AnnC

Paul, I just want to add that your girlfriend is expressing what she feels. The best thing you can do is listen. Tell her you will do your best to be there for her, and don't try to "fix" her. That is always the temptation, to try to tell a grieving person to focus on the positive, or try not to think about the loss, or whatever. It doesn't work. What a grieving person needs is a listening, compassionate ear. Of course she will not be unhappy for the rest of her life, but she will be grieving for awhile. Eventually she will be able to think of other things besides her loss. The recommendation for a major loss is not to make any big changes in your life for the first year. So if you truly love her and want to be with her, stick by her and let her grieve. She may well feel that she can't leave her family right now -- you are right that it's best to wait and see how she feels when the time comes, but for now, it must seem to her like she will always feel this way. So just tell her that it's fine to feel that way now, it's understandable. You might have to change your plans a little, but I think what she needs is to know that you realize that she is in pain, and that you will do what you can to help her. Mainly, it's listening to her and not judging what she says. Just let her express her feelings. They are powerful, but they won't last forever. She will always miss her mom, but the grief will get easier to bear as time goes on. All this is assuming you feel you do still want to spend your life with her. If this is still true, then the decisions need to be made by both of you together. You need to both weigh the pros and cons of you giving up the job, or her moving, or what your options might be. If she is not in grief counseling, I would definitely recommend it. She can meet people who have had the same kind of loss, but she can see how they are dealing with it, that she is not the only one who has suffered this, and that there is hope for a happy life even with such a loss. I don't mean to come across as telling you what to do, these are just the things that come to mind. Bear in mind that life does have its sorrows, and learning to deal with that now is not such a bad thing. I know when I was in my 20's, I thought everything that upset me or my husband meant there was something wrong with the relationship, but in fact it's just life, and you learn how to cope with it, hopefully together. Good luck to you!

I agree it's never too late. I have been divorced for more than 20 years, and that's a loss, too. I had no clue how to grieve that, and ended up just being very angry and suppressing memories. In my family, suppressing emotion is the watchword! When my ex-husband became ill, we reconnected and became close friends, and talked over the issues we had had, which was very healing. When he died, I not only found myself grieving his death, but also our divorce from 23 years ago. Even through the dark depression of grief over his death, the release of many issues around our divorce have made a big difference, and although the double grieving has complicated my grief process, I firmly believe it is a very good thing that I am finally grappling with having lost him twice, painful though it is.

I read somewhere that the main predictor for whether a person will successfully get through the grief process is if they have at least one person they can talk to who understands how they feel. That was the one factor that made a huge difference. So you don't have to talk to everybody about it, just hopefully one friend or family member who understands. Also, some people work through grief by talking (that would be me!) and others by doing something. My counselor said her husband chopped enormous amounts of firewood after their son died, and that worked out his grief just as well as talking did for her. In general, men tend towards "instrumental" grief, doing active things to work through the emotions, and women towards "intuitive grief", talking it out. Obviously there are many exceptions, and no one is completely one way or the other. It's just that it's a good thing to keep in mind, that where some people might seem like they're not dealing with the grief because they're not talking about it, it doesn't necessarily mean they are stuck or in denial, because they might be doing something active that works through it for them. When my ex-husband died, I talked to everybody at first -- I couldn't stop talking. I finally wound down a little and could be more selective in who I talked to! But his significant other took on projects to completely remodel his yard and house. That was his way to deal with his emotions.

John, what a beautiful tribute to your Jack. I am so sorry for your loss, and the loss of Timmy more recently. I think it is wonderful that you are making sure Jack's legacy lives on. Much of your post rang so true to me. Subtle discrimination -- oh, yes, and not so subtle. I can't count the number of people who stare in disbelief at me and criticize me that I would grieve so much for my ex-husband who was gay. I don't care. I loved him for the 12 years we were together, and the 21 years we were friends afterward, and he loved me, and the loves that we each had in our lives after our divorce and his coming out did not detract or diminish our feelings for each other, though our relationship necessarily changed from spouses to loving friends. I miss him so much, yet I am happy he is now with his first partner Jerry who died fifteen years ago of HIV. His surviving partner Bruce and I are now close friends, and support each other in mourning the remarkable man we both loved. After too much time over the past three and a half years of his illness and death, spent trying to defend, explain, educate, etc., I now just stare at those who criticize and question, and say simply, "I loved him. And I miss him."

