kellymarie

Raychel, I am so sorry to hear about your loss. There are actually a handful of us here on this site that have lost boyfriends. At first it may feel like you are the only one in the world who has gone through something like this. But after listening and writing on this discussion board, I have found many others (unfortunately) in our situation. I've also realized that grief is a somewhat universal feeling/process, and those who have lost others they loved have similar feelings and experiences. I am sorry you had to find us, but we are all hear to listen. The week after my Josh died before his funeral, the only thing that kept me from hysterically crying 24/7 was creating a scrapbook of Josh and mine's life together for his parents. They love it and show it to friends that come to visit them now. Well, we are hear to listen and share your stories. Kelly

Grief support groups are free too!

Hi all, Yesterday I wrote an email to a bunch of friends and family and included the "wish list" and "how to help a friend in grief." I also included the date of Josh's death so if anyone cares to remember anniversaries, they'd have no excuse. It felt good to send the e-mail. One of my aunts wrote back a very nice email saying she was wondering how I was doing, and "it is true that others tread lightly around someone who has suffered a great loss, so afraid of causing them more pain." One friend replied saying it was "a good thing" and asked where I'd found it. So it was nice to hear from them, but the other 20 or so people???? Well, at least they know where I stand and what I "wish" for. Love, Kelly

Spela, Thank you so much for that list. I am going to write an e-mail to my friends and family and include this list. Even if it doesn't change anything, I will have at least told them where I'm coming from. I really haven't tried this approach yet. On another note, I'm not sure if we have answered your question about your fears about certain things. I just remembered something that happened to a friend of mine. He went on a first date sometime in January. At the end of the date, the person he was on the date with had a heart attack in the parking lot. He called the ambulance, and the person went to the hospital. My friend called the hospital later and found out that this person had died. It was a rather traumatizing experience for him. He told me that he developed anxiety attacks and also developed a fear of flying (I'm not sure how it's all related but maybe you understand where he's coming from). He saw a counselor who helped him get over his fear of flying. Last month, he was able to fly again. So his reaction to death was fear and anxiety. (And even though he had this experience, he's still not good at asking/listening about my grief experience!) On yet another note, I just think it's so sad that we are experiencing the "change of subject" when we mention our loved ones. What is so horrible about talking about someone we loved?????

Spela, I think you should sit, drink coffee, and read the paper alone as much as you want! I personally would like to think it's not pathetic because I've started doing this! However, I think to myself that I'm really having my coffee or sandwich with Josh. We're out together; it's just that I'm the only one who knows this. Yes, I know this makes me crazy, and I just don't care. Kelly (Also, tonight I further confirmed that people on the other side have no idea what it's like on this side. I went to the movies with a few friends (I had to call them and make the plans; why would someone call me????), and mentioned doing things alone now. They replied with saying "oh, I'm sure there are other people who go to the gardens alone, etc." Ha ha ha! I educated them that other people don't in fact do so many things alone. And why is it that no one else wants to mention or talk about Josh? They all knew him and spent much time with him over the last year. People are weird, weird, weird. I guess they're all okay with the fact that Josh died.)

Oh, I know that angry, angry, angry feeling! One night I was so PISSED about everything, that I sat down with a huge piece of thick paper and a black permanant marker and wrote down everything I was so angry, mad, and pissed about! Oh, and some of it was just so mean! Mad at Josh for dying, for leaving me alone. And the list went on! It was great! As for your short fuse, KathyD started a discussion recently under "Behaviors in bereavement" titled "Pressure." It might help out. But I think you should be as angry as you want to be right now! It's part of grief. Martha Hickman wrote "As with other aspects of grief, we need to recognize anger and express it. We may need to be careful with relationships and friends. But we don't need to worry about God- we can let it fly. My anger is legitimate, and will burn away sooner if I acknowledge and express it." I know what you mean about having too much time to yourself on weekends. Thinking too much with too many hours can make you crazy. Sometimes I thought I could literally jump out of my skin I was feeling so trapped with grief. This is when I make myself get up and walk around the neighborhood. I've also tried to use this time to constructly deal with my grief. I've been reading lots of books on grief/loss, started a grief journal (I titled the journal "hope" hoping it would rub off on me... NOT QUITE! It's still my grief journal), started going to a support group, go eat lunch with Josh at our old hangouts (yeah, that means I'm alone eating), write here on this board, go visit Josh in the gardens(yeah, that means I'm walking around the gardens alone), etc. But I use those hours when I think I'm gonna lose it and try to channel my grief. I don't know?! Also I was trying to avoid grief during the week while busy with work. The problem with that is that it makes the weekends too overbearing. So I set aside time everyday to do my grief work, in the evenings on the weekdays and whenever on the weekends. Small doses are much better. But there's no escaping grief, can't go around it, over it, under it. You just gotta go straight through it. And it SUCKS!

