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Gwenivere, that's true about acting the same when it was someone else and not my life that was derailed. Falling back into your joyous every day is easy to do when it doesn't affect your life. It's hard to do anything else when all you can think about is that one thing and that one thing affects you the REST OF YOUR LIFE. I can't move past this. I also keep going back to my guilt of not getting her to a hospital when I knew it was bad. I bet she could have been saved. I'm sure of it. I can't get past that either. She lost her life because of me and my Ma. 

I don't know how to live like this. How to live with something you can't get over. It's not even a life. I don't know. I just don't know what to do. 

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In some respects I think it may be more difficult for my children to cope with things.  Deedo was their go-to person.  She was the attentive ear.  The one who could compassionately listen.  I'm the fix-it guy.  With the kids I call it as I see it and that isn't always what they want or need.  I'm trying to become a better listener.  Additionally, I'm in a position where I can focus all of my attention on my grief and how I think is best to navigate through the myriad emotions.  I can cry when I want, I can go to counseling and support group as I need to.  The kids are raising families and working full time.  Their significants in their lives, while meaning well don't fully understand what they are going through.  It has been nearly sixteen weeks after all.  I see two of my three kids really struggling to find time where they can just curl up and hurt.  Granted at times I wish I had better distracters in my day to day but then that time will also come. 

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Sunday dinner is non existant ......and they used to be so special......I had frozen perogies and peanut butter sandwich.....Approaching Four months now. Things are getting better, but this rain and snow makes things so dreary/depressing.......But on the positive side, through most of the paper work..........This new normal sucks big time......

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HH-

Both my grief counselor and my support group facilitator have stressed the importance of keeping the would have/should have/could haves in perspective.  Remember always that every choice, every decision you made was made out of love with the best information you had at the time.  I mentioned in another post how my wife became symptomatic with her lung cancer a little over two years ago when I was being air-evacuated with a bowel obstruction.  We both thought it was a virus that she just could not shake.  It wasn't until it metastasized to a lymph gland four month later that we became alarmed.  That's four months I could have really pressed getting her cough looked at but then I was following her lead and she was sure it was nothing to worry about.  I need to remind myself frequently that everything I did was because I loved her more than life itself.  That is one place I can't go and I hope you find a way to absolve yourself of your guilt.  You did what you did out of love and that is all that matters.

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SCBA,

This is going to come out wrong, but I am proud of you.  Proud that you told the truth, proud that you accepted the truth, and proud of you for even trying.  It took a lot of courage to do.  We are all very fragile.  Things we were before are things we are not now and for me that is very frightening.  I was always the one who could get anything accomplished.  Work around any barrier.  Figure out a way to get it done.  I don't need to explain to anyone on this site why that doesn't work anymore.  We all know why.  That said, a year ago, most likely you couldn't have even taken a step out the door.  You did that day to make a step forward in a big way.  Whether or not it turned out the way planned, it was a step.  Give yourself credit for that.  Its all we can do inspire of what those who aren't in our shoes say....we can gauge our days on how we were a hour, day, month ago.  I get dressed now.  I now can go in public without bawling most of the time-grocery store excluded. It doesn't mean we forget-it just means we are trying.  

Baby steps. That is what I am thinking we can hope for.  

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So much truth and honesty and raw feelings are expressed here  and I am grateful there is a place like this.  Each of us have to find our way, our path through this grief.  Everything mentioned in this post is a result of us just trying to find our way. 

I struggled for months with, " If only I was home, If only I could have been there, If only I didn't go to work, etc."  I was grasping to make sense out of a senseless situation.  I was trying to manage the pain of losing my precious beloved wife.  The reality is I can not and could not change what happened. 

The advice in these grief healing discussion groups are invaluable to those of us who can listen, and follow others suggestions.  Because we love so deeply we grieve so deeply.  Grief is multi-faceted tool that is given to us to help us deal with our loss. Sometimes we are just hanging on, one foot in front of the other.  Other times it is crying, screaming, journal-ling,  etc. 

In these nine months, I'm discovering to live in the NOW as best I can. Although part of my heart is amputated, and the reality of the loss is more apparent, I am working and living a NEW NORMAL.  I still don't like it and want my wife back, but I realize I have no power to change what happened. 

