kath

Thank you all for your kind words. I'ts been sort of a tough day and it is so uplifting to come here and see your replies. Marty, I had never seen the Grief Digest magazine until now and it is simply beautiful. You always have the best resources! I don't know that this would qualify as something they would use, but I sent it in, with your encouragement. I'd be honored to be part of their publication. Thanks again and take good care. Love, Kath

I've taken to writing a letter or poem to Bob for each of his angelversaries. This year, the third, I couldn't quite wrap my thoughts around a poem. So, I'd like to write what I have learned as this year seems like he has been gone forever, yet it often feels like just yesterday… I've learned one heart is not enough to endure the pain of losing a spouse. God surely must have made a mistake in that He didn't give us two. I've learned that broken hearts heal, with deep scars, and that God helps in the healing by sending bandages aka friends. I've learned that we are not meant to be here alone, on this earth, solo and expect to do it all. It is okay and necessary to ask and accept help. I've learned it is often more comfortable to be able to give than receive, but it is the receiver that gets to experience the touch of an angel. I've learned that GPS can take away the fear and panic of driving in unfamiliar places. It also encourages laughter when the store you know is in MN only comes up on a map in Chicago. I've learned that children are wise and resilient and we can learn a lot from them as long as we don't take ourselves, or our problems too seriously. I've learned that taking a day at a time can be a monumental task and if needed, broken down into single seconds. I've learned tires need to be rotated every 2nd oil change. I've learned oil changes are a necessary evil. I've learned they have coupons for stuff like that. I've learned that pride in our children's accomplishments is bittersweet without your spouse to share it with. I've learned that those who want to help won't, unless given specific tasks. Those same people don't know what to say in your absence, but are willing to learn. I've learned that worrying about the future is nothing compared to mourning the past. I've learned that our story didn't die with you, it just needed time to be told…and re-told. I've learned that I will never make a pot of coffee that tastes as good as the ones you made each morning. I've learned that one never fully cries their eyes out. The supply is endless. I've learned that laughter and smiles and joy are possible and you are always in my heart. I've learned that the real important things in life are not bought, but shared, and arm in arm is best. I've learned if you work hard enough, sleep will come. I've learned to not burn the soup. I've learned that I really am strong and capable and isn't that what you told me all along? I've learned that no other eyes will find me as beautiful as I was in yours. I've learned that I hear your voice with every major decision or tough day and remarkably, it is just what I need to hear. I've learned to trust myself with your memory and seeing the big picture is much better than reliving your last few days. I've learned that nothing replaces the unspoken silence of being in the room with someone you love. I've learned that you were the original dog whisperer and that it is an injustice to our current canine to not have experienced your talent, but I am still learning. I've learned there are more important things than clean carpeting. I've learned that letting go does not mean giving up, but rather opens one's path to the next big adventure. I am learning to be free…of guilt, of anguish, of regret and of stuff. With all my love...Kath © 2010 by Kath

Dear Suzanne, It will be three years for me on Memorial Day and I have yet to watch TV or even the news. I've tried a couple movies and find myself with the box of Kleenex in my face. So, to protect myself I stay away. (This tactic has worked for my son who can now freely control the remote and watch the sports channel endlessly.) I am truly sorry you are in so much pan right now. It does ease up as we get more adept at surviving. Survival must include joy and laughter and though it seems impossible, it will come again. You were a caretaker and cheerleader for three years. That's a long time. Allow yourself time to at least rediscover what you need to do next. If you are crying a lot, it is because you need to. If it has become too much for you, ask your doctor at your next appointment. They have things that can take the edge off. Grief is hard as you already know. But it is not the same at 3 months as it is at 3 years or 11 years. We don't ever "get over" our loved ones. That would be a shame for me. I do feel that most days I "get through" the challenges pretty well. Keep posting and talking. Hon, we have all been there with you. Kath

