been a challenger because it's just me, myself and I.  I finally took a hint from my sister and started doing what she does, saving her housework for the weekend.  I did a whole list of things and tired myself out to the point that today wasn't so bad.  But I go through the same thoughts all of you do -- I don't like doing things without Chuck.  He was quiet and funny and he took care of me in a way that wasn't demeaning or overbearing.  I just miss having his energy around me.  But in honor of our time together I try to take care of myself health-wise.  I move forward as I can but there are no plans to look forward to.  We used to cruise and it doesn't hold the fascination it once did.  But I am trying to find things that I can enjoy without his presence.  It's hard but this is my part in the process and I want him to be able to see me moving forward and know that his memory is helping me.

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McLaren, 

Your words resonate to me.  I know John wants me to be happy and living life with joy.  I want that too.  I just can't seem to do it.  It takes all my energy to just do the minimum required day to day.  Tasks pile up needing attention,  still haven't filed my income taxes for last year,  house repairs are needed, sorting boxes from my move seems overwhelming. My failure to take care of my own health needs, such as regular exercise and eating well,  seems to be a slow suicide.  John would be very disappointed in me.  He would want one of us to be there for this little grandchild of ours.

Your statement that you want Chuck to know that your memory of him is helping you to move forward,  rang true for me.   I would like John to see me moving forward, and that my memory of John's love of life is helping me to do it. 

Thanks for sharing.

Peace

Gail

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11 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

McLaren, 

Your words resonate to me.  I know John wants me to be happy and living life with joy.  I want that too.  I just can't seem to do it.  It takes all my energy to just do the minimum required day to day.  Tasks pile up needing attention,  still haven't filed my income taxes for last year,  house repairs are needed, sorting boxes from my move seems overwhelming. My failure to take care of my own health needs, such as regular exercise and eating well,  seems to be a slow suicide.  John would be very disappointed in me.  He would want one of us to be there for this little grandchild of ours.

Your statement that you want Chuck to know that your memory of him is helping you to move forward,  rang true for me.   I would like John to see me moving forward, and that my memory of John's love of life is helping me to do it. 

Thanks for sharing.

Peace

Gail

Remember that saying "What would Jesus do?"  Maybe yours should be "What would John do?"  When I get into those low moods or insecure moods I make myself stop and think "What would Chuck want you to do?"  I'm not saying it's a miraculous cure for everything but it makes me remember he only wanted the best for me.  I take pride in each little thing I do that moves me forward into whatever future is ahead of me.  Your perception about denying your own health needs being a slow suicide is a true one for a lot of us.  I know for the first several months my diet consisted of PB&J sandwiches and ice cream, not the healthiest fare.  I do eat better now but could be better still.  Baby steps.  It's a long, slow process for all of us and most people around us are not as willing to accept that. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

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I hope in time you can build a life for yourself you can live, it took me YEARS to get there, but even so, I am still alone so much, every evening usually a couple days a week.  I try to have times where I'm around people a few hours a day...it's challenging when retired.  I'm busy with volunteer work but doing the church treasury I'm alone.  I'm taking counseling classes on line so that's also time alone, but I help at the senior site twice a week plus go to a ladies group once a week so those are fun and get me out.  All about balance.

I'm glad you're taking care of yourself.  I remember when I first lost George the nights and weekends were so hard, I was still working full-time them but a few months later I lost my job, it took me 5 1/2 months to get another, that was tough.  Just hang in there and try to do what you can to make your life better for yourself.  And remember, you've got all of us here.

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On ‎3‎/‎13‎/‎2017 at 9:12 PM, JustMe840 said:

I miss him and everything about him,  and us, so much it's unbelievable. The thing is....I don't cry, but, I've never been one to cry about anything.  I just go along, doing what I do. I'm not me though. I don't laugh or talk much.

I wish I had seen this earlier, this is me to a T.  Inside I feel crushed and incomplete but to look at me....you would never know.  My sister actually called me "good at this."  She should have just taken out a knife and stabbed me in the heart.  I'm not good at this, I'm good at compartmentalizing my entire life.  I don't know if that's really such a good thing.  Inside I feel like a shattered mirror and every single word written here, I can totally relate to.  I've had every thought and every feeling that all of you have.  Even when you think you have said everything, you haven't.  Watching your superman waste away to someone you barely recognize is agonizing.  It was hard caring for him for a year, being totally focused on his medical care one day to nothing the next.  It has been difficult financially and overwhelming as well.  Although I work two jobs, I am exhausted physically and emotionally.  I will never get over this, I will just be lucky to learn to live with this. 

