melina

What I learned this past weekend is that I can do some impossible things. Things I would not have thought possible to do on my own. 1) Make a 10 hour drive over the mountains, alone. Help my youngest son move into a dorm. Then two days later, drive the same route back again. My youngest started college August 15th in a city on the other side of the country. He's been sleeping on the couch in the small apartment of my eldest son and daughter-in-law. I had to bring his things over - and that meant a drive over the mountains of Norway plus two ferry boat rides. If anyone has seen photos of the mountainous areas in this country, you'll know they are no laughing matter. Steep climbs and steep drops. 2) I can manage an empty nest - even without my husband. It's not fun, there have been many tears, but I'm managing. Melina

My husband, Thyge, was also an early riser. On weekends he'd come upstairs with a cup of coffee for me to wake me up. I would smell the aroma of bread or rolls baking in the oven. I feel so alone. I wonder how long I'll feel like this. Melina

Mary, What a powerful poem. I so understand that feeling. That empty hole inside. Thanks for posting it. I don't remember it from January, but then at that point I was deep in a grief fog. You expressed that grief with painful beauty. Hope you're doing okay... Melina

Becky, The foggy brain bit and the guilt will ease up over time. Not sure how long it's been for you, but now after a year I'm a little clearer and the guilt and remorse is less intense. I have long periods where I don't blame myself for things. See my reply to Beth on the post about regrets. Or remorse. Now I can't remember what it was called. Uh-oh - foggy brain! I work full time and have trouble remembering things I promised to get done. I'm easily overwhelmed. But then I remind myself that I'm now the only one in charge of the house and home - and our four kids, even if they're more or less grown. I have to remember so much more than I did when there were two of us. I had the luxury of being able to relax now and then and let my husband take care of things. We were a team. Now I'm a team of one. I can't expect myself to be able to handle things as efficiently as the team of two did. Again, I'm not sure how far out you are, but I seem to recall that at eight months, I felt a major setback. Everything crashed down on me and I couldn't stop sobbing. Then after a while, it let up. I still cry, but not every day. I think this thing comes in waves. Feel free to e-mail me privately if you need an extra shoulder to lean on. Melina

Cheryl, Thanks for your post - very encouraging. One year out and I'm still letting the house go a bit. It's not easy to take care of everything, being only one person. There are only 24 hours in the day, and for many of those hours I don't feel like doing anything. I still have to force myself to get going. Hope that my second year will be better. Melina

Di, I read the previous thread to find out which comments hurt you. I think there is a misunderstanding here. You wrote, among other things, that you wished you could believe in an afterlife. I think people here were trying to comfort you by helping you to believe - since you wrote that you wished you could. Does that make sense? Anyway, I hope you reconsider staying with us. Melina

Beth, I see that Marty posted a thread I started just three weeks after my husband died. I was full of guilt, regret and remorse then. Now a year has passed, and I still feel twinges of guilt and remorse, but not as strongly and not all the time. I did not want to accept the thought that my husband would die of lung cancer. He was so healthy and fit. How could he die? He was my soulmate - we were each others best friends. How could one of us leave the other, or our children? We convinced each other that each little downward turn was just a bump in the road - a minor setback - and that he would be up and running again in no time. We were making vacation plans even while he was in the hospital on oxygen, just days before he died. Looking back, this was pretty insane. I felt so guilty that I didn't talk to him about death, help him to prepare. But as my grief counselor pointed out, he didn't want to talk about it either. Or he would have. Maybe he was protecting me, but I think he wanted to have life for as long as possible. He clung to hope and it got us through the days of that horrible year. I think the only way for me to deal with the horror of the cancer was to make life as normal as possible. To expect that he would be coming home. Maybe that was how he dealt with it too. I was in utter shock when he died, because I was completely unprepared. I'm the one who has to deal with the unpreparedness of it all. He has no pain or fear now - wherever he is. I can accept the pain and the struggle if I think about him being free from it. I suppose I see it as sort of a punishment, but at least it alleviates the guilt. Not sure if that was helpful. But know that the guilt and remorse do ease up over time. Melina

