AnnC

My counselor who ran the grief group I was in offered me private sessions because she said she thought I had complicated grief. She said it meant for her that I had issues beyond the death of a loved one that would not be addressed by the regular group. I was in a group with widows/widowers, but I was divorced from my ex-husband, so felt kind of out of place. We were divorced 21 years before his death, and I had moved on and had a good life. He and I were friends after divorce (he was gay and that's the only reason we divorced), off and on, and then when he became ill we became very close again. So when he died, my counselor pointed out that it brought back the grieving over divorce, since new grief brings back old grief. And there was also what is called "disenfranchised grief", where you are not perceived to have a right to grieve so hard. This was in my case because we were divorced, so people didn't understand why I would be so upset over an EX-husband. All these issues complicated my grieving response. Now, my father has terminal cancer, which is bringing up all the feelings again. So now, 2 1/2 years after my ex-husband's death, I am depressed often. Now I see it as understandable, though. My ex-husband's partner has disenfranchised grief as well, since society in general does not honor the grief of a gay person when his/her partner dies -- in nearly all states they can't be legally married, so are not perceived as widowed either, and have no rights. He and I support each other, which helps a lot. He never tires of my talking about my ex, and I never tire of listening to him, so that's a big help. Also, my ex's best friend is always happy to have me talk about him, because she misses him so much also. She had two dear friends die within six months, my ex and another friend who shot himself in her house. So she needs a lot of listening too. We have formed a triad of support, and I can't emphasize enough what a help that has been. Sometimes I worry that I am grieving "too long", but what is too long? I will never "get over" his loss, I will eventually learn to live with this hole in my life, and continue to live as I know he wants me to. I believe he is watching over me and all those he loves. When I told my parents and sister my ex died, they just shrugged (he's your ex and gay, so why do you care?) But when I told my brother my ex had died, he said immediately, "You will see him again." And I found that one of the best things anyone said, and I believe it.

I think you're so lucky to have his voice recorded. I don't think it's weird at all. I called my ex-husband's phone after he died, wanting to hear his voice, but his heirs had already taken the tape out and I don't know what they did with it -- I'd give anything to have his voice on tape but I don't. Actually, I should ask his partner if he has anything with his voice on tape -- but I think he would have told me if he had, he's been so wonderful and supportive to me. They were only together five months when my ex died.

I feel that too. My ex-husband, who was still a close friend, died in another state. I wish I'd been there. I thought he passed away in a coma, but his friend told me he wasn't really comatose, which bothers me. I don't know what it was like for him. I know he really believed very strongly in an afterlife, and I do too. I've had incredible dreams where we hugged and talked, and I know it was him and it was real. But I am not religious at all -- you don't have to be religious to believe there is more to us than these physical bodies.

There's nothing wrong with crying. Crying is how we move through grief. I know it feels like it will never stop, but it will. I found that it was painful to get into those crying sessions, but I actually felt better afterwards. Don't be afraid to let go and cry. My grief counselor says, Cry and cry until you're dry.

Wow -- my ex-husband died on June 23 also, but in 2004. Although we were divorced because he was gay, we were still loving friends, and I was devastated by his death. I cried daily for two years. It does get a little easier, but you never stop missing them. It seemed impossible for the first year that I would ever feel any better, but most of the time I do feel okay now. I probably cry every other day now. Be gentle with yourself, and don't stress yourself out with thinking somehow you have to be brave or strong -- people just don't know what to say, so they say things like that. Crying is actually part of the journey, and it helps you get through the grief. Hugs to you, and come here and talk about how you feel -- we understand, we have felt it too. Ann