Thank you, this thread has helped me more than most. 

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9 minutes ago, Rhonda R said:

I'm not good at this, I'm good at compartmentalizing my entire life.

I think that can be a good thing.  I read on another grief site, a grief counselor talked about scheduling 1/2 hour every day for grieving.  I've suggested it to others who have had a hard time grieving or not being able to take a break from it.  But I wouldn't know how to do that myself.  Grief has come to me unbidden and struck me whether I wanted it or not, and I wouldn't know how to shut that off or mete it out...

If you can compartmentalize, I think that'd be coveted.  That your sister can't see that you're NOT good at this, (who the hell IS?!) is amazing to me, you'd think she'd known you well enough by now.  But in the end it matters not what others think, it's us we are left alone with at the end of the day.  And others don't see us in the wee hours, trying to figure out how to do this.

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4 hours ago, Rhonda R said:

I wish I had seen this earlier, this is me to a T.  Inside I feel crushed and incomplete but to look at me....you would never know.  My sister actually called me "good at this."  She should have just taken out a knife and stabbed me in the heart.  I'm not good at this, I'm good at compartmentalizing my entire life.  I don't know if that's really such a good thing.  Inside I feel like a shattered mirror and every single word written here, I can totally relate to.  I've had every thought and every feeling that all of you have.  Even when you think you have said everything, you haven't.  Watching your superman waste away to someone you barely recognize is agonizing.  It was hard caring for him for a year, being totally focused on his medical care one day to nothing the next.  It has been difficult financially and overwhelming as well.  Although I work two jobs, I am exhausted physically and emotionally.  I will never get over this, I will just be lucky to learn to live with this. 

Thank you, this thread has helped me more than most. 

When my daughter died many years ago people were always telling me how brave and how strong I was.  Truthfully, I wasn't.  I was a mess inside.  But they like to see you "handling things well" because it saves them from having to deal with your grief.  I'm not trying to be unkind about other people but if they've not experience a loss on this level, they don't know what they're supposed to do so ignoring would be preferable.  And I think others here would agree that getting over it is something you just never do.  How did KayC put it?  You absorb it into your life.  She put it better but that was the gist.  I can identify with watching the love of my life waste away.  My entire being was focused on getting him better and stronger so he could come home.  Only when the nurse practitioner at the adult care home suggested hospice did I realize he really wasn't coming home.  He lasted about a week after that.  It's coming up on one year and I'm still going through the motions a lot of the time.  One day at a time.  Eventually we will all learn in our own ways how to put this into the perspective of our lives.

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8 hours ago, Makaren said:

When my daughter died many years ago people were always telling me how brave and how strong I was.  Truthfully, I wasn't.  I was a mess inside.  But they like to see you "handling things well" because it saves them from having to deal with your grief.

First, I am so sorry you lost your daughter.  Two of our friends lost their daughter at birth and all I could think to say was how much my heart hurt for them and that I could barely imagine how they felt.  All we could offer was love, hugs, and a shoulder and ear day or night.

Yes, society wants us to "put on the brave face" and "be strong" because our grief is so uncomfortable and difficult for them--for them.  I mentioned that to my SIL, who we love dearly and are close to.  She said something like, "Maybe it's meant as a compliment because you've always been a strong woman.  I know that's one of the things my brother loved about you."  I replied that anyone who knows me should know that one thing and one thing only could break me and that it was losing my husband.  She was silent for a minute and then admitted I was right and she was sorry if it seemed like she was minimizing it.

A few months ago I finally told our best friends, a couple we introduced to each other 30 years ago and who are brother and sister to us, that I couldn't do it any more.  Being brave and strong was making things worse for me.  I said that I wouldn't be a little puddle of sadness on the floor all the time, but that I was no longer going to hide it if I was falling apart around them.  They both said, "Good.  We've been worried about that, but didn't know how to say it."  The next day, he sent me a photo of a signpost that said, "It's okay if you fall apart sometimes.  Tacos fall apart and we still love them."  I made that my wallpaper for 2 months.

