Tori

I’ve been reading these forums off and on for over a year but seldom post. Many times I’ve gained the strength to continue to exist by coming here. I’m desperately in need of someone who gives a damn and this is my last resort. It’s taken me weeks to get up the courage to write this! May 1 2006 at 12:05 AM, The unthinkable happened. I clung tightly to the hand of my husband of 53 years as he breathed his last breath. Numb with grief and loss I sat motionless as the hospice nurse made the arrangements for his body to be removed and left my daughters and I to make the final arrangements. Previously we’d discussed cremation with the girls and unable to make even the smallest decision, I left the arrangements up to them. At that moment I couldn’t bear the thought of planning a funeral. I had no desire to see or talk to anyone much less attend another funeral! There have been too many funerals of loved ones in recent years and I’d come to think of them as meaningless barbaric rituals. There was no funeral, though family and friends did come by, the church members brought food and I sat in a corner. I don’t even remember who was here and only spoke to two longtime friends who I hadn’t seen in ages. My husband’s ashes still sit in a box on my mantle and I’ve only recently decided that after I’m gone my family can put both of our ashes together in a cemetery space made especially to hold the ashes. (I’ve given it so little thought I don’t even know the proper name.) In the first months after my husband’s death, I managed to take care of the necessary paperwork with the help of my daughters and struggled to keep going somehow. A couple of months after his death I had a close call with a far distant relative on drugs who'd entered my home with the intention of robbing me and doing me bodily harm. I was only saved by the arrival of my daughter and 6'4 son-in law. This episode led to even more fears and mistrust of my own judgement and led to the installation of a security system. Sadly I’ve managed to outlive all my longtime friends and I have no one my own age to talk to. The last remaining friend I have (my husband’s sister) lies in a hospital hooked up to a respirator and I can’t even force myself to go see her. For the following year my life consisted of the occasional meal out, sometimes with family but usually alone with a book, and shopping every couple of weeks out of necessity. I can’t or won’t drive anywhere beyond five miles from my home. The rest of the time I’m shut up alone in a dark house either on the computer, reading a book or sleeping. Most of my sleep is in the daytime since I go to bed around 3 or 4 am and get up between 7:30 and 8. Since my oldest daughter passed away just before Christmas in 1993, I’ve dreaded the holidays every year. This last Christmas with a 3 year old great grandson to enjoy, I’d finally begun to become more aware of the world around me and even put up a tree. Things were looking up a little! Just before Christmas my youngest daughter who has diabetes and Rheumatoid arthritis began having bouts of vomiting and excruciating pain. She’d previously had many abdominal surgeries and hernias and the probable diagnosis was another hernia. Another surgery was not an option and she was treated with tons of medication! For three months she couldn’t get out of bed except to go to the doctor, who simply changed her medication! The pain and nausea was so extreme that she lost 70 pounds. After the 3rd time she was rushed to the hospital in agony, the decision was made that even though she was a surgeon’s worst nightmare—surgery was the only option. The surgeon informed us that if she lived through the surgery she would have a long recovery ahead of her. This was in April of this year. This is when I gave up on trying to have any sort of a normal life. I knew that if my daughter didn’t survive, I wouldn’t either! Within days of coming home from the hospital her incision opened and she has had to pack and treat it every day with very little progress. Then she had fluid build up around her heart due to the rheumatoid arthritis and had to have a shunt put in to remove the fluid. That surgery site became infected with the antibiotic resistant strain of MRSA, which required massive doses of extremely strong antibiotics. She’s suffering extreme pain in that surgery site and is on morphine constantly. The doctors have told her that until her rheumatoid arthritis is under control, she will not heal as she should and yet the treatments for the arthritis interfere with healing. She’s had to begin IV treatments for the arthritis so she can even manage to get back and forth to the doctors. While this has been going on with my daughter; the spare old car that I’ve been letting my granddaughter use was stolen and she had to use mine to get back and forth to work. My granddaughters husband who hasn’t worked in 4 years has been hospitalized with three bouts of the antibiotic resistant disease MRSA and has finally been diagnosed with posttraumatic stress syndrome, not military related. His psychiatrist has declared him unsafe to care for their now 4-year-old child any longer. He’s not a bad person or into drugs or alcohol, just mentally ill. My granddaughter has developed a severe case of asthma and has suffered a couple of recent bouts of pneumonia due to the stress. Since she’s the only one contributing to the household the entire burden is on her. The four year old has also suffered three bouts of hospitalization with MRSA and has developed severe behavioral problems due to his dad’s mental illness. He has been put into day care for the last four months and has shown quite a bit of improvement though he too will need extensive counseling. With the cost of the counseling, hospitalizations and repairs on the car which was thankfully returned but written off as a total loss, there is no money for the greatgrandson’s daycare. It’s wracking up on my credit card and there’s no means of repayment in sight. The cost is $640 a month and I’m paying $300 but I can’t continue or I won’t be able to support myself. She informed me today that she would have to take him out of daycare. But there is no one to watch him but his dad and this could actually endanger his life and will most certainly tremendously increase both of their emotional problems. Now my daughter faces another immediate surgery to close the incision. If my husband were here we’d figure this out together but as it is I can’t take any more heartache and there isn’t a soul in the world that gives a damn. I have absolutely no one that I can talk to about this. My phone doesn’t ring unless it’s my granddaughter calling to check up on me and share her concerns, my daughter calling to tell me she’s in the hospital again or my other daughter that lives 150 miles away calling for her weekly check in. If I weren’t here, they could sell my house and the great-grandson could go to a private school and get the counseling he so desperately needs, and I wouldn’t have to be here to watch my daughter go through this endless suffering. My faith wouldn’t even allow me to think about suicide, but I’d just be happy if I had another human being in my life that wasn’t so close to the situation and actually gives a damn!