I don't have any answers for you, but I feel much the same. My father has terminal cancer, and he lives 170 miles away, so I can visit, but not all the time. It's very hard to know how much to visit, or how long he will be with us. And I worry about the load on my mother, who is his caretaker. My visits are almost more for her, because he sleeps all the time. I have had many difficult issues with my father during my life, and he doesn't want to talk about all that, and I don't really either -- I worry that once he is gone, I will really regret this, but if he doesn't want to hear it... Well, anyway, I sympathize with your anticipatory grief, I am also finding it a hard road. I hate myself for this, but I sometimes wish the other shoe would drop and his suffering would be over and done with, that he just wouldn't wake up one morning and then wouldn't have to worry about chemo and pain and weakness any more. He is already fading away, I hate watching it. And one sister says his time might be near, and she says we should support him if he wants to stop treatment -- I agree with this, but my other sister screams when we say that and says he MUST not "give up", he must keep fighting, so that is a strain in the family too. It's so hard.

((((HUGS))))) Your reactions are very normal for grief. So are your family's. Your father may still be in shock. Many people can't cry at first because their brain is protecting them with shock from taking it in. This is okay, it's normal. Grief is something you cannot fix, it's a journey you have to go through. The best thing to do for yourself is try to be gentle with yourself, eat and sleep healthfully as much as you can, and let yourself cry. You may feel like the crying will never stop, but it will. The tears actually have a chemical that helps you to cope and eventually heal, although you never return to who you were before -- you change. The best thing you can do for those you love who are hurting too, is listen when they want to talk, and just be there when they don't. It's tempting to try to get them to do what you think they should, but each person's journey through grief is unique, and to be respected. One of the myths of our society, is that you "have to be strong." Why? You have lost one of the most important people in your life -- of course you are devastated! How could it be otherwise? And another myth is that you should "get over it" quickly, which is ridiculous. No one "gets over" the loss of a loved one. People have different ways of coping, but need to grieve. Some people need to talk, some need to do something (like chop wood, work in the yard, clean house), some just need to sit for awhile. Anger is part of grief, too. Many bereaved people have spoken of snapping at someone at work, or becoming unexpectedly furious at having to wait in line at the store, getting unreasonably angry at family members. Grief is stressful and exhausting, and so you just don't have the energy to put up with things as you normally would. Most churches and hospice and hospitals have grief counseling resources. The one I went to had special sessions for families, groups, and individuals. These can really help, because you are assured that your reactions are natural for a bereaved person, and you meet other people who understand what you are going through, because they are going through it too, and you are not alone. Counseling is not the answer for everyone, but I found it extremely helpful. My heart goes out to you -- when you are in the midst of grief it's scary and it's impossible to see where it will lead you, but try to trust that this journey will eventually bring you peace. I am finding now, after 2 1/2 years, that I have moments of peace, largely because of the counseling and crying and journaling, and mourning. When he died, I cried for two years. Now I don't cry every single day (just most days), and the tears are not as agonizing -- there is light at the end of the journey, though you might not be able to see it yet. Reading this website and Marty T.'s Grief Healing site can give you some reassurance of what grief is like, and that you and your family are reacting normally. That at least helps reduce your concerns and worries over this experience that has turned your world upside down. My grief counselor was always telling us that we were not going crazy, we just felt like we were. And you can always talk to us.

Thank you for letting us know of your mother's passing, and please accept my sorrow at your loss. She gave me a great gift on this website, an understanding of what my sweetheart faced when he knew he would probably not survive. We all ask, Why, why, why? We don't have the answers, but she gave me some answers as to why my sweetheart did not talk to me when he knew his health was declining. It was a precious and selfless gift she gave to me, and I think of her so often. It's so clear what a wonderful and loving person she was and still is in heaven, where she will watch over you forever. I am so glad she directed you to this website -- you can say anything here, vent your feelings and whatever you need to get off your chest, and we will listen and understand. Grief is a hard, long journey, but it is lightened when shared with others who have felt the same pain.

