Dimcl

Tammy, have you discussed your feelings with Jeff's family? Is that possible (for you or for them)? If I were a betting gal, I would suspect that Jeff's sister and family are feeling guilty for the very reasons you cite. If they have any grey cells at all, they know, in their hearts that they should have been better sisters/parents/etc. while he was still alive and fighting. Perhaps they were all just very frightened. Perhaps they truly believed that he would pull through. Now that he's gone, you're a reminder of their guilt. I don't know whether you can pull it off or not, but I would suggest meeting your sister-in-law on her turf (her kitchen for coffee?), where she feels comfortable and doesn't feel ambushed, and calmly talk to her about how you're feeling. No accusations, per se, just how disappointed and unhappy you are about their actions. I'm not sure I'd even broach the subject of Steve, at least at the beginning, because I suspect that Steve is just another excuse for them to assuage their guilt. I might also suggest to her that putting your teenage daughters in the middle was inappropriate and that she should have voiced her opinions to you. As for being happy with Steve, that's your business. I, personally, can't see myself ever being interested in another man, but it's been less than 3 months since my Glenn died. Besides, it would take too long to train another one! I used to kid him about that all the time. I think that a calm, quiet heart-to-heart with your sister-in-law might clear the air and if it doesn't, you'll know where you stand and can move on to find new friends and family. Believe me, I know where you're coming from with family/spouse conflicts. Hugs. Di Sometimes I wish I was an orphan

Oh, Carol Ann, I'm so sorry that you have to go through all of this. And what kind of an insensitive clod is your manager, anyway? I'd be very careful with him. If that's his attitude and he needs you to come back fulltime, ticking him off might not be a good idea. I understand fully why you hung up on him, but employers will only bend over backward so far and then the almighty dollar takes precedence over everything else. I'm not sure why you had to give up your bike, but, unfortunately, I can't really think of an appropriate substitute. Do you skate? How about inline skates? It almost sounds like you need to sleep for about 48 hours. That parole hearing must have taken an awful lot out of you and although I can't imagine what you're going through, I just wanted to say that I'm thinking of you. Hugs. Di PS - I'm sorry, Carol Ann. When you said "bike", I thought you meant "bicycle". Makes my inline skates suggestion look downright silly.

Melina, I have no idea why you're having these dreams, but I can truly, truly say that I envy you so much. I know that waking from last night's dream must have been horrible, but I can't tell you how much I would give to dream of my darling man. After a little more than 2 1/2 months, I have not dreamt of Glenn once and am becoming almost desperate to do so. Just to see him, touch him, talk to him, if only in a dream, would be so wonderful. To dream of him every night, like you of your Thyge, would be heaven. The only thing I know, from reading, is that 6 months seems to be a very challenging time- frame in this journey. I'm not even at three months yet, so can only suggest that your brain has chosen this time to rewire itself in a different direction. Frankly, my brain has been doing such unexpected stuff that I feel like I'm losing my old self, but I'm trying to stop attempting to figure it out, because it just makes me crazy. I suspect that these dreams will stop in due course, but I'm not sure whether that's good or bad. Only you know whether they give you comfort or not. If they do, just appreciate that you're having them. Hugs. Di

Suzanne, my heart goes out to you. Some people say that a dwelling is just sticks and stones, but to most of us, the walls that surround us and our loved ones absorb the love, the arguments, the grief, the joy, that encompass our lives together and I can't imagine leaving those sticks and stones. I am less than 3 months into this process and if I had to sell our home tomorrow, I would be a basket case. The thought of not being surrounded by the walls that Glenn painted, the kitchen he rebuilt, the floors that he tiled, is beyond my imagining. My Glenn died in hospital so my last memories of him in our home were only peripherally involved in his surgery and subsequent death, but if he had died here at home, I'd never, ever be able to leave. I only hope that I have as much courage as you, when it comes time for me to have to move. I'm so sorry for your loss of Danny. Hugs. Di

You sound a lot like me, Deb, in that you took charge and got things accomplished. This is exactly what I've been doing (although I haven't dealt with his clothing or possessions yet)and after this recent meltdown, I started to wonder whether I was going too fast. Based on what most people on this forum have said, I think I was attempting too much too soon, so I have resolved to take it easier. The problem is that I'm a results-oriented person and "taking it easy on myself" isn't what I'm used to. Taking it easy also makes me worry that my personality will change and I don't want that to happen, either. Thanks so much for your advice and help, Deb. I'll try to get past this latest setback and try to slow down. Hugs. Di

My Glenn's phrase was "That's life", Deb. Sounds as romantic as your Michael's philosophy. Glenn and Michael were right, but I still haven't found that resignation yet. On the other hand, one of the phrases I've used for years is "Life's a bitch and then you die". Truer words were never spoken.

