Love of my life died suddenly (covid) and I can't accept it -- so many regrets

[April Ballou]

Yeah saying I'm sorry and saying I love you just one more time but unfortunately we are here.  I'm sorry that you had to lose Sandra I'm sorry to all those on here that have lost someone.  But somehow we have to go on living.  

[BBB]

Guilt is a very normal feeling in this instance but I'm sure that while we all could have done better, we did our best. 

[KayC]

13 hours ago, Veda86 said:

I did the same math when my love died - I’m 35, might make it to my 90s.  That’s maybe 60 years without this person here on earth with me. It is devastating, i’m very sorry for your loss and can only say the support I’ve received so far from this forum is a great help along with grief counseling.  

I was 52 when George died, my family lives to mid 90s, the thought of 40 years w/o him sent me into a tailspin, exascerbating my ever present anxiety to the extreme...I learned not to think about the whole "rest of my life," instead, just get through today.  I tell myself "I can do today."  And so I continue still, almost 16 years later, one day at a time.  It's the only way I can do this.

[KayC]

13 hours ago, April Ballou said:

Mark loves Sandra I know what you mean about guilt, I was the one who told the doctor to turn the machines off.  The never ending feeling I should have left them on.

And yet you did not snuff his life out, that was already gone, it was machines doing the motions of breathing for him...not "him."  Guilt as we know it is irrational, a byproduct of grief, as if we don't have enough on our plate!  It makes no earthly sense as we loved each other more than life itself, and yet here we are, dealing with grief, coming with it the guilt.

Guilt and Regret in Grief
Grief and the Burden of Guilt
Coping with “Moment-of-Death Guilt”
Happy Feelings

 

 

[Dogloverx5]

On 2/2/2021 at 5:42 PM, Mark loves Sandra said:

My "angel" and I in happier times . . . . 

Hi Everyone,

This is my first time posting, and I'm a mess -- which is unusual for me.  I'm a 52 year old engineer and am normally pretty composed, but then I've never had to face anything vaguely like this.  And it seems like everyone else on here is facing similar staggering grief.  So I'll just pour my heart out and maybe it will help someone else here, and possibly be a little cathartic for me too.

 

So, first of all, my wife (Sandra) was Brazilian, and a licensed speech-language pathologist in Brazil.  We met late in life (she was 56) and were still head over heals for each other after 3 years together.  Together we navigated the incredibly convoluted and years-long immigration process and finally in January of 2020 we got a "fiance" visa that allowed her to come to the US.  We were married 2 days after she arrived in May 2020 (17 hours before the borders were closed to flights from Brazil).  Life was very simple, but we enjoyed every moment.  Sitting watching Netflix (in Portuguese), taking walks in the parks, and -- heaven help me -- going to Hobby Lobby (she was like a kid in a candy store in that place).  Laughing as she helped me improve my Portuguese.  Then came a scheduled business trip for me back to Brazil in December of last year.  And here's where things go downhill.

 

After being there for about 15 days, she contracted covid -- as did her adult children and several other relatives that we were visiting.  But here's where I went wrong.  I had already had covid -- with virtually no symptoms.  Same with everyone else in our circle down there -- almost no symptoms -- a nuisance at most.  And . . . . Sandra had a tendency to be a tad dramatic.  So . . . .  knowing all this, I didn't take her covid seriously.   For 5 days she was coughing and constantly checking her blood oxygen level and taking 9 gajillion over-the-counter medications.  I just kept telling her to relax, stay in bed, and recuperate.  In fact, I was somewhat annoyed that she was making such a big deal out of it.  And I let my annoyance show through multiple times -- being less than totally caring.  She needed my support, and I wasn't fully there for her because I thought she was making too big a deal out of it (knowing that we weren't in a demographic that was typically at risk for serious covid ramifications).  Then on the fifth day, she called me at work and begged me to come pick her up and take her to the hospital.  Exasperated, I left work, made the 40 minute drive back to the hotel and picked her up in the lobby -- she just seemed very weak to me, but nothing more.  I took her to the ER and they took her back (I wasn't allowed in due to covid).  I waited in the lobby -- I figured they'd give her a few hours of oxygen and then we could be done with this overreaction and go back to the hotel.  After 4 hours waiting, a nurse came out and told me that Sandra wasn't going to be released that night.  I asked what time in the morning I could pick her up.  The nurse said it would more likely be a couple days.  Geez -- what a hassle I thought.  Well "a couple days" turned into 10 days.  Somehow the last couple of nights I managed to sit with her in the evenings (she was no longer contagious, but had pneumonia), and my usual question was "When can we get you out of here?".  The evening of the 10th day she asked me to spend the night in the hospital with her.  To my eternal regret, I said I my contact lenses would dry out (can you believe it?), and I had to work in the morning, etc.  So she took off her oxygen mask and quietly said "Eu te amo" (I love you).  I said the same, gave her a small kiss and said I would see her the next evening.  The next morning I received a text from her son that said she had been intubated.  NOW, I started to get a little concerned -- but her sister (a nurse) said her vitals looked fine and the intubation would allow her to relax, so I stopped worrying.  Each evening thereafter we received a summary text from the hospital about her condition.  Each day was fine -- "patient vitals good, responding well to antibiotics", etc.  No problem.  Then . . . . on the fourth day of intubation, I was sitting in a restaurant at 7:27 pm eating a salad and wondering why the text from the hospital had not come out yet.  Then I got a text from her son -- he said "Mark, I got the message from the hospital -- and it's not good."  Suddenly my world went dark and my head was swirling -- suddenly I grasped how ridiculously nonchalant I had been.  I frantically texted back to her son "NO ! don't send me the information."  But he had already forwarded me the message.  It was in Portuguese and my muddled brain was struggling to translate.  I managed to understand "pupils fixed and dilated" but then couldn't comprehend the next phrases.  After a few moments, her son sent me the horrifying translation:  "massive stroke" -- and the hospital wanted to see me and the kids at 10:00 am the next day.  I paid and stumbled out of the restaurant and managed to somehow drive over to her son's apartment (I apparently got two traffic tickets from automated radar on the way over).  We all gathered there crying.  But somehow we managed to convince ourselves that a neurosurgeon could drill a hole in her skull and relieve the blood pressure (my dad had this done when I was young) and all might be fine.  We decided the hospital surgeons wanted to meet us the next day to ask permission for some emergency procedure.  And so the next day we (me, two adult kids, and sister) met at the hospital and were led downstairs to an area with some chairs.  We sat down and a group of four doctors came over and one started speaking to the kids and sister in Portuguese, then she suddenly turned to me and said -- in English -- two words that destroyed my world -- "brain dead".  I collapsed in the chair sobbing.  I begged the doctors -- in badly mangled Portuguese -- to tell me there was a chance of recovery -- ANY chance.  They just sadly shook their heads no.  [As I write this, tears are literally dripping on my keyboard and my heart feels like it's being squeezed into a ball].  I continued to cry uncontrollably and beg for a glimmer of hope, but the doctors were resolute -- Sandra would never regain consciousness.  A CT scan of her head was horrifying -- a giant pool of blood taking up about a third of her brain.  And with that my will to live evaporated.  Later that day she was taken off life support and she died.  That night her sister took me to the funeral home and in a daze I picked out a coffin and countless other gruesome choices ("heavy, medium, or light makeup?", etc.).  The next day we said our final goodbyes and she was buried.  In the space of 36 hours in late December I had gone from wondering when my beloved wife would finally get out of the hospital to seeing dirt being piled on her casket.  I left Brazil the day after Christmas in a daze.