I flew to Atlanta to go to my ex-husband's funeral, even though I didn't know a soul -- he and I had had a phone/email relationship in the last years of his life. I was embraced by his friends and his boyfriend, and over the nearly 2 1/2 years since, we have remained friends and a supportive email grief group. I don't know how I would have gotten through this without their support -- his best friend and his boyfriend have become my very dear friends, and their love and support have meant the world to me. We feel that he bequeathed us to each other, for support after he was gone. Ann

Kayc, Thank you so much for your post, you made me feel a lot better! I have read on this board your struggles with what you learned about your husband, and I think it's wonderful you are coming to realize that we love people, faults and all. If we only loved perfect people, there wouldn't be much love in the world, would there? The miracle of love is that we can be loved for the imperfect, struggling, mistake-making human beings that we are. You are right that I had 20 years to adjust to the change and divorce. I did move on in life. We stayed more or less in contact over those years, sometimes it was too much for me and I wouldn't speak to him -- not because he did anything wrong, but because it was hard to have "just a friendship" with someone I loved and who had once been my husband. But when he became ill, we reconnected very strongly and became close again. I realized then that love should not be put in boxes -- did I love him as my husband, my former lover, my friend, a family member? It really doesn't matter what I call it. I just loved him. He called me his soul mate, and his boyfriend said he both understood it and was jealous -- but wanted to meet me. He never imagined he would meet me at Don's funeral. I'll never forget it -- Brian searched the reception to find me, and told me right off that Don had told him how hard it was to come out all those years ago, and that he never would have left me if he'd been straight, and that I was his soul mate. I was stunned to learn Don felt that way, and even more stunned at the generosity of heart that led Brian to tell me that! Brian told me it meant to him that Don was capable of the kind of love and commitment that Brian wanted, and it actually made him more attractive, that he would keep me close to his heart all those years. And for Brian it is tragic, because they were only together for six months before Don died. But he was no angel -- our breakup was very hard, and he kept the real reason secret for a long time, too afraid to tell me -- I had to figure it out for myself and confront him. And I have a lot of anger and pain from the past -- some he deserved, and some he didn't, but emotions are not logical! I will never forget the pain of his leaving me, no matter how much I understand the reason, and that he could not change who he was, though he tried to do so for years in order to stay with me. Nor have I ever figured out why he introduced me to his lover while we were still married, and we had New Year's Eve dinner together -- myself in total ignorance of the situation! That one seems so out of character, and he never discussed that with anyone, so I have no idea why he would do such a thing. It's possible he had decided to ignore the attaction and stay married, and thought if he introduced us, the relationship would stay at friendship level -- but that didn't work. And I don't know for sure that was the reason. I would love to have him back long enough to demand the reason for that! I'd love to have him back at his worst, just to see him again. I know my family thinks I'm totally nuts to keep my gay ex-husband in my heart like this, but he was the love of my life, and if that makes me a loser, OH WELL!!! That's just the way it is. Some of the things I have learned are comforting, but do not make up for losing him. And I regret now every time I told him to keep his distance, or I ignored his calls and letters because it was too hard to stay in touch. His friend told me he understood and came to respect that I needed to do that, but it doesn't help my pain to know that he ended up living a short life, and I missed so much of it. I believe you are right that seeing someone else is not evidence you are "over it". I am seeing someone, too. He is entirely different from Don, and my feelings for him are quite separate from my feelings for Don. Nor do my feelings for this man change my grief for Don. They are no threat to what we shared, nor were Don's feelings for Brian any threat. (Brian gives me tips on dating men! It's pretty funny.) Ann