Di, It's of course up to you to decide whether or not you're getting anything meaningful out of this forum, and if you want to stay. But you have not overstayed your welcome in any way. Just so you know that. I think there are many different perspectives on religion and the afterlife here. I'm sure there are many atheists and I know there are many different religious backgrounds. I've always been an atheist - now more agnostic. I hope there is an afterlife because I can't stand the thought of never being with my husband again. I don't think you necessarily have to believe in God to believe that your energy continues in another dimension. That would be science, but of course mixed with spirituality, because it usually implies there is some sort of force or power involved. (May the Force be with you! - sorry, couldn't help myself). But of course many people believe that this life is all we get. If so, then I'm sure Glen would want you to experience what is left of your own life. The pain you and I feel now will hopefully fade and we'll be able to open new doors. This sounds cliche, but at least we are among the lucky few would got to experience true love in our lives. I try to cling to that thought. Religion and spirituality are not really the main topics here anyway. The main topic is grief. And that, sadly, is something we all have in common. Hope you reconsider hanging around with us. I for one value your posts, even if I don't always reply. Melina

Sorry to hear about your dog, Marty. We've had many pets over the years, and lost a beloved dog just six months before my husband passed. The loss of a pet is also hard. I still have one dog, an Icelandic sheepdog, who's always thrilled to see me - even if I've just come from the bathroom and only been away for 30 seconds. Melina

Hello everyone, We've got new problems here at home. My eldest son and daughter-in-law moved to Norway recently so that he could get his Masters degree and she could work. Unfortunately, they have just received word from the Immigration office that her application for an immigration permit has been denied. This means we have to get a lawyer and hope that the lawyer can figure out some way she can stay in the country before she's thrown out in October. It's so incredibly frustrating. She's been offered a job, my son has started his studies and they were getting off to a good start. My funds, as a widow, are running dry, and I don't know what to do. This is a huge headache and a very much unneeded problem on top of everything else. My son already postponed his postgraduate studies once - after his father died. Now he's threatening to do it again, and I'm trying to talk him into hanging in there. But I have no idea how to help them. Anyway, life is pretty crappy right now and I'm really struggling to stay optimistic. If only my husband had been here. He may not have been able to do any more than I can - but at least there would be the two of us to help them - and to keep each other upbeat. As it is, I can't stop crying. Melina

Good ones, Chrissie and Mary. It does help to be able to laugh a little. Another few things: 1) If you can't figure out how something works, you might find the answer on Youtube. That's how I figured out my new battery-powered screwdriver. 2) Don't paint the house while it's still wet from the rain. 3) You will make mistakes. Many of them. Accept it and say to yourself: Life is about learning. Melina

Mary, That's right, none of them came to the funeral. My husband's family were all there, but I haven't heard much from them since. I guess they don't know what to say. But I am working to put this behind me. I have to accept the fact that some people are just never going to be there for me in a crisis, and my mother and siblings are among those people. Maybe they just don't have the energy. And my bitterness will merely sap my own energy. It's not worth it. Afwah, I'm sorry for your loss as well. It's true, my husband was my best friend. Things weren't always a rose garden, but we stuck together for nearly thirty years and he was a fantastic father for our four sons. They've each told me, in different ways, that they couldn't have wished for a better father. I suppose that's a comfort. Melina

Arizona in winter sounds wonderful. Last winter my main activities were 1) crying and 2) shoveling snow. If we all were to get together there would most likely be tears, but at least we won't be shoveling snow. I also learned what others have written here: Lower your expectations about who will come through for you in a crisis, and also how much they will be willing to help. I was certain that my sister would fly over to be with me after my husband's death. She had the money and the time. But in the end she made so many excuses that I finally - after quite some time (I was too stupid to get this through my head) - realized she did not want to come and had no intention of doing so. My mother didn't come over either. My brother didn't even contact me. That led to a lot of hard feelings and bitterness toward my family. Luckily my four sons were supportive, as much as could be expected of very young men. My two daughters-in-law also did what they could. I don't have a huge bundle of friends, but those few that I do have were there for me. They seemed a little confused as to what they ought to do, and I was too bewildered and distraught to figure out what I needed. One thing my friends did do for me that really helped was to make dinners that I could refrigerate or freeze, so I wouldn't have to bother with cooking. So that could be another thing I've learned: When you're deep in grief, and others ask what they can do to help, tell them to bring you dinners that you can heat up later, when you feel like eating. Melina

Thanks Mary. It's good to know there are close friends out there. I just wish we could all get together for some sort of Camp Widow/Widower thing. Melina

Mary, I'm glad you can see that you've made progress. I think those sudden attacks of grief will be there for years to come. I've accepted that, as long as I can move forward and live my life as a fully functioning individual. It sounds like you're doing just that. I had an attack of sudden grief and tears last night. But I know why. It was the first evening and first night I was completely alone in the house. Apart from the dog - she's an Icelandic sheepdog and never leaves my side, if she can help it. All four sons have now officially moved out. They will probably return for short periods - college vacations etc. But I realized suddenly that I was on my own - no one but the dog to care for from day to day. I longed for my husband. Still, I suppose I have to look at this as a learning experience too. Managing as a single woman, living independently. It's not what I expected at this point, but...that's another thing I've learned: Life is not always predictable. Melina

