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About mittam99

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  • Birthday May 10

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    Reisterstown, MD

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

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  1. When Tammy died on March 6th 2015, the world I lived in changed forever. Any and all future plans were gone. In an instant everything was different. From that moment on, I became a different man. Not entirely, I mean I'm still basically the same Mitch to most people. I put on a good show. But inside, I'm not the same. How could I be? I had one perfect best friend. One absolutely perfect for me wife. One person in my life who I knew loved me. One person who was always on my side and by my side. When Tammy died, I pretty much had no one and my emotions were instantly out of sync. The world, which I thought I had a pretty good grasp on, became foreign and painful to live in. That's when I just started "existing" and not living with the same zest and joy for life. Tammy and I came together in 1999 via the internet. She was living her life in a small town in Illinois with her 3 year old daughter Katie. Me, I was in Maryland living the life of a confirmed bachelor believing I'd never find the right woman for me. Who would put up with me and all my quirks? Yet somehow, there was this instant connection. First in our writing and then in our sometimes all night phone chats. One night in particular, she read to me from Katie's book "Goodnight Moon" and I fell asleep clutching the phone to my ear. In mid-snore I awoke and Tammy was still on the line waiting for me. Over the months we talked (before her move with Katie to live with me in MD), we were clearly falling madly in love with each other. When we met at the airport for the first time and I saw her and touched her and kissed her... there was no doubt she was the one. And vice-versa. Tammy never was blessed with good health. She was diagnosed with systemic lupus at 20. Her case was severe. Tammy lived a life of courage and strength facing health issues literally 24/7. Multiple cases of sepsis, cardiac arrest and too many life threatening infections and surgeries to count were a way of life. And yet somehow Tammy had a smile on her face and loved to laugh. I think my sense of humor was a big attraction for her. Tammy and I were a team. We fought all the battles together. We truly were better together, that's no cliche. Having Tammy in my life made me a much better person and gave my life a sense of joy and fulfillment I never had experienced before. And then Tammy died. At 45 years old. How unfathomable is that in this day and age? After coming home from another long hospital and rehab stay. Her mind was willing but her body succumbed to the ravages of her disease. When Tammy was rushed to the hospital on the last day of her life, I frantically followed in my car. I had just seen that man in the ambulance pounding on Tammy chest and she did not respond. My emotions at that moment were incomprehensible and inconsolable. A doctor came to where I was sitting and told me Tammy had arrived unresponsive and that she had died. At that moment, I was gone too. Emotionally checked out. I sat with Tammy in the hospital's trauma room for hour after hour. I could not leave her. I could never leave her. She was me and I was her. After about six hours they told me I had to go and I understood they needed that room. I drove home and arrived at our house after 1 AM on the 7th. At that moment, the world went dark. My life had no meaning. I had no purpose. No direction. I had no one who loved me and no one who wanted my love. I was there but I wasn't there. I'm sure you all know what I mean. Time. I have no concept of time anymore. Some days, 24 hours feels like an eternity and then I look at the calendar and see it's been over 32 months since I lost my Tammy. How could that be? How has it been that long? How have I even survived? And yet with all of this, I still have some inkling of hope. But my expectations have been lowered. It's not about hoping to find a new love and start a new life with someone else. That's not even part of my thinking. What I had with Tammy was a once in a lifetime moment. The hope I have is that somehow I will change my life into something that has some sense of fulfillment and a modicum of happiness to it. Right now, it's just a day to day moment to moment "to-do" list kind of life. I'm functional, but there's no joy to be found. All of us know our lives will never be the same, it can't be. Life will never feel as good as it once did. But we all want to find a way to go beyond just existing. Beyond staring at the walls and marking off another day on the calendar. The problem is, figuring out how to accomplish that. And the path and ultimate goal is an individual thing. There's no "one size fits all" solution. And so begins another day on this lonely (but still hopeful) journey... Mitch
  2. June 10, 1969

    Life without Tammy just doesn't get easier. Sure I've adapted to the rhythm of this lonely life to an extent. It's a one day at a time life repeated by another 24 hours of the same loneliness, emptiness and longing for my Tammy. Today was another day in this difficult journey. I decided to make some slow cooker bbq'd pulled chicken. Something I've never done. I'm not really a slow cooker guy but I figured, what the heck. Tammy loved the slow cooker. Well, after six hours it turned out ridiculously good. Made some slaw too. So there I was munching on this juicy, succulent, sweet and tangy chicken sandwich and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the flavor. This was one of the tastiest sandwiches I've ever had. Then it hit me... hard. In mid orgasmic bite, the tears started to well up. All I could think about was how Tammy would love this. How I wished she could taste it. I screamed out "Tammy you have to eat this". "Why can't you eat this???". My head now tilted down hovering over the plate, the tears threatening to water down the homemade tangy cole slaw. The pain of losing Tammy will never leave. That's a given. Sure, it's not always at the surface, but it's there just waiting to burst out. I've learned to calm myself down after a few minutes of anguish. If I went longer I don't think I could bounce back like I do. I have a void in my life that nothing or no one could ever fill. Tammy was my whole life, my happiness. Even though it's been over 32 months, what happened on March 6, 2015 still seems so unfathomable.
  3. 3 years today

