Familiar places full of memories

[DWS]

In the "Not my partner..."  topic, @foreverhis touched upon the sheer difficulty of going to a farmer's market the first time without her husband. I thought I'd open the topic for us to share and discuss our similar challenges.

Right now, I have people in my life telling me that I need to start getting out of the house more. One of those suggestions is to get out for a walk which is something that I know would be healthy for me to do but it really presents a challenge. Long walks were one of the greatest pleasures that I had together with my partner. Actually, it was Tom that got me out walking more in my city and we travelled miles on foot. I always marveled at the different areas of the city we got to see up close...all of these areas and neighbourhoods that I only saw over the years from inside a moving vehicle.

Being the techie type that he was, Tom had one of those watches where he'd set it as we begun our journeys. At the end, it would tell us how far we went. All of it was so enjoyable, memorable and so important to us. We looked forward to at least one walk but usually two walks every weekend. Now I face walking alone and I haven't been able to do it. I know that I can't walk the same familiar streets without him by my side. I've been thinking that I need to find an area where we didn't go to get me started again. 

I'm interested to hear how others faced up to these familiar places and the special ones where you have yet to go. 

[Canadagirl81]

Don....I can totally relate to everything you said here. Walking was super important to Glenn and I. Where we live it's a lake community so super walkable roads with basically no traffic and we are in the woods and right by the water. We had a competition to "out step" each other on our health apps and at the end of the day he would hold up his phone with the count and I would show him mine. He would get so cute bitter if I beat him with even a 200 step difference and would be so proud if he beat me. lol 
I still walk these roads pretty much every day. I walk the neighbors dog Sadie and so it gives me a reason to get out there. I bring him along with me, I talk to him as I go. I ask for signs and he brings me crows at the top of the road and finally I started to receive feathers right on my path. I had asked him early on to send them and was always looking but they never came. When I surrendered and stopped looking that's when they have started to appear. There was a gorgeous big black crow feather right at my feet the other day and it brought such comfort. 
I think if you feel called to start off in an area where you weren't with Tom initially, then do that. My suggestion is just bring him along with you. Talk to Tom about what you are seeing and what you are experiencing just as if he were walking along side you because in reality Don, he is. 
Please don't feel pressure to get out of the house more from people who have no idea what it's like to experience the grief we are. Go at your own pace. If you don't feel like going out a lot, then don't. Nature does heal though in my humble opinion and I know for a fact that on the days when I have ZERO interest in getting out, as I'm walking in the fresh air with the sun or the rain or whatever is happening out there I feel better, I feel held and I feel lighter. 

I have yet to go over to Shuman Point, it's a 3 mile loop trail on the other side of the lake that Glenn and I would frequent. I will get over there soon and face it just as I do the roads here. I'll bring him along and talk to him as I go. I'll cry if I feel it and know he's with me always. I want to honour him by moving forward and doing the things we both enjoyed together.
Thanks for this post Don. Hugs. 

[Steve79]

Oh boy, this is a particularly complex part of my grief. 

S and I didn't do a whole lot together, as we weren't partners, as such - we were two people intimately entwined who enjoyed and respected one another. But one place which I don't think I can go to for a very long time was our favourite pub/bar in town. We met in there, and would often meet in there, or leave together, and knew a lot of people in there. Her friends want to hold a 2nd celebratory event (I suppose a wake equivalent) in there, but it's way too early for me to even think about stepping foot in there. The very spot I was standing when she approached me the night we met is central to the place, so I wouldn't be able to escape it. In fact, the whole vicinity is littered with pubs and bars. We were together a fair amount around that area. I walked very near there yesterday, in daylight, and could feel the emotion building up, and I was in floods as I walked back through my door - that's just from being near the vicinity, yet alone being in that pub. I can't do it.

A friend of mine lives about 35 minutes away. My preferred route takes me straight past S's house. I can no longer travel that route, and have to go the long way to avoid it. I can't bear to drive past. I spent quite a bit of time there throughout the 4 years I knew her. There were many laughs, drinks, deep talks, and unmentionable pleasures which happened there. 

Here's where for me it gets complex, because it's not just about familiar places which have memories, but it's also about familiar places which have no memories, but a sense of history regarding her instead. S was older than me, so born a fair number of years before me, in this town. We are both native to this town. I have a huge sentimental link with this town, and I connect well with people who were born and bred here. I suppose it's visceral, and has something to do with continuity, history, identity, and community - all those things which ground a person. Whenever I travel outside my house, anywhere, my thoughts are plagued with things like "I bet S has been down here hundreds of times through her life" or if I'm walking around the town centre I feel overwhelmed with the knowledge S would have used all the shops through her life, walked all the streets, drank and ate in all the eating and drinking establishments, loved, linked, and laughed with numerous people around this area and that area, would have been known by people I may be walking past. Then I feel an all consuming sense of emptiness, as if the town is now joyless and genuinely worse off for her death. For example, back in 2000, she liked a particular place in town, very popular, and spread over 2 floors. It was a brilliant venue, the best the town has ever had. It closed 10 years ago. Yesterday I walked past, and imagined her back then, walking up the steps, laughing on the way in, chatting with people, and so on. We would even have walked past each other in there back in those days, not knowing we'd meet 18 years later. But now it's all boarded up and lifeless. And I felt like crying. And there I was at her death bed two weeks ago. Not only have those times gone forever, but so now has she. History is erased. 

