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About olemisfit

  • Rank
    Advanced Member
  • Birthday 02/20/1949

Profile Information

  • Your gender
  • Location (city, state)
    League City, Texas
  • Interests
    Okla. Univ. football fanatic (BOOMER SOONER!), enjoying Galveston Island with a good book

Previous Fields

  • Your relationship to the individual who died
    My Wife
  • Date of Death
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:
  1. Tom, I know that my 2 cents worth isn't even worth 2 cents. But, if it will help any I'll say...Don't worry about it. In all seriousness, my experience has been that time does seem to have worked in my favor. At least, with some of the issues anyway. This time last year I was still pretty much wallowing in the muck and mire. Some days I still have to force myself to put that first foot out there, but then it gets easier after that first or second step. For awhile last year I thought I was going to grow roots. It was just too much of an effort to do anything---everything. But there has been some improvement. The loving and missing my wife every day will never stop. I don't even want it to. But it has gotten some better just to get thru a day. Your time to begin seeing that improvement will come. But be accepting of the backsliding. That will happen also. Here's wishing you better days, my friend. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  2. First things first. My HUGE thanks to Marty for giving all of us this wonderful place to come to. It's probably been a big "money pit", but here it is anyway. Thank you Marty! And to everyone else here that I have quickly come to consider as friends, my thanks to each of you as well. I have a quick temper and I'm not always easy to get along with, so I thank you one and all for putting up with me. Today is a trigger day I wish I didn't have to acknowledge. 18 months ago today I had to let my Cookie go. I guess there is some truth to the old addage that time heals all wounds. In its slow methodical way, it has made it possible for this grieving "crap" to become a bit more tolerable. That fire that raged in that empty hole in my gut doesn't seem to be as out of control anymore. I don't seem to pace around in this apartment bouncing off the walls nearly as much by now. There are some things that I still don't see much improvement in. Lack of ambition and motivation are still part of my everyday life. My get up and go just got up and went when Cookie passed. Now it still seems to take me all day to do what I used to do all day. And sleep. The evenings and nights are still my worst part of each day. I dread seeing the sun go down each evening. I still only average 3-4 hours sleep a nite. Sometimes less. Rarely more. Sometimes not at all. That empty space beside me just ain't supposed to be there. It wouldn't matter if I was trying to sleep on an army cot, barely wide enough for me to lay on. She's still supposed to be there beside me. Even after 18 months, I'm still affected by that. I hope I don't come across as arrogant when I do these little short stories and talk about my wonderful Cookie. I fully understand that each and every one of us here had our special someone that we miss terribly. I know that I don't have a corner on that market. It just helps me somehow I guess to come here now and then and just express myself. But I in no way mean to diminish what everyone else had and is grieving over. Like far to many other people, I didn't grow up in a very good family environment. Most of what I learned in and about life I had to teach to myself. There usually ends up being something very wrong with that kind of picture. It's a bit hard to be your own teacher for that course called "Life 101" when you don't even know what the subject matter for that course is supposed to be. The lines get blurred very quickly. I grew up in small oilfield towns in Oklahoma in the 50's and 60's. Most of us had indoor plumbing, and some streets were even paved. And some of the hills had been leveled off. When we walked to and from school barefooted, it wasn't uphill both directions by the time I came along. But this magic box hadn't come along yet. Nowadays, you can find absolutely everything on this here internet doo-hickey and learn about it. I spent my first 26 years feeling alone in most ways, and I had become okay with being a "loner". I was 26 when Cookie and I tied the knot. She showed my how to crawl out of that "loner" shell. She allowed me to want to. And she was so wonderfully patient and tolerant and understanding. She had been through a pretty rough childhood herself, so she was able to relate to someone like I was then. We were two lost souls, and God allowed us to find each other. With me, it was literally love at first sight. That chemistry and connection was immediately obvious. Instantly everything bad that had ever happened to me or that I had experienced prior to that instant just didn't seem to matter anymore. We got married on March 7th, 1975. And I never looked back. What a wonderful ride those 41+ years were. She was such a joy to behold. She loved life. Her laughter was such a joy to hear. She loved to cook. The kitchen was her palace. She could make a german choc. cake entirely from scratch that makes me salivate now just thinking about. For me it was her masterpiece. She would make me one as my birthday cake every year, until her health began to make it too hard to continue the tradition. Here main ingredient for everything she cooked was Love. She was always just such a joy to be with. The first half of our marriage we spent working jobs together. Managing motels together. Things such as that. We were stuck up each other's "unmentionable area" 27 hours a day, 470 days a year. And loved it. Many people have marital problems eventually when they never have time apart from each other. Not us. We were like each other's oxygen. By the time of her passing, I had been lucky enough to have spent 2/3 of my life not having to be a loner anymore. Now, here I am. I've had to learn how to be a loner all over again. But somehow I have been able to accept it. The day I met her and fell in love, was like going to a library and picking out a book. I was so very lucky. I found the thickest one on the shelf. It took me 41 years to read it from cover to cover. And what a wonderful story it was. But unfortunately, every book has a last page. Am I sorry now that I ever started reading that book, knowing that I would eventually get to that last page? No way, no how. I had to turn the book back in, but I read it slowly and carefully. I remember every detail, and can re-live that book any time I want. It isn't the same as actually reading it, But it'll do. I love you and miss everything about you every day, my Cookie. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  3. Hello - Emptiness