I think we should try to not hide behind the facade, but rather be honest.  If people are uncomfortable, so be it.  We're the ones grieving.  We're the ones who have lost our soul mates.  I'm still guilty of hiding, in part because I've always had trouble crying in front of people--thanks to my parents and their "stoic" approach to life.

8 hours ago, Makaren said:

And I think others here would agree that getting over it is something you just never do.

I am positive we never get over it and we never put it behind us and we never simply move on.  What we can try and hope to do is to learn to live with it as part of the whole and acknowledge that we're going to have good days and bad days always. 

These days I'm trying to come up with a good response to anyone who approaches me with that.  No one we're or I'm close to would do that, but others I don't know well have.  I'm thinking something like, "How am I supposed to get over losing the love of my life?  That's never going to happen.  The one person I would turn to for love and comfort is the person who was taken from us.  I'm working on coping as best I can."

8 hours ago, Makaren said:

My entire being was focused on getting him better and stronger so he could come home. 

Yeah, me too.  I simply refused to believe he wouldn't beat his cancer.  We'd both been through major health challenges and always made it through.  I know I was in denial toward the end.  My love also only lived a few days after we agreed on comfort care.  The doctors had suggested hospice 2 weeks earlier.  Even though I believe firmly that hospice is a good thing, I just couldn't say yes. My husband and I were talking about it and  I finally realized I was being selfish.  He was in the hospital, in pain, and getting worse by the day.  I would have done anything, given anything to save him and I would have taken care of him forever, but it was not to be.

 

8 hours ago, Makaren said:

It's coming up on one year and I'm still going through the motions a lot of the time. 

I feel that way much of the time as well.  I can feel as if I'm in a bubble with everyone else's lives flowing around and on by.  Sometimes I wish I could just wrap myself in a cocoon and not emerge until it's time to go find my love.  But he would be disappointed if I didn't stay for a while to be there for our daughter and his beloved and adoring granddaughter.  He was just about the best dad and grandpa anyone could wish to have.  I miss him so much it truly is as if I've lost my better half.

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Foreverhis....once again....I appreciate what others and you have responded here....thank you.  I hope I can build your confidence , survival in public and peace for living day to day. I've particularly struggled with Winstons last two weeks as his condition radically challenged my ability to help him...giving into moving him to the Hospice House....where he would never speak to me again....but was finally comfortable.  Because , as you described... being focused on his care, the two years didn't " prepare " me to imagine the devastation to come....and now I struggle with guilt . Senseless I know....but here I am. 

Initially I just wanted to follow him....which no one wants to hear .  I'm not blessed with family or grandchildren to help distract me or fill my days....so struggling to find the motivation to get through the weeks.  For now....I have daily crying events....often in public. Long way to go...and no idea where that is. 

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18 hours ago, Makaren said:

When my daughter died many years ago people were always telling me how brave and how strong I was.  Truthfully, I wasn't.  I was a mess inside.  But they like to see you "handling things well" because it saves them from having to deal with your grief. 

You are right, people don't want to deal with our grief.  My sisters and kids cared but didn't have a clue what I was experiencing, not having been through it themselves.  I've lost three babies (miscarriages), not the same as you losing your daughter, I know, but hard because I loved and wanted each of them...one I was halfway through my pregnancy.  We do our best to continue our lives but we never forget, never. I have learned to coexist with my grief, all of it.

9 hours ago, foreverhis said:

She was silent for a minute and then admitted I was right and she was sorry if it seemed like she was minimizing it.

I am glad she was sensitive to apologize, I think people minimize without realizing they're doing it.  A neighbor said something insensitive when I lost Arlie and I wanted to tell him how inappropriate his response was in grief.
 

 

9 hours ago, foreverhis said:

What we can try and hope to do is to learn to live with it

Yep, that's pretty much it.  I wrote this about ten years after George died, some of you have already seen it here, but to those who haven't, these are things I found helpful after losing him.

TIPS TO MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH GRIEF

There's no way to sum up how to go on in a simple easy answer, but I encourage you to read the other threads here, little by little you will learn how to make your way through this.  I do want to give you some pointers though, of some things I've learned on my journey.