My counselor says grief does not improve at a definite pace and regularity. She said that instead, we recycle through all the stages of grief over and over. That's why you may feel like you're having "relapses" -- I have them, I will think that I am so much better, and then suddenly I will have a day of crying all day long, or insomnia, or just depression. She says this is normal. It's a very up and down process. But over time, these "down" times become less frequent, and the times when you can smile at your memories and enjoy your life become longer and more frequent. The loss never goes away, but you learn to enjoy life again. I'm finding this to be true -- lately, now that I am past the two year anniversary, I notice I am able to enjoy and look forward to things again. Only sometimes do I wake up feeling that the world is cold and gray and there's no reason to get up. It used to be that way every morning. But sometimes I will have a stretch of days like that. It's all part of the process.

I remember when I had to have my 16 year old cat put to sleep, how my other cat would wander around and cry all night, looking for him. I don't like cats to sleep with me, but I let her for a few nights, and that seemed to comfort both of us.

I am so sorry to hear of these losses. It really is the love that you feel that determines your grief, not the legal relationship. I was divorced from my husband of 12 years more than 20 years ago because he learned he was gay, but we were still dear friends, and when he died I was devastated. So many people have said, "Why do you care, he was only your ex!" They have no clue, and no right to say something like that. I heard something I liked about the idea of "finding someone else". It was that it wouldn't be any kind of replacement. It was that after a long time (whatever time was right for the individual), you could take that love and relationship you still cherish about your soulmate, and share it with someone else. That may be something that happens for some people, and others may not want that, which is also fine. It's no one else's business. My friend told me how upset she was that someone told her recently widowed mother to take off her wedding rings. My friend said it was no one's business but her mother's, and she would wear those rings as long as she wanted to. In fact, I wear mine on the other hand, on different fingers, as a remembrance. I wasn't with my ex-husband when he died either, and I wish I had been. Gaby, I was startled to see that you posted that Christophe died on June 23rd. My former husband died on June 23, 2004. I just get tired of that attitude from others that you have to "move on" and "find another one" to prove you are okay now. As a psychologist in grief and death told me, it's ridiculous to expect people to put the memories aside and forget those they love who have died. You're never going to forget your dearly loved one, and that's as it should be. You will take their love and your memories with you for the rest of your life, whether later you share that life with someone else or not. We have nothing to prove to anyone else.

I think we use a mask to protect ourselves, also. When I called my mother to tell her my former husband had died, she said, and I quote, "Well, that's too bad, dear, but with that lifestyle he led, what can you expect?" Cold hearted hardly begins to describe it! So I do not discuss my feelings with her. She has never been comfortable with emotions anyway. My family of origin considers it to be the ultimate put-down to say, "Oh, so-and-so is SO emotional." In less than two months' time in 2004, I was rear-ended, my former husband died, and I had two surgeries, one that found cancer, and one that removed it. My parents drove to stay with me for a few days, during which they argued with me about whether I should drink wine while taking narcotics (they thought I SHOULD!), and my father criticized my housekeeping. They then went home and for six weeks did not call at all. They never, never, asked how I was doing, either with grief or cancer. They just can't handle it. It kind of burns me, because I am extending myself to support them through my father's cancer now, but when he does eventually die, I can't quite see myself being my mother's support. Harsh, perhaps, and maybe I'll feel differently when it happens, but it's hard to forgive the total lack of support I got from them. So I have my mask when I visit them.