Kay, It's so wonderful that Josh's outlook on life and career decisions has made it's way to you. He's smiling about that. From reading this post and your others about your stamping, cards, jewelry, etc., it sounds wonderful for you to continue and pursue your artistic talents and combine that with your desire to interact with people. Especially since your George knew how happy it made you. I love your story about your "happy sounds." I've been thinking about it but have had a very hard time getting myself back into my hobbies, especially scrapbooking because I have many pictures of Josh and I's life together than needs to be done. It also makes me smile when you mention how you are his Little One. Josh used to call me his Little One too. Kelly

"I used to be very outgoing person, I had a lot of people I considered as friends, and I could never imagine I would ever be so lonely - and certainly not in the age of 28?!?! I am lonely. There's nobody to talk to. I do have better days, but even then I'm lonely - it's just that there are days when this loneliness is bearable. But then there are times when I just wish I had somebody to talk to, about anything. But people just don't call anymore." Spela, I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. Yesterday/last night was one of those days especially. I was having those exact thoughts. I'm 27 years old and also used to consider myself very outgoing. I was used to doing lots of things with friends, etc. Yesterday, I had one phone call, and this friend was just saying how she was going out with other friends and how that "group" is so social. I tried to act cool but it made me feel so isolated. Lately I've started doing things by myself. It makes me feel somewhat independent but, on the other hand, very lonely. And I too think to myself that I never imagined my life to be that way at such a young age! Last night I decided to go to the botanical gardens (they stay open late on Thursday nights). I used to never do things by myself like this. But I wanted to go and couldn't think of anyone that would want to go with me. I really enjoyed the gardens at night but I was the only person there by myself. There were families, couples, groups of young people, and me. When I went through admissions, they asked how many in my "group." I said "it's just me." All night I just kept thinking "it's just me." Yeap, my life and it's just me. Me alone. Not me with my family. Not me with my boyfriend. Just me. Seeing the couples together bothered me. They never know, one of them could just up and die one day. I went to the orchid area where there is a display of white orchids just like the one Josh gave me for my birthday last year. I sat there and cried. My birthday is March 13th and yesterday was July 13th, and it just made me think about how 4 months ago I was "celebrating" my birthday. (It was the day after I flew home from Josh's funeral.) And how one year prior Josh had just given me a white orchid for my birthday. Yes, I sat there alone in the gardens, "just me," and cried. I feel this huge expanse of silence and loneliness between me and the entire world. It's very quiet here. I don't understand why people don't just call and say hi. Not my sister. Not my cousin who I left a message with weeks ago. Not my mom. Not my friends. The only person who calls to say hi is Josh's mom. She called from the cementary the other day so I could "visit" Josh too. (I live far away...) And as much as I absolutely love this site, and it has helped emensly in filling a void in my life, it still is not the same as having a friend go with me to the gardens so I wouldn't have to cry alone with the orchids. I have tried reaching out to my friends, to make that effort. But sometimes, everyone else is just busy with their own lives. They have husbands, boyfriends, family, etc. And it's "just me." Other the other hand, I do not feel the same fear you are describing. Quite the opposite really. I have this irrational idea that, based on pure statistics alone, I or anyone close to me will not be dying soon. Josh died in a car accident. I just can't imagine that within a couple of months, I or anyone I know would also die suddenly. Eventually, I will have to come back to reality. Hopefully someone else may have some words of wisdom and/or comfort for you in this area. But, for now, I too feel an overwhelming loneliness I didn't think I would have to experience at this point in my life.

That's an interesting point. Makes me wonder if I should get in touch with the ex and apologize for anything I may have unintentionally said/done way back when I was so naive to death/loss/grief.

