kath

Dear Babs, I can see you and I have a lot in common in wanting to be the peacemakers. I was the go-between for my husband and his daughter, for relationships at work and I can't keep myself from standing up for my friends. I thought long and hard about the conversation that was unfolding. It angered me so I prayed about it. And that opened my eyes to the pain each of us has to endure. Pain is expressed differently for all of us. For my son it is a reaction and anything in his path will get the brunt of it, for my daughter tears, for me deep, intense hurt that literally brings me to my knees. I'm not so vain to think any of my words make a difference here. It is, though, a place where I have been able to share the depths of my aches, joys, discoveries, to tell my story. The topic was one I had pondered quite often. What is the end of this road like? I haven't seen it yet, but I have seen it in others. To me it looks like tolerance, patience and a willingness to reach out. I hope I get there someday. For now, it just feels like lonliness. Kath

Marsha and Fredzgirl, I don't understand the cold thing either. I have a heater in my office and I keep it at a balmy 85 degrees. No one can even walk in there without falling backwards from the heat. At night, I have to wear flannel pjs with a sweatshirt (one of Bob's) and I'm still cold. I read an article about a hotel in London that will send someone to your room, fully dressed with a headwrap on, to lie in your bed and heat it up for you. Then they leave so you can get in. Weird, but true. My first thought was, wouldn't it be nice if they had that for widows, too! Korina, taxes are tough. Enlist help from an expert if you need it. This is the first year I have lost, not only my married status, but I don't think I can even file as surviving widow. Yep, lose half your livlihood and get taxed at the single rate...only in America. Marsha, I hate throwing out anything new (even caulk) but I wouldn't even know how to load the stuff, let alone use it. Until I learn, I have a shower that is completely unusable. With growing kids, our one little bathroom is getting really crowded! Thanks for the advice, though.

When Bob and I got our first home, he was always so busy bustling around taking care of this and that while I did the day to day cleaning and straightening. We used to joke that we should write a book of jobs, just in case one of us wouldn't be around for awhile. He started writing things on the calendar...when to change the oil or add salt to the softener. When to use what fertilizer on the grass, etc. How I wish I had that book to guide me. It seems like a million years ago that we laughed about it. When he was in the hospital his last week, all he was concerned with was telling me how to run the sprinklers. It seemed ridiculous to me because I expected him to come home and that was his "job." But he insisted that I write down all the details. It's all I had to go on and after the first year I had it pretty well figured out. Now, the sprinkler heads are popping and breaking and it took two years to figure out the snowblower. I learn something every day. So, tell me, how do you caulk a window? Mine are thick with frost, so I'm thinking that can't be good. It would be one of those things he'd take care of. It seems I just have to keep opening the checkbook, because I sure don't seem to know much about keeping a home! Like Marsha, I found many tubes of caulk. Do they still work if they've froze? Kath

And hugs back at ya, sister. You are right on again. To live each day without the one that knew us so well, that fit so well, is a struggle. There are joys amidst the sorrows, but the raw, emptiness that was left with Bob's passing is a weight that I wonder if it will ever leave. It ties me to generations of women in my family that lost their husbands too young. The only problem is, they too have passed on. I want to shout to them "I know, I know, I know what you felt and why you hung onto their name and their words and their ways." I want to hug them with this new understanding and I want to be held and comforted by them because they would know, too, how it is for me. What is the meaning of it all? I only wish I knew. Hang in there, my friend. You are a blessing. Joe knew. Kath

"Broadly talking up generalities about grieving, without currently experiencing grief, is what galls me. I believe the only true expert on grieving is the person currently experiencing grief. These are the people I am seeking out." Ron, I'm sorry for your loss, but to exclude those of us that are further on this journey because we are not in the exact same place as you is to do yourself a dis-service. I bonded really well with those that were close and and who came along after my own loss because I could relate to what they said when I couldn't find the words. (My husband died at 56, I was 48 and we had been together for 27 years.) But it was those that were further along, that had already been through the worst and SURVIVED are the ones that gave me HOPE, understanding, love and reassurance that where I was was completely normal. You never forget the feelings or emotions that seem to permanently scar your soul, especially when reading the story of a new poster. It will bring you right back to that day, that hour and that second that you experienced the same thing. No journey is identical. We are all unique in our grief. But it is through the miracle of sharing that we gain strength to continue and eventually are able to reach beyond ourselves to help lift up the next heartache. Because we are here, we are experts, and I am sure not one of us is happy to own the title. Marty is the only reason we are here. She saw past her own hurt and built a home for us that struggled because there really was no other place to go. Her advice and knowledge has been a Godsend to so many of us. I pray she does not stop offering that which she gives so freely so as not to insult someone that is too hurt to accept the help. It's like any place, take what you can away from here and leave the rest. Not every response will click or even make sense. No one is trying to be a miracle worker here. They are, however, just trying to help. Kath