 

And so I entered this world all of you have described -- intense pain, agony, disbelief.  And mind-bending REGRET.  Were it not for my 20 year-old son, I very likely would have killed myself over the next several days.  I genuinely wanted to die (and still do), but couldn't imagine putting my son in this same pain.  So I stumbled along.  But I can't deal with this.  Each and every damn morning I wake up and for 3 or 4 seconds I think Sandra and I have just broken up and all I need to do is text her quickly and send some roses, and grab a flight to Brazil.  Then reality comes crashing down:  Sandra is DEAD!  I will not see her EVER AGAIN!  Period.  No way to change this.  No way to fix it.  I have all manner of irrational thoughts.  I'm distraught that she has embalming fluid in her because how can she come back with embalming fluid in her veins?  I'm distraught that she's buried because that will make it very difficult for her to get out of the casket.  I check my Whatsapp to see if she has texted me.  I wonder if she will come back to me in someone else's body.  And I incessantly berate myself for not taking her illness more seriously [more tears dripping on my keyboard].  And, oh my god, WHY DIDN'T I STAY WITH HER IN THE HOSPITAL THAT LAST NIGHT WHEN SHE ASKED ???   I can't stop thinking about all the things I could have done to change the course of the story.   And I blew it.  I feel like I had the winning lottery ticket in my hand and I just let it blow away in the wind.  I was blessed with a gift that was so special to me -- and I let her slip through my fingers.

 

I can't take this pain.  I can't sleep -- I get maybe 2 hours per night.  I'm so shaky I can barely text my son.  I have zero appetite and have lost 15 lbs.  Life seems cold, scary and pointless.  I hold our wedding rings and say to thin air "Sandra, why did you leave me?" [now I'm crying so much I can barely type].  I keep thinking something will change and she will "come back".  Or I have darker thoughts that I'll go find her.  I just feel lost and don't care about much.  I go through the motions at work.  I find things in my notebook that she wrote in Portuguese and break down crying.  I have waves of the thought "Oh my god, she's dead."  that hit me like a brick wall.  I can't fathom that I will NEVER see her again.  Perhaps I'll be alive for another 30 years -- and in that 30 years I'll never be able to twirl her hair in my fingers again.  So those 30 years are worthless to me.    I just don't want to go on.

 

Thank you all for listening.  I wish my pain and agony was only something I have to suffer, but no, it sounds like we're all going through something similar.  What a sh*tty world.  I'm so sorry for all of us.  It's just not fair.  I want my Sandra back . . . .

 

[April Ballou]

Well it's been 7 months today since Darrell left me here all by myself.  Easter was just another reminder of how lonely I am.  I saw all the families with smiling faces enjoying their  spouses, children, and grandchildren, and here I am all alone.  My kids have spouses and children of their own so I get to stay in my house all alone.  Still trying to find myself.  I never liked being by myself but yet here I am.  I see people here and there but at the end of the day I get to come home all alone.  I miss Darrell everyday.  Having conversations with him, or just looking at him smiling and telling him "I love you".  I will never get to do that again.  Getting to hold his hand, hugging and kissing him, never get to do that again.  Why am I here on this earth?  It seems like all I do is cause problems.  If God had taken me home an left Darrell here I think everyone would be happier.  I can't do anything right it seems like.  I just wished I wasnt here, but I pray and seek the Lord and He tells me the same thing.  Wait and see.  

[Dogloverx5]

On 2/2/2021 at 5:42 PM, Mark loves Sandra said:

My "angel" and I in happier times . . . . 

Hi Everyone,

This is my first time posting, and I'm a mess -- which is unusual for me.  I'm a 52 year old engineer and am normally pretty composed, but then I've never had to face anything vaguely like this.  And it seems like everyone else on here is facing similar staggering grief.  So I'll just pour my heart out and maybe it will help someone else here, and possibly be a little cathartic for me too.

 

So, first of all, my wife (Sandra) was Brazilian, and a licensed speech-language pathologist in Brazil.  We met late in life (she was 56) and were still head over heals for each other after 3 years together.  Together we navigated the incredibly convoluted and years-long immigration process and finally in January of 2020 we got a "fiance" visa that allowed her to come to the US.  We were married 2 days after she arrived in May 2020 (17 hours before the borders were closed to flights from Brazil).  Life was very simple, but we enjoyed every moment.  Sitting watching Netflix (in Portuguese), taking walks in the parks, and -- heaven help me -- going to Hobby Lobby (she was like a kid in a candy store in that place).  Laughing as she helped me improve my Portuguese.  Then came a scheduled business trip for me back to Brazil in December of last year.  And here's where things go downhill.

 

After being there for about 15 days, she contracted covid -- as did her adult children and several other relatives that we were visiting.  But here's where I went wrong.  I had already had covid -- with virtually no symptoms.  Same with everyone else in our circle down there -- almost no symptoms -- a nuisance at most.  And . . . . Sandra had a tendency to be a tad dramatic.  So . . . .  knowing all this, I didn't take her covid seriously.   For 5 days she was coughing and constantly checking her blood oxygen level and taking 9 gajillion over-the-counter medications.  I just kept telling her to relax, stay in bed, and recuperate.  In fact, I was somewhat annoyed that she was making such a big deal out of it.  And I let my annoyance show through multiple times -- being less than totally caring.  She needed my support, and I wasn't fully there for her because I thought she was making too big a deal out of it (knowing that we weren't in a demographic that was typically at risk for serious covid ramifications).  Then on the fifth day, she called me at work and begged me to come pick her up and take her to the hospital.  Exasperated, I left work, made the 40 minute drive back to the hotel and picked her up in the lobby -- she just seemed very weak to me, but nothing more.  I took her to the ER and they took her back (I wasn't allowed in due to covid).  I waited in the lobby -- I figured they'd give her a few hours of oxygen and then we could be done with this overreaction and go back to the hotel.  After 4 hours waiting, a nurse came out and told me that Sandra wasn't going to be released that night.  I asked what time in the morning I could pick her up.  The nurse said it would more likely be a couple days.  Geez -- what a hassle I thought.  Well "a couple days" turned into 10 days.  Somehow the last couple of nights I managed to sit with her in the evenings (she was no longer contagious, but had pneumonia), and my usual question was "When can we get you out of here?".  The evening of the 10th day she asked me to spend the night in the hospital with her.  To my eternal regret, I said I my contact lenses would dry out (can you believe it?), and I had to work in the morning, etc.  So she took off her oxygen mask and quietly said "Eu te amo" (I love you).  I said the same, gave her a small kiss and said I would see her the next evening.  The next morning I received a text from her son that said she had been intubated.  NOW, I started to get a little concerned -- but her sister (a nurse) said her vitals looked fine and the intubation would allow her to relax, so I stopped worrying.  Each evening thereafter we received a summary text from the hospital about her condition.  Each day was fine -- "patient vitals good, responding well to antibiotics", etc.  No problem.  Then . . . . on the fourth day of intubation, I was sitting in a restaurant at 7:27 pm eating a salad and wondering why the text from the hospital had not come out yet.  Then I got a text from her son -- he said "Mark, I got the message from the hospital -- and it's not good."  Suddenly my world went dark and my head was swirling -- suddenly I grasped how ridiculously nonchalant I had been.  I frantically texted back to her son "NO ! don't send me the information."  But he had already forwarded me the message.  It was in Portuguese and my muddled brain was struggling to translate.  I managed to understand "pupils fixed and dilated" but then couldn't comprehend the next phrases.  After a few moments, her son sent me the horrifying translation:  "massive stroke" -- and the hospital wanted to see me and the kids at 10:00 am the next day.  I paid and stumbled out of the restaurant and managed to somehow drive over to her son's apartment (I apparently got two traffic tickets from automated radar on the way over).  We all gathered there crying.  But somehow we managed to convince ourselves that a neurosurgeon could drill a hole in her skull and relieve the blood pressure (my dad had this done when I was young) and all might be fine.  We decided the hospital surgeons wanted to meet us the next day to ask permission for some emergency procedure.  And so the next day we (me, two adult kids, and sister) met at the hospital and were led downstairs to an area with some chairs.  We sat down and a group of four doctors came over and one started speaking to the kids and sister in Portuguese, then she suddenly turned to me and said -- in English -- two words that destroyed my world -- "brain dead".  I collapsed in the chair sobbing.  I begged the doctors -- in badly mangled Portuguese -- to tell me there was a chance of recovery -- ANY chance.  They just sadly shook their heads no.  [As I write this, tears are literally dripping on my keyboard and my heart feels like it's being squeezed into a ball].  I continued to cry uncontrollably and beg for a glimmer of hope, but the doctors were resolute -- Sandra would never regain consciousness.  A CT scan of her head was horrifying -- a giant pool of blood taking up about a third of her brain.  And with that my will to live evaporated.  Later that day she was taken off life support and she died.  That night her sister took me to the funeral home and in a daze I picked out a coffin and countless other gruesome choices ("heavy, medium, or light makeup?", etc.).  The next day we said our final goodbyes and she was buried.  In the space of 36 hours in late December I had gone from wondering when my beloved wife would finally get out of the hospital to seeing dirt being piled on her casket.  I left Brazil the day after Christmas in a daze.