I am learning to forgive myself what ever I thought I may or may not have done and I am gradually living in today.  Yes I still grieve, still cry, still miss my precious wife, but I have come to realize that if she was here right now, my wife would say, " I want you to live life fully". I pray each of us can face our grief, lean into it and just feel it.  Thank you, everyone.  Shalom  

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I just remember  Billy saying "the one who is left should stay."  Well, I'm staying, but I sure ain't happy.  

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Thank you all for replying. It helps when people do come here and talk, it's great to read how others are struggling but surviving as well. I don't even want to use New Normal anymore. I was and now I hate how it sounds. I am in a true living walking nightmare.  I can be optimistic but sometimes I just have to vent and spew. So tired of horrible sleep then having to drag to a job I don't even like. It's like God wanted to put me in hell on earth. So tired of this monumental daily struggle to act like I'm OK. So much work and energy into it no wonder I want to stay in bed for days at a time. 

I still can barely shower, I sorta eat, and I watch tv non stop any free time as a distraction. Sometimes it works. I hate leaving the house, work doesn't help like everyone tells me. Just more performances for me. I know we should not do the would have/should haves  but I can't get past my stupid stupid self and my Ma deciding to take her to the hospital in the damn morning instead of rushing her out right then. She is laying in the bed just sleeping, not talking and she wants to wait for a family member to drive her in the morning. 

I can't get past it. I know we killed her, she died because of us. I just think of her in there and we were no help to her. She should have been in the hospitals from day one, even though she said no but by the time she couldn't really respond back to us anymore it was up to us and we failed. My life is pure hell now. I can't find joy in nothing. I'm glad I can  come here, at times it does give me inspiration. I'm still stumbling down my hellish road. It's horrible 

 

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I don't know that you killed her...the doctors don't know that you killed her...perhaps it's time to start saying "since she died" rather than "we killed her".  It's not based in fact since it is an unknown.  The fact is, it didn't develop they way you thought it should, so you can't know for sure what would have ensued.  At this point, what happened can't be changed, so focusing on what you are left with can be of more help to you than what you can't know.

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kayc, you're right, thank you. I just get in that mode from time to time and I can't get out of it. I just start thinking again about how she was laying there sleeping and I know we should have called 911 and I am just so sure she could have been saved. So many people live with heart problems, I know she could have been one of them. I'm just overwhelmed with her loss, as is everyone here is overwhelmed their losses. I just know me and my Ma didn't do enough to save her and I can't get past it. It's even worse since I can't go back and change my decisions and make smarter choices to save her life.  I just can't get over she's gone. I really can't. I just can't get over she is gone. I can't believe it.

It also doesn't help that my mom is not always the best to hang around. She just sits in her room watching QVC so not exactly someone to talk to. I might as well be alone. The loneliness is threatening to drive me insane.

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My dear, I wonder what would happen if you tried using the word "won't" each time you use the word "can't"? You do have some choice in how you decide to look at what has happened to your sister, and if you continue to tell yourself that you can't get out of that mode, you can't get past your inability to save your sister, you can't believe that she has died ~ you are giving up all your power to come to terms with the reality of your sister's death and lean into the pain of it. It is only when we face the pain of loss that we can begin to work our way through it. If you keep telling yourself that you can't do this, eventually what you are telling yourself will come true, and you will stay stuck right where you are now. Staying stuck does nothing to bring your sister back, and it certainly does nothing for you. Mourning is an active process, not a passive one. 

If your mom is not a person you can talk to about this profound loss in your life, what would happen if you tried finding a grief counselor or an in-person grief support group instead? What if you began a journal or writing letters to your sister, telling her whatever it is you need to say to her about all of this? There are many active things you can DO right now to begin helping yourself. 

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Hollowheart,

I too struggle with the fact that I did not do all I could do for my husband.  It eats at me every second, every minute, ever hour and every day.  I wake up from nightmares about it.  

My husband didn't have any heart issues we knew about either. He was 59 and ran a marathon when he was 56.  Excellent shape. I researched back 20 years looking for the "thing" to blame.  He was a pilot. He had EKG's every year from the FAA medical examiner.He was never told that he had six minor abnormal EKG's in 10 years.  Not once.  He says in every primary doc consult (got those records too) his EKG's were normal.  I asked the doc, and he said, "Nope, never recall telling him because they were not significant."  They were per a cardiologist I had all the records in the three inch binder collected.

