valley

Happy Birthday Kathy, Valley

Patti, Love to you on your 20th Anniversary. May Charlie warm your heart with loving memories today. Valley

Happy Belated Birthday to George and Jack. You are well loved! Valley

Amanda, Thank you for sharing your story, your love story. You and Chad shared so much, did so much, knew how to enjoy each other. As I read your story I was smiling at the joyful description of your meeting, at the love you shared. It is beautiful. I loved like that too. My husband and I got to be together for 39 years and raise two children and his death 9 months ago is still unreal in so many ways. I understand your fear of losing Chad, his memory. I have felt that too, but have handled it not by not talking about my partner, but rather by talking about him. I want people around me to talk about Tom. I need that. I keep him alive in my life by seeing his things around me and talking to him and talking about him. Each time someone brings up his name in a conversation it thrills me. They miss him too. They loved him too. Like you, I view so much of the world through my partners eyes...or our shared vision. It can be the smallest things. One of our plants come into bloom, and he is not here to marvel at it, to smell the fragrance. Grief is not easy and what I have learned from people on this site, it can be a long, long process, an up and down process. But sharing your feelings does help. Knowing that what you feel has been experienced in a similar way by other people, who then can encourage you to keep walking the path. The way you speak of Chad tells me that he is very much with you. Like my Tom is with me. Take care and be gentle with yourself. I will be thinking of you. Valley

Dear Lucia, I am glad that you made it home and through this ordeal. Of course it is awful to think that your partner is not there to comfort you when you get sick. I often think of that possibility too....what would happen if? So far I have been lucky with my health, more or less. Cry when you need to cry. I do believe it helps release so much inside and it is astounding how much one person can cry. I am glad you have made it back home. Take care. Valley

Dear Kathy, I can feel what you are saying, about Stephen and your dream, about your sadness and loss. When you say you "cannot picture my life without him", that is exactly how I feel. Today is the 9th month since my wonderful Tom died, Sept. 9, 2008. I miss him every single day. I have not adjusted to being "I" instead of "we", and surprisingly we were both very independent people. Now I wonder what that ever really meant. I got a letter from my mother's friend yesterday telling me that I need to act now and force my mother to move into some kind of retirement or assisted living situation. My mother, early 90's has always lived on her own, and insists that this will continue. Tom and I watched mom carefully and always tried to honor this wish of hers, although she has been very uncooprative regarding letting anyone clean her apartment, wash laundry for her...do anything really. I do it when I am there, but I don't live near her. She is unable to do any cleaning or real cooking. Now I know I have to act and it will be hell. I will be forcing her to do something she insists she will not do. And where is Tom to help me make these life altering decisions? Where is Tom to sit and go over each detail with me? I need his love to make this easier on me. And easier for my mother. Each night when I go to bed, I say good night to him and hope that I will be so lucky as to see him in a dream. To feel him. To hear his voice. I am sorry I am talking about me when I wanted to say to you......take care and I am with you. Valley

Dear MartyT The quotes from writers on "shedding tears" are poignant. What amazes me is how much I can cry. I still have such a hard time just talking about my husband to anyone without brusting into tears. When I am alone and think about him, I cry. When I walk in the garden and see something we planted together, I cry. When I open the closet and see his clothes, I cry. When I look at his truck, I cry. It can be overwhelming. I do hope that someday when I talk about him, it will be a joyful event. He was a story-teller and a fun person to be with. Yet I have not been able to find a balance inside that allows me to speak of him without falling apart. Thank you for posting the lovely and loving quotes. Valley

Dear Mel, You are a loving woman. In your grief, you still have the power to reach out in a act of kindness to others who are struggling. Bless you. VAlley

