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Autumn,

I'm sorry you've lost your daughter too, I can't even begin to imagine.  I've lost three babies (miscarried) but as much as they were wanted and loved, it's not the same as losing someone you've raised and known for years.  My heart goes out to you.  It feels like with each loss it just compounds.

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17 hours ago, Marg M said:

While camped there we would go to Glenwood and the catwalk.  Then we discovered a precarious road up the mountain (did not bring the RV) that led into the Gila Wilderness.  I explored the pretty little cemetery at Pinos Altos. (Out of Silver City).  It was beautiful.  But going up that precarious road we discovered the sorta ghost town of Mogollon.  It had a cemetery with many graves, I think about 1918, when the deadly flu must have been brought in by travelers.  

Marg - you're talking about my backyard.  Love the catwalk.:)

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2 hours ago, Brad said:

 Love the catwalk.:)

We walked it so many times.  Parked under the cottonwoods (think they are called) in the parking lot.  Liked to imagine the mining history.  We had a new Boykin Spaniel one time and he would flatten himself out and we had to carry him.  That height and foreign feel to the metal scared him.  Best pet we ever had.  Billy would ask him if he wanted to go walking and he would go fetch his leash.  In Deming RV park he would get burs in that sand.  I thought it was the most beautiful place along side that windy highway.  Big purple flowers. (K-Mart sacks blown to the tumbleweeds).  

That is why I like to hear about your hiking.  I think it was the Blue River and/or Black River we would walk a ways down.  I was scared to take the RV up to Alpine because of the winding road.  One time we saw a huge number of elk up against the mountain past Alpine. Reserve seemed like an old western town.  Billy saw a man driving a covered wagon pulled by mules at Apache Creek and that was what he wanted to do.  He wanted to be a mountain man.  The Jeremiah Johnson kind, not modern kind.  He wanted to camp at Escudilla mountain but for some reason that place spooked me.  Beautiful, but I didn't get a good feeling, don't know why.

Signal Peak up from Cherry Creek was where I heard the voices in the trail in front of us that Billy heard too, but since there was no real person ahead of us, he would not admit to hearing them.  Know you know of the legends though.  There is a guy that lives somewhere around Bear Lake (I think on the other side of Lake Roberts), that takes people back into the Gila with his goats carrying supplies.  I think he has a book publishing company (Lonesome ???).  We have some of his books packed away now.  Maybe Dutch Salmon?  Memory is bad.

A lot of water has run under that catwalk since we visited.  You live in beautiful country.  Those were good memories.

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I am now at eighteen months and two days and reflecting back on the past year and a half I need to admit that, for me, the second year is not as devastating as the first.  Those constant moments when I was reduced to nothing more than blubbering, sobbing, unable to function, while still just under the outermost layer of epidermal, are now spotty.  A general melancholy has replaced the constant tears.  Today I visited some of the angels Deedo and I came to know as we travelled through her last chapter.  There were many triggers as I went to the Hope Lodge and talked with many of the staff.  While my voice squeaked frequently I was able to communicate in a mostly coherent manner.  I couldn't do that last Fall when I was last there.  After that I went an met with Cathy at the American Cancer Society.  What an amazing woman she is.  Once more the triggers were all around me but once more I could talk and at times laugh.  Last time I saw her all I could do was hug her and sob on her shoulder.  So things are better.  I still have miles to go before I will be able to greet the day with anything resembling hope or peace but at least on most days I canmanage somehow to move through the day.  As Darell always reminds us: "One foot in front of the other."

 

On a side note I've just been reading about a group of scientists who are exploring the idea that our universe may just be a rather complex 3D hologram and that reality then may just be an illusion.  If that's the case, I want to know how I can change this illusion I am in back into the illusion I knew three years ago when life was indeed a gift to be treasured rather than a challenge to be endured.

