Dusky

Hello everyone, Every once in a while I stumble across either a good book or movie that I need to pass a long to each of you. Today I rented a movie - from the library - free - entitled "Things we lost in the fire" - staring Halle Barry. It is the kind of move that speaks to individuals who have lost a loved one particularly someone who has lost their mate. It is a movie that deals with grief, death and dying - as well as addiction - and the emotional roller coaster that each of us has individually expereinced. It will be worth the two hours watching time for you. Do yourself a favor and watch this movie. "Accept Good" Here is a link to You Tube where Hale Barry talks about the movie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBDOSu4U1ZA Love and peace to each of you, John - Dusky is my handle on here. Love you Jack

Mike C, You certainly brought back memories with this post. And - Yes - I do have a few near death "illusions - delusions - out of body experiences" to share with you during the time that Jack was ill and in the process of dying. What I have to tell you may be even more revealing because Jack was totally blind during the last 9 months of his 10 month illness - so as you read what I am about to share with you remember this is all coming from some one who can physically see nothing. Rather than try to re-state my experience about this I am going to share with you the specific portion of Chapter Four of my book - "Finding My Banana Bread Man" which is a portion of the book which best describes these visions. Here is the excerpt from the book: Yet, in spite of all we were going through, our life moved forward. We still laughed and … we fought. We had always been pretty much like Fred and Ethel from “I Love Lucy”—quick with the remarks, but always smothered with love—and our terms of endearment continued to be as they were before Jack got sick: “Jackie O” for Jack and “John Boy” for me. During this struggle for life, we often sent these terms echoing from room to room. And we found humor, even in delusions. I recall one afternoon when I’d realized I’d run low on Jack’s medication, Ativan (prescribed during his second stay in the hospital), and was irritated that I had to go to the pharmacy for it. Ativan is used to control anxiety and agitation, common side effects from brain tumors. Jack must have sensed I was frustrated because he suddenly said, “You don’t have to worry about getting low on that pill. We have all kinds of it.” “No, we’re almost out,” I said. “If that’s the case, don’t worry. We have all kinds of it in the yard. It’s in the rock out front. Just go chip some off and bring it in.” We had a good laugh over that. From that time forward, when I was low on Ativan, I would say I could always get more outside, and Jack would smile and say, “That’s right.” Sometimes Jack saw men sitting on fences talking to each other … in our living room, or old men standing at opposite ends of our bedroom, or maybe a bathroom with silver pipes, which happened to be in our living room. Three weeks before he died, he was totally bedridden, but he told his visitors he had just gone down the street to pick up the mail and that he’d gone for a walk earlier in the morning. Sometimes his delusions were too much for me to emotionally take; other times, I used them as an opportunity to discuss what he was seeing, and, in a way, incorporate what he saw into the journey. When this happened, some of the pain caused by the delusions fell away and were replaced by a smile and a loving touch. Jack hadn’t lost his hearing or sense of touch, so we concentrated on what he had, as opposed to what he didn’t. Another delightful delusional exchange occurred just weeks before Jack’s death. I was standing at his side when he suddenly gazed up at me and asked, “Who is that lady behind you, in the blue dress?” I gently said, “There’s no one behind me.” “Of course there is. At first I thought it was you dressed up in drag.” I chuckled. “Nope, that wasn’t me.” “Well, she has blonde hair and it is fixed just beautifully. I must have done it for her.” Jack knew he was experiencing a delusion, but he joked, trying to make me smile. He was just a few days from leaving me forever. The pendulum kept swinging. So - Yes Mike - I had a volume of these type of experiences during the time that Jack was dying. To this day I remain grateful for all the years I was able to spend with Jack - both the many years when he was alive and well as well as the last 10 months when he was so sick and dying. I have said it before and I say it in my book ..... Yes, he looked different, but he was unaware of what he looked like to others; the only change he was conscious of was that he was blind. His delusions were real to him; therefore, they did not represent anything unusual. He still greeted each visitor with a smile and a hug. Moreover, in his mind, he could still walk; all anyone had to do was talk with him and they’d see Jack as he always was: a man with a quick wit and a remarkable sense of humor. So often the ill and disabled are overlooked, looked past, or through by people who don’t appreciate the beauty that still remains. By failing to partake in and witness Jack’s illness, many people lost out on an amazing opportunity to experience the extraordinary individual he was, because his true essence became the most apparent in the closing days of his life. As difficult as his illness was for me, I am grateful I did not miss one day, one instant, or one heartache of it. Witnessing and directly participating in this process was what later allowed me to heal. Most mornings I asked Jack, “What can you see today? Often, he would say everything was the same as usual, or “Just different shades of grey.” Then one morning I asked, “Can you see me?” Jack smiled. “Yes, you can,” I teased. “What am I wearing?” Jack’s answer? “I don’t know, but you’re beautiful.” Mike I ended this chapter with the following quote from Mary Jean Irion - and I will end this post to you the same way - it reads ..... “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky, and want, more than all the world, your return.” Love and peace to all on this site, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack http://findingmybananabreadman.com/