This turned out well, Marty. It feels good to share our thoughts with others. Melina

One more thing: I've learned that material things just don't matter. I have a couple of friends who are very interested in interior decorating: a new kitchen, expensive furniture... I don't care about any of that - which is good, since I couldn't afford it anyway and I live in an old house. Why are people so interested in STUFF? It's people who matter - who we love and who love us back. Melina

SuzieQ, All of what you wrote feels familiar to me. Thanks for posting. I did notice that I felt a lot worse the week before the anniversary of my husband's death than I did on the actual day. I suppose the second year may be somewhat easier in that we don't have to do all those "firsts". Melina

Deb, You could be talking about me here. I have also put off major decisions until the spring. I put them off last year too, but I think we have to move at our own pace. I have fallen down many times. The grief hits you when you least expect it and sends you reeling. I've also got a house to deal with that was meant for four hands and two incomes. My husband was the handyman. I have no idea how to fix things. I wish there was a class for women with no practical skills. It's still early days for you - so go easy on yourself. Lower your ambition level. Just getting up in the morning was an accomplishment for me when I had reached the point where you are now. Melina

More stuff I've learned: 1) Laughter and tv I agree with Harry - I've learned that laughter helps. Unfortunately it's hard to come by when you're grieving. But as he mentioned, watching comedies, even bad ones, can help alleviate the pain. They may not make you laugh, but in some weird way they do sort of make life feel more normal. And Sci-fi somehow helps by moving me, temporarily, out of this world. I turn to tv series and movies when I don't want to think too much. If I think too much while feeling bad, I inevitably dig down into the grief and guilt. This may sound weird - but after my husband's death I spent evenings watching Star Trek Next Generation - and ended up watching all seven seasons. In a strange way, they helped me calm down, at least until I had to turn the tv off and go to bed. It was, however, disturbing to have dreams about Jean-Luc Picard. 2) Advice Other people may offer advice on everything from grief support groups to selling your home and moving. I felt completely vulnerable after my husband died. We had, I thought, a very equal marriage. But I realized that I depended on him for a lot of things. He dealt with bills and money, with the house and with the car. He also was a better cook than I was, and usually made dinner. I'm starting to wonder what I actually did apart from go to work, do the laundry and do my share of taking care of kids. But back to the advice: I've had many, many people advise me to sell the house. We were forced to move just after we got the diagnosis. At that time we were optimistic about his prognosis. To clear our financial situation, we sold a house we loved and moved to another house - one we were planning to fix up together. Now I'm left alone with this project. It's a fairly big house and there's a lot to do. I know it would make sense to sell it. I have only one income - and we had bought this place with the idea of two incomes. But I just can't bring myself to move yet. I've learned to tell people - very nicely - to stop offering advice (in other words, shut up). Of course - here I am offering advice. Just ignore me if you like. Everyone tells me to join a grief support group. I tried, and I hated it. I hated going there, I hated having to sit through it. It awoke all sorts of terrible feelings in me - especially guilt. I prefer the online group. Here I can come and go, comment if I like, say something if I want to. If it's a good group, well-suited, then fine. But I've learned that grief support groups are not for everyone. A good grief counselor, however, is worth his or her weight in gold. 3) Find something to keep you busy when you have the energy. Sometimes keeping busy will give you more energy. I have to work for a living, so I'm busy enough there. But often I find that if I have some sort of inane project - painting a door, sewing a quilt (which I never seem to finish), planting things in the garden - it helps me focus on something other than grief for a while. Plus I like to look at what I've done afterwards and feel I've accomplished something. Now I'm faced with the task of painting the house, which may prove a bigger project that I can handle. But I'm going to try. 4) Don't be afraid to ask your doctor for help. My grief transformed to depression. I have that tendency. My doctor gave me antidepressants, which did help. They didn't take away my grief, but they helped me manage my life at a time when everything seemed to be falling apart. Not everyone can sail through grief without stranding on the rocks. Sometimes you need help to keep moving. Please don't let me discourage anyone who just recently lost someone. When I was new to grief, I felt overwhelmed and crushed by people who told me that the second year was worse than the first. How could anything be worse than this, I thought. I'm only just starting the second year, but even so, I don't think this is true. It will be different, I'm sure. Some things will be easier - some things more challenging. Melina