Dear Boo, Acceptance. My dear partner died 9 months ago next Tuesday. I cannot say I have really accepted that he is GONE. That word is so final, the idea that I cannot have fun with him again. I suppose that I am better in some ways.....I can sleep some nights now, I eat and I work hard all day. But I still wait in anticipation of Tom coming home at night though I know this will not happen. Maybe that is acceptance. To actually realize or know, your partner is not coming home. I also come to this discussion group to listen to people who are going through the same loss and hardship and hope through their experience I can feel less isolated. I only went to a counsellor once....two months after my husband died and just sat there and cried. It was too soon and I was so devastated that nothing made any sense to me. I know I should, like you, seek a group of people to sit face to face with and share. For now I come here to gain some sense of normalcy in grief. I have always enjoyed what you have offered and feel your warmth and compassion. Take care and I am please that you will get the counselling that you seek. Take care, Valley

Deborah, I can feel all the varied issues you are dealing with that accompany your grief. It can seem too much. So little pieces at a time make it easier. You do have to deal with your health. It is so hard when your children leave home and yet it is a tribute to you. This is the natural progression and means you have raised a self sufficient young adult. Being alone. I was always afraid to be home alone and wasn't very much in my 39 years with Tom. Now the house is empty. A big house. Mostly I have gotten over being jumpy each time the house creaks, or a pine cone hits the roof, or for that matter a bear tears into my compost bin. I can be ok in the evening leaving the curtains open, something I could never have imagined only a few months ago. I am gradually becoming familiar with all the noise that a house makes and learning to relax with it. It takes time. It is possible. The last few days I have felt such sadness, seeming to slip back down into a heavier layer of grief. I cannot wrap my mind around the idea that Tom is GONE. I still call him. I beg him to come back, one more time. Just for a minute. It is that deep friendship that I long for. I know that this heaviness will lift and I will engage myself in some activity that allows me to move forward. When my son stops by to visit , I feel full for the moment. And we run around and fix things and he lifts heavy things for me and we work side by side as he teaches me how to do some of the things that my husband always did. He helps me, but he wants me to feel confident in my own home, which I love. I understand your reluctance to take someone into your house. A stranger. I have thought of that too and it is more than I can handle now. I also, like many of you, need and want my private space. I have to make my way slowly, in my own way. Please take care of your health first! It makes such a difference when you feel relatively healthy. Bless you, Valley

Fred, Thank you for your post. I totally agree that "there are no set answers", but I admit for a brief time I was looking for them. I thought I could not survive the daily pain and wanted an activity, a philosophy, something.....to save me. I think now I have surrendered to my grief. I am allowing myself to take the time to really feel what I feel and I have the luxury of being able to do that. I do not have a job I have to be "up" for, or small children that need my care. I can be confused or not sleep at night. I am not looking for answers, but just to walk the path I need to walk through my own grieving. Reading the posts on this site does help me, makes me feel communion with others. Take care, Valley

