mrspapajohn

Hi Lucia - - I believe that it's great about the honor for Ben. He will know and now the honor is really to you, because now he lives in your heart. I believe that it's wonderful that you are doing all that you are. I know that the for the first three weeks it was quite an accomplishment for me to go to the supermarket. I couldn't interact with anyone. Just keep taking baby steps. Mostly keep taking care of yourself. Kathy Papajohn

Dusky - - Thank you for the informston and offers of the websites. I believe that we spoke together on this site before, but I was so new to this awful grieving process that I could barely see the keyboard through my tears. I am always so grateful when some one who has suffered the same loss reaches out to help others going through it. Thank you. Kathy Papajohn

Carah - - I have just read the other posts that are responding to yours and there is not much more I can say. I totally understand how you feel about your apartment. My husband and I brought my mother into our home and cared for her for four years before she died. She passed away in her own bed with me, her only child, right by her side. After she died, I saw her everywhere. Everything she had touched, seen or heard made me cry. I aked my beloved husband if we could sell the house because I couldn't stand these constant reminders - - not happy memories, just reminders of a life that I had so loved who was now lost to me forever, My husband was so understanding. We sold our house right away, in fact so fast that we had to rent a house while we looked for another. Just as we were moving, my husband became ill. That was a little over four years ago. He died on January 6 of this year. I know they say don't do anything for a year, but I keep all the shades closed and just sit in this house as if it were a cave that provides shelter. Nothing more, no good memories, no gardens we shared together, nothing but memories of his illness and suffering, IT is not yet four months, but today I made an offer on another home. It is much smaller, so I will have to give away a lot of our furniture and "stuff," and really downsize. That's when I think some of the darkest days will occur. Days when I have to say goodbye to things that were part of him. Of course, it will also be hard movong into somewhere we have never been together. I feel like I have been with him my whole life and this is all so strange and empty now. Please keep posting and let us know how you are doing. Kathy

Oh, Phyllis - - I am so sorry. I am sorry about your best friend's dad (liver disease is such a terrible, terrible ordeal, for the one suffering from it and for the caregivers and loved ones), and for your cat. Mu husband died from liver disease In January and my cats have been my sole source of immediate support through this whole horrible journey. The vet discovered a growth on one of my cat's larynx last week. It will be like losing another member of the family. I have him home with me now, but I don't know for how long. It seems that these things just keep coming. Carah - - I m glad that you have found this site. It is a great place to connect with others who are going through the same pangs of grief that you are and know that you will have people who will really listen and who will be a source of support for you. We certainly need all the support we can get. Kathy

Terre - - Please accept my deepest sympathy on your loss of Chris. It is hard to believe that anything could hurt that much or affect us so deeply - and so darkly. Many times I wondered how anyone could be so sad and still live. It is a long and hard journey that we have in front of us, but please don't think that anything you feel or do is crazy. It's not. It's normal and we have all been there and are mostly still there. Also, please know that you are not alone. You will find much support and love on this site, I am so glad that you found us. Please keep posting and let us now how you are doing. Kathy

Oh, my Dear Boo - - - I am so very sorry for what you are feeling right now. You get a big cyber hug from me, too. You saved me from believing that I was really crazed and delusional with some of the wonderful things you have written. Our husbands died on the same day and I recognize my feelings in the words you so beautifully use to describe what you are going through and what you are feeling. I also tend to mark my progress against yours, but I believe for both of us it is one step forward and three steps back. I brought Stephen home from the hospital before he died - much to the chagrin of the medical staff and even hospice, and would not even accept a special "hospital" bed. I placed him in his own bed and laid beside him right up to the end. Thus, I don't have the terror of the hospital like you do (the bedroom, however, is a different story). I do have to return to the hospital myself for the first time next week (my cardiologist is there), and come to think of it, I am not looking forward to walking through those doors again. I guess that I have just been putting it out of my mind. As for crying while doing yard work, I am still crying when I wake up, when I get the mail, when I go to the supermarket, the vet, or just about anywhere. I cry when the sun comes up, when it goes down, when it is time for the meals we shared together and, most especially, when it is time for bed. I do so miss those strong arms around me. I am seeing my family doctor next week also because my eyes are so sore from constantly daubing them with a kleenex tissue. The edges of my eyes are red and rubbed raw like the nose of someone with a bad cold. I am saving quite a bit of money on eyeliner though, since I haven't been able to wear makeup (it just washes right off) since Stephen died. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. They are all dreaded days for me right now, and I expect that they will continue to be for quite a while, if not always. I visited my husband's grave on our anniversary and plan to return on my birthday in June. For me, I need a private time to speak with him and think of him and remember all the wonderful things he did for me. He gave me the happiest time of my life and I know I will never have love like that again - - nor do I want it because all I want is Stephen. I don't plan to let his family know that I am coming. They try to cheer me up and that actually makes it harder because I feel like I have to act like their efforts are succeeding when all I want to do is go lie next to my husband's grave and just stay there. Every one is different, and Boo, if your sister gives you comfort, please remind her that you are coming there for your birthday and just go. If I were closer, or even had the funds to get there, I would fly to be with you myself. At least, please know that you will be in my thoughts all day long. I thnk of you as my dear, dear friend. And if there is anything at all that I can do to help. Please, please let me know. Kathy