No, not a coincidence. This is a dream visit. I must tell you this type of communication is accepted as perfectly normal by most of the world, but in the developed, Western world they tend to dismiss it. I have had several dream visits. In one, I was at a party in a house, and my family and my former husband's friends were all there. I was talking to someone and saw past them through a window that he was standing there. I knew he was dead and that I had hoped to see him, but didn't expect to. I walked out the door, and went over to him. He looked completely normal, just like he always looked, and I remember standing there in the dream, looking him over in detail to make sure it was really him. I said, "You're really here!" and reached out to touch him. My hand passed through him, and he said, "I'm here, but not actually here. Not physically here." I turned to the others, who had followed me out, and said, "Do you see him?" They all said no, but seemed to totally accept that I did. I turned back to him, and he had disappeared. The most amazing one I had was one where he called me in the dream on the phone and asked me to meet with him. I went to a beach and he was there, and he hugged me. This was so real that I saw what clothes he was wearing, felt the hug, and could smell his clean cotton shirt and his own personal smell. Then he said his liver was fine and he felt great, and he danced around to show me his energy. He said one minute his liver was shot, and the next it was fine, and he was fine. Then the scene faded and I found myself in bed. No kidding, it was not like waking up -- it was more like the scene just changed around me. I wonder if it was an out of body experience. I cling to these dreams when I get too depressed and lonely -- I know he's fine now and around me in spirit.

I loved your post, Maylissa. I think everyone asks Why? But you know, I see that we have not been singled out. Everyone loses someone, everyone dies. This helps me. It is a part of life. It's not a part we like, but it is there. I know it was equally hard for my one aunt to lose her husband at 32 as it was for the other aunt to lose hers at 76. The first aunt has now been widowed twice, which boggles my mind. It's not a punishment, it's not because you or the person who died was "bad" or in any way deserved to suffer. I believe we come to learn everything about life -- I believe we have many lives in order to experience everything about life, and death, and that we choose how we leave (usually -- I'm sure accidents and unplanned events due to the free will of others happen). I do believe we come into life to learn certain lessons we set for ourselves. Usually we don't recognize that, and I think some lessons are dependent on our not knowing what's behind the scenes. But I do have a very strong feeling now that my dad is ill that my husband went first to help him. I am having dreams of my husband helping my dad cross over. Also, I know my husband (former husband, actually) was lonely. He was an only child, and had lost both his parents, all his grandparents and his aunt and uncle. He had no cousins. His partner died of AIDS many years ago. He had great friends, but he was very much alone without any family. I was the closest thing to family he had, and we had been divorced for 20 years. I like to think about how he's never lonely now, he's surrounded by those he loves who are there and can see those of us still living on earth. I do believe they watch over us until it's our time to join them. I'm sure I'm not aware of all the lessons I was meant to learn from my marriage, my divorce, the reconnection and friendship with him, and his death, but I have learned an enormous amount about love and grief and connection, and I'm sure that was part of it all. I felt that we were both meant to learn about love and how it survives against all odds. But I do miss him terribly.

I'm so sorry for your loss, Lisa. My grief counselor told me that about 5 or 6 months after the loss can be the worst time, because the shock has worn off and you are really feeling it. I know that lonely feeling. It sounds odd, because I was divorced from my true love, and we hadn't seen each other in years, just talked on the phone because we lived 3000 miles apart, but when he died, I missed him terribly and felt alone for the first time because he wasn't on the planet anymore, and I couldn't pick up the phone and call him. It must be so much worse when you lose someone you saw daily -- it's bad enough for me, and it's been two years. I just can't get over it, that he's gone.

What a terrible time you've had the past 6 years, Maylissa! I'm so sorry. You deserve a long vacation, so does your hubby. I'm not with my dad daily, but we live only a couple of hours apart, and I have been going down more often to see them once or twice a month, and keeping in touch with my mom by phone at least weekly. I was devastated when my cat died about five years ago. He lived to be 16 1/2, and was so attached to me. I got him when my husband and I got divorced. When he died, it was like my divorce all over again. I felt so abandoned, and then my younger cat would cry all night, looking for him. It was awful. They tear your heart out. The only thing that sometimes helps me is that I know I would not give up the love to avoid the pain. So I do, when I am ready, get the new kitten. Sometimes that happens really soon, sometimes it takes quite a while. It depends. But you never forget the ones you lost, people or fur-people. My sister and I were talking about the cat we had who was hit by a car and my dad had to put her down because she was so badly injured. Mind you, this took place about 40 years ago, but in talking about it, we both cried again. Once you love someone, that's forever.