July 9, my husband came home from the gym saying he had a feeling like someone was sitting on his chest.  I looked it up and read to him HEART ATTACK.  He said no, he drank a red bull and two cups of coffee.  Let him lay down.  Because he had such an aversion to caffeine, (huge one), and zero heart history in the family and those 17 years of "normal" EKG's, we did together.  He was good after 10 min.  That afternoon, I felt his hand cold and clammy.  I asked him about it.  He said it was my imagination and he felt great. The following week, we banned caffeine for life with him.  He was just like always. Great.  We drove home from a trip 11 hours and died a day and a half later.  On that trip, I brought up what happened to his sister who was a nurse for thirty years.  She didn't make a big deal out of it. Get it checked when we got back. We were waiting in the parking lot of Best Buy to buy a computer.  Dead.  

In my case, my husband knew.  He didn't know it was a heart attack, but that cold clammy feeling? He felt it. It was Angina.  It was not my imagination. That day, did I know that was even a thing? Nope. Did he? Nope.  But, he knew he didn't feel good or right.  He made the decision to tell me he felt fine. I am telling you this because this is where I am today.  Each day, a thousand times a day, I tell myself that I am not responsible for the universe.  I am not responsible for the doc who should have, my husband who should have, or his sister who should have.  I am only responsible for myself.  My husband and I made a terrible mistake together with the information we had available at the time.  Today, I am as dead as he is.  I go through all the motions of life.  I just don't feel anything doing them.  Then I lose it and go through the motions again.

You and your mother made the decision you made based on the information you had at the time.  I repeat AT THE TIME.  You loved her.  There is NO way you would have turned your back on her HAD YOU KNOWN just as I would end it all right now if I could swap places with my husband.  He was the best of the two of us by far.

What you are doing is hurting your Ma. That you have control over.  Just as I have to remind myself exactly the same or I hurt my children.  It is easier for me to blame myself honestly and it FEELS a whole lot better because I can point at the evil that caused my husband harm and hurt it back. ME.  Trouble is, that is not the real evil either.  The real evil is unnamed. We don't know what it looks like, we can't find answers no matter how hard we try, but we know in our hearts, it is real.  The pain tells us that. Four months later, I am still searching for answers.

You would not have had her sleep if you KNEW.  You can't blame yourself for something you didn't KNOW.  You loved her so very much.

Four months in, those thousand times a day of telling myself, I can't blame myself for what I did not know, I fail about 998 times.  Maybe in six months, it will be 990. etc.  Hard to accept the truth that I could not protect him.  You protect people you love more than life.  You just do.  Sometimes you have to accept you just can't and that is the hard part.  

I wish you peace.  The evil doesn't have a name like cancer, or heart issues, or anything else.  It just hurts not understanding beyond the loss of losing them.

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Marty, I am seeing a therapist. While it is nice to have someone to talk to, I have only seen her twice and I honestly can't say that it has been a life changer yet. I don't even know what I am hoping to get out of it. At first it was someone to talk to because I can't talk to my Mom. To help me see things differently and not just be an ear to listen. But I also wanted someone to help me deal with my guilt and grief. I still can't get past we didn't do enough to help her and didn't even get her to a hospital in time to give her a chance. Dealing with us she didn't even have a chance! I can't believe we did that.   I hope over the next few sessions I can say I'm getting something out of it.

I think it will take me a very long time to accept the reality that she is gone, mostly because of my guilt that we had a hand in her death. For the rest of my life it will be unreal to me that she is no longer in it. We had so much fun, I think of everything we did together, everything I will never do again. This loss is to much for me to bear and I don't think anyone realizes how horribly it has affected me. I also grieve for what she has lost, she had a job she loved, had gone back to school and was doing great. Things were moving along nicely but slowly for both of us and then this happened. I force myself through each day because I'm still here, but I can't figure out how to focus, how to get motivated again, how to just basically give a sh** about anything again. The discussions and hanging out I miss a little more than going out and doing stuff because we did that more than we went out. We had nice little chats every day. It's torture not having that.

I know what you are saying about my way of thinking but I'm not there yet, I'm trying but I don't know how or what to do. I guess maybe that is what I want to get out of my therapy sessions. I still can't find a close grief group and that is upsetting. I'm not a public speaker but it would be nice to talk to others who lost siblings and can relate. It's very hard to find other sibling mourners. I feel alone there. But even a regular grief group would help and I can't find that either. 