Though I seldom post, I've been reading the discussions for the last nine months since the death of my husband and have found immeasurable help from them. Now I am in need of others thoughts and suggestions. I'll try to keep it brief but might not be able to since I'll have to provide a little background. My adult granddaughter and her husband are thinking of moving thousands of miles away with their three year old son; our first and only great grandchild and the joy of my life. Caring for her and her sister after our oldest daughter, (their mother) died and their dad deserted them was the driving force that helped us get through that tragic loss. We've always been exceptionally close and getting through that heartbreaking time brought us even closer. She's brought up the idea of moving before and my husband and I told her that she should do what's best for her family and not worry about us. At the same time we told her that; we were secretly hoping that their plans would fall through as we would have missed them terribly. This time the prospect of them moving is a very real one. We had a long talk this weekend discussing the pros and cons of the move; but very little about the emotions involved. As we parted, I told her I would be devastated if they moved, but I understand that she has to do what's best for them. After that discussion I had a startling revelation and felt like I'd been hit with a 2X4. Emotionally I'm a basket case including physical symptoms of extreme anxiety. Here's my revelation. Their leaving at this time would be just as devastating to me as the death of my husband. I have accepted the fact that he is gone and there is no hope of my ever seeing him again. Their loss would be entirely different. I can't travel and they won't have the money to return for visits. Knowing that they are alive but I'll never see them again or ever be a part of their lives other than through phone conversations is absolutely unbearable. If I asked her not to go, she would stay. Do I have the right or obligation to tell her how I feel and place this unnecessary burden on her? Or would it be an extremely selfish move on my part? The only reason they're thinking of leaving is not because of a better job offer or greater opportunities, but simply because they think their problems will be solved if they get a fresh start somewhere else.

Though I'm on the same page with those who've said they have no desire to even consider another relationship, I can also see where those who are younger would. It's impossible to even consider the possibility that I could ever open myself up so completely to anyone else. We always said we'd raised each other to be just the way we wanted! After spending 53 years with someone who I trusted without reservation; never once let me down, could practically read my mind, finish my thoughts for me, and even manage to overlook (or at least tolerate) my most annoying habits; no one else would ever measure up. Naturally, at our age we'd talked about this subject many times. Both of us felt the same way. Even a completely different relationship could not possibly be as fulfilling as the life we'd shared together. In addition, as selfish as it may sound, at this point in my life I wouldn't want the additional burden of someone elses baggage or being held responsible for their happiness. What I would be open to is just a simple platonic friendship. But based on past experiences of many of my friends--that possibility is about as rare as me being able to turn sixteen again.