I can relate to anticipatory grief, since my father has stage 4 cancer, so we know he will not be here all that much longer. But you never know exactly WHEN, so there is this daily going through the motions, going to work and cleaning and cooking and whatever, never knowing when the other shoe will drop. And going to the doctor and hearing that the radiation shrank some spots, but new ones have shown up in other organs. Watching his hair fall out and he gets weaker and sleeps so much, and forgets where he is. It's so hard to concentrate at work. Part of me wishes it were over, and part of me treasures this time, the time that is left. I guess I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. But it's hard, since I am also mourning my former husband's passing two years ago, and another dear friend six months ago. I just feel like I've reached an age where I'm going to be losing more and more people all the time.

Derek, I'm sorry for your losses. I also had so early a miscarriage that there was nothing to bury. I can understand that although you have Carson it doesn't mean you don't miss your wife. I agree that regardless of whether a child is born or not, there is a soul that then goes on to heaven. In fact, I dreamed that I took our baby to see her father in Heaven. (I certainly have no way to tell if a 7 week fetus was female, but I always felt that she was.) In fact, I did talk once to a medium (I am skeptical of fakes, but this lady really seemed to be gifted), and she said my late husband is rocking a baby on the other side, and she picked up that it was a very early miscarriage and a girl. I do believe they are together now, and watching over me. I believe that about your wife and children too. Thanks for your reply. It's nice to know we're not alone in these difficult experiences.

Yes, I knew. I always get that feeling, that I know when someone is going to pass away soon. As soon as he told me about his illness, I knew. He was upbeat, sure he was going to beat it. We talked a lot, for hours at a time, for months after his initial collapse. He just knew he would get a transplant, and survive. But I felt the heaviness of just knowing it wasn't going to happen. I never said that to him. As he got sicker, and his options were closing down, and they wouldn't put him on the transplant list, he stopped calling me. And I felt so increasingly burdened by my fears, I didn't call him. I was just wild with grief when he died. But you know, that would have been true anyway. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have said you MUST talk to your family. But now, I think differently. I think you need to do this your way, the way that works for you, and no one can tell you what that is. It's unique to you. If you have told your family you love them, that is really the important thing. My father has terminal cancer. We don't exactly talk about it. We talk about the treatment, but not that it will, eventually, inevitably, fail. We don't discuss death, afterlife, anything like that. Instead I spend more time with him. It's an unspoken truth between us, that he will not be here much longer, and that I will grieve, but the time we spend is our focus now. We just spend time like we always have, arguing about politics, or watching Law & Order, or cooking together. Some things maybe don't have to be said in words. I think I do understand, to some extent, what you are saying. I know my former husband hated to hurt me, and certainly hated to see me hurt. I know him well enough to know, now that the first agony of grief has stabilized enough so I can think, I know he didn't call me because he wanted to give me good news. He planned that he would call me after he got the transplant and was recovering. It didn't happen. I know he was doing what he could to take care of me. Maybe I would have liked to talk to him more. But he was the one going through facing the end of his life. He needed to do what he could to get through this. So do you. Be gentle with yourself. You would never leave your family if you had the choice. But God chooses when we leave. Don't blame yourself for what you can't change. Ann

I had the same experience. There is a couple back in Ohio who my husband and Iknew in college when we were dating. In fact, my husband had the idea of introducing them to each other on a blind date with us, and then they fell in love and have just now had their 30th anniversary. Well, I live on the west coast, and they just came out to visit their son who lives a couple of hours from me. I drove down and we spent the weekend together. Now that it's two years since my husband died, I can sometimes talk about him without crying, and I brought him up to share fun memories, talk about things he did and said. I wanted them to share their memories of him with me. But instead, they turned away every time I talked about him. They said, Uh huh, and changed the subject. I felt so crushed. Did they think it was best to pretend he never lived? Neither one of them mentioned his name the entire weekend we were there. I now have no interest in ever seeing or talking with them again. However, my mother said she sees this reaction a lot in people, that they don't know how to deal with grief or with the bereaved, so they think it's best to avoid the subject. I am toying with the idea of writing to them and saying that I am sorry they feel unable to talk about him, but I will always talk about him, because I value the life we shared, and never intend to forget him. I'm just trying to figure out a way to say this without getting too sarcastic! I don't want to hurt their feelings, but I feel a need to express myself. I have been fortunate, because two dear friends of my husband have gone through this with me, and we have shared every step of the way through grief. One in particular always emails me on any anniversary -- of his birth, of his funeral, of our anniversary. It's so sweet, she always remembers. It's so rare, that someone takes the effort and love to do that, although she lives on the other side of the country. She called me on the anniversary of his death last month. It helped so much. But so few people "get it" like that. I think you find out who your friends really are. I find there are three types. Those who just can't take it, and avoid you; those who don't get it, but love you enough to hang in there anyway; and those who really do understand and are true diamonds. Those last two are worth keeping. The others might not be.