 

And so I entered this world all of you have described -- intense pain, agony, disbelief.  And mind-bending REGRET.  Were it not for my 20 year-old son, I very likely would have killed myself over the next several days.  I genuinely wanted to die (and still do), but couldn't imagine putting my son in this same pain.  So I stumbled along.  But I can't deal with this.  Each and every damn morning I wake up and for 3 or 4 seconds I think Sandra and I have just broken up and all I need to do is text her quickly and send some roses, and grab a flight to Brazil.  Then reality comes crashing down:  Sandra is DEAD!  I will not see her EVER AGAIN!  Period.  No way to change this.  No way to fix it.  I have all manner of irrational thoughts.  I'm distraught that she has embalming fluid in her because how can she come back with embalming fluid in her veins?  I'm distraught that she's buried because that will make it very difficult for her to get out of the casket.  I check my Whatsapp to see if she has texted me.  I wonder if she will come back to me in someone else's body.  And I incessantly berate myself for not taking her illness more seriously [more tears dripping on my keyboard].  And, oh my god, WHY DIDN'T I STAY WITH HER IN THE HOSPITAL THAT LAST NIGHT WHEN SHE ASKED ???   I can't stop thinking about all the things I could have done to change the course of the story.   And I blew it.  I feel like I had the winning lottery ticket in my hand and I just let it blow away in the wind.  I was blessed with a gift that was so special to me -- and I let her slip through my fingers.

 

I can't take this pain.  I can't sleep -- I get maybe 2 hours per night.  I'm so shaky I can barely text my son.  I have zero appetite and have lost 15 lbs.  Life seems cold, scary and pointless.  I hold our wedding rings and say to thin air "Sandra, why did you leave me?" [now I'm crying so much I can barely type].  I keep thinking something will change and she will "come back".  Or I have darker thoughts that I'll go find her.  I just feel lost and don't care about much.  I go through the motions at work.  I find things in my notebook that she wrote in Portuguese and break down crying.  I have waves of the thought "Oh my god, she's dead."  that hit me like a brick wall.  I can't fathom that I will NEVER see her again.  Perhaps I'll be alive for another 30 years -- and in that 30 years I'll never be able to twirl her hair in my fingers again.  So those 30 years are worthless to me.    I just don't want to go on.

 

Thank you all for listening.  I wish my pain and agony was only something I have to suffer, but no, it sounds like we're all going through something similar.  What a sh*tty world.  I'm so sorry for all of us.  It's just not fair.  I want my Sandra back . . . .

 

[Dogloverx5]

Thank you for sharing. This resonated with me in so many ways. I have friends and family but you captured alot of my feelings. Learning everyday to live without my loved one is soooo hard. Your story let me know that other people that are grieving "Get It". Thank you.

[KayC]

11 hours ago, April Ballou said:

If God had taken me home an left Darrell here I think everyone would be happier.

I doubt that, and Darrell would not have been, for sure!  Sometimes we underestimate our impact on others (Remember "It's a Wonderful Life?")  Be that as it may, your impression is your reality and my opinion does little to diminish that feeling to you.    Just know that we care, and I hope you'll continue to post/vent, whatever helps you in the moment, we're here listening.  

Just now, Dogloverx5 said:

Thank you for sharing. This resonated with me in so many ways. I have friends and family but you captured alot of my feelings. Learning everyday to live without my loved one is soooo hard. Your story let me know that other people that are grieving "Get It". Thank you.

I was just about to ask you to post some of your story, and hope that you will.  I'm glad you found someone who gave voice to your feelings, it helps to validate our own grief.  Yes, this process/adjustment is so hard!  The hardest thing I've been through.  That I've lost so many pets since and had to deal with that alone, as well as loss of jobs, mom, sister, friends, on TOP of losing my husband, it's a lot.  Grief is part of my life now, to stay.  
 

I want to share an article I wrote of the things I've found helpful over the years, in the hopes something will be of help to you either now or on down the road.

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 or www.crisis textline.org or US and Canada: text 741741 UK: text 85258 | Ireland: text 50808
• 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.

[April Ballou]

2 hours ago, KayC said:

I doubt that, and Darrell would not have been, for sure!  Sometimes we underestimate our impact on others (Remember "It's a Wonderful Life?")  Be that as it may, your impression is your reality and my opinion does little to diminish that feeling to you.    Just know that we care, and I hope you'll continue to post/vent, whatever helps you in the moment, we're here listening.  

I was just about to ask you to post some of your story, and hope that you will.  I'm glad you found someone who gave voice to your feelings, it helps to validate our own grief.  Yes, this process/adjustment is so hard!  The hardest thing I've been through.  That I've lost so many pets since and had to deal with that alone, as well as loss of jobs, mom, sister, friends, on TOP of losing my husband, it's a lot.  Grief is part of my life now, to stay.  
 

I want to share an article I wrote of the things I've found helpful over the years, in the hopes something will be of help to you either now or on down the road.

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 or www.crisis textline.org or US and Canada: text 741741 UK: text 85258 | Ireland: text 50808
• 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.

 

[April Ballou]

Never seen the movie "Its a wonderful life "  but I know that God has something in store for me or I wouldn't be here.  Almost nine years ago I had a motorcycle wreck and as I lay on the ground I asked God why didnt you take me home.  He said " I have a job for you to do".  Then after Darrell died an old friend  told me that what ever that job is I couldn't do it with Darrell here on this earth.  I know that with God everything happens for a reason.  It just hurts to think that after 38 years of marriage now I'm all alone.  Although I have family that are there any time I need them, but at the end of the day I am still in my house all alone.  

[April Ballou]

This is a picture of Darrell.  He stole my heart we fell in love were married on July 31, 1982.  Now my heart is broken because he is in heaven.  

[Gail 8588]

Great smile and twinkle in his eye. 

Gail

[KayC]

Oh April,  I feel your pain, my heart goes out to you as you're missing him to the depths of your soul..  I hope you will find "It's a Wonderful Life" and watch it, one of the all time classics and a must watch for all of us.  So important to know your value and to really get it.  It can be hard when the one person that loved you above all is gone, but now we learn to value ourselves, a good thing to learn.    You'll get to be with that twinkle & smile again!  Those thoughts hold me.

[April Ballou]

17 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

Great smile and twinkle in his eye. 

Gail

That's what made me fall in love with him.  It's those eyes and that smile I know where he is, but I sure do miss him.

[foreverhis]

26 minutes ago, April Ballou said:

That's what made me fall in love with him.  It's those eyes and that smile I know where he is, but I sure do miss him.

Oh, your Darrell has that same little "Heh-heh-heh" grin and the twinkle in his eyes that my John had.  I do know what you mean about falling in love with him because of them.

The first time I saw John, I was standing on stage during a technical rehearsal while the lighting crew fiddled with something.  Let me tell you, those rehearsals can be sooo boring.  I looked down into the orchestra because I heard a laugh.  We had two new trombone players.  One was very, very classically handsome (and turned out to be a very nice man I coincidentally ended up working with at my actual job).  But the other, oh the other, was certainly good looking, just not in a "leading man" sort of way.  He was the one who stole my heart right then and there.  He was the one laughing at a joke.  His blue eyes were all crinkled up, his grin was a mile wide, and his laugh was wonderful.  I asked my on-stage romantic partner (who was a good platonic friend), "Who is that new trombone player?" and he replied, "I don't know, but I think you should find out." 

Over 2 years we went from friends of friends to casual friends within the same theater and music circles to friends.  Finally, he got the message that I wanted him to ask me out.  We had our first date and that was it for both of us.  We just knew.