For me S's death is more than just losing her from my life, and the very personal and loving connection we had between us. It's also about losing the history and community she represented. It's difficult to properly explain the depth this goes for me. I often resent being such a sentimental and emotionally sensitive person. I wish I was a rational cold hearted psychopath at times - the sort of person who could tear down that old venue and build a load of sterile student apartments for £££

[foreverhis]

16 hours ago, DWS said:

Right now, I have people in my life telling me that I need to start getting out of the house more.

I'm not going to say that they are wrong to encourage you, but it really irks me when anyone "tells" us what to do or not do, especially in such a generic way.  I suspect the people who care about you have your best interests at heart.  It's just that there's a difference between saying, "Are you up to taking a little walk with me today?" (which more than one of my friends and family have done many times and which is a specific suggestion that leaves me in charge) and "You need to get out of the house more" (which puts the onus on you and may make you feel like you're grieving "wrong" or not living up to their expectations).  At least, that's the way it feels to me.  YMMV.

In any case, I have so many places and activities that hit me hard.  It took nearly 3 years before I could bring myself to plant potatoes in our fabric pots.  And I only did it then because I let some potatoes sprout and it was plant them or put them in the green waste.  Last season, I planted three pots on purpose and with the help of friends.  This year, day after tomorrow we're having a morning get together of the (now) five person "We Love Potatoes" crew.  We're going to plant together, tend together, harvest together.  I will never grow a vegetable garden in pots like John and I did together, but it feels good to share a small part of celebrating the bounty of the earth with people who are close to us.

Honestly, there are too many things, large and small, to list that are emotional triggers.  Perhaps some always will be too much for me, but time is helping me allow some back in as I journey forward bringing my love and loving memories with me along with my grief.  Grocery shopping no longer brings tears and waves of pain, though certain things continue to poke at my heart. 

17 hours ago, DWS said:

Actually, it was Tom that got me out walking more in my city and we travelled miles on foot. I always marveled at the different areas of the city we got to see up close...all of these areas and neighbourhoods that I only saw over the years from inside a moving vehicle.

Oh my gosh, that's so much like my John, especially when we were traveling.  We'd never go into any dangerous parts of towns/cities, but he would take us on "John's random architecture tours" by winding us through streets.  We'd stop into a little cafe or buy fruit at a market stand or discover a used book store and go wander through.  These things, these seemingly small adventures, were a wonderful part of our life together.  I've mentioned in the past that one of the first gifts John bought for me was an "adventuring hat."  I don't look particularly good in hats and have a small head (child size hats sometimes!).  He managed to find just the perfect bendable straw hat that fit me beautifully.  Then he found a silk scarf with a map of Scotland (my mom's side of the family is from there) and all the clan names and locations.  He wrapped that around as a hat band.  He'd say, "Get your hat.  We're going on an adventure."  It might be a drive to the beach or the woods or just the park for a picnic.  It didn't matter because we were adventuring together.  It took a long while for those memories to be happy again.  Today, I can smile and even chuckle or laugh about all that was wonderful, loving, silly, and even mundane memories of our decades together.

I think it's a good idea for you to start with different places to walk.  I hope that over time you will be able to walk in the footsteps of your love and life together.

[DWS]

8 hours ago, foreverhis said:

I'm not going to say that they are wrong to encourage you, but it really irks me when anyone "tells" us what to do or not do, especially in such a generic way. 

Thank you for the great comment and sweet sentiments, foreverhis. Quite fortunately, I caught on quickly to all of the good-intentions-but-off-the-mark advice from family and friends so I have been strong enough to quietly disregard it. I also got the classic "Tom would want you to get out for a walk on this sunny day" remark which happened just a week and a half after his passing! I recognized the guilt-laden ugliness of a comment like that even though I know the person meant well. It's just incredibly amazing how bad people are at caring and soothing to those in grief and because of that, I've done my own extensive exploring on this subject and discovered, what seems to be, a current movement of psychotherapists and counsellors attempting to change our culture's understanding of grief. I see myself moving more into this direction and will do whatever I can to help in these endeavours. 

8 hours ago, foreverhis said:

It took nearly 3 years before I could bring myself to plant potatoes in our fabric pots.  And I only did it then because I let some potatoes sprout and it was plant them or put them in the green waste.  Last season, I planted three pots on purpose and with the help of friends.  This year, day after tomorrow we're having a morning get together of the (now) five person "We Love Potatoes" crew.  We're going to plant together, tend together, harvest together.  I will never grow a vegetable garden in pots like John and I did together, but it feels good to share a small part of celebrating the bounty of the earth with people who are close to us.

Your heartbreaking challenge of planting potatoes over these years is so revealed from your words. These are the types of things that many of us sentimental grievers are here to read because they touch us sincerely and we get it! Despite our sorrow, there is so much comfort knowing that others have experienced such loving times. It does help bring some light to our darkened worlds. 

I think of a suggestion that my sister made a couple weeks into my grief. She posed the idea of the two of us making a short drive to the small summer resort village south of my city because she heard all of my stories of Tom and I making those trips together. As good intention-wise as it was, I politely declined as I knew it wasn't the drive and the village itself that I was missing; it was all about those wonderful, shared times with Tom! I have absolutely no desire at all to revisit that village this year as much as I love the place. 

 

[KayC]

On 4/10/2022 at 6:23 AM, DWS said:

Long walks were one of the greatest pleasures that I had together with my partner. Actually, it was Tom that got me out walking more in my city and we travelled miles on foot.

I know it's hard to do this without him, maybe if you drove somewhere you didn't walk and did your walk there?  Or perhaps think of it as a tribute to him and what he encouraged you to do with him...take him along with you in spirit, talk aloud to him, tell him what you're seeing that he would have enjoyed?