Kath, You certainly brought out a lot of love with this posting. Each person speaks so lovingly of their partners and friend, of the long life they thought they would get with this person. Me too. That is what I always thought and yet I was aware of getting older. My husband died at 68 and I just turned 65. We had tried to squeeze in travel these last 8 year, as we had lots of places we wanted to see and we wanted to be able to still do long hikes, carry heavy bags, throw them on trains and be totally independent travelers. We managed to travel in Spain, Portugal, Morrocco, Italy, France, Hawaii, Mexico, Alaska and the western USA. We loved talking about all these adventures and Tom could embellish stories with the best of them. I am thankful we took the time to do this as we both loved each adventure. Tom was still working at the time he was diagnoised with cancer. He taught metal sculpture at an art college and only worked part of the year which allowed us to focus on other things. I had been an administrator for a graduate program training art therapists. I quit when my mother got sick and I needed to go be with her for extended periods. Our plans! We had them, but we were also living our PLAN. We worked on our house, did a big garden, traveled, visited our mothers every few months (they both live a day's drive or a day's plane ride from us), visit our children, take our old Starcraft boat out on our lake, mow the lawn, have friends over for dinner, go to movies, read, paint, write. We imagined that at some point we would sell our place (almost 5 acres) and move to a smaller house and little yard that would be easy to maintain. That was one plan. We hoped to spend lots of time with our grown kids, to see how their dreams materialize. Tom wanted to spend a month or two in Hawaii in the winter and swim and snorkle. We did that twice, but only for 3 weeks at a time. We hoped we would live out our lives together and carry on with the many activities we loved. At the end of each day, before we ate dinner, we would sit together and have a drink and visit...talk about what we had done that day. If one of us had had a problem, then we would either just listen or try to trouble shoot it. But he was a great listening board for me and usually offered me suggestions, which of course I did not always take, but did appreciate. Our plans were to continue to do all of this. We both loved to stay home, home giving us our center. On Tom's memorial card that I made to hand out at his service the last sentence says..."Tom dreamed....then made his dreams a reality. He lived the life he created". I miss seeing his truck drive in each day and watch him get out of it, knowing by the way he walked or what he was carrying, sort of how the day had gone. Now the truck sits by the side of his studio. Going no where. I have NO PLAN now, except to carry on with all the business and responsibilities I have been left to deal with. When I am stronger emotionally and have taken care of the many unfinished pieces of our lives, I may find a way to look at the future. For now I can only handle this day. And sometimes that is so hard to do. Our plan together was to have fun, laugh and enjoy life. Spend lots of time with our kids. To find ways to simplify our lives. To be each others side kick. Valley

Dear Lost My Best Friend, I too lost my husband of 39 years, my best friend, in September 2008. Almost everything you expressed in your post, I too experienced or felt. I feel your pain and longing and I am so sorry. His sudden death must be so difficult to process for you. My husband lived for 6 months, all the while being treated for cancer, and yet to me, it was sudden. We always lived with so much hope and talked of our good future. Now I cannot imagine a future without him. My future. So I go day by day. I don't project much into the future. You can handle this. You are. I didn't want to live either, could not imagine living without Tom. And yet here I am. Like you, I knew that my children were suffering too, and I could not do anything to cause more suffering to them. They loved and looked up to their father. And they love and need me. Me....to become a whole person again. I am trying. As people on this board have said, grief goes in waves. The intensity of pain in the first few months was something I could not imagine, and yet there it was...unbearable sadness, deep inside. I could not think of a reason to do anything and yet there was so much that I had to do. Now instead of being under the water in grief, I can come to the surface and breathe again. I still yell and scream and call Tom to me. But not everyday. I still cry, but not everyday, at least not intensely. I talk to him each day and sometimes imagine what he would say back to me. I watch a raven circle the yard and think Tom is flying over and dipping his wing to me, checking in on me. He is very much a part of who I am and how I see and do things. Allow yourself to feel what you feel and share it here with others if that helps you. I have benefited so much from reading what others are going through, knowing that all these brave souls have found ways to survive this overwhelming state of grief. One step at a time. One day at a time. Bless you. Valley

Love to you on your birthday. Valley

Marsha, It is almost 6:30 pm on a Friday night at my house. I am alone. I choose that. I worked in the garden today, off and on, and each time I came in the house there were message on my machine. Invites out. People are reaching out to me. But, here I am alone. I wish you didn't feel guilt about keeping your business going. I was at Tom's side so much, but I do remember one time walking in his hospital room and he was sitting in a chair, into hospital life, and he said, "you are here so early" and I knew he was not into seeing me then. I visited a bit and then took off. Did my own thing that day. I felt hurt. But I know that being together all the time can also be hard on everyone. It was hard on me and yet I couldn't stay away. My daughter insisted on the phone that I go out and do some things for me. You would have been working for both of you. I did my little things. What you want to do is wave your hand and have everything return to normal. I found that our relationship was intense.....both good and bad. I did know that we loved each other so much, but that each of us was having such a hard time processing each days bad news. I am glad you feel more comfortable in your skin, in your house. When you work so much, you want to stay home! That is natural. For everyone. When I worked, the place I most wanted to be ....was home....with Tom. Now I work in a different way.......turned over a garden bed today, planted an Echinacea plant, weeded, watered, bought the paper down at the little neighbor store.......and I WANT to stay home. That is ok. Tomorrow I am going to a benefit for a daughter of a friend of mine.....she has cancer. She is only early 40's. She needs funds to keep the battle going. I do things, but not that much social. I am trying to make myself do one thing a week. A little goal. I too fell apart this week......totally. I could not sleep or stop yelling. I am all alone in a big house out in the country and I can act up and fall apart and then work to pull myself back together. Try to do better the next day. I hope you like your job, your business. I hope you love it. I haven't heard you say. I am alone tonight with you. Let's just try to enjoy it! Your friend, Valley