Okay you two, you've got my brain thinking about this one for a couple of days now. And I actually realized something very interesting in my own life. A previous boyfriend of mine (not the one who died; although dating me is dangerous; 1 of 4 boyfriends have died, a bad statistic. SORRY! ), who was 28-29 years old at the time, had lost his father in a car accident in his early twenties. His mother quickly re-married, and he was always disturbed about this. But, our entire relationship, he had a wall up around his emotions. I fought and fought to tear down that wall. Over two years, I never felt like I got through; I never really loved him. But after we broke up, we remained friends, and I helped him get and put up his Christmas tree one year. I didn’t realize at the time but he had never been able to enjoy Christmas since his father died. Within a short time after Christmas, he finally came to me to talk and the wall had finally been torn down. (Unfortunately, I had already moved on, and I have stopped dating people with walls! ) BUT I never considered, because I never understood grief before, that his wall may have really been his detachment due to his grief over his father’s death. So I don’t think, in the past, I could tell the difference between a fake wall and detachment due to grief. I would hope that I would now be a bit more understanding and maybe a bit more discerning. But I think you do truly need to know a person really well to see this subtle difference. So I guess that’s where the benefit of the doubt comes into play when dealing with grieving people. But as for anyone in my life with a false front, no depth of emotion, and no known history of loss/grief, I don’t have time to waste! Life’s too short!

Becca, I am so sorry to hear about your loss of your dad. I am also sorry to hear how difficult things are for you at work. It's like the last thing you need to deal with now, right? Just into my second month after my Josh's death, I had to spend a month working with a male, completely uncaring, unloving coworker. I had even spoken to him many other times during the previous year about my relationship with Josh, and was actually rollerblading with him the day Josh died. So, I thought he’d at least be the tiniest bit understanding. Well, as the month wore on, he kept saying things about how I should be over it by now, etc. I even tried explaining to him about the grief process, and how our society, as a whole, does not deal well with grieving people. He would always reply with “I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” “You should be over it, etc.” One day he actually said to me that employers would not want to hire me because I am emotionally unstable! I was absolutely on the verge of tears, but all I could think was that if I did cry, I would only further substantiate his claim! Fortunately, it was at the end of the day, so I held it together until I left work and cried my eyes out on the way home. From that day forward, I never said a SINGLE word to him again about Josh or my grief. I’m the type of person who likes to talk about what’s going on in my life with my coworkers. I’m at work so much, I feel like they are my family sometimes. But, I realized that HE was the one with the true issues, not me. He couldn’t handle a person with any true human emotions. I basically chalked it up to it being sad that he is so unloving and lacks empathy. So it sounds like this guy at your work has similar issues to the one I work with. A true friend would have never called human resources. I think your best strategy is to never speak to him about personal issues; it may only cause more harm to you. And you deserve so much better! Just try to keep it professional from this point on with him. You could never be faulted for that. As for anti-depressants, it’s a completely individual decision. My friends, at one point, all urged me to start anti-depressants. And I strongly considered. I absolutely believe anti-depressants are good in the right situation. I started doing a lot of reading, and really honestly looked at myself and my mental well-being. I realized that all that I was going through was part of the normal grief process. Some of the books I read even will recommend when you should seek professional help if you are having certain issues. So maybe reading, doing real, honest self reflection, and talking to a counselor or who ever prescribed your anti-depressants will help you come to the best decision for you. I am so sorry you are having such a difficult time, but I am glad you have found this site. We are here to listen. Kelly