Hi, Susie Q. There was a poem or a link a while back that talked about just what you described. A lot of people think if we are out and about and not flooding the place with tears, that we are doing better. But it is exactly those times of difficulty and pain and tears that we need to grow in this new reality. I sort of relate it to my kids. When they wake up with aching knees and joints, I know they are having a growth spurt (except those times where they snowboarded the day before:) As I move through this, the down times become less cumbersome. I find I'm more accepting of myself and can allow myself the time to grieve, ignoring the timetables society places on us. I know it won't be as intense as it has been and I am finding the duration of the down times are a lot less, too. I'm really proud of you for being able to see this in yourself. It not only acknowledges your "normalness" but it shows that you are in touch with what you need. Having that interspection, will "permit" you to take care of yourself and to seek out those people that will best be able to hug you through it, without trying to "cheer you up" or "fix" what can't be fixed. Take good care and thanks for sharing this with us. Kath

Well, thank you all for one last cry before I turn in. Seems I still can't go to bed until 11:00, then up at 4:30 or 5am. You are all very special. It is all of you that kept me feeling "normal" and gave me a place to ask the questions no one else would know the answers to. I wish we could plan a camping weekend or something. Any place warm sounds good to me right now! And thank you, Kay. It is a privilege being your friend!

Bob's favorite song was "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. I heard it last night and told my daughter it was dad's favorite. I then found myself wondering if that is what he's seeing now...

Okay. One of my biggest fears after Bob died was what would I do if I ever got a flat tire? It may seem like a small thing, but he was my rescuer in times of trouble. Also, I worried about being alone somewhere with the kids and really not knowing what to do. So, what happened, but my first tire went flat in the garage. The neighbor took it off for me and I brought it in to be fixed. No sweat...nothing to fear except fear itself. The second tire picks up a nail on a camping trip, but I managed to drive home and promptly have it fixed. Still, I'm feeling almost sure of myself this time. Today, with the freezing rain, my commute became an hour and a half and my tire is nearly flat when I get to work. There are all kinds of guys there willing to help, but not wanting to bother anyone, I take it up and fill it with air. The guys at the office direct me to the nearest tire center. Luckily I had free repairs on our warranty and so far, none of this has cost me anything, yet. I find out my treads are bare and I haven't rotated the tires in the three years I've had them, so I have to buy a couple new ones. I gave my van away last month, to a widow who was left with basically nothing. She didn't have an easy life to begin with and I ached for her. In her appreciation, she paid me enough to buy my new tires. I am grateful the flat occured in the daytime, amongst people that had my back and I had the money to cover the fix. It could have been horrible had it happened on the way home from work, in the dark, icy rain on a dangerously busy highway. I know I'm given just what I need. I feel cared for that way. It's been sort of uncanny my whole life. (Mind you, I don't usually get a lick extra, but I certainly have had enough.) So, now my fear of my flat tires is gone and it has been replaced by annoyance. So, if God is listening, thank you for the lesson, you may now leave my tires alone and I promise to have them rotated every 6-8000 miles.

Dear Rochel, I hope your birthday was at least bearable and held some happy moments with those you love. Kath

Sharon, I remember getting all hurt and upset because some of Bob's closest old friends asked my sister how I was doing...not me, but someone who I talked to maybe once a month at the most. I thought they had all fallen off the face of the earth. I couldn't believe no one would call. It was like no one cared. Believe in yourself, Hon. You need time to go through all the emotions that come your way. Friends don't always get it. (Of course, my sister told them I was doing well, because who wouldn't??????) Sometimes sisters don't get it either.

