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Finding A New Way Of Being


feralfae

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Ahh, coming here and seeing all of your posts is like coming home for a visit. :) Anne, I often wake up in the wee hours but if I wake up at 4 am I'm done, might as well get up and start the day, I can't go back to sleep. Last night I slept from 9 pm to 7 am! I woke up only once for a little while. I badly needed it as I've been exhausted lately, just keep going and going and going and my Energizer battery wore plum out!

Jan, your garden plans sound wonderful! I'm not growing a garden, we'll be in drought conditions and I have to conserve on water, hoping I have enough for personal needs this summer!

You know, hearing the pain in the new grievers, it takes you back to where you once were. It's not that it "gets better" so much as we really do get better at coping with it. I've learned so much on this journey, I consider the lessons I've learned the silver lining in the cloud. It really is all about attitude, focus, determination, perseverance. It takes a lot of fortitude to do this journey.

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I've just received a wonderful book which I had to order from the USA. It's called The Widow's Handbook: poetic reflections on grief and survival, edited by Jacqueline Lapidus and Lise Menn.

Here is a poem which will resonate with you

Solving an Astronomy Problem

By Lise Menn

It's certain, as I had always suspected:

You were my sun and moon and stars;

Not one of them rises any more.

So then, what is that yellow light that heats my skin

And which occasionally warms me for a moment?

It must be someone else's sun that I can see.

It must be someone else's moon that changes shape.

And those must be their stars: faint, blinking, useless

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I just saw that the moon is more than half full and thought "oh no is The May Full Moon going to coincide with the anniversary of my Pete's death?" And yes it is. I didn't want it to, but now I will take it as a sign from him because the full moon always speaks to me. Think of me on 4th May. I will be with our daughter and her littlies but not at home.

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Oh dear Jan, we will hold you in our hearts on May 4. I hope you find solace in the moon's shining light.

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We have traveled this grief journey together for three years now Jan ~ your loss of your beloved Pete on May 4th and my loss of my Jim on May 25th. I find it difficult to wrap my mind around that. I can so remember how we wondered if we’d ever survive. How could we live without our soulmates ~ you, married for fifty years and I for forty! We are still here Jan and each one of us walk this journey in our own way because that is how it must be done.

I can remember our early concerns ~ you worried that if you cried you’d never stop and I struggled with having to make decisions by myself now.

We found this place and we held onto words that were encouraging ~ we would make it through this ~ it will take as long as it takes ~ you will not do this alone ~ we are here for you ~ later and when you are ready you might have words of encouragement for others but now is the time for self-care. The list goes on and on. We have met so very many people along the way. We are still meeting new ones who are here not because they want to be but because it is what has happened to us.

We have shared memories across the ocean ~ you in England and me in the United States. We have become Internet friends ~ soul sisters so to speak. We have others who are still here with us as they promised.

There is no way to measure gratefulness but I think Fae says it best ~ we come here to gather around our fire. Here there will be no judgment only a deep and heartfelt empathy for others. Those who have weaved in and out of our lives have made this journey tolerable. We have learned the importance of self-care, of learning about what is normal in grief, of understanding that there is no time limit or right way to grieve. There is only our way. Oh, how I wish we could give the new people here a sense of what it is like to survive this loss. If only there was a crystal ball that could guarantee that we/they will get through this.

We have learned about “grief triggers” and we know that this is such a devastating loss that we will never “get over” it rather we are learning to live with it. Memories are powerful. I am not focusing on those last days of Jim’s death as intently as I did. There are more of the good memories surfacing now.

So many of us are grateful for this place ~ writing does help. Coming here and reading does help. Sharing our stories helps.

You will be in my thoughts on May 4th, as I know I will be in yours. “It is as it is” as our dear Kay always says. And what would we do without all the other good people here who have walked this journey with us!

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Thanks everyone. I had a real melt down the other day thinking of May 4th and remembering that I wasn't there with him (for very understandable reasons as you know). And I just kept thinking that after 50 years of being together I let him down by not being there. And I had to talk to myself about it. And this is what I said. Pete understands. He understood. And maybe he knew that he should slip away when I wasn't there. Because one thing was sure and that was that I would kill myself caring for him. And I would also have been pulled to go and help our daughter often and since I always put Pete first (until I had to go to be with her) I would have killed myself trying to help both of them. And this doesn't really help. It's a rationalisation of one of the worst things I have to deal with. But I'm hoping that I don't have to go through it next week again. In a long life together (for which I'm always grateful) I have to accept it. An try not to imagine the circumstances (which I could never bear to ask about). I know he got another bout of pneumonia and died. It was the third one because he couldn't swallow after the stroke. It would have happened whilst I was caring for him. I would have thought it was my fault for lack of care.

One thing which occurred to me the other day is that every single great love ends in loss. What an awful thought. Ok it binds us together on this forum but oh how sad.

