marsha

Oh, Kath - my heart goes out to you! I agree with everyone else - find a computer geek to try and retrieve the files. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you - Love and hugs, Marsha (let us know, please, how it goes)

Thank you, Mary Linda, that was beautiful indeed - Hugs, Marsha

Welcome, Deborah, and my sympathies of the loss of your Deb. John is a wonderful and caring man, and by sharing his wisdom, and his personal experience, he's helped all of us. I know you can find support here; I've found that support from those who've suffered the same loss has been a lifeline for me. My Joe died 4 months after diagnosis of billiary duct cancer. "I knew I had to be strong for her, I couldn't fall apart, she needed my strength and love;" oh, how true a statement, and how difficult it was to do it. I hope you're taking care of yourself, especially after your own illness, it truly is very important (even if I don't take my own advice half the time!!). Hugs, Marsha

Kathy, this is one of the hardest firsts. Take it easy - literally. Hugs, marsha

Big hugs for you today, Kim - my heart often goes back to that moment when time just seemed to stop. I know Dan must be so proud of you for what you've done over the last two years - and that includes the giving of your heart and soul to us here. Be good to yourself today - Love and hugs, Marsha

Korina - I can't say it better than Jeanne and Boo. I had so much guilt - I could have been a better caregiver, I should have seen early warning signs, and on and on. But when I think back to those 4 months of Joe's cancer, I don't know what else I could have done. Been superwoman? Apparently I felt so. But we're human, and only in hindsight, when we actually have time to think, that's when we replay and try to rework what already has happened. I couldn't save Joe, and you couldn't save Scott, and nothing we could have done will change that. I'm glad you had the chance to talk to Scott and say what was in your heart - I have no doubt he heard you. Please try to be gentle and patient with yourself - this is a journey of such highs and lows, but we're here for you. Hugs, Marsha

Teny - I do think it is normal. My mother is gone too, 9 years now, and when Joe died it somehow brought my grief for her right up to the surface. We grieve differently for a parent, and a spouse, but we grieve so very much for both of them. When we get married, and make our lives together, we're connected and entwined in a way that's so very different than being a child. We kind of expect that our parents will die first, but not our spouses. Please don't feel guilty - I know you loved your mother, and Yiany, with the fullness of your heart. I think your mother understood, as she was living her own life, and grieving in her own way. Hugs!!! Marsha

Tears are healing, Fredzgirl- let them flow. Joe's 2 kids, whom we had communicated with, but not seen in many years, flew out that last weekend before he died, and we all were with him. They came out again for the memorial 3 months later, with the grandkids we had never met. They didn't ask for anything, but I gave them some of Joe's stuff that I knew would give them comfort. What does it matter in the long run? Pleae take care of yourself, be kind to yourself - hugs, Marsha

I'm very sorry for your loss, Kimi, and welcome here. Like Boo said so well, it does help immensely knowing that others have the same feelings and fears, and can express them here. My husband died of billiary duct cancer - 4 months from diagnosis to death. It truly is a horribly, heart wrenching disease. A friend said to a long time ago, "cancer is like a hurricane - it takes out everything in its wake". Talk to David - I talk to Joe every day. Take those little baby steps, and know that any emotion you're feeling will be normal in this grieving process. Hugs, Marsha

Walt - I just got goosebumps when I read both your and Boo's posts. I'm so glad you had such a wonderful, joyous dream of Jean. To me, it's like a little nudge from her telling you, I'm happy, I'm well, and I will always love you. It's good to hear from you! Hugs, Marsha

Shelley - I don't post a lot here, but I've been reading your thread, and I do so understand. I had a memorial for Joe 3 months after he died. I was going to put the whole urn in the ocean, but decided just to put a portion of his ashes in the ocean. Some of the remains I gave to my stepson and stepdaughter. On the one year anniversary we timed it to put some of Joe's ashes in the Pacific (they're in California), and here in North Carolina. Afterwards, my stepdaughter emailed me that she felt such a joy - Joe loved the ocean. I felt the same. These are our loved one's earthly remains - it's not their spirit or their soul. Boo had a lovely idea about putting some of the ashes in a locket - I still may do that. Do what feels right to you - Hugs, Marsha

Boo - I'm sorry you've had to deal with these $##$?! people. One of the lovely side effects in the first few months was that fear of who to trust. I think I erred on the side of paranoia! It feels like no one has your back anymore, so I do understand. Over the months, I've tried to weed out the ones who said "just call me!", and disappeared, from the ones who didn't say anything, but just did it - just helped. It meant a great deal of re-writing my address book - there were people I expected to be there, but weren't, yet others, the ones I least expected, were the ones that helped me. Don't worry about showing your cold side - you're not the same person as you were, and you have to take care of YOU. If you're afraid of hurting someone's feelings? So what? From these past months, I feel like I know you - you are that giving and loving person. You don't hide the best of yourself. Seek out the ones that will strengthen you, help you - and the hell with the rest - let them just go. Love and hugs, Marsha

Wendy and her family have my prayers. How hard this is, and I'm so sorry! Please tell her I send my love, Kay, when you speak to her. Hugs, Marsha