Joe, I am very grateful that my book gave you confidence and hope along this difficult path. Writing this book helped me heal personally, however to have these words help others truly gives me a warm feeling. Thank you for sharing this beautiful message with me. Peace and Love, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack.

KathyG, You never know which anniversary or event in your past life will trigger a return to sadness. Like all of grief there sometimes does not appear to be any consistency. Months can pass and progress can seem to be made, and then suddenly we are pulled back in time by an anniversary, a birthday or a special holiday that we loved to share with our partner. I am on a nearly identical time line as Karenb – as my Jack died on July 31, 2005. Three years is nearly upon me. I have made great progress and yet sometimes I am pulled back in time and it seems like my loss was yesterday. It is what makes this process so difficult. I seem to especially have a difficult time during June and July, as they are reminders of Jack's last two months, which were spent bedridden and slipping away. However, I also have more and more times when I can remember the good times and pleasant memories as opposed to the emotional pain of his illness. This grief process is such a “baby step” endeavor. I have spent the last month re-reading the book my Martha Hickman entitled “Healing After Loss.” I would strongly encourage any one to read or re-read its beautiful messages of hope and direction. I am also reminded of an opening line from Mitch Albom’s book entitled “For One More Day”, where he says, “The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone.” Sometimes when Jack is “sitting at my table” the memories are painful, however, more and more often he now brings a smile to my face and once again I am reminded that ”some people never have this much to lose.” I am convinced that this is a life long process and as with anything else time will make it easier to deal with and round off the rough edges of grieve - but never totally take away the pain of losing the one I love so much. I believe sometimes when we “fall back” into the more intense feelings of our loss we sometimes lose track of the progress we have made. I know I do. I am grateful for what I had with Jack and for the years, I had it. I am also honored that I am the one who will miss him the most and remember him the most intensely. I have come to accept this role in life and have begun to incorporate all that he was to me into the remainder of my life. I am living for two now. I still cry, however, I smile and laugh now as well. I believe the turning point for me was in realizing that no one else would miss Jack the way I would miss him – and as a result no one else will remember him the way that I will – so continually and so intensely. We shared the same intimate nest with the person we have lost. If we did not feel intense pain and loss there would be something wrong with us – or something wrong with the relationship we had with our loved one. I am grateful for the pain – it mirrors the love I have for the one I lost. I still think you’re making progress – it is just a difficult road to travel. My best to you – and everyone else on this site. John – Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Kim, All the special days in our lives are now difficult for us to find joy in. No birthday or holiday has been - or meant the same since Jack died - and that is now nearly three years ago. I do however find joy in remembering him. I am sure your Dan and the memories of him make you smile when you think of all the joy he brought you. But I also know its is bittersweet. We will never be the same - but - some people never had this much to lose. My best to you on your birthday, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Jan, I do not believe it gets better – it just gets easier to deal with the pain of losing the one you loved so much. At first, everything makes you cry. Moreover, at first everyone around you understands. Then things change and you are expected to get over it and move on. Others around you want you to feel fine – they expect you to feel fine – when the reality of the situation is that, you are not the same person you were before your loved one died. So many around us do not understand that the person we were before our loved one died – died with him or her. Their expectations that our old self will somehow re-appear is a fantasy. The new person you are about to become is the one that hopefully others will be willing to accept. You have been forever altered by this death. You will never get over it – you will learn to live with the pain (in that sense – it gets better). Furthermore, grief has its own timetable, which is different for each of us. However, it is not something that you can just move on from. You need to be able to recall, and remember your lost love in order for you to be able to lessen the pain of losing your partner. This process is, as much about the struggle with making others understand the grieving process as it is with actually moving through the process ourselves. I think it would be beneficial for you to visit a web site I created for my Jack following his death. You can find it by going to the following link: http://findingmybananabreadman.com/ The web site is a tribute to my Jack – but it also has some music, poetry and an inspirational section. It was set up to promote a book I wrote following Jack’s death. I think the book would help you as well. Reading was very beneficial to me during this process. If you are interested in the book, there is a link to my publisher on my web site. It is entitled “Finding My Banana Bread Man.” It deals with so many of the problems we all face on our journey through mourning. I wish you well, John – Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