Actually, when I do go to bed, I don't have too much problem falling asleep and I don't wake up often in the night. In fact, I haven't since Glenn died. My sleep patterns have changed in that I was always a night owl, but also slept in. Now, I can't seem to sleep in. I'm up early (for me) and since the morning is the worst time of day for me missing Glenn, I hate it. The problem is as I said earlier - even though I'm tired, I'm consciously afraid of going to bed because it's one day further from Glenn and because I'm in this setback period and am worried about how I'll feel in the morning.

I am so sorry for the death of your brother, Hopeful22. I haven't lost a sibling, so can't truly understand how you're feeling, but my heart goes out to you. I had no concept that things could get worse than when it first happened. I guess that's why we go into shock - it's our brain's way of switching us off until we are better able to handle things, but now that the shock's worn off, and the reality has begun to sink in, the pain is indescribable. I am still in the midst of the meltdown that I referred to when I started this thread and I am so, so tired of feeling bad from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. A month ago, I didn't feel horrible when I woke up. As the day wore on, the grief got worse and worse, but now I cry 5 minutes after I'm out of bed and it just becomes a constant thing. I can truly understand why some people give up on life when they lose a loved one. It would be so very easy to do. But, you're right - my Glenn would want me to keep fighting and moving forward (he never gave up on anything in his life) and so, I will. Thank you for your encouraging words, and please know that I'm thinking of you and your brother. Hugs. Di

Thank you to all of you. After hearing what you had to say and doing a little soul-searching, I think perhaps I have been trying to resolve things too quickly. The problem is that I'm an A-type personality and put tremendous pressure on myself, in everything I do, to "do the right thing" and to do it as perfectly as possible. I think part of the problem is that I haven't yet absorbed just how radically my life has changed. I think I'm also fighting possible changes to me, to my personality. I don't want that to happen and when I find myself feeling or thinking things that I'm not used to, it's a problem. I guess I just have to let this play out the way it will, but I also think that maybe I'll try to slow down a little bit and not pressure myself quite so much. Thank you all for your support and efforts to help. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Hugs to you all. Di

Last night, I cried harder and longer than I remember doing since about the third week after Glenn's death on 1 November. I felt like I was right back at the beginning again, and today I've done nothing except sleep and wander around the house feeling lost. I think that some of the things I've been doing in the last 3 days probably contributed to my crash. I cleaned out one of Glenn's workbenches. He saved everything, from little pieces of metal and plastic that he often found a use for, to barely used pieces of sandpaper to old toothbrushes that he used to clean his tools with, etc. So, knowing that I'd never use any of most of it, I threw out a lot of it, vacuumed sawdust out of the drawers and put the tools and useful stuff back. Then, two days ago, I started organizing Glenn's clothes for a quilt I'm going to have made. I spoke to the quilter on the phone and she told me something that is perfectly logical, but that I hadn't thought of - she only wants pieces of the clothing, so it'll be up to me to "destroy" the clothes and I was taken aback at the idea of ripping Glenn's clothes apart. I thought I got over it by telling myself that it was better that I do it, rather than sending the clothing off to a stranger. Then, I got looking at a cousin's travel blog yesterday. She and her husband are taking a six-month trip-of-a-lifetime and they're currently in China. Well, China was one of the places that Glenn and I always talked about travelling to but the cost always prevented it and I realized that I will probably never get there now. No more travelling, no more travel experiences to share with my darling man. And, finally, last night I downloaded my income tax program and the first thing it asked me was if I was still "married". Of course, I had to change that to "widowed" and that was the final straw. I called my sister and cried on her shoulder for an hour and she told me that she thought I was putting too much pressure on myself. I'm the kind of person that when there's a job to do, it should be done now, not later. And, it helps me to stay busy, to organize, to plan, but I wonder if my sister was right. To all of you out there who are further down the road in this journey than I am: Do you think I'm trying to accomplish too much after a little more than 2 1/2 months? I know the answer will generally be that we must all do what feels right to us, but from your experience, have you discovered that you did tackle things too soon? I don't know what to expect 3, 6, 12 months down the road and I need to know if I'm expecting too much of myself at this stage. I feel worse now than I did a month ago, and just want to crawl into a hole and pull a rock in behind me. Your advice is appreciated. Di

