marsha

Bless you, Mel, you have my prayers for peace and comfort today. Hugs, Marsha

Kath - I appreciate them ole bellies, too! I had back problems a couple of weeks back, and I was like an 80 year old woman getting out of bed. Joe had fingers of steel for my tight neck - now, I've got to pay for it! (Professional massage, that is, let's get our minds out of the gutter) - c'mon down here, baby, I'll walk on your back for free - Love and hugs, Marsha

Dee Gee - Oh, I'm glad you brought up this hard subject - one I never could find the words to express, except in my journal. Please forgive me in advance for this long winded story, but I need to get it out, to answer you. When Joe's cancer was diagnosed, I was in shock, particularly because billiary duct cancer shows no symptoms. I thought, ok, chemo, radiation, whatever it takes, we can beat this. He received his first round of chemo, then he fell. He said he slipped on the floor. Then a second time - the third time I couldn't get him off the floor. I called 911, and they took him to the hospital, and ran further tests. I had called his oncologist, who said his ammonia levels were probably off. At 1:00 am, the doc called me to say they found the cancer had gone to his brain. When I drove back to the hospital, in shock, I thought - he's dying. I could not even get my head around it. They transported him to Norfolk General that night. The next day, the worst was confirmed. I remember the doctor saying, it's all through his body - he has one to six months. We cried together, but when I went into the hall where my good friend was waiting, I sobbed. When Joe came home, I remember sitting at the kitchen table, crying - I said to him "what's going to happen to us?". He said, and I'll never forget this, "you know what's going to happen -you went through it with your mother and father" (both deceased.) That was the only time we addressed his terminal sentence directly. He went through 30 days of radiation - I saw that he still retained hope, and decided to fight. I needed to honor his wishes. I didn't cry in front of him; but I cried in private. I couldn't give up, because Joe wasn't giving up, even though the evidence of his decline was right in front of me. We just continued living our lives as best as we could. A week before he died, he said, "I feel different." I never felt more alone in this universe than during those 4 months. Vickie O'Neil (a member of this site) said to me, and I'm paraphrasing - what could we do? Our husbands were staring death in the eyeballs. The anguish, and guilt, thinking, what could I have done differently, did I do enough, was a big part of my grieving. But we, all of us, go through the journey of life, and death, personally, and internally. I know Joe knows that I loved him more than anything on this earth. I hear you - Hugs, Marsha

To me, you ladies are all a blessing! Now I'm sorry I washed the clothes Joe was wearing when he last went into the hospital. But in the weeks following, I collected every stray hair, from his brush, the carpet - every one I came across, and put them in his jewelry box. A month ago I was cleaning out a drawer and came upon one of his hairbands, with his hair still entwined. It was like I saw the Holy Grail! His glasses sit in the dash of my truck, where he last took them off. And Boo, I believe you're exactly right when you say it's a kind of connection to the living him. What we've all described sounds perfectly normal to me. Love and hugs, Marsha

Boo - it's the story of your life with Cliff - beautiful, and I thank you for sharing it - Love, marsha

Paula - I'm very sorry for your Tom's death. It truly is a roller coaster ride, and that goes for the cancer journey as well. My husband died 14 months ago, 4 months from diagnosis to death (billiary duct cancer). I'm 53. I thought I knew who I was, but it seemed I had to start from square one. Joe's death was devastating. Going through the raw grief, the guilt, and anger - it's something we have to go through, not around, and it's so, so difficult making sense of it. For me, talking and talking about it, as you've started to do here, helps, because I realize although we all had unique relationships, grief has a similarilty, and support is invaluable. Be gentle on yourself - hugs, Marsha

Laurie- and Boo - the first Thanksgiving I got a lot of invitations from friends to share in their meal. I just couldn't do it. I was only 4 months out, and 15 minutes of talking with people was all I could manage. I ended up cooking my ass off, going for a walk on the beach, and just getting through the day. This is only me. I'm in NC, and my family is in upstate NY, NJ, and California, so there was no going there. All I know is everything Joe and I ever did went out the window. But then again I'm the type of person who, when wounded, retreats into her cave - so again, this is very personal to each of us. Boy, didn't this sound optimistic! For the boys, Laurie, do what you can do, but try not to re-create - perhaps starting a different tradition, with just you and your boys, just downsized a bit. hugs, marsha

I'm typing this through my tears. It's beautiful, and so true. Hugs to you, Walt - Marsha