    Pat, I all to well remember being where you're at right now on your grief "time line". In late January of last year when I was less than a month into this journey I was still in shock. My wife had lingered on life support for about 2 weeks before the time came to help her end her losing battle on New Year's Day, 2016. Even tho I thought I had spend that last week of 2015 preparing myself for what finally had to happen, I found out real quick that I really wasn't ready. I don't think it's possible to really be ready for something like that. I didn't stumble upon this wonderful group of fellow sufferers until Cristmas Eve of last year. I somehow stumbled along during (almost) that entire year entirely on my own. Somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I didn't want to. My wife and I had been together for 41+ years. All of a sudden I was having to learn how to be alone again. I hated it. I still don't sleep well at nite. Even if I slept on an army cot it would seem too big without Cookie beside me. I still have good days and bad days. Fridays are still bad days for me. Her last New Year's Day fell on a Friday. Tomorrow will be my 18 month mile marker on this journey for me. A year and a half without my Rock. I don't like putting one foot in front of the other without her, but I make myself to it. And I somehow manage to. I will never stop loving her and missing her. But some parts of the grief process are easier by now. That burning, empty hole in my gut doesn't rage as out of control by now. My whole point of this rambling is to try to assure you that you will begin to see improvement in yourself little by little as you continue along this grief journey. And then, just about the time you see that improvement and pat yourself on the back, something will come along that will trigger a memory and you will backslide a little bit. That is just the nature of this beast. You have found a good place to come to when you need some comforting and a hug. Everyone here either is or has been where you are at. A big hug to you from this ole transplanted Okie. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  4. Soon I will have been without my rock and my strength for a year and a half. This Friday. When this journey first started for me on New Year's Day last year, I couldn't imagine myself being able to survive this long without my Cookie. There have sure been alot of days since then when I sure didn't even want tto keep on putting one foot in front of the other. But I forced myself to keep on trudging along, and somehow some things have become easier. I have had to endure alot of adversity, but who here hasn't? Hopefully not the same kind as mine, but unto each of us a little rain has fallen. During my necessary "sabbatical" the biggest part of this month, I had a whole lot of time on my hands. I used to it re-read several of my favorite positive thinking books (including the Bible). I made a vow to God, to Cookie, and to myself that if I was able to bounce back from that hole I had sunk into that I would come back a changed person. The kind of person that people would maybe, just maybe enjoy being around, instead of running away from. For some oddball reason, all those people I sent invitations to to join me in my pitty parties never seemed to want to come. How dare them not come after I spent all that time and energy getting all down in the dumps and depressed just for them!! LOL One of my favorite positive thinking "gurus" is Orison Swett Marden. One of his quotes that I like... "Obstacles are like wild animals. They are cowards, but they will bluff you if they can. If they see that you're afraid of them they are liable to spring upon you; but if you look them squarely in the eye, they will slink away out of sight." To that I say: Run, coward, Run. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  5. Hello - Emptiness

    That says it all, doesn't it Kevin! It absolutely nails it. Thanks for sharing it. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  6. I'M BACK!!!