I find that absolutely surrounding myself with Glenn gets me through the hardest times. Fortunately, I had taken dozens and dozens of photos of my love over the 33 years that we were together, and from about 2 weeks after his death in November, I started organizing and scanning all the photos I have of him. I've spent days creating a slideshow, adding music, burning to DVD, etc. Just spending so much time looking at his photos makes him seem so much nearer. I also write my sweetie every day. I tell him how I'm feeling, I tell him how angry I am at him for not listening to me when he started losing weight and he put off going to the doctor. I tell him what the weather's like. Just heartfelt letters written to the man I love who just doesn't happen to live here anymore. I chose to hand-write the letters because the computer is too impersonal and when I'm having a hard time, I write to him about it and it always helps. I can't tell you how many pages have tear stains on them, but he's the only one who I can talk to about what's happened. I know that may sound odd, but it's true. It's also interesting to note that when I started the letters, I couldn't bring myself to refer to his "death". I'd say "when you left" or "when you went away". In the last few days, I've been able to write the words "death" and "died". It's still difficult, but the letters do tell me where I was and where I am now. My heart aches so for you and Michael, Tina. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and take it from minute to minute. Hugs. Di

Count me in for the pity party, as well. Glenn's only been gone for 2 1/2 months and I'm already looking down the road from my advanced old age of 56 (!) and wondering if my life is over. I'm honestly trying to stay active, stay involved with some of the volunteer work I do, but I have nobody in the town where I live, no children, my phone bill from making long-distance calls is exhorbitant and I feel like I'm rolling a rock uphill with no progress made. My sister very kindly told me that I look like hell (with family like that...) and I don't remember the last time I laughed. Look at it this way, wmjsca - at least you are a Mom and you have your son's future to look forward to. I know that's not a lot of consolation at times, but he's someone to care for and nurture and watch grow. You'll probably be mother of the groom and grandma someday, so there is that in your future. As for joining a convent... I wish I was Catholic! Di

My Glenn was a pretty snazzy dresser and he bought good quality clothes. The problem was that I could never get him to dispense with them and I now have shirts and pants that are 20 years old (or better) hanging in the closets. I know that Glenn wouldn't want me to give them away and because I live in a small town, if I gave them to the Salvation Army, I might see someone walking down the street in one of Glenn's jackets, and I couldn't bear it. On the other hand, I can't imagine just throwing them out, either, so I had to come up with an alternative. I was laying awake the other night and thought, "Why not have a quilt made?" Some of you may be way ahead of me on this, but I did some online research and there are quilters who not only will make quilts from your loved one's clothing, but who can also incorporate photographs into the quilt as well. I've been in touch with one such quilter and she will even go so far as to surround the photo with the material. For example, a photo of Glenn wearing a particular jacket will have a "background" of that jacket material. She will also incorporate cloth badges into the quilt. Glenn was a career soldier, and I have rank badges, etc. that she will incorporate. I find it comforting to think that I won't have to "waste" Glenn's clothing and that I will have something to wrap myself in that truly "belongs" to him, and I thought I would share the idea.

Oh, I haven't cried for 2 days, but reading that poem just broke my heart. My Glenn would sneak out to get the weekend paper and be so quiet because I loved to sleep in. He always left a note in case I got up while he was out, so I wouldn't worry. Seven days a week I would come out into the kitchen and he'd be standing there with my tea in hand, and a big hug ready to go. Oh yes, I was seriously spoiled, too, and he used to tease me about that and I'd say, "Well, you've only got yourself to blame!" and he'd laugh and admit it. Why do the fates give us these wonderful people and then snatch them away from us, far too early? Glenn would have said "That's life", but I can't get past the injustice of it. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!

I think that feeling persists for me because as I address my mind to dealing with his tools, his clothes, his "stuff", I feel like I'm putting away that part of my life. So, the passage of another day simply means one day further from "couplehood" and one day closer to "oneness". I have no fear that my love for Glenn will ever, ever fade, but going to bed at night seems to be moving me further from that safe, comfortable, secure life that no longer exists. I guess it's just symbolic of the passage of time and I don't like it.

Michael sounds like a good man, Tina, and your words tell us how much you love each other. I'm not a spiritual person, Tina, but I believe that if someone is held in our hearts and our memories, the love remains on both sides, and although that may sound illogical coming from someone who isn't at all spiritual, I think the love remains in the joy that was brought to each of us when we found our loves. I'm so happy to hear that you were with Michael at the end. So many of us were not privileged to have that, and it is one of my greatest regrets that my Glenn was alone when he died. Thank you for sharing a little bit about your Michael. I hope it comforts you to tell us about him and your life together. I always find that it brings a smile to my face when I can talk about Glenn. He's only been gone for 2 1/2 months but it's already getting difficult to find friends or family who want to hear me talk about him and our life together, as if 33 years can just go out the window after a couple of months. Sad, but true. So, please, talk to us until you're blue in the face if it will help. Di