I suppose that's where some of the guilt comes in for me.  For a long time, I asked myself why I couldn't save him.  Our bond was so strong and had seen us through so much.  Why wasn't that enough?  Why didn't I do more?  How could I let it happen?  and on and on.  While I still feel that guilt and ask those questions of myself sometimes, time has allowed me to realize that I am not omnipotent, I will not have all (or really any of) the answers in this life time, and that accepting the reality of losing him is not the same as believing it was fair or right because it wasn't.  I am learning to forgive myself and working on turning that guilt into regret instead.  Boy, it's a long and hard process, but I look back and can see that I am making progress. 

I was also angry for a pretty long time and still harbor some resentment toward the medical community.  But I realize that hanging on to that anger and resentment helps no one, especially me.  It will not change what happened; it will not bring him back. 

My greatest hope is that when it is my time, he will be there to greet me with a loving heart and open arms, having forgiven me for my all too human faults and failings.  I hang on to that faith to help me through some of the dark times.

Your Darrell looks like a charmer for sure!  No wonder you fell in love with him.

[KayC]

Oh gosh,it was everything about George that made me fall in love with him!  The way we connected, was number one, we could relate and communicate well, he gave the best bear hugs, he had the most beautiful blue eyes that sometimes turned green, I loved how he listened intently and understood me better than anyone in the world, I loved his voice, the protective way he was with me, I felt when he held me it was the best place in all the world to be!  

I can so relate to what you guys say here, we loved our guys, that's for sure...and they loved us.  I believe it still continues even though we can't reach each other for now.

[April Ballou]

Yes it's TRUE even though our spouses are not here the love that we have for them is still there.

[Linda C]

On 2/2/2021 at 7:42 PM, Mark loves Sandra said:

My "angel" and I in happier times . . . . 

Hi Everyone,

This is my first time posting, and I'm a mess -- which is unusual for me.  I'm a 52 year old engineer and am normally pretty composed, but then I've never had to face anything vaguely like this.  And it seems like everyone else on here is facing similar staggering grief.  So I'll just pour my heart out and maybe it will help someone else here, and possibly be a little cathartic for me too.

 

So, first of all, my wife (Sandra) was Brazilian, and a licensed speech-language pathologist in Brazil.  We met late in life (she was 56) and were still head over heals for each other after 3 years together.  Together we navigated the incredibly convoluted and years-long immigration process and finally in January of 2020 we got a "fiance" visa that allowed her to come to the US.  We were married 2 days after she arrived in May 2020 (17 hours before the borders were closed to flights from Brazil).  Life was very simple, but we enjoyed every moment.  Sitting watching Netflix (in Portuguese), taking walks in the parks, and -- heaven help me -- going to Hobby Lobby (she was like a kid in a candy store in that place).  Laughing as she helped me improve my Portuguese.  Then came a scheduled business trip for me back to Brazil in December of last year.  And here's where things go downhill.

 

After being there for about 15 days, she contracted covid -- as did her adult children and several other relatives that we were visiting.  But here's where I went wrong.  I had already had covid -- with virtually no symptoms.  Same with everyone else in our circle down there -- almost no symptoms -- a nuisance at most.  And . . . . Sandra had a tendency to be a tad dramatic.  So . . . .  knowing all this, I didn't take her covid seriously.   For 5 days she was coughing and constantly checking her blood oxygen level and taking 9 gajillion over-the-counter medications.  I just kept telling her to relax, stay in bed, and recuperate.  In fact, I was somewhat annoyed that she was making such a big deal out of it.  And I let my annoyance show through multiple times -- being less than totally caring.  She needed my support, and I wasn't fully there for her because I thought she was making too big a deal out of it (knowing that we weren't in a demographic that was typically at risk for serious covid ramifications).  Then on the fifth day, she called me at work and begged me to come pick her up and take her to the hospital.  Exasperated, I left work, made the 40 minute drive back to the hotel and picked her up in the lobby -- she just seemed very weak to me, but nothing more.  I took her to the ER and they took her back (I wasn't allowed in due to covid).  I waited in the lobby -- I figured they'd give her a few hours of oxygen and then we could be done with this overreaction and go back to the hotel.  After 4 hours waiting, a nurse came out and told me that Sandra wasn't going to be released that night.  I asked what time in the morning I could pick her up.  The nurse said it would more likely be a couple days.  Geez -- what a hassle I thought.  Well "a couple days" turned into 10 days.  Somehow the last couple of nights I managed to sit with her in the evenings (she was no longer contagious, but had pneumonia), and my usual question was "When can we get you out of here?".  The evening of the 10th day she asked me to spend the night in the hospital with her.  To my eternal regret, I said I my contact lenses would dry out (can you believe it?), and I had to work in the morning, etc.  So she took off her oxygen mask and quietly said "Eu te amo" (I love you).  I said the same, gave her a small kiss and said I would see her the next evening.  The next morning I received a text from her son that said she had been intubated.  NOW, I started to get a little concerned -- but her sister (a nurse) said her vitals looked fine and the intubation would allow her to relax, so I stopped worrying.  Each evening thereafter we received a summary text from the hospital about her condition.  Each day was fine -- "patient vitals good, responding well to antibiotics", etc.  No problem.  Then . . . . on the fourth day of intubation, I was sitting in a restaurant at 7:27 pm eating a salad and wondering why the text from the hospital had not come out yet.  Then I got a text from her son -- he said "Mark, I got the message from the hospital -- and it's not good."  Suddenly my world went dark and my head was swirling -- suddenly I grasped how ridiculously nonchalant I had been.  I frantically texted back to her son "NO ! don't send me the information."  But he had already forwarded me the message.  It was in Portuguese and my muddled brain was struggling to translate.  I managed to understand "pupils fixed and dilated" but then couldn't comprehend the next phrases.  After a few moments, her son sent me the horrifying translation:  "massive stroke" -- and the hospital wanted to see me and the kids at 10:00 am the next day.  I paid and stumbled out of the restaurant and managed to somehow drive over to her son's apartment (I apparently got two traffic tickets from automated radar on the way over).  We all gathered there crying.  But somehow we managed to convince ourselves that a neurosurgeon could drill a hole in her skull and relieve the blood pressure (my dad had this done when I was young) and all might be fine.  We decided the hospital surgeons wanted to meet us the next day to ask permission for some emergency procedure.  And so the next day we (me, two adult kids, and sister) met at the hospital and were led downstairs to an area with some chairs.  We sat down and a group of four doctors came over and one started speaking to the kids and sister in Portuguese, then she suddenly turned to me and said -- in English -- two words that destroyed my world -- "brain dead".  I collapsed in the chair sobbing.  I begged the doctors -- in badly mangled Portuguese -- to tell me there was a chance of recovery -- ANY chance.  They just sadly shook their heads no.  [As I write this, tears are literally dripping on my keyboard and my heart feels like it's being squeezed into a ball].  I continued to cry uncontrollably and beg for a glimmer of hope, but the doctors were resolute -- Sandra would never regain consciousness.  A CT scan of her head was horrifying -- a giant pool of blood taking up about a third of her brain.  And with that my will to live evaporated.  Later that day she was taken off life support and she died.  That night her sister took me to the funeral home and in a daze I picked out a coffin and countless other gruesome choices ("heavy, medium, or light makeup?", etc.).  The next day we said our final goodbyes and she was buried.  In the space of 36 hours in late December I had gone from wondering when my beloved wife would finally get out of the hospital to seeing dirt being piled on her casket.  I left Brazil the day after Christmas in a daze.

