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1 hour ago, mbbh said:

I am so very sorry for your trauma in both Susan's passing and in finding her in the bathtub. That must have been horrifying for you. You have my empathy.

...and you have mine, mbbh.

Marty, thanks for the suggestions, I am not familiar and will look.

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Marty, I am going to look when I get some alone time.  I cannot tell you what a wonderful/and sometimes frightening magical, fantastical, mystical imagination I used to have, my mind open to anything.  Billy was that staid, non-superstitious, non-believing in my magical thinking (even though he had to protect me at night when we were first married from the vampires, werewolves, witches and all other stuff that always woke me up sitting at the foot of my bed.)  About 3-4 years into the marriage I woke him saying I saw 2-3 little men standing at the foot of my bed.  He jumped up and said "Wait, I see four of them" and jumped out of bed to the tool room.  He sheepishly came back knowing he had joined in my nightmare.  Scared the bewillies out of me but I never had one of those dreams.  Still, I felt "other-worldly" things that would happen and he would just shoot them down.  No pretend or superstition about him.  I've told the "little men" dream before on here and we still laugh about it in the family.  When he left though, he took that part of my life with him and I have yet to discover it again.  Maybe that is good.

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This is the only thing that has helped me, that is knowing how much it would hurt Billy for me to remember this bad image of him.  That man had an ego a mile wide and he made me think of Dr. Seuss often because he would come in often and pose in a hat that had been sitting in the closet.  He had a collection of hats and caps that are packed in a big blue plastic "bucket" with handles.  Someone else will have to get rid of them, I cannot.  When he would pose in the hat he would always say "do you like my hat?"  I would think of Dr. Seuss, but "yes, I like your hat."  Mr. Ego, he would be so disappointed me remembering that last sight of him.  I think after we see them we all suffer some form of PTSD that is hard to get rid of.  It still comes back to me and then I think of "do you like my hat?" and it goes away.  

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I know he is not going to answer me, I have always known he was not going to answer me, but some strange wall is making it where I cannot feel I am talking to him.  I used to talk to him and Jesus mixed in together, but now I don't talk to either.  I miss that..  I really try but it's not working.  

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Marg,

I've learned that prayer is delivered much on "faith" rather than "feelings"...keep talking. ;)

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