Lucia - - First, let me assure you that you are not going crazy. My husband has not yet been gone for four months and everyday I wake up crying because I have to face another day without him. I never knew a person could have so many tears. I have a doctor's appointment next week just because my eyes are so sore from continually daubing them with a kleenex tissue. I live alone and have lot of time to think. Mostly, what I think of are the times I let Stephen down, and that makes me even sadder. Like the times during a day that he could not sit up anymore and asked me to lay down beside him to keep him company. Sometimes I did, but other days I told him that I just didn't have the time when all I had was time. Now, if I could only have those days back, I would never leave his side. I would cherish every moment. I know exactly what you mean when you say that the days seem to get harder. Just when I think that I couldn't possibly be any sadder, I find that I can, and that I am. I am living for the day when my memories will be of happier times that bring a smile rather than a tear. That hasn't happened yet. My husband is buried out of state (because he has a large family in Texas and we lived in Arizona). I flew down to visit his grave on our anniversary in March, and all I wanted to do was to lie down beside him and just stay there. The hardest thing I had to do was to come back to this empty house. He always looked up and smilled at me whenever I came in. He was so happy to see me, even if I had just gone out to get the mail. I know that no one will ever love me like that again and that fact, and the despair that comes with it, is something that I just can't get over. At least not yet. It's funny, although the house is empty, I don't mind being alone. I really don't want to see or interact with anyone. I just miss Stephen so. I would give anything and everything to have him back, and I don't want any one ese (except maybe my mother, but she died four years ago). I understand that Stephen cannot come back, so I know that in order to keep breathing and living (and believe me, I get through each day by the minute), I have to accept his loss and go on. Someday, maybe I will be able to do that, but not yet. I am so sincerely sorry for your loss which is compounded by the attitude of your daughter-in-law. It would be easy to say just ignore her, but I know how truly hard that would be, especially when you love your son, and you want to bring your family together. No one should have to go through what you, I and so many on this site have gone through and are still going through. Death is the hardest part of life that we have to face and when the love of our lives die, we have to face it alone. So many on this site have done it and their bravery and spirit inspires me to go on. I hope it will inspire you, too. Please keep posting and let us know how you are. You will be in my thoughts. Kathy

Hi Lucia - - I just wanted to say that I believe that Larrysgirl is right. Rest helps. And plenty of it. I lost my husband almost four months ago and I am still having panic attacks. It is what I imagine PTSD must be like. I had to take my cat to the vet yesterday, and I had one right in the vet's office. I had to go outside until I could compose myself. It seems that the littlest thing can trigger it. Sometimes it doesn't take anything at all and there it is. I also am taking some anti-anxiety pills (under a doctor's watchful eye) and they seem to help a bit. Everyone is different, but you might ask your doctor about it. I hope that you can eke some enjoyment out of your trip to Atlanta. I visited family shortly after Stephen's passing and it helped - - a lot. Take care and please keep letting us know how you're doing. Kathy

Kay - - I think that you are beautiful - - and not just because of the beautiful things you say and do for all of us. You just are really beautiful. Kathy

Oh, Teny - - I am so happy for you and your precious grand daughter. I am sure that Yiany and your mother are celebrating this extraordinaryly happy event. Kathy