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Guilt is part of this grief process.  I know Billy knew I loved him more than life.  I would tell him every night that I could not live without him.  Yet, when he turned those beautiful hands to me, palms up in surrender, I got angry with him for giving up.  The doctor had said we had months.  I needed sleep.  Billy needed me to hold him those last few moments and I was angry.  How can I ever forgive myself for failing him when he needed me most.  I turned my back on him.  My chair was right up against his bed, but he passed away in those moments and I know I should have been holding him.  He was not supposed to die.  We were in the hospital.  My last emotion to him was anger when I loved him and miss him so much.  The only signs we had of illness was his back, which he had had trouble with for 30 or more  years.  Herniated disks, pinched nerves from this.  He did not want big surgery.  So, we got it seen about.  They discovered the aneurysm in the back of his brain.  They were to do surgery October 2nd.  Then other things were discovered..  He was not supposed to go so fast.  And my last emotion was anger.  How can I ever forgive myself?  After 54 years, I should have been holding him.  And this guilt I have to put to the back of my brain, just like his aneurysm.  The death certificate said "CA of colon" and no investigation by me will bring him back.  I won't try.  I just tell him how much I love him and I hope he can hear me.  

Okay, on edit the tears turned into a full guilt laden pity party and I even lost my breath.  I went to get the mail in this rain and Billy's insurance information, the payoff and how I can get it was in the mail.  I was crying so hard I could hardly see or walk.  No amount of money will ever take his place.  It gave me instructions on how I can take it all or take a draft at a time and have interest put into what I don't draw.  Money is the least of my concerns.  I succumbed to the terrible hysterical panic attack and I took a Xanax.  Right now, addiction is the least of my concerns.  Money is the least of my concerns.  I have to take Billy off our joint account.  Another nail, so to speak.  Am I just feeling sorry for myself, or is  it the weather, is it guilt, is it that I am going certifiably mad?  I will let the Xanax take ahold.  We have torrential rains, heavy winds.  Our dry bed stream at the bottom of our hill is one of the little fast running rivers.  Someone said seven inches of rains.  Limbs are down.  So am I. I know I have to get ahold of myself.  Billy would tell me "Margaret you blame yourself for everything."  I do.  My own daddy used to question me if Billy and I fussed, he would say "what did you do?"  I was usually doing something that was not approved of by my dad, but Billy did not care, he approved of me.  I cannot go crying to Hettie.  Hettie lost her own husband of many, many years and this weather brings her down also.  Hence, I am writing this "book."  Xanax taking hold.  I cannot drink because of colon rupture.  They told me not to drink.  Hey, I did not drink to begin with.  Made my feet itch.  I know how to get off the Xanax.  I took them seven years straight during the cancer and I coasted off them on my own.  No residual harm.  I can do it again.  Right now though, I just plain don't want to.  It is like the money or no money, I just don't care.  I know eventually I will have to care about both.  Not now though.  My pity party is slowing down.  Thank God for small favors.

Edited by Margaret Mims
addendum.

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Margaret,  I certainly get your guilt. I won't say I understand as I can't fully understand your own guilt, but I know those feelings, especially when you can't change things now. You were still there by his side, with him, loving him unconditionally and holding him or not he knew you loved him more than anything and was there when he passed. He was not alone.

I can't bring myself to even read my sisters death certificate. My mom said a lot of stuff was on there. We let her lay in bed instead of racing her to the hospital. I don't know how I can forgive myself for not even giving her a chance in the hospital. It's that that plagues me to no end. All she needed was to be in the hospital. Just calling 911 and getting her there would have saved her life, but no, we wait another day and she doesn't make it through the night. I knew it was bad and continued to wait.

I don't know why, I think because my Mom said we were going to take her in the morning. But why didnt' I say 'no, we need to go now' It certainly resulted in her death, which was because of me and I can't get past it, even though there is nothing I can do about it now, I just can't believe I let that happen.  I know I couldn't handle knowing for sure that she could have been saved, so I understand your point on the no investigation. Her dying in the hospital wouldn't have been any better but it would have let me know for sure that we did all we could do. But we didn't. I wish it was me that died.