  • Take one day at a time.  The Bible says each day has enough trouble of it's own, I've found that to be true, so don't bite off more than you can chew.  It can be challenging enough just to tackle today.  I tell myself, I only have to get through today.  Then I get up tomorrow and do it all over again.  To think about the "rest of my life" invites anxiety.
  • Don't be afraid, grief may not end but it evolves.  The intensity lessens eventually.
  • Visit your doctor.  Tell them about your loss, any troubles sleeping, suicidal thoughts, anxiety attacks.  They need to know these things in order to help you through it...this is all part of grief.
  • Suicidal thoughts are common in early grief.  If they're reoccurring, call a suicide hotline.  I felt that way early on, but then realized it wasn't that I wanted to die so much as I didn't want to go through what I'd have to face if I lived.  Back to taking a day at a time.  Suicide Hotline - Call 1-800-273-8255
  • Give yourself permission to smile.  It is not our grief that binds us to them, but our love, and that continues still.
  • Try not to isolate too much.  
  • There's a balance to reach between taking time to process our grief, and avoiding it...it's good to find that balance for yourself.  We can't keep so busy as to avoid our grief, it has a way of haunting us, finding us, and demanding we pay attention to it!  Some people set aside time every day to grieve.  I didn't have to, it searched and found me!
  • Self-care is extremely important, more so than ever.  That person that would have cared for you is gone, now you're it...learn to be your own best friend, your own advocate, practice self-care.  You'll need it more than ever.
  • Recognize that your doctor isn't trained in grief, find a professional grief counselor that is.  We need help finding ourselves through this maze of grief, knowing where to start, etc.  They have not only the knowledge, but the resources.
  • In time, consider a grief support group.  If your friends have not been through it themselves, they may not understand what you're going through, it helps to find someone somewhere who DOES "get it". 
  • Be patient, give yourself time.  There's no hurry or timetable about cleaning out belongings, etc.  They can wait, you can take a year, ten years, or never deal with it.  It's okay, it's what YOU are comfortable with that matters.  
  • Know that what we are comfortable with may change from time to time.  That first couple of years I put his pictures up, took them down, up, down, depending on whether it made me feel better or worse.  Finally, they were up to stay.
  • Consider a pet.  Not everyone is a pet fan, but I've found that my dog helps immensely.  It's someone to love, someone to come home to, someone happy to see me, someone that gives me a purpose...I have to come home and feed him.  Besides, they're known to relieve stress.  Well maybe not in the puppy stage when they're chewing up everything, but there's older ones to adopt if you don't relish that stage.
  • Make yourself get out now and then.  You may not feel interest in anything, things that interested you before seem to feel flat now.  That's normal.  Push yourself out of your comfort zone just a wee bit now and then.  Eating out alone, going to a movie alone or church alone, all of these things are hard to do at first.  You may feel you flunked at it, cried throughout, that's okay, you did it, you tried, and eventually you get a little better at it.  If I waited until I had someone to do things with I'd be stuck at home a lot.
  • Keep coming here.  We've been through it and we're all going through this together.
  • Look for joy in every day.  It will be hard to find at first, but in practicing this, it will change your focus so you can embrace what IS rather than merely focusing on what ISN'T.  It teaches you to live in the present and appreciate fully.  You have lost your big joy in life, and all other small joys may seem insignificant in comparison, but rather than compare what used to be to what is, learn the ability to appreciate each and every small thing that comes your way...a rainbow, a phone call from a friend, unexpected money, a stranger smiling at you, whatever the small joy, embrace it.  It's an art that takes practice and is life changing if you continue it.
  • Eventually consider volunteering.  It helps us when we're outward focused, it's a win/win.

(((hugs))) Praying for you today.

 

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1 hour ago, KayC said:

You are right, people don't want to deal with our grief.  My sisters and kids cared but didn't have a clue what I was experiencing, not having been through it themselves.  I've lost three babies (miscarriages), not the same as you losing your daughter, I know, but hard because I loved and wanted each of them...one I was halfway through my pregnancy.  We do our best to continue our lives but we never forget, never. I have learned to coexist with my grief, all of it.

I worked with a lady who had several miscarriages.  Her pain was just as real as mine.  Sometimes I marvel at the amount of loss and pain we all go through at various times of our lives and how we all make it through sane.

 

 

I feel I need to note this day.  I'm having a good day.  Tuesday is a day during the week I generally don't have anything planned and I hate it because it's easy to get mentally bogged down.  Most days I wake with an unsettled feeling.  Today I woke positive and with a good idea for what I can do to move through the day.  Truthfully, I kind of don't know what to do with it.  Anyone else have days like that?