I don't think these are all cliches, because my situation was a little different -- Don and I were divorced for 20 years when he died, because he was gay, but we still loved each other and had a close loving friendship. But people said: "Well, dear, that's too bad, but what can you expect with his lifestyle?" (My mother said this!) "He's just your ex, why do you care?" (Isn't it enough that I do?) "You should have moved on, and since you never remarried, it proves you didn't." (Mind your own business!) "Oh, he must have died of AIDS." (He didn't, but even if he had, does that make it HIS fault, and I shouldn't grieve for him?) "I guess he was an alcoholic, since he died of liver disease." (He was a teetotaler, where do you get off assuming that?) "How can you grieve for a man who did that to you?" (Who did WHAT to me? We were young when we met, he didn't know he would find his gay feelings surfacing 12 years later! Besides, who are you to judge how I should feel!) My best comfort is that his best friend has now become one of my best friends, and she is wonderfully supportive, and she knows how he felt about me and understands. So does my sister. Without these wonderful people, I don't know how I would have ever dealt with my feelings, and the complicated, disenfranchised grief feelings. And his boyfriend has been wonderful to me too, and told me how Don talked about me, and I told him how Don talked about him. We accept that we both loved him. And he has disenfranchised grief too, since our society often ignores the grief of gay people who are widowed -- not even recognizing that they ARE widowed. And this board is so comforting. I am lately feeling like a loser for crying almost daily although it's been more than two years. But I have read some posts of people also feeling ongoing grief after years have gone by, which made me feel that at least I am not going crazy. I hope. Ann

I am sure that the people around me think I am "over it". It has been two years and three months since my husband died. I still miss him every single day. I just don't show it as much. My sister and his sister are wonderful supports to me, and we acknowledge each other's grief and that it is ongoing. It is not so much that the pain lessens, or goes away, but it changes. It becomes part of your life, part of who you are. I no longer howl in pain every day, but when his birthday, or the anniversary of his death comes around, I still cry a lot. On other days, sometimes for no reason I can see, I will be in the dumps and cry. I can only say that now I have days where I can be with friends or family and laugh, and not feel guilty, because I know he would be glad. I can finally sometimes enjoy life, and look forward to things. The sadness and ache of his loss with always be with me. I do still have days where I wonder why I go on, and the world seems gray and empty. But I keep on. I believe he is still in my life, but without a body, and that helps. I talk to him (not in public!) I write letters to him. I believe he hears me. It helps a little. My therapist says it's classic that you feel the worst at about 5 to 8 months after the passing, because that's when the shock wears off and you are really feeling the loss. Everyone is different, of course. Most of all, don't listen to the people who say you should be "over it" in a month, six months, a year. They don't know what they are talking about, though they probably mean well. It's a long slow road, but you are not alone.

I lost a pregnancy 25 years ago. It was very early, only about 6 or 7 weeks. But now that my husband has died, I think about that baby more, because I would have something of him had she survived (there was no proof of the sex of the baby, but I always felt it was a girl.) I don't know if you have heard of the psychic medium John Edward, but I had a brief reading with him, and he told me he felt I had lost a daughter, because my husband was rocking a baby girl on the other side, and he was there with his parents, my in-laws. So I comfort myself that my baby is with her father and grandparents, and is well taken care of. My mother in law died before we got married, so she was there when the baby died. I don't know if you find that comforting -- it's what helps me. I never did have another child, but I felt so validated when I got that reading -- that even though that baby was never born, I am still her mother. Ann

Thanks for posting this, Marty. I was fortunate, because soon after I lost my ex-husband, I spoke to Dr. Baugher, a Ph.D. in thanatology, and he told me he hates the word "closure". That we don't "get over" our losses, we learn to live with them. It has helped me to go through this awful journey, and, as Sandy Goodman said, come out with your connection to them still intact. What a beautiful thing to say! Ann

That is a saying that a professor I work with says. He is a Ph.D. in the psychology of grief and dying. He says, "Cry and cry until you're dry." It is normal to have all those "what if's". I believe we all have them, I know I do: what if I'd said or done this differently? Could I have saved him? Could I have made his quality of life better? If only I'd done more! I think it's part of our brain processing the loss and how it happened. But bigger than that, I think it is a shock to us to realize we have no power over life and death. Especially in our country, we are led to believe we can control so much about life, and that this or that pill or surgery or whatever can extend life indefinitely. But with all our so-called progress, we are not God, we do not decide when it is someone's time to die. It must be one of the hardest lessons of life. So we endlessly go over and over what happened to see if we could have changed it. And maybe a different decision would have changed the exact day or hour someone passed, but maybe not. You did the very best you could, the best you knew how to do at the time, you made your decisions out of love. If you had your way, you would have her back alive and well and living to be 150! But you don't have that power. Remind yourself of that when these thoughts come up (and they do come up so much!) Be gentle with yourself. Your mom would not want you beating yourself up. She knows you love her. Ann