Your rock is a rock of love. A lovely tribute. And thank you for sharing your stuggle with loss and that you did indeed find a way to transcend the loss....well, almost. My partner died in Sept. 2008 and I am up and down like a roller coaster. And when I crash I cannot imagine transcending the loss, but your words, you have given me hope. The photos are beautiful. Thank you so much. Valley

Yes, I too do not want to move on....to move away from my dear Tom. I don't feel guilty, I don't feel regret. I feel longing. The idea of a "new normal" is both frigtening and comforting. I have been staying close to everything I know and all that I loved. I had VHS's of my husband transfered to DVD's to give my kids for Christmas, so they can see their dad, hear his voice, his laugh, watch his movements and the way he touches his face and holds his hands. It is like I cannot get enough of him. I really can't. He brought such joy into all our lives. He was FUN to be around. But not perfect. Not at all. Interesting, very much so. And smart. I also am afraid to move forward as the worst thing I can imagine is to lose the luster of life with Tom. Intellectually I know I am moving forward and becoming "familiar" with my aloneness, more capable of running my own show. I hope this is not the new normal though. It lacks the great friendship and trust of two like souls. The humor and history. The funny story that you never get tired of hearing over and over. I do want to be happy. Tom was a happy person and would expect that of me. He would feel I was wasting my life force if I could not now find ways to enjoy each day. I know he would. As much as I want to hold back time, I know that I have jobs to do now and responsibilities to accept and do well with and I try, try, try to remember that I am a stronger person now, a fuller woman, and I can and will move forward into whatever life presents. The blossoms of the ornamental plum as just about over, but the Lupin are ready to bloom. Valley

Dear Chai, You write about your father from your heart and the love you share comes through strong and honest. Such a wonderful tribute to the relationship, to the father, to you. When my husband found out he had cancer his first concern was for our family. He loved his son and daughter so much and it was so difficult for him to tell them. He did not want to hurt them, to have their good lives changed in any way. Of course this was impossible, but it is what he felt. It is what he tried to say to them. "Please live your life". He enjoyed visitng with them, seeing them and hearing about their day-in and day-out activities. We traveled for medical treatments so they could only stay up with their father via the phone and occasional visits. One of the worst parts of his illness was the feeling that his children would suffer pain and loss. He loved them so much. I am sure your father was so proud of you. It sounds like you shared a lot with him; learning to love nature and be relaxed in the natural world, the quest for spirituality and your place in the world. These are gifts that you created and shared with each other and that live on. Regret is natural, but not easy. The bond of love you have with your father is strong. Love to you, Valley

Dear Timeless, It sounds like you have made great strides forward in a short time. Be proud of that. So glad that Jake is on the road to recovery. For me, crying is a release for some of the pain inside. Take care and be gentle with yourself, Valley

Friends, My dinner party was fun. After we all came inside from the porch to sit at the table, I placed a shot glass on each persons plate with Tom's Bushmill Irish Whiskey in it. We all took our little glasses and stood up and gave a toast to Tom. I think Tom got a kick out of it. Irish was his drink. Then we all resumed our dinner party and celebrated the birthday of a dear friend. All of these friends know that I love to hear them talk about Tom. After he died they were shy to do that. Now they know that it makes me feel good to hear his name, to hear the tales of times with Tom. They are finding more normal and natural ways to relate to me now, instead of treading lightly for fear of hurting me. And I have to remember that they also need to talk about Tom, as he was loved by each of them and they are missing him too. When everyone left last night the house felt full of life and laughter. It felt full. Thanks for listening to me. Valley