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6 hours ago, Mulelady said:

Because , as you described... being focused on his care, the two years didn't " prepare " me to imagine the devastation to come....and now I struggle with guilt . Senseless I know....but here I am.

I think that's something many people don't understand.  They think that because everything happened over time that we somehow had it "easier" when they died.  It's the "At least you got to say goodbye" attitude.  I call BS on that.  They have no idea what it is like to watch the strong man you love fade away a bit at a time.  The cannot understand what pain, medications, and being the hospital does to their mental states or ours.  They don't get that being focused completely on helping them, we couldn't begin to understand what would happen or how it would be for us "after."  They do not realize the cell-deep exhaustion that overtakes us.

I still struggle with guilt and regrets as well.  It's not senseless.  I believe it is simply part of grieving because we are the ones still here.  We are the ones who have to remember and go over and over the "Why did/didn't we...?" and "How could I not have known?"  and "Why didn't I save him?" and more.  We take the blame on our shoulders because we were their caretakers, their champions, and toward the end, their voices.  We take the responsibility of it all, even though in the case of my husband and me, I believe the doctors failed us too.  They didn't take the change in his symptoms seriously enough.  They didn't keep up with his other medical concerns enough.  They just didn't everything "enough" until it was too late.  We could only go by the information we were given.  We're not medical professionals, though with all the research we did and all the caretaking involved, it sometimes feels as if I should have known or done more.  I feel I failed him by not being aggressive or insistent enough and by being too slow to get things done.  But I know deep down that I am only a human being with perfect hindsight, which makes it so very easy for me to beat myself up about everything.

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Losing the love of your life is just horrible.  It doesn't matter how or when he died.  I lost my husband to cancer.  Three years ago, one of my best friend's lost her love to a sudden, massive heart attack.  Both were devastating and brutal in their own way.  We both have guilt for different reasons.  We both have regret for different reasons.  We are both equally devastated by the loss of the person we loved.  We both still struggle with acceptance.  We both struggled financially and picked ourselves up.  We are both still so in love with our person.  They died very different deaths and yet, our struggles are still very similar.  "At least you got to say goodbye."  Let's break that down because that makes it sound like that goodbye wasn't the most painful experience of your life.  Like in your moment of complete and utter exhaustion and devastation you had crystal clear thoughts and said every caring and loving thing you ever wanted to say.  Even if you did, there is always more you are going to want to say. 

One thing that has helped me to deal with all the regret and feelings of "I should have...." has been my therapist. She said, what would you say to your friend if she had been in your shoes?  When she said that, it really became clear to me that I would not hold a friend or anyone else to the standards that I was holding myself.  I'm not a doctor.  Even they still don't know what to do all the time after years and years of research.  We were at one of the best hospitals in the world, Mayo, and that still didn't matter.  Randy still wanted to feel like a man.  He still wanted to run his days and make his own decisions.  I didn't always agree with them but I loved him and respected him enough to support him.  I couldn't wish any harder that things were different and he was still with me, but that doesn't make it true. 

My job forced me to learn to compartmentalize myself.  In order to do my job there were parts of myself I had to turn off the minute I walked through the front gate.  I don't feel it's a good thing, it's survival.  Crying and showing emotion is weakness here.  So, in order to protect myself in here and still do my job, I have to turn it off.  It's so very hard when we worked together.  I know every time anyone looks at me, they are waiting for me to break and who knows, maybe some day I will.   

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14 minutes ago, Rhonda R said:

Losing the love of your life is just horrible.  It doesn't matter how or when he died.  I lost my husband to cancer.  Three years ago, one of my best friend's lost her love to a sudden, massive heart attack.  Both were devastating and brutal in their own way.  We both have guilt for different reasons.  We both have regret for different reasons.  We are both equally devastated by the loss of the person we loved.  We both still struggle with acceptance.  We both struggled financially and picked ourselves up.  We are both still so in love with our person.  They died very different deaths and yet, our struggles are still very similar.

Yes, exactly!  It sounds like you and your dear friend understand that and have been able to help each other because of it.

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21 minutes ago, Rhonda R said:

  Randy still wanted to feel like a man.  He still wanted to run his days and make his own decisions.  I didn't always agree with them but I loved him and respected him enough to support him.