Yes, I believe that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I used to think that was very glib. But I lost my husband twice. When he came out as gay, we had to get divorced, and I was devastated. Then years later, when we reconnected and became dear friends, a few months later he died. The pain is indescribable. But he said to me during his illness, that he thought I must be sorry I ever married him. But I'm not. I followed my heart, and I know he did too. He was always my best friend, always in my corner, no matter what. Would I have wanted to deprive myself of that? Would I be happy to sit here and say I never felt the pain of grief because I never took the risk to love? No way. If this is the price I pay for having loved him and had his love in my life, then I will gladly pay it, despite the pain.

Thanks, shell. It helps a lot to know I'm not the only one who feels this way (although I don't want anyone to feel the way I do!) We did get some better news about my dad today after yesterday's doctor appointment -- they are changing his chemo to help with the side effects, and it does seem to be working at keeping the cancer from growing, so that is good. So I'm just getting through the days. I feel better today -- I have to remind myself that I have these days when I feel awful, but they are less frequent than they were two years ago. I guess it's just one day at a time, huh? Thanks for the empathy and the good thoughts about my dad.

I feel like I just can't get past this. It's been 2 years and 4 months, and I really don't feel much better. And we weren't even married any more! We divorced in 1983, more than 20 years ago. I think that's part of it, that I regret all those years apart. We could not have stayed married, he realized he was gay, but I wish we'd known how to deal better with it, that we'd been able to remain friends or something. I miss all those years that I had meant to spend with him. We did sort of keep in touch. Then we were very close during his illness, the year and a half before he died, but it doesn't feel like enough. Now my father has Stage 4 cancer, and I swear it's a race as to what will kill him first, the cancer or the chemotherapy. He's cold all the time, his fingers and hands are becoming numb, and he's too exhausted to do anything but eat and sleep. He likes to eat and the chemo at least is not making him nauseous, and my mother says that's all that's keeping him alive. It scared me to read of Ann Richard's death (the former Texas governor), because she had the exact same cancer my dad has, she was 5 years younger, and was diagnosed about the same time he was. I wonder if worrying about him is bringing back the grief about my ex-husband. For the first time, I understand why people drink and take drugs. I don't do any of that, but the unrelenting pain makes it tempting. Just something to make the pain stop.

kayc -- I think you are doing great with this unbelievably difficult situation. I agree that you should treat your "friends" versions of events with skepticism. I have to question why they would bring all this up now? My experience was similar, and it's so hard when you can't even confront him with it and get answers! I'm impressed with your wisdom in handling, though. Keep posting, it helps to express it!

I know holidays are hard, time moving on is hard. On my first birthday after Don died, I cried all day long because I was getting older and he was gone. I was turning 52, and he would never get older than 50. I was a mess. His 53rd birthday was last week, and I lit a candle and sang Happy Birthday to him. But I did a lot of crying again. I find holidays hard also because I feel so envious to see my sisters with their husbands, and my parents who have been married more than 55 years. We didn't get that chance, and we didn't have children either. It's hard sometimes to see my sisters' happy lives with their husbands and children, and I am alone.