KayC, Three years! It is an unbelievably long time to be without the one you love so much. You have always been just a step ahead of me in this process - as my Jack will be gone three years at the end of July. I see that you were the only one to remember the day. I notice that as time passes the remembering process seems almost exclusively assigned to me. Every one else has gone on with their lives, however ours have been so absolutely changed by the loss of the person who shared our intimate nest that we remember each and every significant moment in our lives together - including the moment of the loss of their physical presence. For each day, month and year that I have been a member on this site you have been a wonderful comfort to me personally. I can't believe you're starting your forth year - I can't believe I'm about to do the same. For me, I am glad I am here to be able to carry on Jack's memory. No one else knew him like I did. No one else misses him like I do. It's best I do the majority of remembering myself. You have, for three years now, remembered George - and you have done it so very well - like only you could do. I wish you peace as you begin the forth year of carrying George's memory forward with you. John - Dusky is my handle on here. Love you Jack

Derek, I have known you now – via this site – for nearly two years now. I have seen your posts. One thing that I have not seen in your words or in the person that I know through your words is a selfish person. Please remember that in order to care for Carson you first need to be able to care for yourself. That is not an act of selfishness but nourishment. My best example of that was when Jack was so ill and dying, he was totally dependent on me because of the brain tumor and total blindness. He was much like a child – and yet I had to take time away from his total care to nourish myself so that I could go on. I felt guilty for months and years after he died for not spending every waking moment with him. We humans have a most difficult time forgiving ourselves for things that sometimes there is not even a need to extend forgiveness. However, I have learned, through books that I have read and writing my own feelings in the book I wrote, that you could not be helpful to another unless you take care of yourself first. It was, however, difficult to come to that realization. It is easier said than done, as you mistakenly see time away from the person you love as neglect - when in reality it is a necessary nourishment of your heart and soul. Last night at 2 a.m you were reminded once again of how much you lost when you lost Karen. It is strange how our grief keeps pulling us back in time to its beginning and we cry again for all we have lost. I recognize these flashback moments of despair that you seem to be describing in your post from last night. It is at these times that I try to remind myself of a quote I found in the book called "Healing After Loss” by Martha Whitmore Hickman. There was a passage somewhere in one of the messages she was recanting that said, “Some people never have this much to lose.” Somehow that helps to ground me and remind me of how lucky I was to have Jack and what a special person he was to me. I bet you feel the same way about Karen. It does not stop me from recalling how much I have lost, however it helps put it all in perspective. Go on your business trip. You need to nourish yourself so that you can continue to raise your son. You have been a good father. From what I have seen on this site you have been a great father. Years from now, when Carson is able to fully express himself to you as an adult I would be willing to “bet the farm” on the fact that he will tell you how great a father you have been to him. Moreover, some father’s day in the future when you are no more - he will think of you and all you did for him during these difficult days after his mothers death and he will say to himself, “Some people never have this much to lose.” Go nourish your heart and soul – so that you can finish the job of raising Carson in your image. It is what our lives are all about. You are not selfish. My best to you and Carson, John – Dusky is my handle on here. Love you Jack

