valley

Hello, I am so sorry for your loss and send my thoughts to you. I too lost a lot of weight during the 6 months when my husband was sick. I was too anxious and nervous to eat. And sleep was hard to come by, at least a full nights sleep. Now 9 months (today) later, I eat more reguarly and sleep a bit longer. I take a Tylenol PM to sleep and if I wake up during the night I turn on the light and read for an hour. Then try it again. Gradually I am starting to sleep 5 to 7 hours again. And that is so good for me. I cannot play things over and over in my mind at night and when that happens I do much of what you said, deep breath, do relaxation techniques etc. I try to stop my mind from racing. My heart from racing. But I do think I am getting better at sleep and I know my weight is heading up again into a more normal range for me. Take care of yourself. Be gentle with yourself. Valley

Marsha, I totally agree with you about not forcing social situations. And I do know that my good friends understand. I realize that I must go through this grief in my own way, at my own pace. Maybe not "through it", like there is this other side. I want the time to really feel what I feel and cry when I want to and yell out and call Tom when I want to. We have 4 acres of fields and trees , our house private from other houses, as I live in a rural area. It is a lot to care for and I don't have the attention span or the energy to keep it all up as well as when my Tom was home working away. I may move in slow motion, but I am trying. It keeps me grounded and my desire to be out socializing is just not there, or at least not that much. I don't want to feel guilty about that. I find talking to friends on the phone very satisfying and when I put the phone down, I am still here....at home. I hope running your business is not too much for you. I do know that working like that can satisfy a lot of "social" need for interaction. Take care, Valley

Dear Boo Mayhew, I know what you feel too. A few of my women friends told me that if I get invited out I must go. That after saying no a few times, I won't be invited anymore. What i have done so far, is tell people what I am feeling. Often I just cannot get the energy up to do anything. I say that. And I say I am ok with that. Don't worry about me. But I will go another time. I think it is fine to leave a gathering whenever you want to. I know that people are understanding but that they are gathering to have fun. And I know that often I cannot do that. I don't want to put that on them, to make them feel they have to tread lightly around me. So I stay home. I do know that people care and I am thankful for these friendships. But often I choose to be alone. Love to you, Valley

Dear Mary Linda, Yes. I cannot part with things now. And I don't have to. I still need to feel like Tom is in the house...it is comforting to me. For months I had one of his shirts that had not been washed under my pillow. I could smell Tom and he smelled wonderful. I guess I am afraid of letting anything of him slip away. The worst thing for me is to think that people will forget him, not talk about him, that his bright light will dim. I had a call today from one of his old friends...a man....and we had such a great connection. I told him that I still cry when I talk about Tom and he told me that he does too. Someday I want to think of Tom and feel strong and happy for the better person that I became because of our long relationship.....but for now, I am unable to do this. I just feel so sorry that he did not get a longer life...as he was.... a lover of life. Full of life. Bright. Loving. And to think that he died at only 68 just kills me inside. Much love to you. Valley

Thanks Marsha. It sounds like you have had a great love too, and it is so hard to imagine life without this person. Actually I can't imagine it. I just get up each day and do things.....slowly. I agree that this is a personal journey and no matter how much others try to help (and I love them for it), it is something I have to internalize and grieve. Do in my own way, at my own pace. You and your husband shared so much, even a business. The loss is horrible. Take care, Valley

This is my first posting. My husband of almost 39 years died September 9, 2008 of cancer. He was diagnosed 6 months before he died. Tom appeared strong, healthy, fun loving, working full time but became short of breath on one of his daily walks uphill. That was his symptom. From the moment he was diagnosed, we were side by side through radiation and chemo and some alternative treatments. He dropped dead one afternoon after lunch from a complication. He called my name and I came into the living room and he fell to the floor. The startled look on his face stays with me. We had a happy, adventureous life together, two children and were each others best friend. We started each morning with a coffee and visit, what we would do that day. Then off to do it. We came together each evening before dinner to talk about what happened that day. We had such great communication and such fun going over the days events. We loved to travel together, to help our parents, to spend time with our grown children, to work on our home and yard, to throw dinner parties, to go boating, to walk the dog. Mostly though we loved to be with each other and share. We had a common history and in many ways grew up together and enjoyed telling stories from the past that we shared and that mean nothing to anyone else. It is like my history now is less.....because no one knows it like Tom did. I miss hearing his voice. I miss him teasing me. I miss his arms around me. I miss seeing him drive in the driveway. I miss making up after an argument. Now after almost 9 months the missing is just the same, maybe more. I cannot even think about him without crying. I have not been able to put any of his things away....his clothes, his tools, his canvas and paints. His studio is just the way he left it. I don't want him to be gone and so I cannot remove anything of his. And the silence can be so painful. I have a large group of friends and they are loving to me. I do things socially and hold myself together for that. I appreciate all my friends. My children are wonderful and comforting and helpful. I know that they cannot watch my pain as it hurts them and they are trying to deal with their own pain. At the same time, my children are what give me continuity and hope and I am proud, as was their father, for the fine adults that they have become.