 

And so I entered this world all of you have described -- intense pain, agony, disbelief.  And mind-bending REGRET.  Were it not for my 20 year-old son, I very likely would have killed myself over the next several days.  I genuinely wanted to die (and still do), but couldn't imagine putting my son in this same pain.  So I stumbled along.  But I can't deal with this.  Each and every damn morning I wake up and for 3 or 4 seconds I think Sandra and I have just broken up and all I need to do is text her quickly and send some roses, and grab a flight to Brazil.  Then reality comes crashing down:  Sandra is DEAD!  I will not see her EVER AGAIN!  Period.  No way to change this.  No way to fix it.  I have all manner of irrational thoughts.  I'm distraught that she has embalming fluid in her because how can she come back with embalming fluid in her veins?  I'm distraught that she's buried because that will make it very difficult for her to get out of the casket.  I check my Whatsapp to see if she has texted me.  I wonder if she will come back to me in someone else's body.  And I incessantly berate myself for not taking her illness more seriously [more tears dripping on my keyboard].  And, oh my god, WHY DIDN'T I STAY WITH HER IN THE HOSPITAL THAT LAST NIGHT WHEN SHE ASKED ???   I can't stop thinking about all the things I could have done to change the course of the story.   And I blew it.  I feel like I had the winning lottery ticket in my hand and I just let it blow away in the wind.  I was blessed with a gift that was so special to me -- and I let her slip through my fingers.

 

I can't take this pain.  I can't sleep -- I get maybe 2 hours per night.  I'm so shaky I can barely text my son.  I have zero appetite and have lost 15 lbs.  Life seems cold, scary and pointless.  I hold our wedding rings and say to thin air "Sandra, why did you leave me?" [now I'm crying so much I can barely type].  I keep thinking something will change and she will "come back".  Or I have darker thoughts that I'll go find her.  I just feel lost and don't care about much.  I go through the motions at work.  I find things in my notebook that she wrote in Portuguese and break down crying.  I have waves of the thought "Oh my god, she's dead."  that hit me like a brick wall.  I can't fathom that I will NEVER see her again.  Perhaps I'll be alive for another 30 years -- and in that 30 years I'll never be able to twirl her hair in my fingers again.  So those 30 years are worthless to me.    I just don't want to go on.

 

Thank you all for listening.  I wish my pain and agony was only something I have to suffer, but no, it sounds like we're all going through something similar.  What a sh*tty world.  I'm so sorry for all of us.  It's just not fair.  I want my Sandra back . . . .

 

[Mark loves Sandra]

@April Ballou Nice picture of Darrell. Better days . . . .

@Linda C  Hope my story helps you know that your pain is understood.  Deeply.  Go ahead, spill your heart out.

@foreverhis  Your story about meeting John is uplifting to say the least.  I'm (was) a woodwind player (sax) myself, but brass players are OK too.  But seriously, that "Why wasn't our bond enough to save him?" is what eats at me every day.  Sandra loved me so much, and I her . . . . how could that not be enough to get her through covid.  How could our love not just keep it at a bad cough? If she loved me so much, why would she let herself be intubated?  Or worse, why wasn't I there that Sunday morning to beg her to breathe and avoid the intubation.  Why didn't I stay that night she asked me to?  I hope I eventually come to grips with it to some degree as you have, because right now I'm wracked with guilt and regret.

@Dogloverx5  Indeed we "get it'.  I sure wish I didn't.  You lost your husband one month before my world came crashing down.  What I would give for just a little more time with Sandra -- you undoubtedly feel exactly the same.  I never play the lottery because the odds or so ridiculous, and yet I hit the powerball with Sandra.  To anyone else she was just a nice lady, a loving mom, and (haha) a woman struggling to understand the English concept of "it" (think about saying "It is raining." -- exactly what is the "it" in that sentence???).  But to me -- like everyone else's significant other to them -- she was a rare gemstone.  Something I can't reasonably expect to come across again in this life.   So I'm faced with the thought that I got my lucky break, that rarest of opportunities to be with someone who completes you, and . . . . lost it.

You know, early on when Sandra and I were dating we broke up several times over very practical matters -- I was particularly concerned about taking her away from her culture, profession, and adult children.  But in those separations it was always immediately clear that we would just have to figure this stuff out because we were miserable without each other.  I clearly remember sitting in a corner one night with tears streaming down my face saying to myself "Damn, I just can't live without her."  And now I'm in exactly that place I dreaded -- I have to live without her.   I can't learn enough Portuguese, or absorb enough of her culture, to bring her back.  There's no way to fix this.  The hardest part is the realization that even if I eventually become able to live with this pain, I'll never again be able to brush the tangles out of her hair after a shower.  My time in the sun is gone.  It's just permanently over.  I don't know how to live with this harsh reality.

And, of course, you all understand this perfectly.  What a shame.

--Mark

[April Ballou]

@Mark loves Sandra I know what you mean there are days when I see myself at the hospital watching the machines breathe for Darrell wondering about the "why" or the "what ifs".  But no matter what it doesn't change anything.  Sandra would not want you trying to bring her back or worrying about the why's or the what if.  I think she would want you to live the best way possible. I am dealing with that, trying to live my life.  But its the nightmares and the dreams that keep me awake.  Then I pray and God answers my prayer. I still don't believe that Darrell had Covid, but at the end of the day it doesn't matter because he's gone and so is Sandra.  There's nothing that we can say or do to bring them back.  

[Sparky1]

2 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

I don't know how to live with this harsh reality.

Mark, this is what hurts the most in my life right now. The realization that she's not here anymore, even though I keep hoping she would miraculously come back. There are moments that I get that despair, almost like a panic knowing she's not with me. I'm still finding it a very tough going and the heartache is almost literal, I don't know what to do other than to just keep going.

[Gail 8588]

4 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

There's no way to fix this.  The hardest part is the realization that even if I eventually become able to live with this pain, I'll never again be able to brush the tangles out of her hair after a shower.  My time in the sun is gone.  It's just permanently over.  I don't know how to live with this harsh reality.

Mark, 

That is the problem in a nutshell.  There is no way to fix this. 

I married my love while we were both still in graduate school.  We had our careers, raised our children, loved each other deeply and completely.  We grew oldish together. (Not old enough.)

Figuring out how to go on in life without my partner of the past 40 years, is daunting.  I just could not comprehend how to even begin.  

After 3 full years of just being lost in grief, I finally began to make a new life for myself. My life will never be the wonderful adventure I had with John leading our way.  But I can now see a path to a "good" life, one worth living.  

There are times that I still wish I could magically "fix" it and have my life with John back again.  That is a grief I will always carry with me. 

Gail

 

[surfer]

 >But I can now see a path to a "good" life, one worth living. 

Thank you for the hope! 

[foreverhis]

6 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

I'm (was) a woodwind player (sax) myself, but brass players are OK too. 

Yeah, we woodwinds (flute and pic for me) can get along with most brass players--except some arrogant, cocky trumpet players.  Over the decades, I've found that trombone players have the best sense of humor and a certain innate silliness.  John used to say, "Of course I have a strong silly gene.  You have to in order to play an instrument that looks like this!" and then he'd laugh his wonderful laugh.  Here's a weird one for you:  One show we were both in the orchestra there were three trombones splitting two parts and three flute players splitting two parts.  Nothing unusual in that, but what was a little different was that we three flute players were married to those three trombone players.  And it turns out that John's high school girl friend and college sweetheart were flute players too.  I guess you could say he had a thing for cute brunette flute players.

6 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

hope I eventually come to grips with it to some degree as you have, because right now I'm wracked with guilt and regret.

I think you will, but it will take time--and lots of it.  I don't know that I'll ever fully forgive myself, so I can only hope that John has.  It took 2 years for me to be able to stop blaming myself for every little thing, every little misstep.  I will always regret some things. There's no doubt about that.  I am working on not carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders and in my heart.  It's not easy, but I've made some progress.

You are barely 4 months into your own grief journey, which isn't even enough time to process what's happened, much less come to terms with the reality of it.  I will not tell you "don't blame yourself" or any other nonsense because that's what it would be right now, nonsense.  You will come to an understanding and will find it in your heart to forgive yourself in your own time.  I think our loves forgive us a whole lot faster than we could ever forgive ourselves.

6 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

But seriously, that "Why wasn't our bond enough to save him?" is what eats at me every day.

I know.  We know how strong our bond of love was and is.  We believe it should see us through everything, no matter what.  If only life worked that way.  But time and help have allowed me to bring forward all the good, wonderful, loving, and even boring "every day" images and memories that our bond brought us too.  For a good while, I could only see those last devastating months.  Now I so often see the whole of it, all and everything that we had for 35 years.  Some days are still damn hard and waves of grief can knock me flat, but those days don't come as often and the waves are not usually as deep or painful.