Anyway as Anne says we have got each other through these times. There will be more. Anne and I share a lot. We have done well to reach this point, we had to survive the unbearable and unthinkable and we now have to cultivate gratitude for what we had. And I do. And I shall. Thanks from my heart. Peace.

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What a beautiful summation, Anne! Jan, I also felt I let George down by being gone the one time in the year that he up and died...I made it back before he died, but we didn't get time alone together and I should have been there the whole weekend, I wanted to be. He felt let down. Reasonable or not, it is what it is, I have to live with it and for the most part, I have. I have to trust that our love, which was based on faith and understanding and trust, would be greater than any doubts either of us could muster. I think self-doubt is normal grief response. We analyze everything about that last day/time. Time to let go of it, that thinking! Most of the time I do pretty good any more, but once in a while something brings it all back.

50 years together, I can't even imagine that long, I would have loved 50 years with George...but 50 years together assumes an interdependence that must be tremendously difficult to adjust from.

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Jan, my dear, I don't know what time it is in your part of the world, but please know that we are well aware of the significance of the date, May 4, and on this day (as always) we are holding you and your precious Pete ever so gently in our hearts.

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Dear Jan,

You don't know me, but I know you a little through your posts. I am looking at the moon right now, and am about to bow my head to pray for you. I just told my family about you, and they say that they are sorry you are hurting, and that they care.

Blessings and warm hugs from near Yosemite, California

Carrie

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Jan,

Thinking of you today with warm thoughts directed your way.

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Dear Jan,

I'm thinking of you and Pete, and holding you in my heart today.

Thank you for sharing Pete with us, here around our fire.

namaste,

fae

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Thank you everyone. It's almost midnight here in England. I'm going home tomorrow and I think that is when I will feel this anniversary the most. I'm glad I haven't been alone and yet I need to be alone. You will understand. I hate that three years separates me and Pete from breathing the air, even though we weren't together when he died. And that is still the hardest thing in many hard things. But thank you all of you. It helps.

Jan

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Today, it is three years and three months since Doug left. This is also our anniversary month, his birthday month, and the month we first met. So many memories flood through me today, and I am going to just let myself be in the flow of love and grief, honoring our love and my own longing and aloneness. Just yesterday, I had an email from a friend in Alaska, asking when I would be up, hoping I would attend the next board meeting. I don't know if I will. I don't know if I'm ready to go to Alaska again yet, since I am in the midst of this trauma therapy. But today, just for today, I am going to let myself move into my sadness and grief, my loneliness and lostness, and honor these feelings that I sometimes must put aside to go on with new this life I am trying to find and create from pieces that are left.

When I think of Doug, and our love, I think how incredibly blessed, how amazingly lucky, how profoundly fortunate I was to be found and courted by such a kind, gentle, loving, generous, goofy, athletic, adventurous, brilliant, and caring man. He filled my days with love, wonder, fun, comfort, peace, protection, sharing and philosophy. He was a brilliant epistemologist and climber. He was an insightful and successful businessman. He was a goofy lovable guy sometimes, and he was always true to himself. As one climber said of Doug, "He found his center and stayed there." And truly, Doug did.

And so, today, I am lighting a candle, burning frankincense, playing some of his favorite music, and I am gong to write a very long letter to my beloved husband, whom I can no longer see or kiss, but whose spirit I still feel with me. He seems to know when I need him most, and at those times, his spirit comes and holds me and comforts me. I still feel wonderfully loved, but oh!, so alone!

Jan, I am holding you close in my heart as you make it through your own days of remembering and loving, longing and celebrating. This is no easy journey. I know Pete is with you, each moment, and that your love is a alive and strong as ever. Yes, I understand the solace of others, and the need to be alone. I think it is good that we can honor both and attend to our emotional needs with love and compassion. I think you are doing a beautiful journey, and I am often inspired by your insights and thoughtfulness. Namaste.

We are surviving, and we are finding our new Path. It is a long, long journey, and I am not sure it ends even when we make that energetic phase change of death. Truly, I have come to believe that death is just a phase change. I know Doug believed that was so. Because I feel him close around me, because he fills my head with our songs when I become sad, because he promised me he wasn't going to leave me all alone, I believe as well. He never, ever lied to me, and I don't think he did about this. So, I hold on, knowing he is here, keeping watch over me, loving me, and giving me as much comfort as he can from his new energetic state. And it is a lot, and it keeps me going each day.

I am not yet called, and so I feel I must do my best to live each day as best I can. The birding trip was wonderful, although I came home early because one leg of the tour was cancelled due to that canyon being closed for the bears. I will write up a report and post a few photos of the new hummingbirds and other birds I saw, of the beautiful hikes, and the hauntingly beautiful scenery. Many of the places were filled with memories of being there with Doug years ago. But if I avoid places where I have memories, I would miss the happy memories of our times together, so I acknowledge the loss, the sadness, and then turn and find joy in the day, in the place, in life, although the ache in my heart continues to exist. I find a great deal of comfort in nature, knowing it was Doug's favorite place as well, and that among the mountains, he was truly happy.