I just had to pop in to say that every one is in my thoughts and prayers this morning. Even though I don't participate very often, it's a blessing to know that you are all here to listen during the rough times. Hugs to all! ((((((Hugs!))))))

Today would have been my husbands 74th birthday! Through the tears I've also spent a lot of time reminiscing, even managed to crack a smile or two. We met in a cafe. The old fashioned kind with nickle juke boxes strategically placed on the red counter; red plastic booths with grey tabletops trimmed in chrome and ten cent cherry cokes on the menu. We were introduced by mutual friends and promptly got off on the wrong foot. That night he spent a long time telling his brother about the spoiled brat he'd met that day. By the end of the evening his brother commented; "she's going to be my future sister-in-law"... He was right, and we continued to spoil each other for the next 54 years! For that I'm eternally grateful, though I miss him more than I ever dreamed possible.

Searcher I couldn't agree with you more. We were married in 1953 and marveled every day that we had been so fortunate as to have had 53 years with someone we still loved and respected. Most of the time when I am tempted to give in completely to my own personal pity party; I can shake myself out of it pretty quickly by remembering those conversations and counting our blessings! Of course after 53 years with someone who could finish your thoughts for you, it gets awfully lonely being by oneself all the time. We were so content with each other's company that we made the mistake of isolating ourselves from the few friends we had that were still around. And that makes it even more difficult when you're reduced to function as one rather than as a couple. Our daughters and granddaughters are a great help and comfort, but it isn't the same! The barely post teen grandsons are a different story. They just want grandpa's stuff!

The last few weeks have been worse than ever and then my kids asked me the other day what we were going to do for Thanksgiving. Of course they aren't aware that recently I've been worse than I was in the beginning, because I hide it from them and do my weeping in privacy. My response was; "you do what you want, I'm going to take a sleeping pill and sleep through it". My house is the only place big enough for us all to get together so whatever they plan it will have to be here. I was really dreading it! The holidays have been rough for me since our 38 year old eldest daughter died December 12, 1993, so my lack of interest during the holidays is nothing new. In the meantime it's been bothering me that my three year old great grandson who lives in a tiny apartment isn't getting enough mental and physical activities. When he's over here it isn't much better because with all that pent up energy he's constantly into everything he shouldn't be and is extremely demanding with nothing constructive to do when he visits. Late that nite I was here reading the suggestions about starting new Holiday traditions and the idea clicked. I resolved that my holiday planning will revolve around fixing up and toddler proofing the huge den that no one uses any more. It was my husbands room where he often curled up with a good book or watched his big screen tv or listened to the music he so dearly loved. The big TV is gone now and there's plenty of room for an active 3 year old to set up his tent, ride his toys and play with his trains to his hearts content. Hopefully the planning, shopping and actually putting the room together will do a great deal to keep his great grandma in a better frame of mind, and turn out to be a place of joy for a precious little boy. And maybe even his Great Grandma, mom, dad and aunts and uncles will quit treating the room as an unused shrine which his great grandpa would have never wanted. His great grandpa would be thrilled with the idea and would have spent hours in there laughing and playing with him if he was still here. Also while he's in that room he freely and lovingly talks about his "grandpa" which is excellent therapy for all of us. I'm aware the preparations won't be a cure all, but the small amount of planning I've done so far has brought many smiles of anticipation and fewer tears! This will be one of our new traditions that my husband would have wholeheartedly approved of! By next Christmas there will be a second great grandchild who will be five months by then (cousin) to enjoy the room with him. Another Brand new tradition!

If she is deliberatly standing up and peeing on the bed, that would be dominant behavior--staking her claim. However when they mark something with their urine as dominance--they don't lay in it after they've done it. This is what makes me think it's most likely a medical issue.

Whiteswan I'm not a dog behaviorist but I do know quite a bit about dogs. It is not normal for a dog to deliberatly urinate while laying down under any circumstances. If the bed is wet when she gets up from laying down, she most likely has a physical problem such as a urinary tract infection or a leaky bladder. These things are treatable and can be corrected. It's possible that she's leaking urine everywhere she lays--just not enough to notice if she doesn't lay there very long. I strongly suggest you take her to the vet and rule out physical problems before assuming she's doing it because she misses your mom. I hope this information helps to relieve one of your problems during this incredibly difficult time for you.