Happy birthday, Dusky, and thank you for being you - Hugs, Marsha

Kath - I had to wait a day to post, after I read this. It's very emotional. Joe was taller than me, 180 pounds, put some on over the years. Why I couldn't post was that I can, in my mind, remember everything. I would go to bed earlier than him, and before I went to bed, sit on his lap, hug and kiss him. I can picture kissing his eyelids, I can remember the smell of his skin. He had the most amazing blue eyes - piercing, and with his Slavic high cheekbonesss, he was a striking man - beautiful to me, always. I'm 5'7", and we always fit well - we held hands, when we went out. Oh, what memories this brings out . Hugs, Marsha

Valley - the end of the first year is a huge milestone in our lives. Your love for Tom, for your children, and support on this fortum shine on loud and clear. Realizing that I could find joy, yet still grieve, side by side, was something I've just slowly begun to understand. I'm wishing you many moments of joy, in this journey of rediscovering ourselves. I'm sorry I'm mixing pronouns, but the I and we also seem to go side by side (!). Love and hugs, Marsha

Well, Valley, you know where I stand on this (LOL!). I do the same thing, it's the quickest and most primal way to get out what I'm feeling. When I went to see my doc for my annual, he said that Joe's personality and actions had a ripple effect. I believe the same of Tom; everything he did, everything he stood for, is not in vain. It lives on in those he touched, and I'm sure they are better people for knowing him. I'm sure! Hugs, Marsha

Mary Linda - sending a little love here as well! Sometimes this journey is so exhausting, I just want to stop for a while. Today is one of those days for me, too. I'm sure the extenuating circumstances of Tom's family's DGI status is only just adding to the mix. Oh, Lord, where to find the words to comfort you - because I've felt exactly the same way. Sometimes I think it's pure stubburness that keeps me going, even when I'm resisting it at so many levels. That day my life changed is always at the back of my mind; it's like my world, no, our world, shifted. I wish I could sit and just be with you, too. I hope for peace for you, tomorrow, another day - Love and hugs, Marsha

Korina - a beautiful description of Scott's memorial - I could see it as you wrote it. You should be proud of yourself, I know I am for you. Be well - hugs and peace, Marsha

lucidsaint - i rarely come to this particular discussion board, but your post touched me so. We all go through losses in life, but when it's one so particularly close to us, it's very different. You're not losing your mind, you're grieving - although sometimes it feels like one and the same. Emotions and feelings go over the top - it's almost like we're manic. I'm glad you came to this site, I had never gone on a forum before, either, but it's given me great comfort hearing from others who are going through the same journey I am. Be gentle on yourself - hugs, Marsha

Chai - guilt and regret - two emotions I've gone through countless times. And we have so much time to think about it now. What I neglect to remind myself of is the panic I was in, the hope against hope that Joe would miraculously recover - I was just in survivor mode. You made such a good point when you said you feelings were rooted in the past. Who we were, who we are, our relationship with our loved one - I think it all comes into play when we're grieving. You're a writer - write for yourself - write down everything and anything that comes to mind, no matter how inconsequential. Write about your life and your love for your father. Write down your dreams. My journal's at about 140 pages. I think I've rehashed everything from when I popped from my mother's womb! It truly does help. Love and hugs, Marsha

Korina, please forgive me, but the mental picture of a Kailyn doing her thing just made me laugh. And I'm sure Scott was laughing, too! Your memories will come back; they're in your heart and head, not forgotten, so don't worry. Just take care of yourself, and your little one right now. Hugs, Marsha

Oh, yes, Deb, love is indeed love. I have to share with you, in the beginning, all I could think of was Joe's sickness, and his death - that's all I could remember. I had panic attacks, thinking, is this it? Why can't I remember the previous 23 years? One day, then, I looked at a couple of pictures - that was it, just a couple. Then, memories creeped in. I went forwards and backwards, going weeks, months, before I could do anything regarding his stuff, songs, pictures. It's such a slow process. At one point, though, I started remembering Joe as a person, all the silly, wonderful, what, are you an alien? memories - they flooded back, and I wrote them all down, in case I get senile, or something. Love, and pain, all together - but I'm glad I can remember Joe as the human being, loving, flawed, wonderful, crazy, that he was. I'm glad I can remember - but it still hurts. Hugs, Marsha