I agree about friends. My husband and I had these friends in college. We introduced them, going on a double date with them as a blind date for them. They ended up getting married and we were in their wedding. They have been married for 30 years. For years we have only exchanged Christmas cards, since they live back East. I called them when he died, and they were sympathetic. That was over two years ago. This summer they came out to the West coast to see their son, who lives a couple of hours from me, so I drove down to see them. We spent the whole weekend together, and they NEVER said Don's name to me once. I brought him up, not in a morbid way, but funny things he would say and memories of the four of us in college. They would turn away and change the subject. I realize it was probably because they didn't know how to handle their grief, but I find it so hard to believe they don't know how much this hurts me? I was so looking forward to sharing memories with them! You know how it eases the pain to hear others speak of the one who died, telling you their memories of him/her -- I was so hurt to be denied this comfort that I don't even want to ever see them again! It makes me wonder why they even bothered to tell me they were in the area so we could see each other -- what did they expect, that I would completely ignore his life, pretend he never existed? I think people believe if they talk about the deceased person, they prolong grief. Only when you actually go through this do you know that isn't true -- you're going to grieve regardless for a long time, and talking and sharing memories helps. But a lot of people believe it's best to "avoid unpleasant subjects" as my mother says.

No matter how much time we have and how prepared we think we are, it's always a shock when someone dies. I knew my ex-husband was terminal for 19 months, but it still was a devastating kick in the stomach when he died. We just are never prepared. Ann

I also understand how hard it is waiting for a transplant that never comes. Don came within just a couple of days of getting the liver transplant. They had a liver for him, but his kidneys failed and they took him off the list. I cried for two years. I'm still crying after almost 2 1/2 years, but not quite as often or hard. I can only say that you never come to terms with it, because it feels to me like that is saying it's okay. For me, it will never be okay that he died. But I am learning to live my new, changed life. I have read that you come to a new balance and weave this loss into your changed life. That is what I think I am doing. I don't even have children to comfort me -- we lost our only pregnancy to miscarriage. I still have my days when I wonder what the point of going on is. It's just that after more than 2 years, I don't feel that EVERY morning any more. You learn to continue. One thing I do is talk aloud to him. I miss so much that pillow talk, so I talk to him at night, trusting that he can hear me. It helps me, I tell him about my day and how I'm feeling, just as I would if he were still there. Sometimes I feel this warmth, like I'm being hugged. It helps.

Grief does seem to hit us much harder than we ever expect. When my ex-husband died, I expected to be bereaved, and that I would grieve for him for a couple of months, as you say. Well, I cried every single day for two years. And now, 2 1/2 years on, I cry at least every other day. Years ago, a coworker of mine was murdered. We worked together daily, and were not particularly close, just friendly, but the shock and grief were overwhelming. I remember walking down the street and being so out of it that I fell off the sidewalk into the street. I was just wandering around in shock. My energy is returning, slowly. And my concentration, too, but it is still affected by my ex's death. It's better, but not to where it was before. Still, after 2 1/2 years, I can at least function at work!

Lori, I am so sorry for your loss and pain. All I can tell you is that what you are going through really is normal in grief. That doesn't make it easier, but you are not losing your mind, it just feels like it. And I know those "what if's" and how you replay and replay everything that happened until you think you really will go crazy! You won't, but it isn't easy. I couldn't sleep for months, because I would lie awake and replay everything that had happened in our lives, and try to figure out if I could have changed anything. It was endless, I was so focused on this that when I visited my sister two months after his death, I couldn't even complete a sentence, I was so distracted by my constant thoughts. I still sometimes replay it like that, but it is much less often. I believe it is our brains trying to understand and process the loss, because it leaves such a hole in your life and you just can't believe it, and your brain is trying to cope. Don't think about two years from now. Just get through the next day, the next hour. It's all you can do. I can only suggest to you that the reason I went to a counselor was that I needed to talk, and I felt I was being a burden to everyone with all the talking. I felt at least a counselor would be PAID to sit there and listen to me! So it wouldn't be a bother, it's her job. It did help. But you do need to find what works for you, we are all different. You are lucky you can read, I couldn't concentrate enough to read almost through the whole first year. So I talked, to absolutely everyone. I'm sure my friends hid when they saw me coming! I do not think you are feeling sorry for yourself -- you are grieving, and it's hard, and you're so tired and you want to feel better -- that's normal. Hang in there -- you will get through it, even though it doesn't feel like it.