You guys are great - you've given me much to think about. Mary, I think the loneliness is a byproduct of our situations. How can it not be? I found early on that no matter who I spent time with, even friends and family who I love, didn't replace the void and loss of the one person, unique, who I miss so much. I accept that feeling, as painful as it can be - I know it can't be rushed. I never thought finding myself again would be such a work in progress - it's small stuff like re-arranging my home to reflect who I am. Sitting outside and watching the clouds; thinking, journaling. Losing the definition of myself as wife, and trying to replace that definition with just me, Marsha. Thinking heavy, here, ladies - hugs and love to all of you - Marsha

my throat is raw. I just spent the last hour listening and dancing to the Rolling Stones - and I closed all the doors and windows and just screamed AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! . It felt damn good. I've been in a tailspin since the one year anniversary. Today I realized what the heck I was doing. I had been thinking, ok, went through the "grief work", worked hard to get where I'm at, now where's the reward? There is no freaking reward! When I realized what I was doing to myself, it was like a weight off my shoulders. Yes, I'm still here, still going through what I'm going through. But the bar I set so high? I threw it away. For now, but that's good enough for today, for today is where I'm at. Hugs, Marsha

I'm in the same place, Shelly. Just over a year, and like Valley said, it feels very much the same, emotionally. Cancer struck my husband as well, so I feel like I'm dealing not only with the awful grief, but the memories of those months of his sickness. It does change, in a way - it changes into something different. In my good days, I can see it. Hugs, Marsha

Ah, Valley. It's the silly small things, the day to day things accumulated over the years that make a relationship so intimate and comfortable - that's what I miss so much. And Boo, you're not being la-la at all. I still talk to Joe every day, journal every day. I feel sometimes like he's still around - but I think it's coming from within me. Hugs, Marsha

Valley - thank you so much for your post. It expressed what I've been feeling, I just didn't have the words to express it. You did it for me. My Joe was like your Tom in his zest for life. It gives me a sense of relief to know that he lived his 58 years to the fullest. But for me, although the unbearable, crushing grief comes very intermittently now, what remains behind is the core of my grief - I miss him. I'm lonely for him, and I carry a sadness and a void within me, like a movie reel constantly running in the back of my mind. Yes, I'm living my life, and yes, like Laurie I try to take it one day at a time and see the good of the day. But when we feel these emotions starting to spill over, it's good to talk about it here. I should do it more myself. I understand completely what you're saying. Hugs, Marsha

Sean - you're not alone in your feelings. For me, I run the business that my husband and I both started years ago, and it's been a learning curve. I think what you're doing is a very positive thing. Yes, you'll miss your mother's input - of course you will! I've taken to asking people for help. It's not a bad thing - and you'll find that people will want to help you, even in filling out forms, and such. Baby steps will do it; you can do it. It's a scary thing to move forward without the person you depended on, and loved, for so long, I know. I'm wishing you good thoughts today, hugs, Marsha

Guys, you're reading my mind today! My long time friend and her husband are down for the week - they came in to the shop and we talked a good while. But I got that look that I hate - of pity? of, I love you but I can't imagine it? Oh, I hate that look. The way I see it - we, all of us, are not only grieving our best friends and soulmates, but also trying to survive, financially, whatever - each of us is doing the work of two now, keeping our homes, businesses, work, all together while we're in pieces inside. Mel, when I read what your sister said, I got angry - but then I read Marty's post, and it's so true. People truly don't understand until they walk in our shoes, and for me, it's almost impossible to explain. Hugs to all of you, Marsha

Tanya - I'm very sorry for the loss of your Allen. Although my husband had a terminal cancer sentence, it was fungal pneumonia that took him. His immune system was so weak, he couldn't fight it. I feel Joe's spirit around me as well, and I after a year, I still talk to him every day. Just try to take it minute to minute, and try to take care of yourself. I know it feels unbelievably hard - it IS hard. Come here to talk when you feel like you're going to explode--it will help. Hugs and peace, Marsha

Thank you, Mary, so much for sharing your thoughts, and welcome here. I've just passed a year as well, and your post could have been lifted from my journal. I sense a good deal of strength from you. But we both know that working to be strong doesn't mean feeling weak, also-- and that's quite ok, too. My good thoughts are with you and your daughter tomorrow, to remember the love. Hugs, Marsha

Jo - I'm so terribly sorry to hear your news. After reading and re-reading your post about your husband's last days, I could just nod in sad agreement. I'm sure the fear and anger are spilling over - as well they should be. I just hope you can find comfort here, knowing that we care for you. And I hope also you can hold on to a relative, or friend, who will be there with you. If I think of how I would be in your position (and I have thought about it often), I would be reacting similarly. Words seem so inadequate. G-d bless you - Marsha

It was beautiful, Kath - as I read it, I could visualize your life with Bob; your love and sweetness shine through. Hugs, Marsha

Kay - once again you've touched my heart. It's so true, to find small joys that may seem insignificant to others, that are huge to us, that help us heal, even a little bit. A friend said, a year ago, try to find 10 things a day that make you grateful. I started it, then stopped, then started again. But on those days when despair tries to rear its ugly head again, just thinking about a bird's song, the trees waving in the breeze, a kind smile - we need to hold on to that. Joy can be something very simple. Teny - we needed each other in our early grief, like a lifeline. We still need each other, and we're still here for each other. What a blessing that is! Love, marsha