My husband as well.  He was a smart, independent, stubborn man.  Until the time when I had to be the one making decisions for him, I supported every choice he made.  I do wish I'd been more forceful in my reasoning why he should have had a specific test he would not do, but in the end I had to let him choose his own path.  A few times, our daughter disagreed with his decisions or choices and wanted me to push her side of it.  I told her flat out that no matter how much I love her, I would always and in everything be on her dad's side.  Period.

Some of my feelings of failure stem from a number of small delays that added up to a few months over time.  It probably wouldn't have made a difference and in a couple of cases, I really didn't know how to move things along faster.  But I still sit here thinking, "I should have insisted we do it a different way or go to a different place or see a different doctor.  I should have moved faster at all times."  We're in a rural area, so going to a different doctor or hospital means several hours drive and spending nights away from home.  He didn't really want that for the most part, but I ask myself why I didn't just get make an appointment, pack up the car, and drag him into it.  (Sure, 5'3", 138 lb me "dragging" 6' tall, 190 lb him into the car.  Yeah, that would work.)  "If only, if only, if only..." is what I have to work on.  I know rationally that I need to get from feelings of guilt to feelings of regret.  But I'm just so darn good at shouldering the blame.

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Foreverhis:  I wish I was able to put my thoughts and feelings into words as you do.  But, since you seem to have the same feelings as I do, I guess I can let you do my writing for me. Whenever I read your posts, I always think, "that's is exactly how I feel".  So thank you for letting me know I'm not alone in my thoughts and feelings.

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9 hours ago, SBA said:

Foreverhis:  I wish I was able to put my thoughts and feelings into words as you do.  But, since you seem to have the same feelings as I do, I guess I can let you do my writing for me. Whenever I read your posts, I always think, "that's is exactly how I feel".  So thank you for letting me know I'm not alone in my thoughts and feelings.

That is so nice of you to say.  There are any number of times I'll read another member's post and think, "That's exactly how I feel (or whatever the subject)."  I think you express yourself well.  I just happen to be a jabberer when I write.  I'm sure that's due in part to me actually being a technical writer for most of my career and writing poetry and other stuff for fun (not profit, unfortunately).

You are most definitely not alone.  Being here and knowing that has been a tremendous comfort to me.

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My husband was a very self-assured, confident man who knew what he wanted (some say stubborn).  When he had his hemorrhagic stroke he lost his ability to speak for himself.  So right from the start of my 25 day nightmare, I had to speak for him, making so many decisions on how to proceed. After he died I revisited nearly every one of those decisions questioning whether choosing a different path would have led to him surviving.  I felt so much guilt for every wrong decision I made.  And clearly they were wrong, because he died. 

The loss of his presence in my life felt like I was falling through a rip in the universe. There was nothing to grab hold of to stop my fall.  But the guilt I felt, for not saving him, made it somehow feel worse. Like I was lost and spinning through this void of space that didn't contain John, and I felt I wasn't suffering enough because I had killed him by making these wrong choices. I felt I had failed our children, failed my in-laws, failed John.  I didn't deserve to live. It was a long dark couple of years. 

But I really have let go of that guilt.  No one was blaming me but me. I finally came to the conclusion that even if I had a do-over, or 100 do-overs, there is no guaranteed that any combination of better decisions would have led to a different result.  I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time.  I know John had faith in my advocacy on his behalf. He knew I was trying my best to save him. 

I still sometimes fall through the rip in the universe caused by John's death.  But I no longer feel guilty for failing to save him.  Time has brought me peace on that issue.

Gail

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8 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

But I really have let go of that guilt.  No one was blaming me but me. I finally came to the conclusion that even if I had a do-over, or 100 do-overs, there is no guaranteed that any combination of better decisions would have led to a different result.  I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time.  I know John had faith in my advocacy on his behalf. He knew I was trying my best to save him. 

I still sometimes fall through the rip in the universe caused by John's death.  But I no longer feel guilty for failing to save him.  Time has brought me peace on that issue.

Gail

When you're the main caregiver I think it's normal to go through that guilt.  I did, too.  But guilt is a useless emotion and only prevents us from moving forward.  I'm glad you've come to terms with it.  Know that we feel your pain and most if not all go through that "If only" phase because we're here and they aren't.  That can't be fair.  Your realization that you did the best you could with the information you had is a powerful one.  Hold on to that.  We're all here for you.