    Thank you Marg. You always have nice thoughts to share.
  7. Like the proverbial bad penny, I'm back. Or Jack Nicholson in the Shining. My financial ordeal isn't over. It won't be until I win the powerball, or something else as miraculous. But it's better. For now. Until the next hiccup. I have some wonderful people in my life that are willing to perform miracles for this ole lost soul. They humble me in so many ways. And so, life goes on for this old coot. In just 7 short days I will have been without my beautiful wife for a year and a half. A year and a half ago on this day it was Christmas day, 2015. She died on New Year's Day, 2016. On her last Christmas the c dif was just beginning to ravage her poor, frail body. By the day after Christmas it had caused a bad bout of diarrhea. As I got to her bedside for the 10am one hour visit, her dayshift nurse was finishing up the cleanup after coming on duty and finding my wife laying in all that filth. As nasty and aromatic as it was, I can't help but wonder why the niteshift nurse hadn't noticed it, but I try not to dwell on those sorts of things. My Cookie and I were together for 41+ years. 2/3 of my life. She was my first and only. God broke the mold after creating her. I still consider myself the most fortunate person that ever walked this earth that she was willing to share herself with me for those 41 years. She was a front desk manager at a motel I had gone to to apply for a job. The general manager of the motel interviewed me, and then once he was willing to hire me he told me that we needed to walk across the property from his office to where the lobby and front desk was at. As soon as we walked inside the lobby and I looked across the lobby and saw her standing there behind the counter, she owned me. Those gorgeous eyes of hers sucked me in and I was hers. It truly was love at first sight. I got 2 jobs that day. She gave the okay to hire me for the motel job. And even better, she hired me to be her hubby. And oh, what a gift she was. It didn't take her long to figure me out. She understood me. She was always so wonderfully supportive. She could be so wonderfully affectionate---and not just with the bedroom sort of stuff. To say that we were soulmates would be such an understatement. We were everything for each other. We completed each other, in so many ways. Cookie was the one born with a flawed body. Her health was never really strong, even back when I first met her. And it only got worse as time went by. When our time together was just beginning she was already experiencing dangerously high blood pressure. Then, in the late 1980's she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. And slowly but surely it began its slow process of destroying her body. And what it didn't outright destroy, it weakened. But it NEVER affected her love of life. She was always such a happy person. I was always awestruck by the happy sparkle that was always---always---there in her beautiful eyes. Until the last year or so when her bad health finally even destroyed that. I was the one born with good health. I used to beg God to transfer all those health problems over onto me, but He wouldn't hear of it. My last 20+ working years were spent as an over-the-road truckdriver. It was a life of being gone from home the biggest part of the time, just to earn a buck. The normal routine was to stay out for 28 or so days, then park the truck for 3-4 quick days off. Then hit the repeat button, and start the same process all over again. By the fall of 2010 the time had finally arrived for us to talk about what we were going to do to provide her with a caregiver. And to me there was only one person qualified for that job. I had no kind of caregiver training. Absolutely no kind of medical background. But I knew I had an immense amount of love for the patient I would have, and I knew that somehow that love would give me the patience and willingness to do every part of the caregiver "job". It really never was a job. It was a blessing to be able to be there for my bride. That lady that I still had a crush on, even after all those years. Heck, even today as I sit here typing this I still have a crush on her. I just got goosebumps on my arms just typing that and thinking about all those years together. So, somehow life goes on. I of course have absolutely no idea how much longer I will continue living. But I do know I will continue loving her every day until God finally allows me to be with her again. I will continue to miss her physical presence every day. She is with me in so many ways even now, but oh how I miss being able to wrap my arms around her and look into her eyes and tell her I love her. Sorry for getting so long winded here folks. I never was able to say anything in one word or less. I hope and pray that all my friends here are well---as well as can be expected at least considering what this group is all about. And I still continue to put one foot in front of the other... Darrel
  8. I'm humbled by everyone's comments and good wishes. You are all appreciated. I will pray for all of your loads to get lighter. My love and best wishes to one and all. Darrel
  9. It's been a while since I've posted anything here, but I have been checking in every day or so and mainly just lurking. To see how everyone seems to be doing. What I am getting ready to mention is NOT being said because I want or need pity. I'm just stating an unfortunate fact of my life, as my reason for saying good bye. All of my financial problems have finally cought up with me in all their ugly glory. Tomorrow will be my last day having a home. I have two choices...become homeless living in my car, or commit suicide. I really don't know if it's a good thing or not any more, but I have an absolute aversion to suicide. So, I guess we all know what choice is left to me. I blame no one other than myself for this. A life of I suppose one too many wrong choices or decisions. And a wife with what had become fragile health, which began deteriorating too quickly at at an inopportune time for us financially. Some will say I made the wrong decision to retire early. I guess that will just have to be a point-of-view thing that I will not touch other than to say that for me and my wife I made the RIGHT decision. And if I knew then what I know now about what my life would eventually deteriorate to, I would make the same decision all over again. My wife was my life. If God had told me that He would allow her to continue living and be in perfect health and all I would need to do to make it happen would be to cut off both of my legs and one of my arms with a plastic butter knife, I would have gladly done it without anything to deaden the pain. I have dodged this bullet this long, since my wife passed last new ;year's eve. But it is no longer a bullet. It's a cannon shell now that I can lo longer dodge. I made arrangements for the internet and all other services to be shut off this evening or tomorrow sometime. And I will be vacating