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Hollowheart, I don't know how anyone like myself can give comfort to anyone.  In March of 2014, I was so ill that I ran fever to 101 nearly every day for two weeks.  My daughter, a former nurse, tried to get me to go to the doctor.  I did, I went to our country clinic and they could feel a mass in my stomach and took an x-ray.  There was definitely something.  In the meantime, they sent me for an MRI and had me pick a surgeon to go to.  They had picked Dr. Webb for me, a surgeon at St. Vincent.  I had worked around him in that hospital before it changed its ownership and name.  He was very arrogant and I disliked him very much so I picked another doctor who looked at my MRI and thought it was a urachal cyst, a remnant from our umbilical cords that happens sometimes and thought nothing needed done.  I was satisfied.  Then over the next couple of weeks the mass shifted around, I went back to my country physician, again was given sulfa drugs for kidney infection.  That night, with the fever keeping on, I just did something I had never done.  I totally passed smooth out and do not remember anything for a full week.  Two weeks in the hospital.  Could not eat.  Doctor came in and told me what am I going to do with you, you need nutrients, your lab work is out of whack.  Not exactly her words.  I already had a cut down for a PICC line because I had overall sepsis from my colon rupture.  The man that saved my life when the ambulance brought me into the hospital was my same arrogant Dr. Webb.  His personality did not change, but the things he did to keep me from having a colostomy was not approved of by interventional radiology.  They had to perform the procedure.  In fact, they did not believe in this procedure with such a force that they had to call me when I got home to see if it was working.  This same wonderful arrogant doctor had saved my life against all odds.  And the doc that was worried about my out of control electrolytes, I told her to hook me up to TPN.  She did.  I lived on Ensure and Boost for awhile.  Maybe it was during this illness, this close call to death that Billy came to the realization that "the one left must stay."  I don't know.  I just know I was supposed to be the one to go, not him.  Now, I have to live for my kids, for my grandkids, for my sister, and for Billy also.  Who could have known the amount of radiation that I had in 1982 would come back and bite me in the behind 32 years later.  The one left must stay.  And, it ain't no fun.  

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The night I lost you 
someone pointed me towards 
the Five Stages of Grief 
Go that way, they said, 
it's easy, like learning to climb 
stairs after the amputation. 
And so I climbed. 
Denial was first. 
I sat down at breakfast 
carefully setting the table 
for two. I passed you the toast--- 
you sat there. I passed 
you the paper---you hid 
behind it. 
Anger seemed so familiar. 
I burned the toast, snatched 
the paper and read the headlines myself. 
But they mentioned your departure, 
and so I moved on to 
Bargaining. What could I exchange 
for you? The silence 
after storms? My typing fingers? 
Before I could decide, Depression 
came puffing up, a poor relation 
its suitcase tied together 
with string. In the suitcase 
were bandages for the eyes 
and bottles sleep. I slid 
all the way down the stairs 
feeling nothing. 
And all the time Hope 
flashed on and off 
in detective neon. 
Hope was a signpost pointing 
straight in the air. 
Hope was my uncle's middle name, 
he died of it. 
After a year I am still climbing, though my feet slip 
on your stone face. 
The treeline 
has long since disappeared; 
green is a color 
I have forgotten. 
But now I see what I am climbing 
towards: Acceptance 
written in capital letters, 
a special headline: 
Acceptance 
its name is in lights. 
I struggle on, 
waving and shouting. 
Below, my whole life spreads its surf, 
all the landscapes I've ever known 
or dreamed of. Below 
a fish jumps: the pulse 
in your neck. 
Acceptance. I finally 
reach it. 
But something is wrong. 
Grief is a circular staircase. 
I have lost you.

(Linda Pastan)

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Tonight I am so tired of being strong...all weekend I have cried at the drop of a hat.  I read something today that said do whatever will help you survive and get through it.  I have watched so many movies, walked the floor...am glad that the weekend is over, but how will it be tomorrow at work?  It is like my body and soul knows what is coming.  I am doing my best not to anticipate the upcoming events.  I am feeling so sad, but I don't want to call anyone and say I am feeling sad...it is like I really don't want their comfort because they cannot understand just how deep the pain is.  Sitting in my living room and thinking Mark should be here...why can't he be here.  That horrible, logical voice  that is ice cold simply says..."because he is dead and gone and not coming back.  People die every day; get used to it".  I don't like my life without Mark in it.  I was so proud to become Mrs. Mark Mueller...am I still Mrs. Mueller without him here?  I don't want to hear anyone tell me that he wouldn't want me to be so sad...he told me that he wouldn't make it if I went first.  I have always been strong about everything in my life because I had to be...my family relied on me when my mom had her stroke; my dad relied on me when my mom died.  I have been STRONG my whole life.  I'm tired of being strong...