Psst...I had to tell you, after reading this thread, I started thinking about how long it's been since I've had any sign of Bob. I seem to get them through my kids eyes, but not my own. So, I've been on a search and destroy mission through the house looking for the battery cover to the phone. We've torn through couches, chairs, everything with no luck. This has been going on for at least three weeks. The last thing I do at night is come here and read. Last night, sitting right on the computer stand was the missing cover. I thought one of the kids finally found it, but they said it wasn't them. Then I crawl into bed on Bob's side (where it is much easier to sleep than my own) and there was something there. I reached under the covers and found a penny - a wheat penny at that - haven't seen one for years - and I couldn't help but think about pennies from heaven. I just got this overwhelming sense that he was here, just to remind me that he's looking out for all of us (and keeping track of battery covers.)

Hi, Korina. Daycare is a big adjustment for everyone, expecially moms. Kailyn is too young to tell you what she likes or doesn't like, but if you get a chance, drop in unexpectedly and see how she is doing. I used to worry so much and when I finally dropped in, saw that they were doing really well and it eased a lot of my fears. It was just the dropping off that they had a hard time with. So, I made up a little poem putting magic on the chair, and then had them sit on the chair so the magic didn't escape. It gave them the time they needed in the morning to get used to all the activity around them. When my son started preschool and there was a little boy crying because he didn't want his mom to leave, my son looked at me and said, "Mom, I think you have to teach his mom how to put put magic on the chair." At a really young age, they are just learning to trust that you will be back. It doesn't surprise me at all that you miss Scott more than seven months ago. You are doing all the work right now and not having him here to help definitely intensifies things. Add to that the insensitive people you have to deal with and it becomes overwhelming. You are doing a great job and I hope amongst all the work and the new routine, you are finding time for yourself. We tend to put ourselves on the back burner when it comes to responsibilities and that, too, will takes its toll. Kath

Karen, I got goosebumps, too and believe there are signs all over if we are quiet enough to notice them. Yes, I think you were blessed with a heavenly message. I've heard angels only once, on our honeymoon in Colorado. As we traveled higher and higher it was as if the heavens opened and only angel voices could be heard. I sat with my mouth hanging open, in awe at it all. I used to tease Bob that he brought me to that place (his place even then) just so I would shut up for a while! Thank you, thank you, thank you, for sharing this with us. It is good to hear from you again. Kath

Dear Mary Linda, I remember thinking at two years that it couldn't already be two years. It is a bitter reality, wondering where the time went, how life could continue to go on, how sad it is to be away from our loves for so long. I am thinking of you today and really hope you managed okay and found a way to grieve for your Tom in a way that also celebrated all that he was for you. I know he would be proud of you for all your work to benefit research for pancreatic cancer and for not backing down on your beliefs or your faith. You are a gift to all of us here and I am certain Tom saw that in you every day you had together. Take care and may God bless you and give you peace. Kath

Korina, Thank you for your post. My own thirteen year old daughter was having a meltdown two nights ago, too. Nothing I said seemed to help. She went to her room to cry it out a little more and I went in to check on her a few minutes after. As I laid down with her she said, "Dad and Zeus are here." (She had her stuffed husky on the bed.) And I said, "He is? How do you know?" She said, "I heard him?" So I asked, "What did he say?" She said, "He said it's going to be okay." At that she relaxed and fell asleep. Do I believe he was with her picking up where I left off? 100% yes! Kath

Marsha, I don't know how but it seems at my biggest meltdown, there is some world tragedy that makes me feel so insignificant in the whole big scheme of things. Yes, we are extremely fortunate to have the house and the job and food readily accessible and all the rest. Yet, we also need to allow ourselves to feel the loss when it hits us. Eighteen months out of your life is a blip. It is natural and necessary to still hurt. I apologize for not responding sooner. I hope by now, you are feeling somewhat better. It's those darn milestone anniversaries that carry so much expectations for where we should be. Do you wear a watch? I don't anymore. I got tired of seeing how late I was for everything. I think maybe grief work is a valid excuse for ditching the calendar, too. I think the only difference at eighteen months for me was that the downs don't last as long. They are still intense and even at thirty-two months they carry a whallop, but they don't take as long to emerge again. Someone posted a while back about how it isn't when we are smiling that we are doing well, it is when we are feeling pained that the real growth happens. Walk gently, my friend, you are growing. Love, Kath