I just joined this board yesterday, and have been posting about my grief still sometimes seeming so fresh two years after losing my ex-husband, who was still a dear friend. But I have never really grieved the miscarriage I had, even though it was 25 years ago. In reading some grief sites, they have brought up that this is a legitimate grief, and honestly, I never thought of it, because it was a very early miscarriage, about 7 weeks. But I never remarried after my ex-husband and I divorced because he came out as gay. I had relationships, and fell in love a couple of times, but never found anyone who was the right person to marry. I have been fine with not having children for many years, and yet now that my ex has died, I feel so bad that we not only lost each other, but our only child, and there is nothing left of him, because he never had a child, and he was an only child and orphaned as a young adult. It just seems so sad, if the child had lived I would have that much of him. I find it hard to believe that after all these years (decades!) now I am grieving that baby.

I signed on to this thread because although my parents are both still here, my father has stage 4 cancer, and isn't doing all that well. I am happy to see that it's okay to discuss hearing from loved ones who have passed. My ex-husband has sent me a lot of electrical disturbances, his smell, songs, and dreams, which are very comforting, although I still miss him. I had an intersting dream just the other night. I dreamed that I was in a room with my ex-husband and my father. They had just come back from somewhere, and my ex said he had been showing my father around. I realized (in the dream) that he was giving my father a tour of the afterlife! It was kind of cool, although it gave me jitters, too, that my father's time may be approaching fast. But I am sure it was meant to be a reassurance. I do on occasion see my ex's spirit, but only in a quick flash. Once I was sitting in my grief group and I saw him walk behind my chair. I quickly turned to the other side, but no one was there. No one else at the table reacted, but then the lights in one of the offices went off then on by themselves, and the phone rang with no one there when it was answered, and then that happened again. I wonder if I still can see spirits because I saw my uncle when I was ten, and my parents didn't really react much -- just kind of, "oh, that's nice." So I didn't get that impression that it was wrong or ridiculous. On rare occasions, I have seen some of my deceased relatives and friends. It is nice to know they continue to exist, and are around us. Ever since my father's cancer was diagnosed, I have smelled both my grandmothers at times, so I believe they are around to support my parents. As for crying, I cried for two years after my ex's death, and am still crying, but not every day any more. I really went to pieces, even though we'd been divorced for 20 years. I know I will cry when my father passes. Crying is healthy in grief, I firmly believe that.

Can't tell, I am sorry for your difficult situation. I came across this thread, after just joining this board, and I wanted to tell you that you have helped me a lot. My ex-husband died two years ago. We became very close again during his illness. It was liver disease, so there was hope he would get a transplant and live, and he focussed on that, and wouldn't talk about how it might not work out. Over the months, we talked a lot, 3 hour conversations late at night (we lived 2000 miles apart, so it was all by phone.) But in the last few months of his life, he didn't call, and I was feeling a lot of fear and reluctance to call for fear of what I might learn. After his passing, I was very upset that he didn't call me, and didn't discuss his possible death. I wished I could have comforted him. But I don't know if he wanted comfort. Maybe he really wanted to face this alone -- that would have been very much like him. But I feel differently now, after two years. This is partly because my father now is dying, too, of stage 4 cancer. And I see in your words much of what I think my ex-husband felt. I believe he did not want to hurt me by telling me he wasn't getting better, but worse. He did not want to see my grief, or hear it on the phone. My father doesn't want to discuss these things either. So I feel differently now. You cannot save those you love from grief over your passing. Of course we all feel grief when someone passes, whether it is expected or not. But I just wanted to say that your words help me to understand what I believe my ex-husband was feeling too, and helps me let go of my pain that he didn't talk to me about the likelihood of his death. If not talking to me about it helped him to face his death more easily, then I am okay with that -- I wanted him to be able to pass with as much peace as possible, so whatever he needed to do to make that happen is okay with me. And I will tell you, that I feel him around me always. I KNOW he has come to me in spirit since his passing, in dreams and all the other ways described in that wonderful book Hello From Heaven. He has never left me. I hope that gives you some comfort -- I firmly believe you will be able to watch over your loved ones always.