I've only had one dream about my husband and that was shortly after his death. Our adult daughter who died in 1993 was in the dream too. Both were in good health. The dream included our immediate family and we were all laughing and teasing my husband because we'd thought he was dead. He laughed and said, "well now you know I'm not dead, I'm right here with all of you". My daughter had a dream that he told her, "Tell mom to look in the metal box, she missed something important". I knew I hadn't missed anything in the metal box we kept our important papers in. We've joked about it since, but I didn't worry about it. The other day my son-in-law put some things in the closet for me and we heard a scraping noise. I asked him what was in there and he said, "it's just an old metal box. My daughter and I locked eyes and asked him to hand it to us. The box contained some old pictures and information that I'd been looking for for years and thought were gone forever. The contents provided an afternoon of fond memories.

"You're doing better than I expected you would". If I've heard this once I've heard it hundreds of times. Again today my adult granddaughter made this comment. My response was; "What you see isn't even remotely connected to the way I really feel"! I didn't say it to hurt her, but rather to let her know that things aren't always what they seem. In the past I've made the same comment to others in my shoes. If I'd known then what I know now; I'd have bit my tongue before speaking those words!

Maylissa, I'm so sorry you're suffering so much at this time. I can relate to you completely on the subject of guilt. When I had to euthanize my beloved dog Tori due to a final diagnosis of an always fatal disease, I suffered the same agonies, even though I of all people should have known better. I'll have to give you a little background so you will understand that it's rare that anyone can escape the feelings of guilt. At the time of Tori's lingering illness and eventual death I was working for one of the best vets in the area and had actually been doing some pet loss grief counseling in the clinic. I had been quite successful in helping other pet owners through their decision making process and afterwards, but in Tori's case I was numb and unable to think rationally. Through experience and in my heart I knew that everything possible had been done for Tori. I also knew deep inside that keeping him alive one moment longer would have crossed the threshold from loving owner to possible animal abuse, yet I couldn't bring myself to give up and let go. My vet had consulted by phone and fax with vets all across the country including the best teaching hospitals and they all held out absolutely no hope for Tori. Yet it finally came down to the point that my vet, my friend (as well as my boss) finally had to tell me sternly through her own tears that the only humane thing to do was to let him go and put an end to his suffering. This is not a common occurrence for vets as they usually present all the facts and leave the final decision up to the owner. In spite of everything I knew, I still wrestled with guilt in the months after Tori's death. One moment the guilt was for prolonging his suffering and the next it was for making the choice to end his suffering. There is no doubt that once you talk to the vets; you will be reassured that you made the right choice for Nissa! In time the doubts will diminish and you will be able to remember more of the happy times and less of the days of agony while struggling with the final decision. You will never forget Nissa, but you will have happier memories of better days with her. Hang in there, there are other animals out there that will be needing the love you have to give!

Maylissa my heart aches for you! I too have felt the despair you're experiencing of the loss of a beloved pet. Though nothing can take the pain away, or ever replace the one you've lost, here is a link to a piece I wrote of my own experience after losing one of my beloved and special pets and the tale of my eventual road to recovery and the growth of my ability to love another pet. Though it is about the love of a dog and breed specific, I hope it provides some glimpse of hope for you no matter how faint. Howdy and me, a new beginning If this helps even a little, here is another link to just one of Howdys and my adventures over the many years we shared together. It might even help to allow a small smile to peek through your tears. Howdy's tale

I'm sorry to hear this. My thoughts and prayers will be with Walt and the family too.

Since the loss of my husband 7 weeks ago I find that detachment is easiest for me right now. Normally I'm an outgoing person who can always find something to talk about. Now when my phone rings, my only thought is how quickly I can end the call, since I'm well aware that I have absolutely nothing to say that they want to hear. It's too depressing to hear myself say, "I'm allright" when I really want to scream; "I'm lonesome and miserable". But no one really wants to hear about that since there's nothing they can do to fix it. Who wants or needs the added burden of my sorrow in their already busy lives? Also at this point I've become completely self centered and have no interest in small talk. Just getting through each day is burden enough. Right now, even though I sometimes feel that the constant feelings of loneliness and isolation might be unhealthy, it's something we all have to work through. IMO just being there for your girlfriend and really listening to what she has to say is all you can do right now. Posting to this board is also a good start!