We do learn to carry our grief with more grace as time passes, and perhaps that is enough.

*<twinkles>*

fae

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Jan, you have been on my mind. Hoping you are doing well.

fae, I am so glad your birding trip went well, in spite of part of it being canceled. It's funny, no matter how much time goes by, they are still on our hearts, aren't they. George is uppermost in my mind each and every day. It never goes away.

I saw my kids' dad a couple of days ago. I learned some disturbing things about my DIL that concerns me for my son, their marriage, and this child that is about to be born. It scares me spitless because if ever anyone deserved a wonderful wife and marriage, it's my son. I continue reaching out to her even though rejection and dislike continues to be her response, and I keep trying for my son's sake. I pray for her as she is my grandchild's mother and my son's wife. I pray for peace for my son and I am thankful for his "man cave" (his shop/4 stall garage). He knocked the wall out and put in a lift so he can work on cars while they're hoisted. He loves his projects and I'm glad he has something he enjoys doing.

Life doesn't seem to turn out the way we had planned no matter how wise we are or how careful we try to be, some things are just beyond our seeing or our choice. It is in those things that we must make the best of it and it's our attitudes and fortitude that carry us.

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Oh, Fae, I'm so sorry you had to cancel the last part of your birding journey but I know you gave yourself to the nature you so love. I for one will be looking for some pictures.

I am glad that you are allowing yourself to enter the sadness of realizing that your Doug is no longer with you in his physical presence, but you can be sure he is very much in your heart.

May seems to be a month filled with memories that several of us are reliving. You and your Doug, Jan and her dear Pete and me and my beloved Jim. Three years for the three of us ~ it does not seem possible that my Jim will be dead for three years on the 25th of this month! I would not trade one minute of our life together and feel so blessed that we had forty years together.

We are doing what our spouses would want us to do. We are creating new memories and holding on to those special memories we had with Doug, Pete and Jim. I for one am at a place where the good memories are flooding my soul and the last weeks of Jim's life are beginning to take a back seat. It stabs my heart to think that I have to continue to live without him. It's the life cycle of birth and death that is drawing me closer to nature (even though I have always loved every aspect of our earth.) The seasons of nature have become the seasons of my life right now.

Kay, I am sorry to hear that there are issues with your DIL. I hold you in my heart and will always look to you for the courage and resilience you show. :wub:

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Anne,

Three years seems to be a milestone. It is that three year mark that signifies to me that what where we are is pretty much what we have to live with, although we certainly can continue to learn on our journey. You will be in my thoughts as the 25th arrives.

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Dear friends

Yes some of us share this three year anniversary. It's something I find hard to deal with. I have to measure the months now years of my loss alongside the months now years of our beloved second grand daughter, born the day before Pete died. The time stabs my heart. How can it be that long? How could I have managed to live that long without Pete? I would not have thought it possible. And smaller losses nearly throw me. We had an election yesterday in the UK And it was not a good outcome. And then I let Kelbi loose in the garden and she killed a blackbird. And it was either a female who might have been looking after young or a youngster just having fledged. I could t bring myself to look closely as I bagged the poor dead bird. And that was entirely my own fault. Kelbi does chase and kill birds and I encourage them into the garden and then they are killed. Oh so sad. Pete would be so upset with me. It has happened before. And I have not learnt. But it has made me upset of course. Until much later in the year Kelbi cannot be allowed in the garden unless on a lead.

I feel like you all feel. We manage to walk and talk and behave normally and inside we feel such pain and loneliness. I miss my Pete desperately. As you all miss your wonderful life partners. It's just after nine pm here and it's very quiet. And lonely. But at least I can talk to you. On May 16th is the anniversary of what I called Pete's Farewell, in the barn of the farm next door. My heart is full of memories and pain. But in some ways no different than at any time. Anniversaries are not very imprtant. We think about our beloved ones all the time don't we? And like Fae, I can remember with gratitude and joy the happiness I shared with Pete. Not for long enough but when would have been long enough?

Thank you everyone for remembering me. I'm doing the same for you. I couldn't cope if I didn't share this with you. Jan

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Jan,

Three years, ten years, it's all the same, it doesn't change the fact we're living without them and who would have thought we could have survived this long without them by our side? Whether we wanted to or not seems entirely irrelevant. Of course we don't want to miss grandchildren and want to be here for our kids, but...

I'm sorry about the bird. It is the natural order of things, I guess. I'm quite used to my cat bringing me a mutilated mole or mouse, it's part of their nature to hunt.

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