Hi, Kay. It's good to have you back here in the neighborhood. I was thinking about Bob today when he was in the hospital. Bob was the kind of guy that didn't try to impress anyone. He just was who is was and it could come off as a little offensive to some. Here he was, the illness definitely causing him to mellow and the ammonia taking away his quick thinking. The nurse was asking basic safety questions to evaluate how rational his thinking was. She asked him what he would do if he was making toast and the toast got stuck in the toaster. Bob's reply, "Throw the toaster out the window." Then she asked what he would do if he fell and couldn't get up. His answer in a matter of fact way was, "Go to sleep." It totally cracked up his daughter and I because he was formerly known to have a pretty short temper and a guy that loved his naps and that is exactly what the "old" Bob would have done. Of course I got weepy thinking about it, because he died a couple days after. The "oldie" in me knows that it's okay and I actually saw it as a good memory - to have that last laugh. Kath

Sharon, Looking back, I see this as teaching me more about what I am capable of than anything else. And, it has since become a badge of courage somewhat for my daughter and I. It was, don't get me wrong, totally and utterly horrific for me. But then, so was watching helplessly as my husband died, or cleaning up blood for months before, or the worst, having to decide to take him off ventilation and then telling our children their dad is gone. We do what we have to do when we have to do it. Sometimes, and this is more often than not for me, it means doing it alone, without advice or assistance from anyone else. It isn't something I would have chosen for my life, but I can't not handle things as they come at me. It also doesn't mean that it isn't okay to cry, scream and hate every second of it. We are all survivors. We don't have to like it. We do have to carry on and in some ways the tears help soften the blow. Take care all of you. I see your strength and courage every single day. You are amazing and inspiring and marvelous. No wonder you had these amazing loves in your lives. Kath

I think the bat flew in one night when I was trying to get the dog to come in. I stood there with the door open, thought it was my imagination that something flew by (lack of sleep will do that.) And it may have even been in the house for a day or two before making its appearance. What also stunk was my friend who asked if I killed it, which I didn't. She says they'll find their way back in if you don't. I can't imagine having any more contact than what I had to.

Okay, here goes...The bat story...one of my totally worst nights ever... My son was gone so my daughter and I stayed up late watching a movie. It was 11:00 and nearly over. We were both ready to go to bed when this "thing" circled a few times over our head. I screamed, "What is it?" and covered up with my arms. She screamed, "It's a bat!" and covered up with her blanket. Then we both screamed for a good 10 minutes and this flying rodent kept circling. By now I was on the floor (if you've been through a tornado drill, you know the position.) Well, it disappeared so I figured we broke its little rodent ear drums. We were in the basement so I shut the doors and looked around. I couldn't find it. We were both freaking out and I told her to stay downstairs and I'd go up. I had to get this thing out of the house and I really did not want anything to do with it. As I opened the door a crack to turn on the light, my daughter, who was now attached to my back, screamed and I slammed the door and dropped to the ground again. (By now I had a blanket and was under it.) She was crying hysterically for me to not leave her and there was no way she was going upstairs. Finally, I gathered up the courage to go up and saw it flying in circles around the living room/kitchen/dining room. The dog was in her kennel calmly watching this whole thing. I tried to throw the blanket on it as it would swoop by me and kept missing. I was screaming and crying. Then I lost sight of it. When I found it on the wall I thought I could catch it, but missed. It flew around some more and I was having a hard time so I thought the dog could help and I let her out of the kennel. Bad idea. She (a large Lassie-type collie) started chasing it over the chairs, the couch, tables and more chairs, while I freaked out thinking she'd get rabies if she did catch it. I lost sight of it again. I looked in all the bedrooms and shut the doors. Then I noticed the dog staring at the kitchen valance, so I shook it and the stupid thing crawled down the window. I still couldn't get it...I was too afraid to get close. I could hear my daughter sobbing in the basement and the chase with the bat, the dog and my blanket started again. When I lost sight of it yet once again, I shook the valance and this thing crawled slowly down the window. I must have stunned it. As I could feel my heart settle in my throat and my skin crawl and hide behind my body, I pushed the blanket over it and heard its little "eek, eek" sound. I called for C to get me gloves and a bag because I knew I'd have to touch it to be sure it was caught. I got the gloves and screaming all the while, held its little bat appendage as I ran out to the deck and tossed it and the blanket over the edge. We were up for hours crying and (me) washing my hands. I really cannot understand how the whole neighborhood could not hear us. WE WERE LOUD. IT WAS HORRIBLE. I NEEDED BOB and he wasn't here to help. The next day, the neighbor who heard the story from her daughter as told by my daughter wanted to know why I left my daughter alone to fend for herself while I crawled away and locked myself in my bedroom! To me, I faced my most extreme fear and made it through. So, now if it ever happens again, I'm moving out and letting the bat have the house. THE END