Debbie - I'd like to add to the wise advice Kay gave about a memorial. Joe didn't want any service, either. He said, a long time ago, "just put my ashes in a bottle of Jack Daniels and put them in the ocean." Well, that's what I did. Friends joined me on the beach, stories were told, I said the Lord's Prayer, and put his ashes in the sea that he loved so much -- in the bottle of Jack. It was heartbreaking, but in the end it gave me a great sense of serenity to do it. This was almost 3 months after he died. I'm reading between the lines here, but I think this would be something that you might consider. Lord knows I'm not giving advice!! Just a thought - Hugs, Marsha

Ladies - I hear you. I've had a lot of anger and frustration, mostly internally, dealing with this. I haven't had people say to me, "this is what Joe would want," because my response would have been, how do YOU know what Joe would want? I was the one married to him, and I was the person who knew him best. How can you say what he would want? It's ludicrous, when you think about it. All I can offer is, please try not to take "advice" to heart. And this includes what the "grief experts" say. I loaded up on books about grief, especially in the beginning, and the ones that spoke to me, like this forum, are by those who have walked this path. Those are who I take advice from. I know the advice is given because our friends and families are concerned about us, but this is my take - they want us to be better, because they see themselves in us and don't want to accept that this could happen to them. Whatever - but it's not my problem right now. Hang in there, ladies, just for the minute, just for today - hugs and peace, marsha

Lostluv - your second paragraph? I could have plucked that from my journal. That's exactly how I felt, and sometimes still do. Your grief therapist, in my opinion, should not have given you a time line. If there's one thing all of us on this site have learned, it differs for each individual. Please don't even think about this right now! Right now you're in survivor mode, and you just need to care for yourself, minute to minute, as best as you can. My husband and I were also self employed. I'm still running the business, but I met with my accountant and lawyer to determine the best road to follow. There are professionals out there who can help you navigate the financial part of the journey. Please come back here to continue to post your feelings, as we're all in this journey together, and we can help. Hugs, marsha

Mel - I'm glad you posted. Re what you said on another thread - I know sometimes we think we have nothing to say anymore, nothing to contribute - but that's the farthest thing from the truth. It's when we're feeling the worst when we should talk about it. (although I don't take my own advice as often as I should). You know in your heart what Bob would say, and how he would react to the unkindness of his friends. You know how much you loved each other, and that's what counts. And you're right, sometimes you just have to let it go; the toxic and negative emotions that only serve to bring us down further. Lostluv - if I could say one thing to you, it would be don't listen to "everybody". Because unless they've been through the loss of a spouse, they really don't know what they're saying - like, how do they exactly know what they're talking about?? I hope you can find comfort here, as well. Jeanne - this is exactly what I'm saying - you said in your reply what I couldn't quite express, but that's exactly it. It's kind of like I'm not quite of this planet anymore. I've had friends say these kinds of things also, things they never would have said when Joe was alive. "Are you keeping busy? Are you going to the beach? What are you doing for fun??" Oh, Lord, please STFU. What am I, a child now, that I have to be guided or something? Whew, sorry, that just hit a nerve. See what I mean, guys? Venting is GOOD. Hugs to all, Marsha

I think your poem is amazing - it tells me your story so clearly. My thoughts - when my husband died, my mother's death from 10 years prior also came back; I found myself grieving for both of them. I don't think our lives are lived in a linear way, but we keep going back, and around, to try to understand what we've gone through in a different manner. To just try and understand, period. I'm 53 as well. I thought I would achieve some measure of knowledge and wisdom by now - and I have, to a certain extent, but there's still lots I have to learn about myself. The scars you bear, especially when it happened at so young an age, are still scars - sometimes the scab gets broken open again. Hugs, Marsha

Laurie - I'm sorry you have so much on your plate. It doesn't matter what age your grandmother is - it's what she means to you that matters. When my grandmother died, at 96, my father was devastated. Age meant nothing - his age, or his mother's. I've found, too, that we all seem to share that uniqueness of our loving relationships. When I came here, my heart was so raw - and I found support lifting me up. To be able to give that back, down the road, helps to heal me, and I hope helps to heal my friends. Because our grief sometimes feels unrelenting, it helps to unload, to vent. I know you feel overwhelmed - but you know what? When it happens to me, I just throw my hands in the air (literally) and say - it can wait. It will get done, in its own good time. And I mean the stuff like cleaning, maintenance, phone calls I should make, you name it. It's not going anywhere. Take a deep breath, be gentle on yourself - it's not just a cliche. Sometimes we need to sit and just be. Hugs, marsha

Boo - a very good poem - and how is it I can be feeling both the ying and the yang, the hopeful and yet the despairing - all at the same time?? Sometimes I picture my emotions warring with each other like 2 samurai going at each other! Hugs, Marsha