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Brad - I'm glad you are seeing progress and are able to get through the days and triggers a little easier.  We are at about the same time line, I'm at 18 months and 21 days and some days I have to admit I'm not the blubbering mess I was, I still cry every day and usually 3-4 times a day at different triggers, but at least it's not all day and night now, and you are right there is a general melancholy 24/7 now, I guess that is progress.  I really don't have much hope for a future yet and still at times wonder what I'm still doing here and what my purpose is, but I guess all we can all hope for is moving forward to some kind of peace and yes, maybe hope.  I miss him so....

Hugs

Joyce

 

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7 minutes ago, brat#2 said:

I miss him so....

 

Me too...Some many times each and every day I long to share a story, a glance, a smile, a touch, a kiss, and the best I can do is look oh so longingly at her picture.  We have a grandson.  My daughter found out she was pregnant the same day Deedo was told she had lung cancer.  He's now twenty-five months and two weeks.  She would have gotten such a kick out of him, he's at that stage where personality is really beginning to blossom.  So many stories I try to relate to her but it isn't the same without her giggle.

 

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1 minute ago, Brad said:

Some many times each and every day I long to share a story, a glance, a smile, a touch, a kiss, and the best I can do is look oh so longingly at her picture. 

 

I do believe that is one of the hardest parts of this journey, not being able to tell them something and hear their response of either a sigh of disgust or laugh or have their opinion.  I talk to Dale every day and tell him everything that has gone on during the day, but it's not the same, but I'm sure I will never stop either.

Joyce

 

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http://www.crystalinks.com/holographic.html

I don't ascribe to this theory but there are a lot of articles contained here if you're interested...

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  • 1 month later...

I just returned from probably the best ten days I've had in the past two years.  Most of the time was spent with two of my grand kiddies while their mom and dad ran away for some alone time.  It was so enjoyable focusing on giggles, laughs, and adventures.  I insisted that the two-year-old stay with me and not go to daycare and we had so much fun exploring the Valley, going to the zoo, having lunch at "Sissy's" school, riding trains and carousels, singing every song he knows countless times and snuggling and reading. Additionally, I was able to spend some quality time with a friend who is also struggling with grief.  We took in a delightful piano recital, discovered new restaurants together, and spent hours sharing and comforting each other; very cathartic.  This was the first time I found myself so absorbed in the present that the past was not foremost in my thoughts.  It gives me hope.

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Good for you Brad.  Sometimes it is hard to focus on anything but our loss.  My son just called me and he is through Amarillo on his way home to  the ArkLaTex.  I remember him just born and me not out of my teens yet.  I would feel of his chest and his heart beat so fast and I was so scared.  I would stay awake at night and watch him, afraid to go to sleep, the only child I had been around was my sister, and I was nine-years-old then and did not remember how to take care of a baby.  Billy was a natural born Mama/Daddy, he always knew what to do and he wore out two big old red wooden rocking chairs at the foot of our bed.  Then he rocked the grandchildren.  Now both kids are middle aged, older than some of our forum members.  And still, this mother worries.  One is somewhere in the Land of Oz where she has never been before, alone.  Another is "On the Road Again" and still, this mother worries. 

I'm glad you had that time with your grands.  

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Sounds wonderful, Brad!  You're a wonderful grandpa!

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2 hours ago, Brad said:

I just returned from probably the best ten days I've had in the past two years.  Most of the time was spent with two of my grand kiddies while their mom and dad ran away for some alone time.  It was so enjoyable focusing on giggles, laughs, and adventures.  I insisted that the two-year-old stay with me and not go to daycare and we had so much fun exploring the Valley, going to the zoo, having lunch at "Sissy's" school, riding trains and carousels, singing every song he knows countless times and snuggling and reading. Additionally, I was able to spend some quality time with a friend who is also struggling with grief.  We took in a delightful piano recital, discovered new restaurants together, and spent hours sharing and comforting each other; very cathartic.  This was the first time I found myself so absorbed in the present that the past was not foremost in my thoughts.  It gives me hope.

think about this, Maybe when you go to happy places your wife goes with you. I hope she is there and sees you beginning to smile and have a little happiness. and what better way than with your little grandkids. And a good friend that needed you.