Dear Chai, I am often wondering and thinking about how you are doing. I went through some similar experiences grieving my husband. I was angry at everyone and now, just recently I've been angry at Bob. It is just part of the process that has to be felt and worked through. It leaves me feeling guilty and disrespectful and I don't like it at all, but it's there. To not acknowledge it would make it worse. The hard part as we move further away from the dying date, is there are fewer and fewer people to talk it out with. Grief has become a dreaded houseguest that has overstayed its welcome. I suppose I feel that others expect me to have moved on by now. More often than not, I wish I could. But it has become a part of me as much as our life together has formed my very essence. I live, breathe, dream, talk, walk, cry, wear, the one I loved on a daily basis. I am glad you are pouring yourself into your religion. I've found it to be a safe haven and I was so glad it was there when I had the time to devote to it. It was the calm in the midst of turbulence. I appreciated its consistency and timelessness. I embraced the routine and the familiar because everything else had changed. I don't go to church every day anymore and I guess I don't need to. I imagine you will reach a point that you will carry the truths of your faith with you and can find your inner peace outside the temple walls. I'm sorry about your friend. This experience has certainly opened our eyes to the devastation in so many hearts. Reaching out to him may be just what you need. Share your wisdom. You are blessed with much, you know. You are close to graduating! That is so admirable. What a tremendous strength you have had to be able to endure after losing your dad. So, tell me, is that a quality you inherited from him or your mom or maybe that uncle of yours? Chai, I hated when my mother asked me if I had "seen Bob" in an old familiar place. The reason I ached so badly was because I didn't have him here. Yet she insisted he was there and it angered me. Whenever you post I always feel you are at a turning point in your journey. Here you are ready to enter into a new stage of your life. It's stressful and carries a lot of uncertainty. Of course you want your dad and grandmother there with you. It took me a while to realize they are still with us. We can't see them, but they have left an indelible mark on our hearts, so as long as we are drawing breath, they walk within us. Your dad will be there. (If you hate me for saying that, I'll understand.) Congratulations, my friend, for coming so far and doing so much. You will rock that graduation and if you don't believe me, look at your mom. Her heart will carry the love of all the people before you. All my love, Kath

Dea rFurkid, This is a really late belated birthday. I don't get here as much as I used to and if I do, it is just to check on the "new kids" like yourself. It makes total sense to me to miss your husband on your birthday. He was important to you and made your day important to him. I also understand the not wanting to go out alone. Here you are not alone, and I just wanted you to know that I will think of you today and wish you a year full of happier tears and better tomorrows. Kath

Dear Lainey, I felt an incredible urgency to cmplete all my husband's projects. I built shelves, replaced light fixtures, repaired plumbing...Then a hail storm destroyed the siding and it paralyzed me. (The siding had just been replaced the year he died and this was our second claim in 2 years.) When a task seems impossible, take it in little bits. A lot of what we do is a leap of faith. I had to trust the builders and it scared the bejeebers outta me. I made a lot of lists...questions I was supposed to ask, things to do, etc. My mind could hardly keep track of the day of the week, let alone all this extra. Somehow, the work got done and we moved on. Each little thing gives us that bit of extra confidence. (Along with a lot of encouragement from the friends on this site.) Each major decision was done with my husband in mind. How would he handle it, who would he call, what would he ask? A roof is a job for the experts. Call them. Now, if you're feeling a little daring and want to change to a different color, you can make it a little more exciting than a needed repair:) The reminders that are painful early on have for me become very comforting as time goes on. I think that's probably why we are told not to make any major decisions the first year. When you are ready, you'll know what to do with the carvings. Have you ever thought about carving yourself? How about contacting a local Boy Scout troop? Could they help you out and earn a merit badge in the process? I feel like an old horse most days, just plodding along. I hope you keep plodding, too. Kath

Dear Closs, I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved husband. I hope you are able to do what you need to do to keep yourself healthy. 43 years is a lifetime of love. I had 27 with my husband and we, too did everything together. We rarely even spent a night apart. Please keep posting here, even on the really bad nights. Somehow, this group that understands so well, will pull you through. I remember sitting and worrying if my own heart would stop beating because of the physical pain and it scared me to think that my children would be left orphans. At that moment I totally understood why some elderly widows/widowers die so soon after their spouses. This loss is physical, it is emotional, financial, spiritual. It engulfs every part of us. But do take comfort in this group. The love and care among the members here is second to none. Eat what you can, rest when you can, drink tons of water, walk or exercise and don't think you have to do everything all at once. Take good care, Kath

I have no theology to back this up, but this is my take on things since Bob was called "home." We are here to love as Jesus loved us. Perfect love, nothing more. I often felt that through his illness, my husband achieved that very thing. His endurance, his unselfish devotion to his kids and I, his willingness to do whatever was asked of him. Maybe, when we reach that point, we have "earned" our reward. That reward is in heaven. I am far from that point. I still have lots to learn. I hope someday I can be the hero I saw in my husband. Maybe I never will. But I do believe in a gentle, kind, forgiving God that will at least let me spend my eternity with the love of my life. Until then, I will pray fervently, for the sad, the lonely, the aching, the undeserving, the poor, and the unbelieving. And "yes" I do believe those prayers are answered. My husband is at peace, without meds, without pain, without fear. It sucks to be the one left behind, but there is still so much I need to do. I told my kids shortly after Bob's death that if I could get to heaven, I'd give Bob a good kick in the shins for leaving us like he did. My son calmly responded, "Mom, do you think God is going to let a violent lady into heaven?" He was at the wise old age of 9 then. Today he turned 12 and I wish his dad were here to tell him himself how much he loves him. Until he can, I'll keep praying and saying it for him.