I love reading the comments on this thread. I'm learning so much. Thank you all for joining in. Marty - feel free to post my thoughts, if you like. Melina

Happy anniversary Dwayne and Pauline....you're in my thoughts. Melina

I'd like to start a new topic. Not sure if anyone feels like joining. What have we learned from our grief? I'm talking about both positive and negative things. For the new people here: I lost my husband to lung cancer in August 2010. He was a non-smoker. We were true soulmates and had been a couple for nearly 30 years, married 28 years. We have four sons - all in their twenties. No grandkids yet. We were looking forward to the time when we'd just be "US" - when the kids flew the nest. Now the kids have flown, but I'm all by myself, apart from the dog. A year has passed. The grief is still with me, but not as excruciatingly painful as it was a year ago. I still cry, but not every day. I've become stronger - not because I wanted to, but because I had to. And I've learned a few things. This is what I've learned so far: 1) You are never really prepared for grief and you can't truly understand it unless you've been there. I've lost other people in my life: grandparents, a father, a brother, friends, an unborn child. But nothing could have prepared me for the devastation I felt when I lost my husband. I have finally come to understand the grief that other people have struggled with: A friend who lost her son, a cousin who lost his wife. I cringe at the memories of what I said to them, thinking I was offering comfort. But it's only now that I'm grieving myself that I can empathize with other bereaved people. I'm a psychologist - and this has been an education for me. I've learned how to speak with others in the similar situations. 2) It gets easier. The pain lessens. When my grief was fresh and raw, other widows and widowers told me that the pain would ease up over time. I wasn't so sure. On this roller coaster journey I came to believe that I would be the exception. Nothing could ease this pain. It would be with me forever. But I was wrong. The grief is always there, like a backpack - sometimes heavy and uncomfortable, sometimes only noticeable, but the pain is fading. It may not have disappeared, but it is manageable. It comes and goes like the twinges in my sore joints. Sometimes, without warning, it hits me like a heavy migraine and I have to ride it out or find something quick to alleviate it. 3) Give yourself time. Friends and family may expect your grief to be "over" within a certain time frame, often after 3-6 months, or at least a year. "Put the past behind you," they may say, "It's time to move on." Ignore them. Move at your own pace. 4) You will learn how to take care of yourself if you have to. A few tips: Pay bills as they come if you have the money, and balance a budget. I admit I don't always take this advice. Often I end up spending too much, and I make mistakes (which is okay). But mostly I manage. If you owe money and can't pay an entire bill, pick up the phone and explain the problem. Often you'll be allowed to pay a little each month. Don't stuff bills in a drawer and expect them to disappear. I know from personal experience that this does not work. Cooking and eating healthy food is good for you. My husband was the chef in the house - but now I've learned to make more than spaghetti and tacos. Not only that, but I've become a reasonably good cook. Your normal appetite will return. The challenge is to curb that appetite and appease it with healthy food. Daily exercise will improve your mental health. Honest! I've been forced to take daily exercise because I have a dog. This his does not mean you have to get a dog, but do try to take a walk every day. The wind and rain alone will air out your mind and hopefully move your thoughts into a better place. A battery operated drill is the most important tool in the house. Don't bother telling the electrician or the plumber that you're a widow. They don't really feel sorry for you and they won't give you discounts. 5) This is the most important one: Take one day at a time. I cannot emphasize this enough. It has been my mantra. If I think too far ahead, I panic. You can always make it through one more day. Then another, and another. Before you know it, you're living again. Melina

Becky, What you're feeling is what we've all felt. At four months I felt like my world had ended and my insides had been yanked out and stuffed back in upside down. In desperation I kept asking others who had gotten further how long it would take before I felt better. At one year I can say that it does get a little better and a little easier. I never thought it would. The grief isn't gone. I don't cry every day, but every week. I still refer to my husband as my husband - as though he was still here. Maybe he is... Melina

Thanks again Mary - I may just skype if you give me your skype address, and if I can figure out how to work it. Thanks too, Kay. It's true, I won't have to do the "firsts" again at least, even if I'm not looking forward to the "seconds" either. And Marietta - I know we were going through the first stages of grief around the same time here. One of the hardest things for me has been seeing and hearing about my sons' grief. My youngest was 19 when his dad died, and still a kid in so many ways. He's going off to college in a month, and it hurts that his father won't be seeing him off, the way he did with the other three. Just writing this brings tears to my eyes. I'm doing okay, and I know I should feel thankful for many things - but I still feel cheated out of the life I wanted to continue living. Melina