Hi Jenn, It's interesting you wrote today with what's been on your mind, because my "issue of the day" is how I feel like I'm the only person my age to experience the loss of a dear loved one. I went to my support group today where I was, by far, the youngest. I am very thankful to have the others in my group but I just noticed the stark contrast today. I was 26 years old when my Josh died in a car accident; my 27th birthday was the day after I flew home from his funeral. That was four months ago. We were together for the year prior. About five weeks after Josh died, my friends were "done" listening to me talk about Josh, his death, my grief. If I brought up things, they'd recommend I start anti-depressants. I didn’t realize at the time that I should have responded by educating them about the journey called grief. So I stopped talking to them about anything to do with Josh. I couldn’t talk to my family either because they have not experienced such loss. By about 2 months out, I felt so alone and isolated; I was miserable. I, too, wished “I could be where he is” instead of in my life. Fortunately, I stumbled across this site, started learning about grief, and learning how to go through this process so that I will become a deeper, more understanding person (instead of a bitter, withdrawn one). I started reading books. I started going to a grief support group. I’ve started talking to Josh’s mom on almost a daily basis. I come to this site everyday, if even to read other’s stories. What I’ve learned is that no matter your age, nothing in life could “prepare” you to cope with loss. You have to learn as you go. If we were 20 or 80 years old when we experienced our first loss of a loved one, we’d still have to learn as we go. If your friends and family can’t support you, then find other sources of support. It was rather traumatizing for me to realize that my mom wouldn’t be there for me through this process. The hardest thing I have even gone through in my life, and I can’t call and cry to my mom. (She actually told me she was embarrassed when I cried in the airport a month after Josh died. This was the weekend I had just gone through all of Josh’s boxes from his apartment with his mom.) I’ve started telling my friends that grief is the appropriate response to the death of someone you loved. Also, that grief is a long process and that for at least a year I’m going to have tough days. Now, even though they have NO CLUE what to say, I talk about Josh as much as I feel like. Mostly, they just listen, with no response, but I feel better. And you are right; you won’t “get over it.” You somehow learn to live through it, and hope to grow as a person as you go. We learn to incorporate our love with our loved one in our heart and carry them with us for the rest of our lives. And I’ve definitely experienced that friends are quick to share in your happiness and quick to run when you are experiencing grief. But my true friends are also willing to be there during the tough times. You may realize during this time who are really your true friends. Although, at times, I still feel very alone, but we are not alone. Babs, another wonderful person on this site, wrote to me: “Kelly Marie, isn't it a blessing just to have a safe have to come to for comfort and refuge during our grief journeys? I felt so alone until I found this place, but now there is a whole family of us all walking the journey of grief, many of us are on different parts of the journey but we still are walking this path together and those who have gone before us have wonderful wisdom to share with us and those behind us are being helped by all of us. We can feel free here to grieve and share our pain and others accept us just as we are. What a blessing this is too.” So when I’m feeling alone, I think my “whole family walking the journey of grief;” I have this silly imagine in my mind of us all walking to together holding hands across the country (and world!). Maybe I’m a little crazy, but it makes me feel better so I don’t care. On this website, there is a great post of books to read. I think Chicken Soup for a Grieving Soul is a great place to start. My daily favorite is Healing after Loss by Martha Hickman. As for feeling guilty about missing your grandmother’s funeral, that’s tough. Maybe you could have a little memorial service on your own or with a few close friends or family. If your grandmother was buried, maybe you could have a small service at her gravesite. I also find that writing letters to Josh has helped. Maybe you could write a letter and read it to her. I guess whatever you think might be comforting for you. I had to fly home the day after my grandmother’s funeral to go on a trip for the end of my post-graduate training. My entire family urged me to go with the same reasoning; that my grandmother would have wanted me to go. I cried the entire flight home and had a pretty lousy time on the trip. But now I’ll never wonder what I would have missed if I didn’t go on the trip. I am so sorry for your loss and the pain you’re feeling. But I think you’re on the right track; you’ve found this site and started sharing your story. Keep coming here, listening, and sharing. It’s very healing. You’re in my thoughts, Kelly