Dear Lucia, I worry about the same things. Do the doctors you're seeing now about Ben? We definitely go through a long period of forgetfullness/absent-mindedness after losing our spouse. Maybe some of this "early Alzheimers" is really grief. At least, that's what I'm hoping mine is from! Kath

Korina, Having children gives us something to live for, but it sure isn't easy. I go into the pits with each of my children's accomplishments. I'm so proud and happy for them, yet I am equally sad for them that their dad can't be here to cheer for them, and that I don't have him here to share it with. Everything is bittersweet. Mine are so used to seeing me cry all the time, they hardly notice. At the last Boy Scout meeting, one of the leaders came up and said, "I was told your husband wants to be leader of ..." I was brought instantly to tears. (His wife just happened to be the charge nurse where he was last hospitalized and she has never said a word to me, though we visit at meetings.) All I could say was, "I'm sure he would have like to if he were here, but..." I'm curious how you do it? Decisions, managing, enjoying your time with her. Each step reminds me of what I lost. Kath

Dear Kay, You have been a source of strength and encouragement since my own beginning. Now I count you as one of my most trusted friends. Thanks for all you do...fo all of us! Love, Kath

I think Marty has reminded us a couple times that the worst loss is when it happens to you. When my sister was going through a divorce shortly after my husband's death, I really didn't think I wanted to spend time with her. But I kept those feelings to myself and listened while whe described her horror (after 17 years of marriage.) Our situations were entirely different and I longed to have Bob here to be angry with or even "run into" on occassion, yet her heartache was very much like mine. Loss is pain and agony and adjustment. That we had in common. I am deeply sorry for all of us that have lost our loved ones. It takes strength and courage to move through the trials after tragedy. Just the fact that you are here tells me you are not ready to give up. I found myself being angry at well-intended comments and hyper-analyzing them, my thoughts, my mistakes, my days, my tears and everything in between. I didn't think of it until a dear widowed friend reacted in the same way to something I had said. It's true that unless this happens to you, you can't possibly understand. Well, I wish none of you did understand just for that reason. And I certainly wouldn't wish this devastation on any of my friends. Take care, all of you, and keep posting. It seems like an impossible task lies ahead, but I know we do get through it, some good days, some bad and some worse than ever. I was thinking yesterday that I should write a book titled "Losing identity, intimacy, and income...the death of a spouse." The challenges are huge, my friends, I'm glad you are here to help. Kath

Alicia, My best support came from my "Befriender" from the church. A complete stranger, assigned by my priest, listened and listened some more. She asked questions about my spouse, like when I said I missed him, she asked what did I "miss the most?" She wanted to hear our story...the one I thought was lost forever. When I cried, she didn't change the subject or act uncomfortable, she encouraged me to let the tears come. She acknowledged how difficult it was. She brought chicken soup, tissue and tea with honey for my first "alone" cold. She made me laugh. She made me walk. She kept me talking for hours at a time. She understood when I saw "signs." She invited me to get involved in things I didn't think I could do. She never tried to "make" me feel better. She just did. Just knowing she was there, whenever I needed her was the best help of all. She understood, but it took a couple years to find out why she knew so well. I hope somehow I can return the favor. Good luck to you, Kath PS...She never said she knew how I was feeling, but she did acknowledge that grief is really hard work, and there is no way around it, you must go through it. I was also really worn out from the sadness when I asked her if I would ever be funny again (because I used to be really funny.) She thought for a moment and said that she knew some really crabby people that had lost their spouse and they were still crabby. It was, hands down, the most encouraging thing I had ever heard!

Dear Suzanne, I am really sorry for your loss and if it helps, everything you described, the helpless devastation, is entirely normal. I was the same way for a long time. Now, I have brief relapses. Next month will be three years I've lived without my husband. There are many times, I hate it. I still want him here, with me. I miss everything about him. Seeing an older couple walking around the lake yesterday brought instant tears. I hear every day about bad marriages, the difficult breakups, or a miraculous recovery from a serious illness and I get angry. Why my husband? Or why yours or Kays or Susie Q's??? It doesn't make any sense at all, not here, not now. I have my faith, thank goodness, for that has saved me many times. It is that faith that assures me, this life is short, my eternity will be spent together again, in God's glory, with my beloved husband. You will, too. For now, it is just survival mode. The feelings will wash over you in no particular order. But, you'll carry on. I think it is only in our mind that we seem to be as terrible as we are. Others don't seem to notice. I look at those in my life that lost spouses and I wish they were still here to talk about it. The thing I would want to say to them is "I understand. Sadly, sorrowfully, I get it." They did the best they could and I guess I will do the same. Some days I just have more grace about me than others. Hang in there. It won't always be this terrible. Love, Kath

Dear Jude, The "firsts" are always the toughest. I hope you can find some joy this birthday. Kath

