Jump to content

feralfae

Contributor
  • Content Count

    3,566
  • Joined

  • Last visited

About feralfae

  • Rank
    Advanced Member
  • Birthday January 26

Previous Fields

  • Date of Death
    7 February 2012
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:
    Wonderful Rocky Mountain Hospice, Helena Montana

Profile Information

  • Your gender
    Female
  • Location (city, state)
    Helena Montana
  • Interests
    Archaeology, art, alpine climbing, classical music, Common Law, exploring, adventure, poetry, reading.

Recent Profile Visitors

1,865 profile views
  1. Oh my goodness! To come visit here all these years later reminds me of how broken, shattered, lost and vulnerable I was when Doug left more than 6 years ago. And how I have grown, found my own way, and come to know more about this new me who is making her way solo these days. What has touched me on this visit is the wonderful loving warmth, the tender compassion and heart-felt support which has always been the hallmark of Marty's place. OH, how I hope everyone here is healing, that the grief is not too heavy to bear, that the minutes of peace and good memories come, that from the depths of your heart arises the Grace of loving memories of a Love that has changed form, but not left you as bereft as you may feel today. How can I tell you how you will be stronger, how your heart will slowly mend, how your will smile again at the sound of children' laughter, or the flight of a butterfly, and that life will charm and enchant you again one day. How wonderful, how heart-warming, how joy-filled and grief-burdened, how courageous and yet lost we all have been. Find a bit of beauty in every day. It is how we help the healing of our hearts. Thank you to all the beautiful spirits, the loving hearts here who helped me to be able to stand and and walk through the shadowed valley of loss, when I thought I'd never be able to get off of my knees again. *<twinkles>* feralfae (Special Love to Marty, especially)
  2. I am so sorry to find you here, because I know you are here because you are in pain and suffering from a terrible loss. Hello, this is Feralfae, checking in after all this time. I have passed the 6th anniversary of Doug leaving, 7 February. It was easier this year, remembering those last days of his escape from his cancer-invaded body which no longer functioned. But his mind and spirit where brilliant to the last moment, and after he escaped, he sent so many messages and words of reassurance (through dreams to his friends, who would write or call to tell me about dreaming of Doug talking to me and what he said) and still, when I need his comfort, strength, and reasoning, I can ask and it never fails that the answer comes in a dream or as I am doing something else. This, for most of us, is the darkest canyon we will every survive. It feels like our own death, because half of our life—of us—is gone. But only from a body. They are still here with us. Where else would they be? I just want to reassure you that you will live through this. Spend as much time as you can with people who really do love you unconditionally. But remember not to wear them out with your grief, so a grief support group can help a lot. And while you will survive, when you emerge from this dark canyon, you will not be the same person who was forced into this place of the shadow of death. I would not be a sane person today without the grief support I found here, and among some of the friends I made here, and from my grief counselor and therapist. This is a sanctuary when our worlds have gone all awry. We need to be here to get our balance back, and that is going to take just as much time as it takes, no matter what we do. We must give our Hearts time to heal. Peace and Light to your Hearts. *<twinkles>* feralfae
  3. It has been a while since I have been here. I've just gone through several days of living through the fifth anniversary of Doug's leaving. I wanted to some here and share this with everyone. Our godchildren, many friends, and even some of our neighbors have visited, called, or simply sent a card to recognize this 5-year milestone of time passing since we lost Doug. Have hope. I know it is hard and that when we are newly lost in the world without our spouses, we feel that nothing will ever be in balance again, that the world has shifted to a place of darkness, and there will never be light or warmth again in our lives. But it happens. It has taken five years so far for me to find my way back to something that feels fairly normal. Life is very different now, without Doug, and I still miss him every day. All around me in our home are reminders of him, and I have a file of all his notes and letters to me that I read and review when I am feeling lost. But I am gradually gaining a new sense of who I am now, of a future which I must plan and prepare to enter, and a sense that while Doug is still with me and still loves me, that there is going to be a new life for me that will carry me along and bring new happiness and sense of direction into my life. This has been the most difficult journey I have ever made—and I am not sure it is over yet—but I have a sense that the emotional growth, the new insights into emotional pain, and the grief that I have learned to carry will all serve me in the future. I have a lot more compassion with bereavement now. I understand the sense of utter loss, of life ending in so many ways that life seems to be over. I think I will be more kindly and caring toward those who are suffering from a terrible loss, and I think I will be able to listen to their need to share with a more open and empathetic heart. This has also been a time of great growth for me. I have a sense that I have reached a new level of maturation, and that all my relationships with other will be richer, fuller, more open and caring, because I have had to face the worst, accept it, and live through it: Doug has left that cancer-filled body and only his spirit is with me now. In these five years, there have been many days when all I wanted to do was to join Doug and be with him again. But this gift of life is such a precious thing, so I am glad I am still here to enjoy the life I have been given, and to find new ways to express my love of life and all of creation. Hang in there. It is the roughest journey, but on the other side are opportunities we cannot imagine to help others and live a fuller, richer life, although a different life. Namaste, *<twinkles>* feralfae
  4. I came here today because I felt the need for the solace I find reading the words of others whose hearts have been broken by loss as well. Here I find some hope and a sense of commitment to going on with life, no matter how long it takes to get up off the floor, much less move forward. There has been so much going on in my life, almost all of it still related to losing Doug. I've spent several months up in Alaska, and finally was able to make a decision to let go of our home up there. I'm also backing away for a while from many projects, knowing I need to focus more on my own emotional health and physical health needs right now. One of the hardest things I have had to do was let go of our home in Fairbanks. There were too many thing that needed to be fixed on the house due to age and years of being rented, and after I consulted with an architect and an engineer, as well as spending a lot of my time cleaning and making small repairs, I decided that I needed to just give up. And the atmosphere up there was so sad. Even with some friends, I felt very isolated and alone, especially being surrounded by so many happy memories and being constantly reminded that those days are over. I see so many of my friends who lost their spouses after I lost Doug, who are now happily remarried, who have moved on with life, who have let go of the past, taken down all the photos, cleaned their houses, and in many instances moved to a new location. I see a few who are still where they were, still single, but some of them dating now. And I? I feel terribly alone, vulnerable, and not sure of what decisions to make about my own future. But maybe the reason I feel so vulnerable and alone right now is that I've only been home a couple of weeks, and am still feeling the aftershocks of all that happened up in Alaska. I am working on being patient and compassionate with myself, desperately wishing Doug were here to tell me what is the best thing to do, and hoping the insights I need will arrive soon. Meanwhile, I am just here, in survival mode, knowing that we are each in survival mode, and that these days of being tired, of being confused, or being unsure of myself, and of simply wanting Doug to help me with it all, these days will pass and things will get better. I will find a way, I will heal, and life will look more beautiful to me again soon. I am in the recovery stage from the recent efforts, battles, and additional losses. So keep me in your prayers, and I'll keep doing the best I can each day. It has been almost five years since Doug left, and yet I still miss him every day and long to just be able to hold hands with him, to feel the comfort of his presence, and to know that he is watching over me, no matter what happens. Some days are a lot better, and a few days are even worse, but this set of losses up in Alaska has thrown me back into grief and emptiness. I know we have these times, and that there will always be these days of feeling overwhelmed with sadness and grief. I now it will pass. But right now, I just wish I could feel myself wrapped in one of Doug's wonderful hugs, safe and protected. I am stronger and certainly less lost than I was 5 years ago, but some days feel as though things are not getting better, just staying the same, sitting here not able to see even the faintest glimmer of the light of hope. I know this is a "downer" of a posting, but the reality of grief, of loss of this magnitude, is that it can be thins bad sometimes, even years and years later, and we find a way to live through it. I think a part of my way to live though it is to share it here, so that it does not feel so heavily centered on my own heart, but so that I can see it as a grief shared by the world. namaste, fas
  5. feralfae