Kay and Grace, Thank you again for your kind words. You definitely said some things I need to take to heart. There are seasons in life, and I should put more trust in that. I guess I do have enough to worry about now, in the present. It's just so hard to quiet the "whys" and "what if's" that run through my mind and trouble my heart. It is so beautiful about what you said about Josh and mine's love always being carried in my heart. And especially the fact that I am still loved and will always be loved. I hadn't thought of that; it's comforting to think that for the rest of my life, no matter what, I will always be loved by Josh and nothing can change that. It's comforting, warming. Josh will go through my life with me although he's not here, a tough, disturbing yet comforting concept. I will also have to put away your words about if I start something with someone else in the future; also things I had not thought about but may need to take to heart some day. Also, I will have to find that song from Josh Groban. My Josh definitely had a very unique spirit and outlook on life. He saw the world without limits, no endeavor impossible. He went for that "impossible" career. It was often so hard for me to understand his thinking; but thankfully, I always supported him and never tried to change him. I am the opposite; we often said that we complemented each other. I am very practical, follow the path. But now that Josh has died, I see the value in his outlook on life. Since life is short, especially as Josh's life was, it is important to live each day with intention, and to choose a career you are truly passionate about. Since Josh has died, I am trying to "listen" to Josh and his outlook on life. I have realized other aspects of my life are more important than my career, and I am making changes so that one day, my life will be a rich as Josh would have hoped for me. Also, I only hope to be an ounce as passionate about so many things in life as Josh was. Josh lived life with every emotion to the fullest. I will try to "listen now." It's just so hard, and I think it will take much time, effort, and pain. Thank you for your kind words and wisdom. Kelly I've been thinking more about what you said: "You will always carry you and Josh's love in your heart and for the rest of your life you will carry with you the remembrance that you are loved...I say "are" not "were" because I don't believe it diminishes when they die, but rather we are no longer able to see each other face to face and tell each other, but it is still there, it is in our hearts, in our faith, in our hope, in our memories, and it is forever and it can never be robbed from us, no matter what." I just realized how liberating that is. I've been holding on so tightly to Josh, his death, our loss, my grief, afraid to let go. But if what you say is true, Josh will always be in my heart, forever, no one can rob it from me, then I'm okay to let go a little of my pain. Because no matter what I do, Josh will always be there, in my heart. I think, for the first time since the minister at Josh's funeral told us to fill the void of Josh in our lives with hope, I have felt hope.

This, too, has been one of the most life changing aspects of losing a loved one for me. I feel like a completely different person, and the one thing I feel the most is with relationships with everyone in my life. I used to see relationships on a gradient from black to white with all the shades of grey in between. I was much more tolerant of "semi-real" relationships or more "one-sided" relationships. Now, relationships seem very black and white to me. I can either talk to someone and get directly through to their true self, or I can see the other person as shallow or having a wall around their true self. It just seems so simple now. There's no need to bother with this second group of people when we should be investing our love, time, and effort with the first group of people. It seems that the beauty in life is made of the true, deep relationships we have with others. I, too, love that passage from Companion through the Darkness by Stephanie Ericsson that Paul mentioned: "Grief makes what others think of you moot. It shears away the masks of normal life and forces brutal honesty out of your mouth before propriety can stop you. It shoves away friends, scares away so-called friends, and rewrites address books for you.... Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn't kill you in the making."

KayC and Grace, Thank you for your kind words. I do think I see what you mean about how entwined your lives were demanding a greater adjustment. Our lives were not nearly as entwined; a factor of our youth. And thank you also for the idea that we are so blessed to have known such a love and connection that others have missed in their lives. I do need to remind myself of how fortunate I am to have experienced such amazing feelings of true connection. I just feel hopelessly confused and lost; if I have felt this and we were, in fact, soul mates, and now Josh has died, where does this leave me? I always thought that some day I would be married with children with the one true love of my life. I always believed in love at first sight but I only believed in soul mates after having met and loved Josh. I just don't know where this leaves me. I guess I have many years to figure it out... Kay, your words, your longing for your love, just makes my heart cry for you. From both of your stories you have shared with us here and your loving words of your George and Charlie, I can feel the depths of love and warmth in your hearts. I am often in awe in the true depths of other's human nature. You are an inspiration.

Grace and Kay, I was reading your stories of your lives with your loved ones, your soul mates, from 46 years to three years and eight months. It just got me thinking; I spent one year with the person I so passionately felt was my soul mate. I'm the opposite end of the spectrum. Yet being so young (27) and being that year was the most intense year of my life, I feel that I am now a different person, too, and I really don't know who I'm becoming. And your words about each day leaving a mark on your soul, I feel that each day I spent during that year with Josh has left an indelible mark on my soul. And since I am really at the beginning of it all, I have been changed in ways from this relationship that will change the course of my entire life. But to come full circle, the gentleman I was sitting next to during my grief support group had known his wife for 56 years and married for 54 of those years. So I began to feel somewhat guilty for showing up to the support group. But this wonderful man was able to make me feel so accepted and verified my grieving. He was able to reach across our years and make me feel as if it didn't matter if it was one year or 56 years with our loved one. It was simply the fact that our loved one had died, and that we had to continue our lives without them. His kind words have made such a world of difference to me during my grieving process. I just thought I would share my story and my experience from the other end of the spectrum. Kelly