I so wish there were magical words to help, but there simply aren't.  Still in the end, we know that were lucky enough to find that one true love and finding that is everything.

[Missy1]

Great perspective @foreverhis. After a little over a year I see the best of times, the worst of times and yes I will never forget those last days. I live those moments over a over in my head and it feels just as painful and crippling. I have cried every day for the last 14 months.

The “what if’s” have stopped became they didn’t happen, I lost him, he has slipped away to a different place where I cannot be with him in the same way. I see my life as a daily chore, knowing that I will lose everyone and every creature I care about eventually. Life  is not hopeful it’s hopeless. It will all sip away one piece at a time.
I try to see God’s gifts every day but know deep down inside that that everything I care about is temporary. Life is about love and the loss of everyone and every thing we love, very cruel and ironic. The more deeply we care about others the more painful our lives will be with each inevitable loss. Still I can’t stop loving, even the smallest creatures that cross my path my heart wants to love...I have no where to pour out my love for him, I weep for him and for myself...very painful for all of us.

[Gail 8588]

Foreverhis,

I often see parallels between my journey and yours.  I think it is interesting that my John played trombone and I played flute, years ago.  My John had that silly - don't take yourself too seriously -  attitude his whole life. 

Gail

[KayC]

@Mark loves Sandra
Guilt and Regret in Grief
Grief and the Burden of Guilt
Address Guilt When Grieving
Freeing Yourself From Guilt, Blame and Shame - YouTube

[foreverhis]

5 hours ago, Gail 8588 said:

Foreverhis,

I often see parallels between my journey and yours.  I think it is interesting that my John played trombone and I played flute, years ago.  My John had that silly - don't take yourself too seriously -  attitude his whole life. 

Gail

Wow.  You're right we seem to keep finding connections between us and our beloved Johns.  Of course your John had that silly side.  I'm convinced mine was right when he said a person had to in order to play such a silly looking instrument--and one used often by composers to represent "the funny."

15 hours ago, Missy1 said:

I have cried every day for the last 14 months.

I don't know if this will help or not, but I still cry every day.  Not the near constant sobbing and weeping like in the beginning and not even the waves that came and went during my second year, but still tears come to me at some point throughout my days.  Sometimes little wistful tears that gently fall down my cheeks and sometimes those big, all-encompassing sobs.  I've come to realize that this is what's "normal" (hate that word now) for me.  I miss him every minute.  That missing is bound to find itself formed into tears.  And I'm okay with it.

[Mark loves Sandra]

@Perro J

Perro, in the other thread you mention the question of marital status legally, or religiously, or mentally, etc.  So, regarding being technically married or not, Sandra and I had a version of that.  As I've mentioned, we got married 36 hours after she arrived in the U.S. to comply with immigration rules and for health insurance benefits.  Hhhmm, for those of you just reading these last posts and not my original, that statement sounds like some sort of green card scam -- or a flimsy relationship at best.  But keep in mind we spent years (literally) dating (in both countries) and planning all of this.  Getting married was satisfying, but was really just Step 32 of about 56 in putting our lives together.  But I digress.  The point is that while we were recognized as married in the US, to get the same recognition in Brazil we needed to register our marriage with the Brazilian consulate.  Which was on our "To Do" list (Step 39).  Unfortunately that didn't get done before Sandra caught covid.  So in Brazil I was not her legal spouse or "next-of-kin".  The hospital insisted on sending information through her son.  Though they did relent when the gringo broke down crying in the middle of the lobby, sobbing "Preciso ver minha espousa" (I need to see my wife) and let me go see her those two fateful nights before she was intubated (she had been moved out of the covid ward -- but was put back in the ward once intubated).  But her Brazilian death certificate has a space for marital status, and it says . . . . . "Divorciada".  I don't think I need to translate that.  Breaks my heart.  So I was her husband in the United States, but just a guy who really loved her a whole lot in her home country.  Nonetheless, she'll always be my wife in my heart.

I'd also like to take a moment again and say my heart goes out to @Brazil Man, he's grieving over the loss of his Rosana AND suffering through the covid nightmare raging through his country right now.  Lack of oxygen cylinders, mass graves . . . . horrible.  Abraçoes meu Amigo.

--Mark

[Brazil Man]

8 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

I'd also like to take a moment again and say my heart goes out to @Brazil Man, he's grieving over the loss of his Rosana AND suffering through the covid nightmare raging through his country right now.  Lack of oxygen cylinders, mass graves . . . . horrible.  Abraçoes meu Amigo.

@Mark loves Sandra Thanks for remembering me. I am really suffering a lot. Rosana was the woman of my life.Its been almost three years since her death and I suffer just the same. Hugs my friend, Moises

[tlc]

Me too Brazil Man. It's been three years since I lost the love of my life, my soul mate, my person and here I am (don't know why) and yet, here I still am. Despite the fact that I don't want to be and know that my diagnosis will come..my time will come and yet that doesn't scare me at all. Because we all have to go, I think the main fear is about how we go. Not the going itself. No prob! "I only want to be with you". I know that you will understand that Moises!

So, here I am in Australia suffering just the same as you in Brazil but without the terrible Covid thing. I feel for you. There but by the grace of God go I! Keep safe, keep doing something you enjoy each day Moises. For me, it is my garden. Why, wel IDK!!!

 

[KayC]

Mark, perfectly explained, and I'm sorry you and Brazil Man are suffering with this...in your hearts you were married, whether recognized by her country or not.

[April Ballou]

I'm sorry we all have to suffer.  Nobody can truly understand what we are going through.  There has been a lot of deaths in my family, but this is the hardest.  Darrell is my heart.  I'm so depressed and the memories will never go away.  I wished God had taken me instead of him.  

[Cindyd]

I'm a rational software engineer. I may be losing my mind .i lost my husband in dec. I have never hardly cried or been so emotional. It's natural. We have to feel it to heal. That's love u feel..my words won't help but u gotta wait. I know there's light at the end even if I can't see it lol someone called me crazy because I hurt..shes family..and she ain't seen a fraction of it..

[April Ballou]

Yeah people don't understand what we are going through.  I have people tell me call me anytime.  And what are they gonna do, they can't change anything by talking on the phone.  The love that we all have for ours spouses is real and it will never fade away.  

[KayC]

13 hours ago, Cindyd said:

I'm a rational software engineer. I may be losing my mind .i lost my husband in dec. I have never hardly cried or been so emotional. It's natural. We have to feel it to heal. That's love u feel..my words won't help but u gotta wait. I know there's light at the end even if I can't see it lol someone called me crazy because I hurt..shes family..and she ain't seen a fraction of it..

My son is an engineer (mechanical, computer, electrical) so I think I understand about the engineering mind...I knew he had it when he was two!  Rational, scientific.  But there's much we can't fit into a pigeon-hole, our emotions come into play.  We feel what we feel, we don't need to make sense of it, nor can we.  Only someone who has not been through this would call you crazy!  You are NOT crazy, you are grieving.

Grief Process
Grief Work
Helpful-NOT!

Maybe you could print the following and give it to them!
Helping Another in Grief

I'm all about educating people if we can.

11 hours ago, April Ballou said:

And what are they gonna do, they can't change anything by talking on the phone. 

They can listen.  It helps to express ourselves, but sometimes we feel so alone in this, people disappear on us.  It sure helps to have this forum! 

[foreverhis]

On 4/18/2021 at 9:08 AM, KayC said:

Rational, scientific.  But there's much we can't fit into a pigeon-hole, our emotions come into play.  We feel what we feel, we don't need to make sense of it, nor can we.  Only someone who has not been through this would call you crazy!  You are NOT crazy, you are grieving.

From one of Nora McInerny's TED Talks, regarding grief and how society treats us:

"The problem here is not just our bereavement policies, but the fact that we live in a culture that puts bereavement and policy in the same sentence. It is this pervasive idea that we should be good and that we should be efficient at something that is messy and is impossible to master."