I feel that way, too. But my grief therapist said that the way to get to where you are happy again (though you still miss them always) is by doing the griefwork, and feeling your emotions, not by pretending the emotions are not there. I try to remember that she told me she likes the way I grieve. I tend to attack it and face it. I read another thread from last month where someone talked about "leaning" into grief. I think I do that. When he died, his friends said they couldn't stand to see a picture of him because it upset them so much. But I watched all my home movies of him, and looked at the home movies of our wedding, and all my pictures. I cried and cried, but I knew I needed to do that. But others say I'm just wallowing, feeling sorry for myself, "not moving on." Geez. Something good that happened, though, when his friends found out I was doing that, they sent me their pictures of him, and so did my sister. Anyway, OF COURSE he wants me to be happy, I know they want us to be happy. I'm trying to keep in mind that the path to get there is to fully grieve the loss. So I'm trying! But I really didn't know how long grief lasts. I do wonder, though, if I'm feeling especially bad right now because June was the anniversary of his death, and this past weekend was the anniversary of the funeral. I was doing pretty well until these anniversaries rolled around, so I suppose that is to be expected. Plus, my father has terminal cancer, so that is an added stress, and the anticipation that another grief is coming.

Thanks, Spela. I went through a lot of pain and anger when we separated and divorced, because he wouldn't tell me why. He kept in contact with me for many years, but I had to make him come out to me. It was the 80's and he was so afraid I would be horrified or disgusted that he was gay. I wasn't. It was kind of a relief, to finally know what had caused the problems in the last year of a marriage that was very happy up to then. We were in contact during his illness by phone (I live near Seattle, he lived in Atlanta), but we had often had phone relationships (we lived in different states during our engagement.) So we were comfortable with that during his illness. I guess the fact that he had a life-threatening illness just put things in perspective, and I realized I loved him still, and it really didn't matter whether this was marital love, romantic love, family love, whatever. I learned not to put love in little boxes, defining and restricting it. When he died, I felt this compulsion to go to his funeral, so I got on a plane and went. It was hard to go into the service with all these people who had been his friends for 15 years, and I didn't know a soul. (Talk about disenfranchised!) He had no family by then, having lost both his parents and he was an only child, and had no cousins or aunts or uncles. But he had some friends who were like sisters to him, and had taken care of him when he was ill, and they were very warm and welcoming to me and took me in. But it felt so weird that they sat in the front pew, and I sat in the back. Disenfranchised, again. I met his partner, and although you would think we'd be jealous of each other, in fact it was Bruce who deliberately sought me out to tell me what my ex had said about me, that he never would have left me if he hadn't been gay, and that he considered me his soul mate. I thought what an incredibly generous man Bruce is, to tell me that! So we have become close email friends, and have really helped each other through the grief. It was tragic, they only had five months together. It's kind of funny, Bruce recently told me that a man he is seeing now was interested to learn about Bruce's loss of my ex, but completely floored when he learned about me: "You're close friends with his WIFE???" Bruce said to me, "Oh, I suppose that is unusual, huh?" He's a sweetie. I believe my ex is watching over us and pleased we have met and become friends and given each other support and comfort.

Hi, I'm new to the board, but your post really struck me, because I have felt this way too. I don't like that phrase "they're in a better place", and in thinking about it, it's not because I don't believe that. I DO believe he's in a better place, but I feel that phrase is said to me in the same way people say, "Stop grieving, he would want you to be happy." Well, sorry, if he wanted me to be so happy, he should NOT have died! (Yes, I know he couldn't help it, but I hate hearing that.) Those two sayings are just another way of saying that I shouldn't be grieving, so I resent them. But I do relate to "he's in a safer place." When the hurricane hit New Orleans, I remember feeling overwhelming relief that he was safe from that. He didn't live in New Orleans, but in the South. It wasn't really geographical, it was just that I realized he is safe from any disaster, natural or otherwise. It doesn't mean I don't miss him, because I miss him terribly, but he is safe.