Wendy, I do not think you can measure progress by how much of your loved ones possessions you have given away. As for clothing, I have only given Jack’s shoes away to his son, and that was because I could not wear them. Since we were both men, I am in a slightly different position than my opposite sexed partners on this site, as I can wear Jacks old cloths. However, that being said, with few exceptions, I really do not wear his clothing. I did have a number of his shirts made into a beautiful 7 x 9 foot spread – which I proudly display on a huge trunk that contains numerous personal articles of Jack’s – such as his wallet, locks of his hair, the blankets and pillows he died on, his death notices and other bits and pieces of who he was. They are not in full view – but rather all contained in a piece of furniture (the chest) which sits in my living room. I do not feel like any of us have to get rid of things to be seen as having moved on. I truly believe – with all my heart – that healing comes from recalling and remembering your loved one – not in letting things go. When you remember - sometimes, you will cry and sometimes those same memories will bring you great joy. The book I wrote, and which can be reference at www.FindingMyBananaBreadMan.com , details transcending grief by remembering and recalling as opposed to letting go and burying the past. I truly do not believe you can judge your progress by how many of Steve’s possessions you have disposed of. He was a living breathing person who deserves to be remembered and recalled – and if you do not do the remembering and recalling (as his spouse), who will care as much as you did and do. The magnitude of my ability to remember Jack for all that he was, as a human being, cannot be matched by anyone else. I shared the same intimate nest with him for 27 years. No one is going to miss him as much as I will. Therefore, I am in the best position to carry on the essence of who he was. If his possessions bring me comfort – so what. I truly believe I have moved on with my life – and in so doing so many bits and pieces of whom my Jack was moved on along with me. I believe that is progress. However, I do not measure my progress in terms of disposed items, but rather maintained treasures. I try not to push the book I wrote (Finding My Banana Bread Man) on this site. However, there are times when I do feel that both my web site and the book are my best complete versions of self-help that I have to offer to each of the members of this site. Consequently, if you are so inclined visit the web site (listed above) which is free - or purchase the book. I wrote it to help people just like us. It helped me heal and realize that you can move on and remember at the same time despite our society’s continual drone to let go and bury the past. Let all Steve’s belongs provide you tears and joy – life is a combination of both these emotions. Like death and love, they go hand in hand. Jacks chest of belongings reminds me of him each day as I pass by it in the living room. Sometimes I cry – sometimes I smile. Our life together was the same way. Moreover, when it is tears that come, I am reminded of the quotation that I have seen on this web site from a member (Steven or William) that says: “There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief … and unspeakable love.” Washington Irving Even in tears, I find comfort … “in the unspeakable love.” John – Dusky is my handle on here. Love you Jack

KayC, I was so sorry to hear about the problem you are facing. I am thinkiking of you my dear friend. Peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here. Love you Jack

KathyG, I vote for it being a sign - I think these little creatures are beautiful little messengers sent to make us smile - to remember all the good things about our lost love. John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

What a wonderful day for you - a good reason to smile. John - Dusky on here.