Dear Em, I think it was Oprah who said (many years ago) that the way women find ourselves is by getting lost in something else. At the time, I discovered art and when I would really get into it and totally zone out the outside world, something seemed to take over my pencil and the result always amazed me. I recognize it now as the Holy Spirit working through me so it's not really my work at all, I'm just the conduit. I get the same feeling reaching out to other people, helping them relate to this grief walk or by bringing food or gifts to someone going through a difficult time. It's even been as simple as a card to someone I'd just met that needed to be uplifted at the time. The fun not going "in" made perfect sense to me this Christmas. Surrounded by people and festivities meant nothing, it was on the surface only. But sitting in church before Mass started and listening to the voices in the choir brought it home, the feeling, the spirit that had been lacking. It was total appreciation for their gifts, given freely to all who cared to listen. Helen Keller said, "The best and most beautiful things in life cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart." Maybe that's why grief is so prevalent in our lives, this feeling in our hearts recognizes the ones that we can't see or touch. The love is still there. It is still real and beautiful. Your questioning and anger now seems like a premonition to me. Like you're on the brink of a great discovery about yourself. And I don't think there is a right or wrong time for feeling what you do. There are really no rules in this. You are where you are right now because it is right where you are supposed to be. Having those records may give you the closure you're hoping for, but it won't change the outcome. Accepting your anger as valid and justified and working through it may change how you see yourself. I do pray, though, that you will find some peace and positive energy as you go through this. You have a lot to offer and have been really generous all along. I think it is our actions that define us; where did we have a chance to make a differene today? How did we do with that chance? Peace and good luck to you, my friend, Kath

Okay, I feel a little foolish after my realization that I need more time with female friends. I can't find any. I literally have talked two times on the phone to friends since posting this. Today, Bob's birthday, is always the thing that sets me back further than any other holiday. I don't know why. I guess I don't really plan for it, or prepare myself. He hated birthdays. He didn't even like me getting him a card. Maybe it's the way I would always tease him that he would always be older than me. Now I'm catching up and will someday surpass his 56 years on this earth. Maybe the fact that he isn't here is so very obvious on this day and when you add the horrible events of today and him not being here to talk to and share the backlash, I miss him more. We celebrated his life with a cake, the kids and I. It wasn't enough. What I really need is for him to put his strong arms around me and say, "Don't quit. Tomorrow will be better."

"Because we're not just plunked down into marriage - there's childhood, our single life, and yes, our marriages - but even in our marriages, lots of growing over the years. And there's growing pains with each step. I don't know why, but from the beginning, I just had this intuitive sense that I needed to address those aspects of my life, my personality, to understand them, in order to get to where I am - and that's the present. I can't leap from point a to point z, do you know what I mean? I've thrown off definitions of who I am - I've tried to come to the core of who Marsha is, not what society defines me as. Throwing off the restraints, and just realizing I'm just me, here - it's scary, enlightening, sorrowful, unbelievable - all at the same time." Marsha, I think you just described what I went through trying to discover who I am by myself. When you are someone's wife (gratefully) for half your life, it takes deep interspection to come to grips with this new reality. Trying to define our identity is all of those things..."scary, enlightening, sorrowful, unbelievable." "Widow" doesn't cut it. It's too final, too matronly. Maybe "Lady in Waiting" would be more appropriate. "Lady" suggests someone a bit mature, "Waiting" to see our loved ones again is a given. I wish I could have all of you over to discuss this over a Chai Tea Latte (my new favorite beverage.)

Em, Maybe you can explain to her that not oly is everybody different in what they can handle, but everybody's grief is different and at different times. What works for one person doesn't necessarily work for another. That is the beauty of our uniqueness. Grief is an individual, personal journey. You can't force anyone to stop hurting by making them more upset or causing more distress. It has nothing to do with growing up. If someone is able to face certain things, that is what is right for them. If not, they aren't ready and that is exactly right for them. Love you, Kath