    My heart is with you today, Gwen. No words I can muster will ease the loneliness and the pain this day and every day brings. Just know there are people here that understand and care. Hugs. Mitch
  4. Ana just let these people know you aren't ready for anything like that and to not ask again. That's simply stress/pressure you don't need at this point.
  5. The loneliness is horrible, no doubt. Yet, at least for me... the only way to really fix that is to somehow travel back in time and cure Tammy of all her medical conditions and live happily together forever. Short of that, no one, no group of people and honestly nothing could ever change the emptiness, loneliness and meaninglessness of life these days. All I can do is accept that this is the life I have for better or worse. It's not a life I wanted or a life I would have ever chosen. Yet here I am. Taking it one day at a time and just trying to keep my head above water without my Tammy. It's not much of a life, but who knows... Maybe someday, I'll have some sort of epiphany and figure out what I need to do to at least feel some glimmer of happiness. So, I guess in that sense, I do still have hope.
  6. I don't need to compare my "new life" to my life with Tammy because it's painfully obvious how this one sucks. There is no comparison. And that's just it. I had love. Contentment. Pleasure. Comfort. A shoulder to cry on. Companionship. I had intimacy. Truth is, I had a good life that was special because Tammy and I had each other. There's nothing special about life these days. Unless "especially awful" counts. Having said that, I do try my best. It's just that life before was so much better and it feels like I just tread water these days. Mitch
  7. Kay, I'm not trying to speak for Gwen or the others but it's not that there's nothing to do. We all can fill our days with the mundane type of chores you mentioned. I work five days a week. What we can't seem to do is find things in our lives that are emotionally fulfilling and bring us a measure of real happiness. Those days seemed to have died along with our beloved. That's the biggest struggle in this new life. Creating the formula that finds an emotional "comfortable and happy place" without the love of our life by our side. Mitch
  8. Weekdays are no different than weekends for me. Every day is an exercise in loneliness and "existing". The emptiness of life without Tammy is often so overwhelming I can barely fathom what lies ahead. The future? Pretty much the same as today and the day before and the day before that. Biding my time until... and that's just it. Until what? Life seems to be different variations on the same theme. Just trying to get through the day in one piece, emotionally and physically. There's no joy. No love. And for now (and maybe forever) no real sense that I'm doing anything truly worthwhile or ultimately, fulfilling. I know that sounds a little bleak, but, hey, at least I'm trying. There's that, right? And Gwen, here's a big hug. Mitch
  9. It' is so hard dealing with so many day to day issues after our beloved has died. I remember going to the bank for the first time after Tammy died and opening up an account in my name only. Sitting at the desk with the woman from the bank felt like I was having an out of body experience. Why wasn't Tammy sitting there by my side? I literally ran out of the bank suffering an anxiety attack. Having to write the word "deceased" on paperwork and tax forms brought me to my knees. At work, I'm no longer listed as married; I'm single for tax purposes and yet I still feel married. There's so many levels to this life of grieving and none of it is easy or comforting. I don't know how we maintain our positivity or maintain our sanity (or what's left of it).
  10. Healing

    The saga of my new terrible renter neighbors continues. There is a stream of different people living there it seems. By my count I've seen 15-20 different individuals come and go. This week, there were two "events". The police responded to a domestic incident and last night they had a party with loud music and pounding bass until about 2 AM. They throw some of their trash on my property. None of this matters. The landlord on that property only cares about getting his rent. Doesn't care if it's a safe house for criminals or houses drug dealers. This is all so stressful and disconcerting. I'm the type that minds my own business and respects other people and their property. Sadly these neighbors don't care how anything they do affects others. Being alone here without Tammy and dealing with something like this is taking it's toll emotionally. I have enough on my emotional plate already and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed by it all. It's hard to heal when the stress level is this high.
  11. The combination of now being over 60 and grieving for my Tammy isn't doing my body or my mind any favors. Nothing is easy. Just trying the best I can, but my best isn't what it used to be, that's for sure!
  12. Kay, Here's to hoping you find your way back online asap. And wishing you a very very ... Mitch
  13. I don't think it's a matter of time but of the bond. Think of it this way, if a couple was together 50 years, that doesn't mean they were soul mates. Many people stay together because of the kids or just the fact that they've been together so long they wouldn't know any other way. On the other hand, a couple may only be together a very short time but they have that instant bond where they know they are perfect for each other. Tammy and I came from different worlds, we were 14 years apart in age and our families didn't understand the whole meeting each other on the internet concept. Tammy's mom was worried I could be a serial killer or something and my brother in law questioned why I'd want to start a relationship with someone with a severe illness. But Tammy and I had an amazing connection and a profoundly deep love for one another. I'm happy for those who have found love again. If that's the answer to their prayers, that's a wonderful thing. For me, Tammy was my perfect angel. My everything. The one person that brought happiness to me in a very challenging world. We were and always will be a team. She was all I ever wanted and I wanted us to grow old together. No one could ever take her place in my heart and never will.
  14. So Alone, I lost my darling wife Tammy more than 2 and a half years ago and the pain and the tears are still there. She was only 45. Losing someone who you love more than life itself is something none of us could ever prepare for. It's our worst nightmare come true. I know you said you have no one to talk to, but let me tell you, the members here understand what you're going through. We all live with this grief, this pain and this sadness 24/7. It's all encompassing. Please continue to post here. It will help. Your grief journey is just starting and believe me, along the way, a compassionate, understanding ear makes a big difference. Thank you for your first post, that's not an easy thing to do. I'm so sorry for your loss. Mitch
  15. No tv for several years? Wow. Sadly, the tv is my main companion these days and it's great for ambient background noise when my mind drifts off to another time and place (as it often does). Just like everyone else, it's hard to watch shows we used to watch together. I still watch a few of them but I sometimes feel guilty that I get to see new episodes but Tammy doesn't. Then again, the shows in heaven might be better than what we get on earth. Just sayin'.