Jump to content


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

About mbbh

  • Rank
    Advanced Member

Previous Fields

  • Your relationship to the individual who died
  • Date of Death
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:

Profile Information

  • Your gender
  • Location (city, state)
    winston salem, nc
  1. Gwen, I am holding you in my spirit. The "compliment s" people give us DO hurt and sometimes I am unable and unwilling to be gracious. I have even been known to just stare off into space as a response to avoid saying things I really do not want to say... Or perhaps I do want to say them, but I avoid conflict or hurting someone's feelings at all costs. I have rolled my eyes to myself so many times the past almost 9 months. I don't know what the answer is. People just do not understand. They try, but they can't.... Much Love to you. Mary Beth
  2. Tom, I am glad you are going to explain to her how this feels. It does feel like others minimize our pain, even when it may not be their intention. I believe it is their attempts to "make us feel better" OR to make themselves feel better about complimenting us. It does hurt that others simply do not understand, yet, if they did, they would have had to go through losing a partner and I would not wish this pain on anyone. Even though I have had people who have lost their spouse or significant other say similar things to me, I wonder if it is some self-protective attempt to "make everything okay," when no one can do that. My intention in writing about strength was to say that strength has many looks, "many faces." All of these faces, especially the ones that do not feel nor look strong, are strong. Living in our vulnerability, wading through our pain, surviving although we believe we are dying, feeling like we are failing (there's no such thing in grief), and moving or not moving - all of these things are a part of strengths that people do not always recognize as such. Much Peace to You...
  3. Kayc, Agreed. That is why I have to constantly redefine strong for me. It may simply being open to being totally defeated. Today was one of those days where I only found strength in remembering that I didn't feel strong and that that in and of itself is to be honored.
  4. I have a friend who tells me, "Be strong. Know we are with you." He is a good friend, but he hasn't lost the love of his life. Being strong, for me, has many faces. When John first died, I went into autopilot. I had to clear out our hotel room, find a funeral home for cremation services, book flights to get on a plane home for the following day- the day before Thanksgiving of all days. I had to tell everyone thank you and goodbye - so very many new "family away from family" who had held us up for that month in Houston. (We - the ICU family members and doctors and nurses and therapists and, and , and- we all held each other up for that hellacious month.) I had to call his family, my family, our church family. I had to talk to Social Workers, a chaplain. Our 19-year-old son was with me. We both went into "let's just get this done mode." We were in the face of "autopilot strong." When we got on the plane the next morning, the "I don't want to leave without him syndrome" struck. This way of being strong, the "persevere no matter what" attitude kicked in. We got on the plane anyway. In the coming days of shock and denial, the face of numbing strength reared her head. Shock is a gift. Going numb is a gift. Denial is a gift and they are strengths when one is under incredibly traumatic strain. At his funeral, I thought I would die. I allowed myself the privilege of numbing out again just so I could make it through. At the visitation afterwards, when several sets of our friends embraced me, embraced "us," (because they loved John deeply too) the strength of tender tears found their way to my heart. I would break down, then get into the role of hostess again, just to break down again. Yes- I used the word "hostess" because that is what it felt like. People making their way to me, past the refreshments, sharing a hug and a greeting and then moving on. 2 days after John's service, I thought I was ready to return to work. Yeah.. I know... The face of strong-willed, stubborn strength. A week later, enter self-care strength. I told them I needed a leave of absence and I take a few weeks off even though I had been away in Houston for a month prior seeking medical care from a world renowned surgeon to help John. Since returning to work 7 months ago, I lean into the many faces of strength. Some days, autopilot is what I need. Some days it is stubbornness and a strong will. Other days I feel those gentle tears well up and I know the strength found in breaking down is valuable. Even 8 1/2 months later, I still go into denial and find strength in numbness. Then, the face of perseverance steps in. I never know what is around the corner of grief. Yes, my friend tells me lovingly to, "Be strong and know that we are with you." It is his way of expressing care. I believe, however, that being strong means so many different things. In our most vulnerable states, we are strong, simply because we allow ourselves to breathe and lean fully into pain. For the only way through it.... Is through it. In shock, denial, with tears and stubbornness, the only way through it... Is through it. Much Love to All! Mary Beth
  5. Mike's Girl For me, keeping afloat has many different meanings. Simply breathing has come to be an acceptable way to be right now. It has to be. It was been 9 months for me and I have come to learn that it is okay to have low spirits. How could we not? The truth is we are where we are. The challenge is learning that it is okay to not be okay, okay to hurt. I hold hope that things change over time and that the reality of this life will not always sting so bad. May it be so for all of us here. Peace to you. Mary Beth
  6. The Car

    So sorry about your accident. You are in my thoughts as you deal with insurance and all the grief this brings up.
  7. Thank you Joyce. I hope we can all find some peace.
  8. Thanks Tom. Maybe the sand was a sweet gift she left you without knowing it as a reminder of her love? Being sort of ok is a gift in and of itself. I just never knew how hard it would be without John. God, I miss him.
  9. Thank you Gwenivere. It is from my heart, which feels extra broken today. Peace to you.
  10. When I lost him, a part of me died. Just. Died. Since the second the last breath left his lungs, the ability to breathe deeply is absent in mine. Since I felt his last heart beat, mine has raced with panic at times and then slowed to a snail's paced thump with silent tears. Since he told me he loved me one last time, my love for him has grown beyond measure except he isn't here for me to express it and it mean something. Since he died, I feel like I am losing my mind. Since he died, sometimes I don't want to be here anymore. Sometimes I feel like this grief will consume me. Sometimes it does. Since he died, memories take over. Memories of things that were and memories of dreams that will never be. Since he died, I am confused and cold. Since he died, Our bed is cold. Our home is deafening silent. When he died, the "we" that we were became "me." I hurt. I long for his whisper in my ear. I ache for his touch. Since he died, I miss him so very much. Since he died, life has turned upside down and there is no way to turn it right side up. When he died, parts of me died too.
  11. I wonder if there is a Hospice agency in RI where you will be. It may be good to see someone a few times while you are home. No "fix" for this, but talking helps me. In NC where I live, Hospice counseling is free. May be different in other areas. I don't know. My hope for you is that you will be able to figure out a way to surround yourself with supportive people when you need to and to step back when you need to. I am sorry you have had the circumstances to join this club of wounded survivors, but glad you found us.
  12. So glad you are going to be with family. Where you live, do you have access to grief counseling? I hope so. It has been very beneficial for me. Losing my John has devastated me. He was the love of my life and it sounds like you lost that twice. This group has helped me hold on when I was slipping away. Lean and breathe and borrow comfort from us and others. 💜
  13. I am sad for and with you as you grieve the loss of your boyfriend and the loss of your husband. I am so very sorry. Breathe and lean, every hour of every day. Love to you.
  14. By posting this I am not suggesting that anyone pray. We all have our own belief systems and sometimes stumble on something that helps. I am merely expressing my experiences with prayer as I journey through grief.