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I realized after reading your post Brad, that most of the time I come on here during a down time or when I'm having a lot of grief.  I also have good times and times with friends, similar to what you experienced with your grandkids.  That is great.  Thanks for reminding me that there are some good times.  I'm just waiting for the time when the sorrow and grief feelings are in the minority. 

I want to share an article written by someone who lost her husband and it pretty much speaks to me about the complexity of this journey....



I've been talking with a lot of people this week about "getting back to life." 

Have you heard that phrase from people outside of your grief? Even people who truly love and care about you might be pushing you to get back out in to the world, live your life. They may even tell you have so much to live for. 

The thing is, the people who often say these things actually do have a life to go back to. They may be deeply impacted by the death of the one you love, but if their family is intact, if there is no gaping hole in their daily life, they just aren't going to be affected the same way you are. 

I don't necessarily mean that you had to live with the person you've lost in order to be the most impacted by their death. Not at all. 

What I mean is that, for many of us, the people we've lost were such an integral part of every single day, every single facet of our lives, there really is no "normal life" without them. 

There is no part of our universe, our daily lived existence, that they didn't touch. 

There truly is no life to "get back to." 

Eventually, perhaps, new things will begin to grow around the crater that has erupted in the center of your life. The hole itself will remain. I don't mean that as a downer, either. I mean that a central loss, a loss that shifts the axis of the universe, is not something that simply shrinks over time. 

We - you, me, all of us - will not return to the life that was. That's simply not possible. What we can do is bow to the damaged parts, the holes blown in our lives. We can wonder what parts of ourselves survived the blast. We can come to ourselves, and our irrevocably changed worlds, with kindness and respect. 

That's the real work of grief - to show up with kindness, every day, many times a day. Somehow, if we don't see it as "fixing" your grief, or "getting back to life," it makes all that just a little bit easier. 
 

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Thank you Brad for sharing. I had a nice time with my little nieces last Sunday. They are 3yo and so charming. I forgot my grief by playing games and singing. Should sing more...,

Cookie, I agree with the text, thanks

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I think it's very true that the more integral a part of our life the person is that we lost, the harder time we have with the loss.  It's enough that we miss their being, but we suffer along with it, all of the many many losses that come with their being absent from us...we can all name many.  The person we poured our heart out to, the person we turned to for advice, the person that understood us, the one that did half the chores, the one that contributed financially, the one that gave us hugs and touch, the one that appreciated what we did, the one we shared holidays with, on and on we can go.  Each and every one of these things we miss are a loss in and of themselves, compounding into one HUGE sense of loss!

It's good to be engaged in life, through other family members, friends, our pets, volunteering, a job, whatever sense of community we have.  That's why it helps if we can have a job, go to church, visit with friends, see family members, walk our dogs, etc.  All of these things engage us in life and will help us as we try to build a life for ourselves we can live with.

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I will be so grateful if the psychosis of grief ever takes a break.  I just had a wonderful time with the kids and grandkids.  Yesterday I drove to the Valley since I had early appointments today at the Mayo.  Left this morning to go to the appointments and stopped for coffee at Circle K.  As I pulled in "Lover's Concerto" by the Toys (a 1965 fluff piece) started playing.  Now there is nothing about this song that should act as a trigger.  I doubt Deedo and I ever listened to it together and I haven't heard it since my teens except once in a movie whose name I can't remember.  But knowing the name of the song I suddenly focused on the word lover's realizing I once knew (and still know) requited love.  The larynx spasmed and the eyes started to burn.  Stunned I breathed deeply and got my coffee.  Keep in mind I'm now in a place where I no longer cry daily and sometimes will go several days or weeks without tears.  

After that, all was good until I was reading a novel while waiting to go to my second appointment.  Suddenly there were the same sensations without apparent cause (a touching scene between Harry Potter and Mrs. Weasly).  I read the HP series about every eighteen months so it was nothing new.  