Kayc, I know this is a difficult time - and my thoughts are with you - as always, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

KathyG, There is no doubt in my mind that the white dove was a message from Bill. It reminds me very much of the hummingbird "incident" that I encountered just 6 months after my Jack died. At the time I told everyone on here the story of the hummingbird and at the time shared a poem I wrote about it as well. That same story and poem are now in my book. There moments of revelation are very calming - They do provide a very peaceful feeling. I am so glad you experienced this wonderful moment. Peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

JoeA, What a wonderful web site - thanks for sharing this - I am sure I will continue to visit this site. John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Joelsgirlkathy, The next time someone tells you "he is in a better place" promptly tell that person that you appreciate their analysis but "his being here with me would have been the better place." Nothing - absolutely nothing annoyed me more than for someone to tell me that my Jack was "in a better place." I know people think they are trying to make you feel better with these types of comments - but nothing can be further from the truth. You are not doing anything wrong. It has only been 5 weeks - you miss him - and that is normal. Keep posting on here and share your feelings. The people on here no far more about the loss of a mate than any nurse who would tell you "he's in a better place." Love and Peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Derek, It still amazes me, as you relate in your posting, how grieve can sweep us backwards to an earlier time in our grief. However, like you, I have found throughout this journey that putting your thoughts down on paper somehow helps the process. For me this has been one the most effective ways of dealing with my grief – write it down – and somehow whatever the issue is seems just a little bit clearer once I see it “on the screen”. Once you get those thoughts out of your mind and on paper, somehow they are more manageable. It has been nearly three years since Jack died and this last month has been one of the more difficult for me. As you explained in your e-mail, I too have found myself sweep back in time by various reminders. I finally figured out my own particular reason for these flashbacks when I realized that I had been spending a large amount of time summarizing the chapters of my book for a literary agency in NY. Images of Jack and losing him were on every page I reviewed for the synopses. I had to condense in fewer words the salient points of my book. Suddenly everything that had been – was in front of me fresh and new. It was like grieving all over again. You had the conversation with the wife of a friend who had medical issues which provided the same type of vehicle, and as she told you the problems that here husband was facing, it move your thought process back in time – and of course – there was Karen. Our lost loved ones just keeps coming back to us – and there they are - reminders of what we lost and the future stolen. I have to keep reminding myself how lucky I was to have had him for all the years I did. However, there is still pain in the manner in which he died and the future years that were stolen away. Feelings which I am sure we all have in common on this site. I am reminded again that some people never have this much to lose. I usually write myself out of my darkest moments. This brings us back to this site and all the wonderful people here. I hope your friends medical problems improve. Moreover, I hope that we are all able to recognize and understand the spiraling landscape that grief continues to present each of us on a daily basis. We are all on a strange journey. Thank God for all the fine people here who – as you say “really do understand”. My best to you always, John – Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Lin, It is such a personal decision for each of us to decide – just how should we develop our future? Should it be with another human being – or alone? I do not think there is any easy answer to that question nor do I believe there is a correct path to select. For me I cannot replace what I lost. Furthermore, I do not want to replace it. However, that does not mean that I do not want to have another person in my life. I am most open to what the future may hold. Like you, I do not like doing things by myself, and I hate eating alone. I welcome people to get close to me. However, I do require anyone wanting a close relationship with me, to allow me to speak of Jack and remember him at times that is appropriate to my grieving process. You should do what your heart tells you to do. You should do what you know your lost loved one would tell you to do. I know my Jack would not want me to be alone and unhappy. I doubt that your loved one would want you to be alone and unhappy. When I made that same decision for myself, a little voice inside me pushed me to open my heart and soul to others. That little voice did not tell me that I was replacing Jack; it was telling me that I was adding new and different colors to my life with the unique qualities, which a new person may possess. I am not seeking to replace Jack but rather to retrace the path I took to find the type of joy I once enjoyed. I think we all deserve the right to retrace that path. Follow you heart and listen to that little voice inside you. Peace to you. John – Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Kathy, I was just reading something from an old post on here that may also give you some comfort. This pain we all feel is so tied to the love we had for the one we lost. This quote came from a post that "Steven" gave to us way back on May 2007. It said: "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.” Washington Irving We feel the way we do because we loved so deeply. Peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Scotty, Thats the thing with grief - it spirals back in time on you when you least expect it. You think your making progress and then "bam" you find yourself emotionally where you were months ago - sometimes it drags you back in time even further. I am almost at the three year mark since Jack died and it is still amazing what a strong grip this process can have on you. Although I know I have made progress - I can at times be stopped dead in my tracks and mourn his loss as if it had happened yesterday - and all this three years after the fact. Still, looking back I know there is progress being made - so hang in there - and keep visiting this site. I am still in counseling (once a month)- even now. We are all here for you! I don't know what I would have done without reading, writing, losing my self in the book I wrote and THIS SITE and all the wonderful people on here. In the dead of night sometimes it is the only thing to hold onto. Peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack.