Shell, Thanks for the giggle. My conversations go like this, "You had a bad day? Yes. You just want to eat chocolate ice cream for dinner? Yes. Okay, no problem, dig in!" But seriously, thanks both of you for your input. Just over the last week I have gotten more independent in dealing with my issues. I sort of realized that I'm the only one who can really solve my own issues. Others can be a good sounding board but ultimately I have to make the final resolutions with unresolved issues with Josh and how I'm working through the grief process. In a spirit of independence (hmmm... how appropriate since it's the 4th of July weekend. hadn't thought of that!!), yesterday, I decided to go to the botanical gardens by myself. I'm not usually that good about doing things like that on my own. But for some reason, out of the blue, I decided to take myself. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to find Josh there among the flowers. And, I did! In the orchid exhibit, there was an entire wall of white (with a touch of yellow) orchids identical to the orchid Josh gave me for my birthday last year! I literally gasped when I walked around the corner and saw the orchids. Then, in the gift shop, there were photos taken by a photographer in black and white of these orchids, and Josh and I both love black and white photography. It ended up being a perfect trip! [attachmentid=37] Paul, I drive by Josh's street all the time... but not because I want to! For me it's impossible to head South from where I live without driving by. His steet is a dead end street (sometimes seeing the "DEAD END" sign when I pass his street freaks me out. He lived on High Point which lead to a Dead End) Okay, enough of my craziness.

Paul, What a great idea! "Official Grief Healing Dot Com's Greeter and Hugger" hugs <<<<<<<<<<<<<shell>>>>>>>>>>>>> Shell and Paul, Well, it sounds like I need to do more exploring of this talking to myself. I have been talking to Josh (in my mind), and today I started talking out loud to Josh (I live alone; only my fishy responds!). So maybe next I will try this talking things out with my best listener, me. I can't get away! I have to listen! Today, one of my friends invited himself over to cook me dinner. (A long time friend from college) Well, when I brought up stuff about Josh, he actually let me talk about it. This is certainly a change from how I've been feeling the last month or so. Very relieving. I relish these moments. This will be a tough weekend for me; last year Josh and I were setting up his apartment less than a mile from where I live now. I drive by his street almost everyday. The name of his street was High Point. Sometimes it strikes me as so ironic. High Point. Was it the High Point in his life? The High Point in my life? The High Point in our lives together?

Shubom, I feel your pain and confusion. Although I have not suffered the lost of my mom or dad (thank goodness, I don't know how I'd survive), my 27th birthday was two days after Josh's funeral. Birthdays for me were always a time of ultimate happiness. This year, to me, marks the end of innocence. My birthday will never be the same; it will always be in the shadow of Josh's death. But.... fortunately, my counselor (I saw her two days before the funeral) recommended that I actually plan something myself for my birthday. And I am so glad that I did do something for my birthday. I didn't go to work (heck I hadn't been for that past week), spent two hours talking to Josh's mom, and then had dinner with a few close friends. Also, just a few weeks ago, we had an end of the year banquet at work. We usually put together a slide show of pictures from the past year. I decided to submit pictures of Josh and I. I was so nervous the ENTIRE week before; how would I react to pictures of Josh and I on a huge screen in front of EVERYONE in my department? I was sure I would cry and have meltdown. And, to my great surprise, I was SO SO happy to see pictures of Josh that night. It gave me a great excuse to talk to everyone about him. Everyone thought I would be upset; they all asked "Did you know those pictures of Josh would be in the slide show?" I replied with, "Of course, I ASKED for them to be there." Then I explained to everyone, just because he died doesn't mean he's gone. And since he couldn't be here tonight for the banquet (he was there the year before, in flesh and blood), he WAS here with us tonight. So all that was to say, I am so glad I decided to both do something for my birthday and, on another important occasion, include Josh. So having a dinner on your birthday and including your mom sounds wonderful. That way she will be there with you. Cooking her dish, at your house, and showing pictures of her will ensure that she will be with you for your special day; a wonderful part of her and your dad lives on in you. And it makes sense that you're anxious, nervous, and scared how the actual day will play out. We're not sure how we'll react. I was sure I was going to cry. But somehow, you've survived this long, and we all have faith in you that you will survive your birthday too. I think you've made a huge step by choosing to celebrate the day your mom brought you to life. Just think, "What would she want for me on this day?" (I just remembered that my initial reaction to the end of the year banquet was similiar to your initial reaction to your upcoming birthday. I thought I just shouldn't go because last year we went together. Like your thoughts about how your mom used to celebrate your birthday by telling wonderful stories of baby you. But I decided to go anyways like you've decided to "go" anyways to your birthday. I know we're different people but I survived it. If that's even the tiniest shred of hope.... also by airing your fears and anxiety here, you've lessened their power!)