After I headed home Bedrich Smetana's "Ma Vlast" symphony started playing.  A couple of weeks ago I had booked some concert tickets for a concert featuring works by Smetana and Antonin Dvorak, two of the greatest Czech composers.  The concert is in Prague and I am very excited.  I started to think about the concert and suddenly the floodgates opened and I was sobbing away because I will be seeing Europe for the first time but without my wife.  Again I don't understand the trigger.  Classical music always made Deedo sad and music was one thing where we really never found a lot of common ground.  If we were traveling together then the operas, ballets, and concerts would not be on the itinerary.

I pride myself on my critical thinking skills; my ability to look at evaluate multiple facets of any issue and then drawing conclusions based on logic and not supposition.  This grief thing has had me bamboozled from day one and continues to do so.

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35 minutes ago, Brad said:

I pride myself on my critical thinking skills; my ability to look at evaluate multiple facets of any issue and then drawing conclusions based on logic and not supposition

My dear Brad, your statement calls to mind this piece by Carol Staudacher:

'I need to keep my mind clear and just think this through.'

Some survivors try to think their way through grief. That doesn’t work. Grief is a releasing process, a discovery process, a healing process. We cannot release or discover or heal by the use of our minds alone. The brain must follow the heart at a respectful distance. It is our hearts that ache when a loved one dies. It is our emotions that are most drastically affected. Certainly the mind suffers, the mind recalls, the mind may plot and plan and wish, but it is the heart that will blaze the trail through the thicket of grief.

Grief is a discovery process. I will open myself to the discoveries my heart and head will make. Grief is a healing journey, and I will trust my heart to lead my head in this journey.

~ Carol Staudacher,  in A Time to Grieve: Meditations for Healing After the Death of a Loved One, p. 7    

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Brad maybe Deedo will se it through your eyes as you go to Europe. I know sometimes Kathy travels with me.

Keep in mind too that grief never really ends but rather it softens  and when you are in a certain frame of mind, you will allow those emotions to come back in. It happens to me from time to time. It hit me just last weekend and I know that if you truly love someone, that feeling never dies.  I remind myself that having been divorced from someone I was in love with, it is truly quite a different thing. I was married then for twenty years but six years after my divorce I had lost all feelings of love and that just isn't the case with Kathy and that has been six years as well. Now as I find myself quite deeply in love with Patty I recognize that my love for Kathy goes on and that is allowed to me.

I had to leave my thinking mind at the door on this one and just follow my heart. I can't think my way in and out of love or grief. I'd be bouncing off the walls on this one.

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Hello Brad, I read your post nodding. I'm analytical, a scientist, my mind works with the scientist framework, cause and effect, logic, etc. But it is pointless and useless with grief and many times, even after 2y and a half, I find myself lost in grief and its "ways". I still try to fix grief and I fail. I don't know.,,, I usually quote you "the distance from mind to heart is the longest one". And, thanks Marty for your quote. It helps

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Marty, I just have to say - that piece from Carol S. is so, so true. As i had/have come to find out (the hard way, sometimes). I got the logical part, it was the emotional that at times, a lot of times, I couldn't accept. I felt like I was turned inside out (G-d, I can't think of a better description) - I felt like I was thrown into a void. So I let my brain, my logical thought (what was left of it) - take over. There was no avoiding grief, and what came with it, though. A lot to think through, to feel through, to live through. Wow, I feel like Yoda here. I hope I'm making sense!

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Ana -

I have struggled with this from the beginning.  Everything else in my life has been one of identify the problem, research possible solutions, select and apply, evaluate and proceed.   I am getting better at allowing my heart to lead when it comes to grief, but still I wish it wouldn't hurt so.

 

1 hour ago, MartyT said:

Grief is a discovery process. I will open myself to the discoveries my heart and head will make. Grief is a healing journey, and I will trust my heart to lead my head in this journey.

1

Marty - you know the trouble I've always had leading with my heart but I keep trying. 

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