this home I have had, and doing what has to be done. Thank you, Marty, for creating this fantastic forum. I didn't discover you until last Christmas Eve, but in this short time the forum and your wonderful members did help me get through some rough spots. I thank you, one and all. And to each and every one of you, I wish you nothing but success as you continue through your grieving "journey". I know I don't need to say that grieving isn't fun. It's the ugly side of the LOVE coin we were each blessed with. If we each didn't love the one we lost so supremely, it wouldn't hurt so much to lose them. In closing I will simply say one last time, One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  10. Eagle 96, I so much feel your anguish. I grieve with you because I know all too well how much you're hurting now. I had to end my wife's struggles by taking her off of life support on new year's day of last year. We had been together for a little over 41 years. Giving the order and signing the paperwork to turn the machine off was the absolute hardest thing I have ever had to do. The fact that it was the only right thing to do didn't make it any easier. Like you and your Lori, my Cookie and I never had children either. The closest we came was the 4-legged kind. And like you, I begged God many times to take her first if it wasn't his plan to take us together. I had never experienced grief before my wife's passing, but I always had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be a whole lot of fun. Since I started this grief journey almost 1 1/2 yeas ago I have thanked God numerous times for not taking me first. I still have that burning hole in my gut, but somehow by the grace of God it has become a little easier to deal with now---on a good day. This may likely be something you will get tired of hearing at some point, but try to trust in the fact this this grief crap is a journey. It's a road with way to many twists and turns, but at some point in your future you will begin to notice small improvements. Cookie was my one and only shot at grabbing the proverbial brass ring, and was she ever a wonderful, beautiful one to be able to snatch. I still miss her every day, but somehow the emotional pain and anguish isn't as severe and all-consuming as it was this time last year. You picked out a good group to hang out at or come to when you need a shoulder to cry on. There's a whole lot of compassion and solace to be had here. If it helps I'm giving you a neighborly hug from a fellow Texican. One foot in front of the other... Darrel
  11. I suppose that Fridays will always trigger a degree of sadness in me no matter how long I continue to exist. I feel like I stopped living when I had to let Cookie go on New Year's Day of last year. My happy life ended then quite literally with the flip of a switch. By turning off the ventilator. I've heard all the platitudes. I agree that she is in that better place, and that her suffering and misery is over. But when her suffering and misery ended, mine began. I turned the life support machine off then because it was the only right thing to do. We talked about it for the first time a number of years ago, and made a pact with each other that if/when that terrible day should ever come that we would muster up the intestinal fortitude to do that right thing for each other. Knowing that it was the only right thing to do is the only thing that made it possible for me to suck it up and say those awful words that had to be said by me, and only me, before they could turn that machine off. I've endured this agonizing grief so far without feeling any anger toward her, myself, or God. How could I be angry at God? He gave me the greatest gift possible. He allowed me to experience total and complete joy for over 41 years. And I certainly have no reason to feel any anger toward Cookie. She honored me so wonderfully by sharing herself with lil ole me for those 41+ years. And I try my best to not feel any anger toward myself. I was never able to give Cookie a materialistically wealthy life. That wasn't in the cards. But what we did have was something much grander than that. We were two wayward souls that were lucky enough to cross each other's path in the fall of 1974. And we never looked back, as the saying goes. Our wealth took the form of that utter and complete bliss that comes from being completely content with what God allowedus to share. Total, complete, unadulterated love and happiness. Even in year number 41 I still had a crush on that gal. And still do now. What I wouldn't give to be able to play "touchy, feely" with her today for 5 minutes. I miss her presence every day---her physical presence. I LOVE YOU, MY COOKIE!!! one foot in front of the other... Darrel
  12. Autumn2, do you mean "Taking Chance" with Kevin Bacon in it? If you do, then you are right on the money about it being an excellent movie. I liked it so much after seeing it the first time, that i found it on youtube a few months ago and had to watch it again. Here's hoping today is a good one for you. one foot in front of the other... Darrel
  13. Thank you for the kind words. This group is an amazing thing to behold. Everyone else here "gets it" in that way that is only possible from those who share the same problem. Even the outsiders that mean well aren't really able to contribute in the way that is really needed. What I had with Cookie is really no better or different that what everyone else here had with their soulmate. The home life Cookie experienced while growing up wasn't very pleasant, and she wasn't able to graduate from high school. But she attended the "school of life", and walked away with a Ph.D from that school. Mixed in amongst a whole lot of other things, she lived and breathed a positive attitude. No matter how bad things were, she always looked for and found something to smile about. I don't think it's possible to be around someone that exudes that without absorbing some of it yourself..I do try every day to find something to smile about. It isn't always easy, and sometimes i fail miserably. She was my one and only attempt at marriage, and i continue to thank God every day for giving me a "keeper". She is still with me every day in the limited way that is possible now. But do i ever miss that physical connection though! I talk to her at least once every day. And she has "visited" me a number of times in the past year and 4 months. The kind of love we have all been able to have and experience is a wonderful thing. Not everybody in this world gets to be as lucky as we have all been. But unfortunately it came with a hefty price. It's like a coin with a pretty side and an ugly side. We now have to see that ugly side. As gut-wrenchingly awful as this grief stuff is, if i was told that the worst part is yet to come i would say "bring it on"! The pretty side was more than worth having to deal with this ugly side. But that doesn't mean that this grief stuff is always fun. one foot in front of the other... Darrel