Here I am back again. If anyone had asked me three days ago if I would be writing something like this I'd probably have laughed in their face. But then again I wouldn't have been talking to anyone 3 days ago! Tonight my middle granddaughter came into town and spent the evening with me. I hadn't seen her since Dutch passed away and we'd only talked once briefly on the phone. (my fault not hers) To be perfectly honest I was dreading the evening since I didn't have a clue whether I would still be a basket case or not. As it turned out we went out together for a lovely dinner and spent most of the evening talking about Dutch. It started out with her reminiscing through her tears about what a powerful, positive influence her grandpa has been in her life. Then the discussion turned to other young people whose lives he'd touched with the boundless love and wisdom he was always willing to share. Through my tears I told her about the recent long distance conversations I'd had with her uncle, the former husband of our deceased daughter. He'd reminded me of the hours he and his friends had spent with Dutch during their grammer school years learning about many things such as hunting and fishing and true sportsmanship, to family values and even how to properly maintain a home and yard. Though somewhat of a perfectionist himself, he always had time to show them how to properly mix the paint, hold the brush, tape the baseboards, keep the paint off the floors and clean up their mess. Often after one of these sessions he'd go back over the missed spots and clean up the drips. But he only did this after the boys had gone home and he'd assured them they'd done a terrific job. Many of those boys now grown with grandchildren of their own still refer to him as "Dad" or "Pop". I actually found myself laughing through my tears as I told her about some of those boys and the things he'd encountered with them. Terry who walked so fast through the woods in wonder and awe the first time out that he scared all the game away. He'd learned his lesson well though and Dutch often bragged that Terry always knew exactly where he was no matter how rough and thick the terrain or how bad the weather. Tom who never had a dad, somewhat the clown of the bunch, yet turned out to be a fine young man. Norman, the more sober one and always full of questions. There were many others each of them special in their own way. We continued on, remembering the 9 and 10 year old girls whose lives he'd touched as he coached his softball team. All because he wasn't the type of father who just wanted to go and watch his daughters play ball--he wanted to take an active role in their activities! In spite of the tears we shared it was a wonderful evening, loaded with precious memories. Unforgettable memories for my journal!!! Thanks again to everyone for all the wonderful support. I enjoy reading the things that each and every one of you has to say--even in the saddest moments. These boards are a real blessing!!!!!!

That hadn't crossed my mind Shell. But then I do know that; "The Lord works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform"! Whatever it was, the experience has left a profound impact on me.

Thanks to each and everyone of you for your kind responses. Each response has helped in some small way. Today seemed a little better than yesterday, I haven't cried quite as often or as hard as I have been. I even managed to visit with my daughter and son-in-law for a little when they unexpectedly dropped by. Guess they knew better than to call first so I wouldn't have time to invent an excuse. Best of all I finally managed to start my journal! Well it isn't much of a journal yet since all I did was copy and paste what I'd written here including the Unusual Encounter tale I'd posted as another topic. At least it's a start too. Part of my problem is that I'm just beginning to realize how many little things my husband did for me all these years. By the way his name is Dutch! In fact it's just dawned on me that he actually spoiled me rotten! Each time I have to do something that he normally took care of it's a real jolt. Some are simple everyday things and others are things I never even thought about. Since Dutch went to the mall and walked early every morning and had coffee with his friends he didn't drink coffee at home anymore. Yet every morning when I got up all I had to do was plug in the coffee pot. He even came home early a few times because he'd forgotten to make the coffee before he left. When I told him that he didn't have to come home early, that I was perfectly capable of making my own coffee he laughed and said he knew that, but it was something he liked to do for me. There are so many similar things that come up every day. I've never pumped my own gas, taken out the trash or recycle bin, had to go to the post office, never bothered to check the mail, water, the lawn or trees etc. Each time I have to do one of those things it reminds me that he's gone. One of our 50 year old trees is in terrible shape because it never crossed my mind to water it since he became too ill to do it. When the man that does our yard told me I was in danger of losing the tree that Dutch had carefully nurtured all these years, that set me off again of course! The yard man is a whole other tale in itself. Quite a few years ago Dutch met and befriended a homeless man who is homeless by choice. When my husband could no longer do the yard, the homeless man offered to do it for him since he often does lawn work for several other elderly people. He's been doing it for several years now and does a great job and will only take minimal pay though Dutch has given him shoes, socks, clothes, jackets, blankets etc when he needed them. He would also buy him coffee and tobacco the few rare times he ran out of money. Before Dutch became too ill to go out they made an agreement that he would continue to take care of the yard for me. Dutch made sure the lawnmower was in top working condition and even bought a new weed eater so I wouldn't have to worry about the old one breaking down. Well I kind of got off track on this one but even writing this down has helped to remind me why I'm having such a hard time. Even his last worries weren't about himself, but to insure that I would have all the help I needed to manage when he was no longer here. He forgot to leave a magic potion to take away the heartache though!