Patti, I see today is the 3 and a half year mark for your loss - wow. Wish it was different for all of us. Patti and KayC, Looks like June has some more "markers" as well - for both of you - June also has the day that would have been my Jack's 59 BD on the 15th. Wishing all on here peace, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Kathy, What a beautiful letter Joel wrote. People who are dying just seem to have a remarkable way of showing the rest of us how to live and what is important in life. Peace and love, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

WendyJ, Each person I suppose has to make there own decision as to what to do with pictures of their loved one – or for that matter any reminder that surrounds you of your lost love now that he/she is gone. However, you asked for opinions so I will give you mine. Removing the pictures, so that you cannot visually see the image of who he was, will not remove the pain of his absence in your life. Your thoughts will still bring you to one of two places – either memories of great joy or memories of the pain over his nonexistence. Both are normal. I could no more remove Jack’s pictures from my home than pictures of people in my life who continue to live – unless I wanted to forget that person’s existence – and that is not my goal. I still believe that we recover by remembering and recalling – not in “letting go” and “forgetting” our loved one. For me his pictures represent the fact that he lived and that I loved him – which were both wonderful things in my life. They are a reminder that he existed at one time – and I do not ever want to deny his existence and make it “easier” for me by hiding his image. I see his picture every day. Sometimes I cry and other times I smile, and I feel both emotions deeply. I say let these emotions in – feel them both. I am still of the opinion that we are all on a voyage of a lifetime, not months or a single year. The grief we feel is different because we lost the one we were nesting with and who we enjoyed everyday pieces of life in that same shell. I could no more divorce myself of his pictures than I could tuck away the hands that used to touch him or the eyes that used to see him. He is here and always will be in thoughts and symbols or in pictures and collectibles we shared as a couple. He is such an intricate piece of the tapestry of my life that he simple “will be” whether I tuck away an image of him or not. That’s why this is a lifetime journey. So I chose to leave his picture “front and center” for me to see and others to enjoy as well. He existed - and I want to be reminded and remember that fact. Therefore, I vote to leave the pictures where you can see them. You will feel the emotions either way – so why not enjoy his image in the life you now experience. My best to you, John – Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

Joelsgirlkathy, Each time I see a new person on here it makes me a little sad. However I also see it as an opportunity to help someone down the same path that we all seem to be traveling. Rather than repeat myself it is probably easier for me to refer you to a post on here that I wrote a few weeks ago to Scotty and JoeA - It is entitled For Scotty and JoeA - you will find a whole listing of books that I believe are very helpful. You will also find a message from Marty T (just below my message) and she has apparently incorporated this list into a reference tool on this site - and you can click on it and review it there as well. You will find a link to my own web site in that same message to Scotty and JoeA which may help you know that there are people out there that have circumstances very similar to your own difficult journey losing a loved one to cancer. Peace and Love, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack

SusanK, Because you miss what your were when he was with you. The rings are a symbol of that love and just glancing at them on occasion can sometimes bring back all those memories of what you were when he was at your side - and all that you miss. In a way we are luck - because some people never had that much to lose. Sometimes I have to remind myself how lucky I was to have had my Jack for all the years I did have him. I still cry - but can usually turn those tears into a smile, if I remind myself that some people never experienced the joy I had for so many years. I still were Jacks ring around my neck (mine on my finger) on special occasions. Some days are just harder than others - but the love remains - on both good and bad days. Symbols sometimes make us cry - but those same symbols are the same ones that provided us years of joy as well. Love and peace to you, John - Dusky is my handle on here Love you Jack