I'm so glad that your day was peaceful, Mary. I know that I'm terrified of all those "firsts" yet facing me and to know that the first anniversary of Michael's death was peaceful is encouraging. Hugs. Di

I am so sorry for your loss, Tina. I lost my husband of 33 years about 2 1/2 months ago, and I can so relate to what you're going through. Glenn and I had no children and were just us, always just the two of us. I am only 56, but although technicallyI am, I don't consider myself a widow (what an ugly word!). As far as I'm concerned, I'm still married. As for being able to concentrate, be patient with yourself. You are going to be mystified at what your brain does and doesn't do over the next while. I'm still not able to focus very well, although it's not as bad as it was. And if you don't mind me saying so... it doesn't get "easier" - it changes. I still think about my darling Glenn every second of every day, but I'm now in a place where (sometimes), when I think of him, I can smile. I'm not thinking about the horrible time in the hospital as much, and am thinking more about Glenn and our wonderful life together. Please tell us about your husband. What was his name? What was he like? Talking about our loved ones as much as we want to is one of the benefits of this group. And I believe that many of us find ourselves smiling as we tell each other about our loves.

I am so happy for you, Carol Ann. Sometimes, the justice system does work!

Mary, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Your comment about Michael dying alone hit a chord with me, as that's one of my huge regrets with my Glenn's death. He was in hospital, but he died alone, and I can't get that out of my mind. I have a long way to go before reaching the 1st anniversary of Glenn's death, so I can't imagine what you're going through. All's I can say is that I hope that Michael does give you the sign you're looking for. Hugs. Di

I haven't yet reached any "first" except Christmas and New Years and am just dreading them. I can't imagine how you're feeling. I can only say how sorry I am that these things must happen. I just hope that you can stay strong and are able to celebrate that Bill was here. Not long enough, I know, but I hope you can focus on that.

I'm so glad that you're feeling physically better, Carol Ann. Please know that I'm thinking of you and sending wishes of strength for the upcoming parole hearing. Di

Glenn said the odd thing to me that didn't make sense, and he did point out what he thought was a caterpillar on the ceiling, but I just took it to be the after-effects of the anesthetic. As for why the nurses didn't tell me this stuff, I have no idea. I thought about contacting them, but after 2+ months, I figured it would be just as well to let sleeping dogs lie. I just want somebody to be angry at, and knowing that they were too busy or too thoughtless or too "whatever", will only serve to aggravate me.

Oh, I've replayed Glenn's time in the hospital over and over and over again in my mind, especially the last hours I spent with him. I even went so far as to get copies of the hospital records so that I could find out as much as I could about his last hours, because I wasn't there. When I read those records, I was devastated, because I found out that he was up walking and talking not an hour before his death. I also found out that during two of the six nights he was agitated and confused and had been found walking in the hallway, had pulled his IV out, hadn't let the nurses reinsert it, had kept asking for the doctor. Nobody told me those things. When I'd get to the hospital first thing in the morning, he'd be fine. I had to find that out through the records. So, yes, I've let my imagination run wild. I've told myself again and again how frightened he must have been. I wonder if he called for me. Since then, I have tormented myself with those thoughts. I also replay my nightmare trip to the hospital after I got the call that he had died (at 2:15 in the morning)and see his poor, dead body in the bed, already growing cool. His head was cocked at an angle that I thought odd and I even tried to straighten it at one point. After I read the records, I found out that a breathing tube had been one of the procedures used when they tried to resuscitate him and I figure that was the reason. Needless to say, I replay over and over, viewing my love's body for the last time. Martina, if the memory of David's death is unsettling, learn to replace it with something else. When you think of it, tell your brain to think of your time together star-gazing or some other special memory. I've had to do that with certain memories and it doesn't take too long for your brain to sort of "click" and get the message. But I want to say again how comforting for him it must have been to have you there. And I'm sure he knew. Try to hold on to that thought. Keep in mind that he did not die alone, that he had someone there who loved him very much. Not everyone is that lucky, Martina. So, no, you're not going crazy (and it's not morbid). What you're experiencing is perfectly natural. And as for upsetting anyone with your questions, we're all here to support each other and talking things out is, perhaps, the best medicine for us all to heal. I would bet that there's nothing you are going through that others on this forum can't relate to. Di

Since about a month after Glenn's death, I've dreaded the end of the day, to the extent that I'm not going to bed until 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning. I finally sat down and thought about it and figured out that it's because I feel that each day that passes takes me further away from him and our life together. Don't get me wrong... I want this terrible pain to ease and I know that will only happen with the passage of time, but I feel that the end of each day takes me one more step away from him, and I can't stand that thought. Has anyone else experienced this?