Thank you so much for your post, Maylissa, it made me feel much better! I am lucky, I did manage to get some good support in the first year. I work at a college, and there is a professor here who teaches a psychology class on Death and Dying, and he said our society is very uncomfortable with grief, and he thinks it's awful the way it's reported in the news, making it sound like you should be over a major loss in two weeks or something. He helped me enormously. But still, I do get those looks sometimes, and I'm careful who I share with. I got together with friends from college last month, and was excited. We hadn't seen each other in 20 years, but in college we four were very close, and it was my ex who introduced them to each other, and now they've been married 30 years. I didn't intend to start crying and talking about my grief with them, but instead to talk about him, share memories, and funny things he said and did (he was always the life of the party!) But every time I said his name, they would look away and change the subject. I felt very hurt, but my mother said some people just can't handle it, and avoid anything "unpleasant". I suppose, considering it took me some years to feel "over" my divorce, that I take a long time to process, so it will take a long time this time too. I survived that, I will survive this. And I do feel blessed to have had a true love in my life, even if life came and threw us a twist ending or two. Our friendship during the last year and a half of his life was wonderful, and we talked so honestly and forgave each other for transgressions in the past, which we knew were never deliberate, because we always cared about each other. We realized that, even with the years we didn't speak, we each kept track of the other, and we actually did love each other for the entire 33 years we knew each other. We each loved others later, but it didn't take away from our love for each other, something that surprised me, but it's true. I appreciate the warm support you all have offered me. Many people are uncomfortable with my talking about it, not only because of my grief, but because he was gay. But I will never apologize for who he was, and that I loved him.

Thanks for your reply, Derek. I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your wife. I just read the news post about disenfranchised grief, which is what I have, I guess, because people don't see me as a widow, because we were divorced, so they think I must hurt less. They assume I should be "back to normal" now. How can I be normal? What is normal? I can only think I will always feel this way, only I'll just get used to it. My ex's partner sent me some pictures of his vacation last month. There is a picture his sister took of him, and I can see clearly the extreme pain in his eyes. Because they were gay, he is a disenfranchised griever too. His eyes look like mine feel. At least we comfort each other, because we both loved him. I'm happy to find this site, where people understand how hard this is.

I'm glad to see this topic. I just joined this discussion group because I found it when I was surfing the net to find out about how long grief lasts. I am getting comments from people that I "should be over it, it's been two years." My ex-husband died two years ago. We met when we were 18, and were together, dating, engaged, and married, for a total of 12 years. At that time, he had to face that he was gay, and we got divorced, which was devastating, as we really loved each other, and he had tried everything he could to stay with me, but it wouldn't work. But this was in the 1980's, so neither of us knew that much about it, or what could be expected (like, could he change, stuff like that -- I know much better now.) We kept in contact for several years, but finally I just found it too hard to be "just a friend", and we stopped talking, and went on with our own lives. Then, a few years after that, he contacted me through a friend. He needed information from me to apply for Social Security disability, because he had nearly died of liver failure, and couldn't work as he recovered. I called him back, and we talked for hours. We became very close during the year and a half of his illness. Then, although the doctors thought he was doing well and they had a transplant for him, his kidneys failed and he passed away. I was so devastated. I went to the service (on the opposite coast), and his friends and partner told me all the wonderful things he said about me. I feel so much loss, of his love and friendship. I kept journals, and when I reread my entries from the first year, I see that I am better now -- I cry less often, I only have some mornings when I wake up and think there's just nothing but a gray world to live in. I go to work, and I laugh with friends, and I love my family. But I still have this empty hole in me, and it doesn't seem to me that it will ever be different. Then someone will say, Are you STILL upset?? And I feel like a loser. Or the even more cruel comment, He was just your ex, why do you care? I guess I just want people who will tell me it's not abnormal to still feel so awful two years later. I'm better, but I'm certainly far from "over it". I think about him practically all the time. Thanks for listening/reading. Ann