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Dear Marianne, I think that you should call someone if you need to, perhaps a good friend that even though cannot understand, can listen to you. I know it is a hard thing to do because we dont want to be a burden, but they are part of your life even if their life is differently. I am sure there is a friend or a relative who can listen. And you have us too to read you. If you need to say it loud, record your voice and then cancel it. I sometimes do that, i record a supposed call to him. I dont know if this is a good advise. It sounds crazy. 

You will always be mrs mueller because your husband is part of you and always will be. I believe that. 

 

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Now I feel like "being strong" in the wake of grief and loss is almost a cliche from society that is ingrained in us. We have to "be strong" for other family members and get on with life because people die. Grow up. To weep and wail and fall apart is frowned upon in some cases because you have to pull yourself together and stop crying over something you can't change. There are things to do so no time to stay sad. 

I have been sad all day today. It's just been one of those days. I have cried off and on all day, barely dragging myself through the day. I am still in disbelief my sister is gone. Never in a trillion years would I think I'd be burying her this early. I feel so empty and alone and lost everyday. No one to get my jokes or text goofy stuff too. Just worthless days.  Feel what you feel. I'm learning we have to grieve alone to get through this. We might find an inner strength in our own way, but carying false emotions of strength for others does us no good. 

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Well, to all, is it just because maybe the moon is in some certain position, because this has been one of my worse days.  I tried to rush the acceptance portion of grief by every night going to bed and placing my hands on his side and saying "I know your gone, I know your never coming back."  Sure made me feel worse.  My friend lost her husband last December.  I talk to her and told her I was trying for the acceptance and told her what I was doing.  She told me to not ever do that.  To reach over on his side and tell him how much I love him and that he will always be a part of me and always be with me. I tried that and it did not hurt so bad.  I know he is gone.  We used to talk about something and he or I would say "I AM you, and you ARE me."  That sounds so good, only I don't have him to say that to anymore.  So, I say it to his side of the bed at night.  Most mornings I wake up with the feeling he is with me for a tiny second of time, but then I know he is not there.  It does not usually crush me..  Today, for some reason I am crushed all day.  I'm always bad, but not usually this bad.  I am sorry we are all feeling this.  I know how fortunate I am to have family and friends and unfortunately, at my age, many of my friends are going through years of this and they talk to me and tell me things will get better.  Of course, they will never be the same.  We have had a cold spell hit central Arkansas and I don't just feel cold, I feel bone cold, and this damn wax around my heart is not melting.  Sometimes I do wish my radiated insides would let me drink.  Cause, I sure would serve alcohol at my pity parties.  

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Maryanne, I don't care what the world or the legal side of things think.  I feel in my heart I am still married to Steve and always will be.  This ring is never coming off my finger.  Steve also told me he would not make it without me.  I thought he would, or at least better than I am doing, but now that it's happened, I have no idea how he would grapple with this once only imagined pain. Until is real, we have no idea of what it would entail.  I am also tired of being told he wouldn't want me sad.  Of course he wouldn't.  But he knew what loss can do and you don't just decide not to feel the emptiness it creates.  I have found trying to seek comfort from anyone that has not been here futile so I don't.  I don't hide it and tell them how I feel and let them do what they will with it.  The only I have done is tell people to NOT give me suggestions of what to do.  That I have to figure out for myself.  Taking up some of the well meaning but ridiculous ideas was just making me angry.  As for being strong?  Yeah, I was for e very long time to get Steve thru his battle and learn to do things he did when he left.  Now I am depleted.  It's my turn to feel beaten down and also my right.  I gave everything I could and need some down time.  Grief and what led up to it is/was exhausting work.  I make no excuses or apologies to anyone for where I am.  

 

 

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Margaret, I can't drink either like I did (medications and such), but I do have some wine before bed.  It is the only time of day I usually feel relaxed unless the depressive aspect hits.  Probably a good thing as so many turn to that and the trouble it can add.  But I still think about that bottle of Jack Daniels in my cupboard.  ?

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My Angela also told me she could not go on, my thoughts were because of Health issues and my care giver duties. My fear was my blood pressure or heart would put me down first. I had the BP machine out and checked everything out 2-3 times weekly, double checked all meds , I thought we were both doing fine. And then , in an instant, it is gone........ But , in my utmost sincerity, I am thankful she doesn't have to go through this.........

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