Lucia - - I am so sorry that you lost your beloved husband to liver disease. I lost Stephen, by beloved husband of 28 years, on January 6, 2009 after 4 years on a liver transplant list. I know how difficult it is to watch the one person you love and the one who loves you, go through so much pain and suffering. After three years of endless endoscopies (for esophagal bleeding), paracenthesis for fluid in the abdomen and blood transfusions twice a week, Stephen had a shunt placed in his liver to relieve the bleeding and fluid. Unfortunately, this caused his ammonia to go sky high, and for the next year we made twice weekly (at least) trips to the emergency room with overnight stays because of his brain swelling. Many times he didn't even recognize me. Every two hours around the clock, he had to take "Lactolose," a laxative that was supposed to help with the ammonia by passing it out through his bowels. Actually, it just made him incontinent, torture for him because he was so fastidious. During these four years, Stephen was completely house-bound (or hospital-bound). Finally, in June of 2008, a Friday the 13th, Stephen received a donor liver. It was as if life started all over for us. I didn't know that I could be so happy. I had always been superstitious about Friday the 13th, but now it was a day I loved. For the next three months we went to movies, out to eat and for the first time, started to make plans for our future. Then, at a regularly scheduled follow-up appointment, Stephen was told that his Hepititus had returned, only this time it was much more virulent than the "normal" kind. They began him on Interferon therapy (no fun at all). He started feeling ill again, and the day after Thanksgiving, he was diagnosed with an acute, and fatal, form of the disease. A little over a month later, he was gone. He died at home, in his own bed, with me lying next to him. He was only 56. Stephen and I had no children. I honestly didn't believe that I needed anyone but him. I was wrong. Like you, all I want to do is crawl into myself and cry. I never thought that a human being could have so many tears. I never knew that anyone could feel so sad, or so absolutely, completely lost. This site has been my salvation. Here, you will not only find support and unconditional love, you will also find people who have been, and still are, traveling on the same journey you are. Please come back often. I believe you will find that your actions and feelings are not "crazy." They are what we all go through and are part of the grieving process. I also believe that only someone who has gone through this can understand what we are feeling - no matter how close they are. No matter how much they love you. Again, please accept my deepest sympathy for your loss. You will be in my thoughts. Kathy

Talia - - I just don't know what to say. I am so sorry that you lost Marc. It must be absolutely terrible for you. I am just so glad that you found this site. We are a family in grief. The support here is unyielding and I'm sure that you are in every one's prayers. It is a cold, dark an lonely place we go to when we lose the love of our lives. But, you have another life inside you that is part of Marc too, so you must care for yourself and that new life no matter how difficult. And you can be sure that every one on this site knows just how difficult that is. It is unfair that one so young and a life that was filled with such promise has been cut short leaving you to fend for yourself and your new child. Believe me, our prayers and thoughts are with you. Please come back often and let us know how you are doing. Kathy

Teny - - When I saw your heading it just broke my heart. Please know that we will be with you in spirit and with love on Thursday and throughout all this very difficult time. Kathy

Notcoping - - Please take care of yourself. Just be safe. I will be thinking about you and praying that everything is o.k. Kathy

Teny - - Happy birthday. I wish I knew how to say that in Greek. I know that you will probably be sad because your husband is not there to share it with you and my heart goes out to you. Kathy

Mary - - My husband also died on January 6. It feels like yesterday. I wake up every day crying because I have to face another day without him, although I don't know how I have any tears left. I am sorry that you are caring for your father at this time. That must bring more stress. But, I took care of my mother until she died and I look back on that time and I am grateful that I was able to do it (although I still have guilt feelings, because, instead of taking things out on her, when I was stressed or upset, I just ignored her). She died four years ago and I'm still not over it, although I don't believe that there is any pain that is worse than losing your husband. How could there be more pain than this? I understand your wanting to isolate yourself. I feel the same way. The poem is beautiful. He must have loved you very much. I'm sure he still does. Kathy

Ann - - I can only say that I am glad your supervisor has retired. Kathy

Frog - - I would like to add my welcome, but I am very sorry for your losses and that you need a site like this. It has been a little over three months that my husband has been gone - - he was my life and my heart. This site has been my salvation. Many of us are going through the same grief with you and I believe that these people understand just what pain you are feeling more than any one else - - because they have felt it too. Please keep coming back. You will find welcome and support from the loving people who frquent this site. Kathy

BdZack - - It has not quite been four months since my husband passed away, but I believe I have experienced some of the same things that you are going through with your family. Tomorrow, Easter, I will be staying home by myself (well, almost - at least I have my two cats). My husband's family is having a big get-together at his younger sister's house. Although my brother-in-law called me yesterday and asked me to come, it felt like it was a begrudging invitation. My husband's family has moved on with their lives, yet I still feel like it was yesterday that my husband died. I can understand that I am no fun to be around. I don't believe I have laughed since he died (although he made laugh all the time). I, too, am an only child. My mother passed way 4 years ago (and I'm still not healed from her death) and my father died over 15 years ago. Stephen and I had no children, so the only family I have at all are my in-laws. I have come to the conclusion that no one can help us feel better other than ourselves. I really don't believe that the people who are closest to us mean to slight us, it's just that they are absorbed in their own lives (as they should be). I plan to spend Easter watching TV with my cats and eating a frozen microwave dinner. I will think of my beloved husband most of the day, and I will be o.k.. I hope that you do go to your in-law's dinner because family is important, and I hope you have a wonderful day. Please let us know how it goes. Kathy