Thanks so much, Shell. Sometimes we really do just need to hear that we're doing okay. There's just not much positive feedback these days. And I hadn't thought about it that way at all. It just seems that as time passes, I have one person fewer here and there that is still willing to listen. Slowly, it seems, I "cross" another person off the list of people I can call who will let me talk about Josh. I guess it could be my misperception but when I do bring up things about Josh with my friends, I usually just get silence. It seems no one my age has any concept of grief or a grieving person. Thank goodness for all of them, they have not experienced such a loss. But it is very isolating. I just wish they would respond with anything... not just silence or changing the subject. It's not even like I'm bringing up something horrible or unnatural. If we go somewhere, and I mention "oh, Josh and I went here when...," I just wish they wouldn't get silent. Heck, they all knew Josh. It's not like I'm talking crazy talk. I just don't get it. Maybe they do think I'm talking crazy talk? The only person I can always call and talk to about Josh is his mom. What a wonderful person she is; she always makes me feel better no matter what. I just don't want to call her during hysterical mode and make her cry too. She has enough crying on her own! So, I guess I should look at it from your perspective; I'm talking through it to myself. It's hard; I'm just so chatty! I also really wanted to echo what Paul and Haley said on another post. Thank you so much for how open and welcoming you are to everyone on this site. So many times I see you reach out to someone, welcome them, and give them a hug. You always find such thoughtful words for everyone. You are like the warm welcoming hugger; it's so wonderful! We are all so lucky to have you here to make us feel welcomed into our warm little community of understanding. You are such a huge part of that! Hugs, Kelly

Yesterday was one of those hysterical crying days. The days you’re scared for yourself (especially since you live alone). The extreme agony of hysterical crying when you don’t know how you’ll survive to the next moment. And no one is there; you have absolutely no idea what to do with yourself. In the first few months, I would call someone, preferably my sister, and go on hysterically crying and wailing until it was over. But yesterday I found that I couldn’t pick up the phone. Finally I decided to try my friend who lives within walking distance. But she didn’t answer her phone. So for the very first time during one of these “episodes,” I put myself in the car and drove to the gym for a yoga class. I would have NEVER EVER gone out in public like this before but yesterday I was at crisis level. I walked into the gym with a huge red puffy face; I didn’t even care. I focused extra hard during that class; I figured if I tried hard enough to get to that “other plane,” I might find Josh there. And that’s what I needed, to have Josh tell me everything would be okay. After the class, I was much calmer but still went home a cried a bunch more. I just wonder if this was okay. I mean, I usually talk through what’s bothering me. But yesterday was the first time I didn’t talk through what was bothering me with someone. Is this a good thing that I can “handle” it on my own? Or is this a bad thing? I don’t know…