This is a post I made to a general discussion board two weeks after my husband had passed on and while I was still more in control of my emotions. It seems appropriate to share the experience with this group, since that encounter had such a powerful and lasting effect on me that I can't get it out of my mind. "This morning I steeled myself and went back to our favorite place for breakfast, taking only a book for company. First time ever to eat out by myself! Several of the servers came over at different times to offer their condolences. As I spoke to the first server that came over, the man (a complete stranger) in the booth in front of me turned around with a stricken look on his face and then turned away and began weeping. He was completely distraught, and my instincts told me we were both in the same situation. Several times he glanced my way as if wanting to speak, but would begin sobbing again. Now more than a little teary eyed myself I quietly asked, "would it help if you had someone to talk to"? He shook his head and quickly turned away. I apologized for intruding on his grief, and he gestured that it was okay. Suddenly he stood up and came toward me and my first thought was, "oh my God, I've done it now"! Without a word he bent down and hugged me as hard as he could without actually hurting me. We exchanged a few brief words of comfort and he grabbed up his check and waved goodbye flashing a tiny semblance of a teary eyed smile on his way out. The hug of a stranger made my day and I hope I helped him just a little bit too!!!!!"

"Crying doesn't solve anything" pretty much describes my usual reaction to any crisis that has occured in my 70 years on this earth. Of course I would shed tears, but never any fits of hysterical weeping! That just isn't me!!! Instead, my way has always been to dig in, concentrate my efforts on doing everything I could to get myself and my loved ones past the crisis and not waste time on uncontrollable hysterical tears or feeling sorry for myself. After the illness and death of our daughter 13 years ago and even though he'd just had open heart surgery, my husband and I were able to remain strong and devote ourselves to helping our teenage granddaughters adjust to the loss of their mother and the changes in their lives. I even went to counseling a few times and after the third vist, the counselor agreed that I was doing just fine and didn't need to go back. Hubby and I and the rest of the family could still manage to talk freely about our daughter, how much we loved her and missed her while the tears would slide down our cheeks. In spite of the devastating pain of loosing her we could still function. I also kept a journal the first year after her death which helped me tremendously. Writing has always been my natural tranquilizer. May first my beloved husband of 54 years passed away at home. He was under the care of hospice and even though I was heartbroken in those last weeks I still managed to function and see to his needs along with the help of our daughters and son-in-law. After his death I managed to be strong for the girls and grandchildren, and take care of all the necessary things that had to be done. I was even able to have lunch with longtime friends. However last week the last i was dotted and the last t was crossed and suddenly I find I can't cope anymore. Since then I've discovered I can't bear to be around any of my wonderful family and have gone into virtual seclusion. I find myself crying continuously, so much so that it hurts physically as well as mentally. I can't even bear to talk to them on the phone for fear that all they'll hear from me is sobbing. The only time I seem to be able to control my emotions is if I am alone and out in public such as grocery shopping, getting a haircut, or stopping somewhere for a bite to eat while sitting alone with a book for company. I've tried to begin a journal and before I can even open the word program, I'm sobbing so hard I can't even begin. Hospice has called me once to let me know that grief counseling is available, but I wouldn't even be able to compose myself long enough to talk to a counselor. Yesterday I finally got up the courage to see if Hospice of the Valley might offer a discussion board in which I could express my feelings without the embarrasment of subjecting others to my uncontrollable sobbing, and sure enough I found this one! This is the first time I've been able to write or speak a word about the devestating agony of my loss. Of course I've just about emptied the kleenex box while doing so. I really don't know why I'm posting here or what I expect it to accomplish, but it's a start!