Kay, I could see and feel George's sparkle when you spoke of him! He does glow in you. I too know about many, many solitary nights now. Have fun at your Sunday party, and sparkle along with George. Love to you, Valley

Tonight I am having a birthday dinner party for one of my girl friends...she turns 62. I know it will all go well but I got myself into quite a state yesterday of worry and crying and missing and longing. My husband should be here to celebrate with his friends. I invited 9 people and only 2 are men. The men are dissaperaring and it is so, so sad. I asked my son if he would come and join us just to add some male energy and some youth. He said yes, as he has known the birthday girl since the day he was born. I opened my husband's side of the closet yesterday to look for something and ended up just running my hands up and down the sleaves of Tom's shirts....all still hanging there. I have been unable to part with any of his things. I started crying and then calling Tom, beggin him to materialize just for a moment, just one more time. I was locked into this for the first few months and believed that that would happen. Just for a moment. Then I came to acceptance that this would not happen. So yesterday I was surprised to be right back in that space. I just cannot believe that we could be so close for 39 years and then...presto.....nothing further. Gone. Today the sun came out. A plus. And I made my dishes and they will go in the oven later. And I carried out the folded table to set up with my dining room table and make a big enough space for all 10 of us to sit down around the table. Tom use to help me set up and he always washed the dishes when the guests left....and I sat and talked about the party with him while he washed. We all loved him and I hope he will be close with us tonight. I still cannot imagine my future without him....but I guess I am living my future, day by day. It is not nearly as rich or joyous. But I am thankful for my children, my friends, my mother. Now to make sure I have some olives. Valley

ECHG and Boo, Thank you for sharing your blogs. Not only are your blogs inspiring to others and helpful for you to express your feelings, they are opening your hearts to the creative process. You are both brave women. Bless you both, Valley

Boo Have a great trip with family and know that Cliff rides along with you. Being excited about doing something......anything...is wonderful. Safe driving, Valley

Dear Karen, My husband has been dead 9 months now and I can relate to much of what you have written. The image of my husbands face just before he died stays with me too. His last word was my name. I also garden, and it does bring comfort. It is something both Tom and I liked, raising flowers and vegetables. Pulling weeds, digging, watch new growth appear. It is emotionally fulfilling and REAL. I am glad you got your husbands ashes and have a plan for them and to share that event with your loved ones. My husband died away from home, where we were getting treatments for his cancer. When he died I had him cremated and then flew home to Canada with his ashes. I was pleasantly surprised that the airport agent was sensitive to my carrying them on board with me. I kept telling my daughter, who was with me, we are taking dad home. I asked a good friend of Tom's and mine who is a ceramic artist to make an urn for them which she did. Tom sits in this lovely container in my living room. For now I really like to have him here at home with me. As dumb as this sounds, when we were deep in snow this winter, I felt happy that Tom was warm and inside with me. I have photos of Tom all over the house and also enjoy talking to him in those photos and blowing kisses to him. For me he is still an active person in my life, in my heart and head. And I have had 4 dreams of Tom. Each one was a blessing. I am keeping a journal of them....as I do hope he appears more and more. But in each of these 4 dreams, he was natural looking, happy, involved and mostly giving me the feeling that things were "ok". The last dream found he and I driving on a mountain road and we drove over a canyon and I looked down and there was no road under the car and I said, "Tom there is no road under us" and he smiled and said its fine. And soon we were driving back on a road. He just looked so good in this dream. I am glad you have shared your story and I am there with you. Please go gentle with yourself and do whatever you think you need to do. All is ok. I think there are no rules for how one goes through this process. But support and love for how we do it, that is what counts. Please be gentle with yourself. Valley