Dear Terry, I'm sorry you have to deal with all this. It becomes so overwhelming in the midst of such great heartache. It seems impossible to muster up the energy when you just want to curl up and cry, but you need to take care of yourself. Make a list of who and what you need to do. I still have mine from almost three years ago. Some things can wait, but your basic needs must be met. Leanne gave you good advice. I found out the county sometimes has emergency assistance even if you've never qualified before. Also, if you have an electric coop, call them. You may have a credit that they pay out after your spouse passes away. Food shelves right now have an abundance as March doubles their donations. Call credit card companies, too. If the card is in your husband's name, they'll halt any finance charges as you pay off the bill. While it's hard to face all this, I found most everyone I talked to was understanding and cooperative. Have you contacted social security? You may be entitled to survivor benefits. Hugs, Kath

Dear Kim, Dan wasn't the only courageous one in your family. You have been an inspiration to me since I first came here. How can it be three years this year? Time stands still in a grieving heart. I'm praying for you today. May Dan's birthday be filled with memories of better days. Wishing you strength, Kath

Happy Belated Birthday, Korina! Your family sounds really wonderful. I'm glad they are close to you two. This is a random question, but did you finish your taxes? I e-filed mine Sunday morning and did a happy dance all afternoon. When I checked my computer at 11:50 that night, the IRS rejected it! The fix was time-consuming but easy. I was thinking of you through it all, hoping yours were going well. Love, Kath

Bob and I loved our long walks, especially in early spring and late fall. It has been one thing I have had to force myself to do without him. It is a sad, lonely reminder of the days when we used to be hand-in-hand, talking about everything under the sun. My solution has been to walk the dog a mile at 5 am. It works for me. It's still dark, so most of my focus is on sounds. Of course, I think of Bob, that's a given, but because it isn't an hour of the day we would have devoted to this routine, it doesn't suck. This morning I say stars and I wondered if he was peeking through one of those openings. Grief forces us to change our focus. We still need to do the day to day things, we still need to take care of ourselves, the challenge is to find ways that we can manage. Tonight, my son started his Firearm Safety Class. It brought back so many memories of hunting with Bob, I couldn't help but think he is the one that should be here to teach Mike. Instead, I'm going to have to find a way to get back into it, teaching him all the things I learned from my dad and my hubby. I want him to know the stories. I want him to be safe. I want to cry.

Dear Mary Linda, You'll be at the top of my prayer list this week. I wish you a speedy recovery and that God puts angels (like yourself) in your path to help you heal. Take good care, Kath

Dear Boo, I hope you are surrounded with lots of Cliff's friends today, sharing stories of his greatness! I felt I knew him from your eulogy and understand how he is surely missed. Sending warm thoughts and many prayers your way, my dear. Love, Kath

Congratulations, Mary Linda. I can hear the joy in your words. (And I bet you are a really good nurse and an awesome friend.) Kath

Angie, Reading your story, my first thought was that is how God takes care of widows. He gives us angels on earth. Bless you and the woman who was His arms. Kath

Wendy, You are in my prayers today. The loss will always be great to those of us left behind. I pray that you will experience the peace that comes with healing and the comfort that comes from never forgetting. Love, Kath

I was in a study group through my church last week and the topic this session is on prayer. We had to recall a time where we experienced God's blessings through prayer. I remember sitting in church at around ten months, sobbing, shattered, scared, lonely, confused and really did not know how I could get it together to get through the day. I prayed and prayed, wondering and asking God what He was thinking by taking my Bob from me. It made no sense. I looked up at the stations of the cross and became fixated on the image of Jesus falling under the weight of his burden. I imagined his pain and his agony. And I imagined his Father having to witness it all and not intercede for His son. I can't put into words the feeling of warmth and light that flooded me. It was like I had God's undivided attention and I realized that He did understand my broken heart. And I understood that I would not have to struggle through this alone. He would be there, if I let Him. It is easy for me to forget that feeling. I get all wrapped up in the problems of the day. Yet, there have been those situations without explanation...a kindness, a lucky break, an unexpected pleasure...that have creeped in when I least expected them. There are no accidents. People are put in our path for a reason. They are the hands of God. I belonged to a Moms In Touch group around that same time and we'd get together weekly to pray for our kids, their schools and their teachers. I didn't know anyone at the time but joined to help my kids. Their transition has been nothing short of amazing. I totally believe it is the power of prayer. The funny thing was, when I was there, I felt so broken. It was a shock to hear that the other ladies admired my strength. They wondered how I could praise God for the beauty in nature and others while grieving. I don't know how I couldn't. There was so much that surrounded me during that time. There is not one part of this journey that is easy. Grief is hard work. Prayer takes out many of the bumps for me. Whether you believe or not, there is no right or wrong. I lift each of you up in my prayers every day in the hope that you will all be blessed and held in His arms. Love, Kath