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18 hours ago, Rhonda R said:

what would you say to your friend if she had been in your shoes? 

One of the best things to remember...then respond to ourselves with kindness, understanding, patience.

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11 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

I still sometimes fall through the rip in the universe

Isn't this the truth?  It does feel like a rip in the universe.  It feels too big to manage at times.  Other times, you walk very slowly and carefully around that rip to maneuver through life.  The bottom line, it's always there. 

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When John died, I really could not feel any solid ground under my feet.  I couldn't keep my balance and would literally hold on to walls and chairs as I walked around the house.  Going outside I always took someone's arm. It was like I had no depth perception in my vision and could not tell where the ground was. It felt like the whole world was careening around randomly. 

If you have ever gone through a hurricane or tornado, and you hunkered down in a hallway or closet and waited for the storm to pass, you have felt that anxiety of 'will this ever end'. I felt that way all the time.  I'd stay in my bed and wait for the storm to pass and for the world to go back to a predictable and steady orbit.  But without John, the world was off kilter.

I can't really remember how long that period lasted.  A few weeks or months I think.  After those first few months, I got my balance and could walk about normally.  But every so often I would fall through the rip in the universe and be in that abyss where there was nothing solid to grab hold of.  I would not literally fall down. I would just feel completely out of control and not present the the everyday world.

Just recently I fell through one of those trap doors.  I was going to dinner with some friends, riding in their car and an old Linda Ronstadt song came on, "Love Has No Pride".  It is not even about death, but I just could not stop crying.  I know I ruined the evening for everyone.  I just couldn't get myself back together.  I couldn't eat. I couldn't be sociable. They didn't say it, but I know they were thinking, it's been more than 2 years, Gail is just being a drama queen. 

I don't want to be a drama queen, but there still are these rips in the universe, or trap doors I don't see coming, where I just fall back into overwhelming grief.

I look forward to the day when i can say " i don't remember how long that trap door period lasted, but i haven't fallen into the abyss in a long time". 

Peace,

Gail

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And if they were going through it they'd realize that two years is nothing in the grand scheme of things, it takes all of that and so much more to adjust to living our lives with all the changes this means to us, and never do we stop missing our spouse.

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10 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

Just recently I fell through one of those trap doors.  I was going to dinner with some friends, riding in their car and an old Linda Ronstadt song came on, "Love Has No Pride".  It is not even about death, but I just could not stop crying.  I know I ruined the evening for everyone.  I just couldn't get myself back together.  I couldn't eat. I couldn't be sociable. They didn't say it, but I know they were thinking, it's been more than 2 years, Gail is just being a drama queen. 

I don't want to be a drama queen, but there still are these rips in the universe, or trap doors I don't see coming, where I just fall back into overwhelming grief.

I look forward to the day when i can say " i don't remember how long that trap door period lasted, but i haven't fallen into the abyss in a long time". 

Peace,

Gail

After my daughter died I joined a group that did lay counseling for people who have lost a child.  My phone was the main call number.  I had a call one day from a young woman whose friend had lost his son.  She said "He just doesn't seem to be getting over this.  I don't know what to do."  I asked her how long it had been.  Her reply, "Six months!"  I told her I would give her some perspective.  From the day my daughter died until the day I was pretty sure I wouldn't die and wither on the spot from the pain was a year.  From that point to where I felt as close to normal as I would ever get was another two years.  She was shocked.  Most people are.  I'm older now and I am moving through the experience of my husband's death with a bit more grace but I don't ever see "getting over" it.  I see weaving it into the fabric of my life in a way that makes it tolerable.  Those rips in the universe and trapdoors can blindside you.  They sure do me.  There are still places I can't drive by without thinking of my daughter or her daddy, places that are draped with their memories.  Time eases things somewhat but there are still those rips and trapdoors.  They get further apart and lessen in intensity but they are a part of the process.  Bless you.

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21 hours ago, Makaren said:

I don't ever see "getting over" it.  I see weaving it into the fabric of my life in a way that makes it tolerable. 

Exactly.  I lost my husband 14 years ago.  You never "get over it" and don't even start me on "move on!"  The pain gradually lessens as we get used to the changes it makes to our lives but we continue to love and miss them.  I am so sorry for you losses.

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