I think that really captures the conflicting forces, especially our own inner logical and rational voices, that we're supposed to just "get over it" or "soldier on" or approach the complete shattering of our hearts and lives with some sort of straight-forward, almost mathematical road map.  There is no such thing.  We sometimes think, "Why am I not getting better/grieving the right way/over it?" because society tells us we should.  It's absurd.  Until someone is where we are, they cannot fathom what it is like.  We "put on the brave face" because that's what we've been taught and what we've seen when we were younger.  It is an unhealthy thing to do and yet, we've all done it and do it.  Around the people who truly care about and love me/us, I stopped lying so much about being "okay."  I realized it's not my job to make other people comfortable around me.  Not that I go spewing out my grief on every stranger I meet, but I try not to lie about things either.

We do feel what we feel.  We do not have to justify it to anyone.  I had to "boot" a few acquaintances out of my life when it became clear that their way of getting around being uncomfortable was to pretend John had never existed at all.  That's unacceptable.  Same with anyone who tells us to get over it, move on, stop pouting (as if!), or anything like that or who says we're acting "crazy."  Yeah, I often felt like I was losing my mind.  In a way, I was because grief brain/brain fog is a real thing, but that's part of what nearly all of us experience.  It's as much a part of it as those days when we wonder if our grief, our broken hearts, are so bad that it might actually kill us.

Also from Nora McInerny:

"It's not fatal, but sometimes grief feels like it could be." 

Here's the link to two of her TED Talks:

(Warning: she's several years into her grief journey and includes sardonic, life-lessons humor; if that is something that might upset or offend, then it would be better to wait and maybe watch them down the road.)

Nora McInerny: We move forward, we do not move on

Nora McInerny: Why do we say we are "fine"?

 

[Mark loves Sandra]

Hi All,

This week I've begun facing some pain that you all have already been dealing with from Day 1.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but when I returned from Brazil (in a daze) 9 days after burying Sandra on Dec. 27, 2020, I was in no shape to return to our apartment.  A very good friend with some extra space allowed me to come straight from the airport to their house.  And there I've been ever since.  Paying rent on an apartment I couldn't bear to set foot in.  Unfortunately, what I thought would be a safe haven just seems to make things worse.  I still couldn't get any sleep without drugs, I cry virtually every day, and the nightmares are devastating (Sandra asking me to come pick her up at the cemetery).  Every day I'm depressed and exhausted -- a lovely combination that you all know well.  Life just seems pointless without Sandra.  So . . . . I decided to force myself to go back to the apartment 3 days ago.

Keep in mind that no one has set foot in this apartment since Sandra and I left for Brazil on Nov. 9, 2020.  So, about 5-1/2 months.  And we were late for the airport so we left in a rush.  The only word I have for my experience returning is "brutal."  The pain is almost beyond what I can bear.  I feel like I'm back standing at Sandra's casket, stroking her hair while glancing at the clock knowing that they were going to seal her casket at 1:00 pm.  Everything in the apartment is exactly the way we left it except . . . dead.  Shortly before we left, Sandra threw a very small birthday party for me and she hung balloons up around the apartment.  I thought they were festive, so I left them up.  Upon entering the apartment, I first saw the balloons.  They were deflated, hanging limply, and strangely translucent, almost like Saran-wrap.  I tried to touch one and it literally turned to dust in my fingers -- just turned into a little snowfall of tiny delicate balloon particles drifting to the floor.  And that right there just summed up the last 5 months of my life -- something wonderful, fun, festive, cheerful, loving, and special, just turned to dust.  I just stood there with tears dripping on the carpet as the dust of my former life fell to the floor around my feet like agonizing snow.

[As I write this, huge teardrops are hitting my keyboard.  I guess that won't hurt anything.  But it makes it hard to focus on what I'm typing.  Excuse any typos.]

And the rest of the apartment is no better.  Everywhere are the last remnants of Sandra's actions.  Dental floss in the trash can along with a Bic Venus razor.  Her hair stuck to the walls of the shower.  The mummified houseplants on the back deck.  Her half-finished art project sitting on the art table we built and stained together (she loved arts and crafts -- recall my comment about Hobby Lobby).  A sock dropped in the hallway during our rushed exit (in a bout of extreme weirdness, I have not moved the sock).  I turned on the TV and it was still connected to Brazilian netflix.  When I re-connected the computer, the name of the wifi network popped up: "SandraeMark" (Sandra and Mark).  The ball of dryer lint that she left on top of the dryer as she scooped out our last-minute batch of clothes from the dryer and stuffed them in the suitcase.  The curled, very yellowed, piece of paper on the fridge that she made listing the translations of cuts of beef (what is a T-bone steak in Portuguese? Check the list).  And in a crushing moment, I saw the 3M command strip hook that fell off the wall and dropped to the floor the little framed craft she made that read: "I will love you for the rest of my life. Your wife, Sandra".  It was lying face down on the carpet.

She is everywhere.  And yet she is nowhere.  The silence is deafening.

--Mark

[Sparky1]

48 minutes ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

Hi All,

This week I've begun facing some pain that you all have already been dealing with from Day 1.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but when I returned from Brazil (in a daze) 9 days after burying Sandra on Dec. 27, 2020, I was in no shape to return to our apartment.  A very good friend with some extra space allowed me to come straight from the airport to their house.  And there I've been ever since.  Paying rent on an apartment I couldn't bear to set foot in.  Unfortunately, what I thought would be a safe haven just seems to make things worse.  I still couldn't get any sleep without drugs, I cry virtually every day, and the nightmares are devastating (Sandra asking me to come pick her up at the cematary).  Every day I'm depressed and exhausted -- a lovely combination that you all know well.  Life just seems pointless without Sandra.  So . . . . I decided to force myself to go back to the apartment 3 days ago.

Keep in mind that no one has set foot in this apartment since Sandra and I left for Brazil on Nov. 9, 2020.  So, about 5-1/2 months.  And we were late for the airport so we left in a rush.  The only word I have for my experience returning is "brutal."  The pain is almost beyond what I can bear.  I feel like I'm back standing at Sandra's casket, stroking her hair while glancing at the clock knowing that they were going to seal her casket at 1:00 pm.  Everything in the apartment is exactly the way we left it except . . . dead.  Shortly before we left, Sandra threw a very small birthday party for me and she hung balloons up around the apartment.  I thought they were festive, so I left them up.  Upon entering the apartment, I first saw the balloons.  They were deflated, hanging limply, and strangely translucent, almost like Saran-wrap.  I tried to touch one and it literally turned to dust in my fingers -- just turned into a little snowfall of tiny delicate balloon particles drifting to the floor.  And that right there just summed up the last 5 months of my life -- something wonderful, fun, festive, cheerful, loving, and special, just turned to dust.  I just stood there with tears dripping on the carpet as the dust of my former life fell to the floor around my feet like agonizing snow.

[As I write this, huge teardrops are hitting my keyboard.  I guess that won't hurt anything.  But it makes it hard to focus on what I'm typing.  Excuse any typos.]

And the rest of the apartment is no better.  Everywhere are the last remnants of Sandra's actions.  Dental floss in the trash can along with a Bic Venus razor.  Her hair stuck to the walls of the shower.  The mummified houseplants on the back deck.  Her half-finished art project sitting on the art table we built and stained together (she loved arts and crafts -- recall my comment about Hobby Lobby).  A sock dropped in the hallway during our rushed exit (in a bout of extreme weirdness, I have not moved the sock).  I turned on the TV and it was still connected to Brazilian netflix.  When I re-connected the computer, the name of the wifi network popped up: "SandaeMark" (Sandra and Mark).  The ball of dryer lint that she left on top of the dryer as she scooped out our last-minute batch of clothes from the dryer and stuffed them in the suitcase.  The curled, very yellowed, piece of paper on the fridge that she made listing the translations of cuts of beef (what is a T-bone steak in Portuguese? Check the list).  And in a crushing moment, I saw the 3M command strip hook that fell off the wall and dropped to the floor the little framed craft she made that read: "I will love you for the rest of my life. Your wife, Sandra".  It was lying face down on the carpet.

She is everywhere.  And yet she is nowhere.  The silence is deafening.