Ally, As I read the following, I thought of you and your question "When is it too long to grieve?" Hopefully it may help (and I hope it's o.k. that I posted it here; I tried to post the credits). You're in my thoughts, Kelly Reprinted from the Summer, 1998 issue of We Need Not Walk Alone, the national publication of The Compassionate Friends. Life Can Be Good Again By Don Hackett Kingston, MA For nearly sixteen years, his voice has been silent. It is a span now nearly equal to the time it was heard. Never did I anticipate life without the sounds that marked his presence. Learning to survive that silence once seemed an impossible task, one so overwhelming I could find no hope or expectation of finding life once more. He was our son, our only child. The tempo of his growing measured the cadence, the beat, for our own living. His passing left an existence without any value that I could immediately perceive. Ultimately, I came to recognize that I was wrong. Life still had meaning, but it had fallen to me to find it, just as it had been in the years before his coming. Indeed, even as it had been throughout the time of his living, life still demanded my active participation, my own commitment to give it purpose and resolve. Hindsight affords an ease in stating this realization that did not exist while struggling in the depths of bereavement. The steps taken to finally seize life again seem logical and ordered while intellectualizing the process but I know that this is much easier to write than it is to experience. I confess, with both sorrow and gladness, that I can no longer summon the full measure of those savage feelings and the unremitting pain that engulfed me in those early years. Working through them was the most demanding challenge of my life, enacting tolls in physical health perhaps even greater than the long term effects on mind and emotion. Today, however, I can reflect with gratitude upon a decade of mastery over the sadness. Control of my thoughts returned to me and I know freedom from the utter devastation of those early years. Looking back reveals essential turning points on the road to healing. Some would seem to generalize easily for anyone. Others seem to respond to personal strengths and weaknesses more particular to an individual. These points included: · Self forgiveness for the many deficiencies found within on the endless soul journey that is our lot in the wake of our child’s death. · Forgiveness of others, relatives, friends and associates, who are less affected than are we, who seem unable to help us in our time of deep trouble and need. · The accepting, at last, the finality of our loss, and that we must gradually unleash ourselves from our former lives and structure anew. · Learn to communicate value to spouses, friends, and surviving siblings, our love for whom seems shrouded behind the totality of our grief. · Find ways to give expression to our need to somehow memorialize our child, be it through writing a book, planning trees, sustaining scholarships, or any number of ways. Our need to preserve and safeguard our child’s memory is real and deserving of our attention. · A time comes for many to find new homes, jobs, and purpose. These are often part and parcel of any significant change in our lives. · Surrender to time, giving ourselves space within it to do our work. Use time to foster healing within, to enable us to grasp today and tomorrow with hope. No recovery will return us to life as we knew it while our child lived. That life is forever gone and, to a certain extent, we may well have to accept that, as we perceive life today. The finest days or our lives may well be a part of our past. Somehow, we must recognize that this is not unique to surviving our child’s death, but is often a portion of the human condition. Olin is dead. As much as I would wish it otherwise, it will never be. He is not forgotten. His voice, his laughter, his joy, and his shortcomings live on in me. No day passes without thinking about him. I am grateful for his touch upon my life. Yet, joy is again mine. Pleasure is no longer a forbidden or guilt producing element in daily living. I live, gladly and with purpose, with Olin both behind me in time, but with me internally. Is this not our goal, to heal, to find strength to love both yesterday and today? Our children have been the richest part of our lives and today should reflect the grace of that love in all that we are today.

Hi Babs and everyone, I just wanted to say that I'm also feeling really sad and lonely today. For the last few days, I just haven't felt up to talking or writing about how I feel. It's a sucky feeling. Just totally drained with no energy to grieve. Thanks for sharing your story. I, too, "I felt the need to come to this place of refuge and comfort today." Thanks, Kelly

Walt, Likely because of your suggestion, I am reading Healing after Loss everyday. It helps me survive each day. The night before I read the passage, and the next day whenever I'm having a tough moment, I recall my thought for the day. For some reason, today I just couldn't do it. This morning on the way into work, I saw someone on the side walk that looked like Josh. I was completely shocked to realize Josh is dead. It amazes me that 3+ months later, it can come as a complete shock, like it just happened. So leaving work this evening, I was again shocked to realize Josh is dead. I tried to think to myself, "I am grateful for this life and this love I shared with Josh." But it didn't make me feel the slightest bit better; instead, I just cried. I just really hope what you say is true: That by the second time I read "June 19th" I will be able to be truly grateful from the core of my being for the life that I shared with Josh. It just seems so far away and so exhausting.

I feel like my home is a land mine, a land mine of mementos, memories, and triggers of grief. I have it carefully mapped out so I can walk around these "triggers" if I'm not feeling strong enough or go to them if I need to recall memories of Josh or feel the pain and grief. This weekend I unexpectly found two land mines I hadn't mapped out. Last night I wasn't expecting to find those cute scrapbook stickers he gave me last year with cute sayings about winter. He got them for me because one says "Baby, it's cold outside." I'm from the South and he's from the Northeast so he used to kid me about always being so cold in the winter. (And, ironically, I will most likely be moving to the North within the next 2 years. If he only knew that would happen!) This morning when I was vacuuming I wasn't expecting to look over to my basket full of cards I've received and see that purple envelope peeking out. I hadn't read this love letter from Josh since he died; I had forgotten it was hidden away in that basket. It's so beautiful; a little gift from Josh left behind. Part of what he said "I love feeling loved by you as much as I love loving you... you make every aspect in my life just a little better, you are sort of the last piece of the puzzle. I love you so much and will for ever and ever." oh the tears... and tears.. and tears...