notcoping - - Let's take some of these things one at a time. 1. You're afraid of going on this trip alone? I don't blame you for that. I just rented a car and drove around ft. Worth in a panic for one day with uncontrolled tears running down my cheeks. It's a wonder I didn't kill myself or somebody else - - AND - - -that's not being alone on the road for five days, with a dog that has also been part of your husband's life, fending off other memories (good and bad) and knowing that at the end of the road, your destination will be final goodbye. 2. Why are you not listening to some of the people on this site who are telling you that it's too soon. That you're not ready. These are people (as am I) who have gone through and are still going through what you are. You may beieve that your situation is different, but it's not. Yes, there have been times that the sorrow was so great (and many times still is) that my crying got hysterical and I felt like the skin on my body was opening and I was turning inside out. How do you think you will feel when you let your husbands ashes go? I did that for my mother and it almost killed me. And I wasn't alone. I can't even begin to imagine how I would feel if it were my husband. I know I couldn't do it. 3. This deadline is an artificial one. If this day has special meaning, keep it special by staying home and making a shrine of your beloved. Turn off the phone AND the computer. Don't answer the door. Let that day be just yours and his. Talk to him. Cry with him. Tell him every slight and omission that you've endured. Tell him how afraid you are to go on without him. Tell him how much you love him and how much you always will. Tell him you're having financial problems and have to find a job. Tell him that you will go spread his ashes when you get everything under control. Maybe next year, or even sooner than that, but explain that there are things that he would want you to take care of first. Tell him that without him, you must be the adult and that waiting is the adult thing to do. Then put off all thoughts and pressures of leaving (they are only your thoughts and pressures) and make a plan for how you and your dog are going to survive.. What do you have to do to get through April and May? Where will you live? Where will you get money? Who will help you? What can you do yourself and where do you need help? Where will you settle, at least temporarily. You have to have a place of your own to grieve and to heal. Where will you find a job? You have to do these thimgs FIRST. BOTTOM LINE: Do not go. Not now. Honor your beloved in another way until everything is settled and you're ready. He would want you to be responsible and he will wait, as long as it takes. He will always wait for you. He loves you. Kathy

Mel - - What an sbsolutely gorgeous spot. My mother wanted her ashes spread in the White Tank Mountains near a waterfall in Arizona, and I thought that was beautiful, but it was nothing as expansive and breathtaking as this. I believe if you check the Internet for pet-friendly hotels and motels, you'll find quite a few. They are everywhere these days. If you tell them ahead of time that you have a dog, sometimes they even have a bed and a toy for him (or her). They almost always have your own, personal pooper-scooper. I will be thinking about you on your trip. Mine to see Stephen will have been almost a month before yours. It's very, very tough, but for me, it was worth it. Just do not let the emotion overwhelm you. You must control it. You will look back on the trip as a fond memory. Do not let it be spoiled by doing anything foolish. If your motels or places you stop have Internet connection, please give us a running account of your trip. I'll be watching for it every day. Remember, we are your family and our spirits will be with you to keep you strong. As ever, your sister, Kathy

Davidsgirl - - I would have been hard-pressed not to draw off and smack him one. My darling Stephen died 3 months ago today and i do believe that I'd lose it if some one said that to me. If you can, get him to read a little of Boo's Blog. It has helped some other people in my life (although not such boors as your boss) understand me a litt le better. Kathy

Boo - - I just wanted you to know that I just got an e-mail from my brother-in-law (who has been pressuring me to "get with it.") He told me that he had read your blog and he apologized to me for being so "insensitive." He said he had no idea what we were going through, but after he read your blog, he has some idea of the terrible pain that we are going through and continue to go through. Thank you again for that wonderful piece of work. It is helping all of us. Kathy

Boo - - I just read your latest installment on your blog. It touched my heart. I have given your web address to a sister-in-law and brother-in-law. I believe it will make them understand me better. They think I am a madwoman with no hope of a cure. At least they will see that I am not the only one that does not come back to "normal" as fast as they would like. Thank you again. Kathy

Teny - - I'm sorry you're having trouble with the language, especially since my husband would haved loved to converse with you in Greek. His family is originally from Corinthe. Alas, I never learned one word, but I think his mother liked it that way because she could say anything she wanted with me standing right there - just kidding (kind of). My husband and I were planning on visiting Greece this summer. How ironic that we come to know each other, you and I, after my husband is gone, and with him all our plans for the future. I would have loved for you to meet him. He was a "typical" Greek, refined yet boisterous at the same time, always laughing and extremely handsome. I think about you often in that far-away country and wish that I could some how speak with you face-to-face. They say that pain is easier when it is truly shared. I never believed that before I became engulfed in my own grief and then found such comfort from others like me, fighting their grief, but communicating and sharing with each other on this site. I will not tell you to be strong, because I cannot be strong myself. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other each day and the day will pass. One of these days, the pain will be less and eventually, though I don't know when, we may rejoice in being alive ourselves. Take care. I am thinking of you. Kathy