--Mark

Mark, as I read this post, I was even crying. All those little details remind me of the details of my wife. Her shoes are still at the front door, her bathrobe still hung behind the door, all the little knick knacks all over the house. I can relate to your pain, my pain has been pretty brutal as well the last little while.

I keep telling her to come home, I'm all alone and can't go on without you. I keep wondering why us people here had such an unfortunate turn in our lives, and yet some couples are lucky to be together and not have met a similar fate as us.

I have a feeling like my wife is still here, yet I can't hear her, see her, or touch her. My television provides background noise to prevent me from losing my sanity. Our lives are not easy, I share your pain and know what you are going through.

 

[Roxeanne]

1 hour ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

She is everywhere.  And yet she is nowhere.  The silence is deafening.

Mark it is so...their things remain here like the floating rubble  of a shipwreck and they break our heart...sometimes i wished that all disappear with him! But in the same time i was afraid that nothing more could tell about us, that our story could be forgotten....

It's very painful ..with time the same things that bring you despair now...will bring you some comfort and good memories of your loved one

[Mark loves Sandra]

2 hours ago, Sparky1 said:

Mark, as I read this post, I was even crying. All those little details remind me of the details of my wife. Her shoes are still at the front door, her bathrobe still hung behind the door, all the little knick knacks all over the house. I can relate to your pain, my pain has been pretty brutal as well the last little while.

I keep telling her to come home, I'm all alone and can't go on without you.

Sparky, thank you so much for your thoughts.  It really means a lot.  No one else but the people on this forum understand.  I too keep asking her to come home.  Begging, pleading, crying.  You and I are lost. I wish your wife was still alive.

1 hour ago, Roxeanne said:

i was afraid that nothing more could tell about us, that our story could be forgotten....

Roxeanne, I have the very same thoughts.  Each thing I have to throw away (dead plants, dental floss, etc.) seems like I'm throwing away a little bit of Sandra, and  soon nothing will be left of her.  Was she ever really here? Or was it just a dream?  Each day she slips farther away from me.  You are 6000 km away, but I can feel the pain in what you write. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for all of us.

--Mark

[Sparky1]

15 minutes ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

I wish your wife was still alive.

Thanks Mark, I wish your wife was still alive as well. These losses are incomprehensible, when I read about your pain, I know because I have the exact same pain. I can see how much you loved Sandra, and I still can't understand how our loved ones were taken away from us. And yes, I do feel lost. My wife was my compass in life, she was my life. Now I'm just meandering through life like a zombie.

[Perro J]

Mark,

Your story was hard to read because I can tell how much you courageously put yourself through to go back there. I believe it is part of your healing, whether you feel that way yet or not. I have a house and garage filled with mementos of her. Her tennis shoes, her bicycle, a planter she gave me, the bingo daubers. There is even a large bottle of dish detergent that we bought together with her sister. It is almost gone now. I completely understand the feeling of wanting to hang on to it just to keep that connection. I have my own bicycle. Unless some woman wants to borrow the bike and go for a ride, I can't see how her bike will ever be used again - and I can't imagine ever getting rid of it. I don't want to get rid of anything that has the slightest connection to her. It's all I have left and you know like I know how much that hurts. I have been almost numb as of late. I sort of just look around and think that I don't want to be me anymore. I ponder if instead maybe I am the one who actually died and went to hell. It can certainly feel that way some days. I don't think I have any good advice - I can just say I am sorry and keep on keepin' on.

[foreverhis]

9 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

A sock dropped in the hallway during our rushed exit (in a bout of extreme weirdness, I have not moved the sock). 

Actually, I do not find that weird at all.  Many of John's things are right where he left them.  I even intentionally left a small selection of his clothes in the closet and on the shelves.  I kept one of his jackets that's way too big for me to wear, unlike his flannel shirts and hoodies, which are huge but manageable.  His toothbrush and deodorant sit on the shelves in the bathroom.  And etc. 

I returned the new clothes and a few items we bought him in a fit of optimism (in part because it helped pay for his cremation).  I gave away a number of things to friends and family.  I donated some things as well.  Quite a bit of "stuff" ultimately ended up being thrown away, but it took months for me to dispose of anything other than every damn thing related to his cancer.

When you are ready, you will move that sock.  You know that may be weeks or months because the emotional attachment matters more than the fact that a sock is lying in the hallway.

9 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

I tried to touch one and it literally turned to dust in my fingers -- just turned into a little snowfall of tiny delicate balloon particles drifting to the floor.  And that right there just summed up the last 5 months of my life -- something wonderful, fun, festive, cheerful, loving, and special, just turned to dust.  I just stood there with tears dripping on the carpet as the dust of my former life fell to the floor around my feet like agonizing snow.

Oh Mark, that's such a vivid, painful image.  As if you needed that metaphor to remind you.  Of course you stood there crying, unable to move.  How could it be otherwise?  It was so hard to be in our house alone.  A house that no longer felt like home.  I guess I can say it got "easier" over time, but it's not ever easy.  At this point, I doubt it ever will be. 

It must be that much worse for you right now, coming into your home without your beloved Sandra.  Not only because it was your sanctuary together, but because you are coming back to it after months.  Still, I suspect you made the right choice in returning because you're quite right that you cannot escape your grief and loss.  This way, you will not have to interact with others if you are not up to it (or even if you just don't feel like it).  Being in someone else's home would have added to my stress, I think.  I'd have to consider them--and I didn't want to have to really care about anyone except our daughter and granddaughter, and my own pain.

I'm sending you big virtual ((HUGS))

[Roxeanne]

8 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

but I can feel the pain in what you write. I'm sorry.

after 3 years the pain is more bearable, but it's still here like a subterranean river  inside me...i am sorry too for all of us!

8 hours ago, Mark loves Sandra said:

Was she ever really here? Or was it just a dream?  Each day she slips farther away from me

 

I feel that...it seems that the thought of him has the consintency of dreams...and it scares me! But everything in life goes away...wether we like it or not!

[April Ballou]

I understand the pain and sorrow that we all are going through and are facing.  I may have gotten rid of some things but there are alot of things that I will keep.  I dont know how long everyone out here has been married but it doesn't matter we all loved the ones that are gone.  And even though it will be hard to go on we have to hold onto that love to get us through each and every day.  I have nightmares, dreams, and everyday I wished that I could go back and change something, anything to where Darrell would be here with me.  It's hard living by myself.  But it is something that I have to do.  As much as I wished Darrell was here, I know where he is and one day I will be there as well.  For God is my refuge and my strength.

[KayC]

Mark, wow, we felt it as we read it, like everything is frozen in time, yet not to be found either.  I recall coming home from the hospital...without George, his birthday banner still up.  Everything felt so hollow.  This reminded me of that.  My heart goes out to you.  It brought back many memories of that time...

[DMB]

Lately I'm seeing my husband on the bed as I was helping him get dressed for a Dr. appt.  I saw that his ankles were swelled.  He had lost weight and his jeans were falling off of him so I said we're going in your pjs today, and he said, F this- I'm getting hospice!  I'm left wondering that when he walked out of that house on his own, did he know he wasn't coming back?  Being there day after day and night after night is surreal.  We've lived there over 30 years.  I also kept choice collection of clothes and there are other things around.  The photos freak me out, but I don't want to take them down either.  I also freak out at white Ford vans which is what he drove.  Sometimes I still think he's pulling in as the sound of the ladders on his rack is still as clear as day to me.

Good for you Mark for stepping back in to the apartment.  There are still days I just want to light the place on fire and go someplace else (well probably jail if I did that!)  

[foreverhis]

7 hours ago, April Ballou said:

I dont know how long everyone out here has been married but it doesn't matter we all loved the ones that are gone. 

Agree 100%.  In fact, I don't believe it matters if two soulmates were married.  Yes, for us that ceremony (two actually; one just for us and then a traditional one with our small circle of friends and family) was very important.  But even before we said "I do" and signed the papers, we were permanently connected.  That's just the way it was basically from our first date.

Whether we are with the loves of our lives for 2 years or 20 or 50, the loss is as deep, the pain as severe, and the burden as heavy.  I do know in my heart of hearts that we were lucky to have 35 mostly good to wonderful years, but I also know it should have been more and that no number of years would ever have been "enough."