    Bentley

    Dear Mary, I just checked and found this topic. I am so very sorry that Bentley had to leave, and I can only imagine how much your heart is aching each time you look around the house, or listen to a sound, and realize that Bentley is no longer there with you. But I am sure both Bentley and Bill are with you, and that you are wrapped in their love even as you grieve. namaste, fae
  6. {{{♥ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥}}} I am laughing in all the fairy dust.
  7. It is good to be here. But now, I must get to sleep, because there is a very full day tomorrow. Kay, you are right, I think it is all the reasons. *<twinkles>* fae
  8. I find myself drawn back here to my first "grief home" where I have always felt able to express my grief and share my feelings. I don't know why this 50th month anniversary of Doug's leaving on April 7th has been such a tough one for me. Maybe because having good medical reports has freed that part of me which has been on "medical alert" for the last four years. Maybe because it is a while since I have had any serious medical issues requiring surgery. Maybe because it is Spring and Doug is not here to plan and plant the garden with me, or to have our first Spring picnic with me. I think the relief from getting all the great medical reports let me relax and open my heart more, and so now I am feeling new depths of sadness and missing having Doug here to celebrate this wonderful news. I was truly prepared to get more and more ill, and then die, and was consoled by the fact that at least I would be with Doug, so it would be okay. It is true what they say: great news can be stressful, too. I had really surrendered, after four years of medical issues, to slowly, gracefully, peacefully fading away, joining Doug and leaving all of this life behind, and it really did not feel so bad to consider that. But I also prayed, did a lot of research, and led a disciplined life of diet, exercise, meditation, and more prayer. And a lot of loving people prayed for me as well. I am in awe of the power or prayer. I think it is going to take a while to adjust to the fact that I am healthy again, and that life is going to go on. I need to adjust in new ways to life without Doug. I need to adjust to being able to expect more from my body, and to gaining more energy and strength. I need to let the toxic trauma stuff and the terror keep leaving my body, so I can move on to focusing on other things. I feel so very blessed to have been led to this healing place where we understand and can empathize with each other in our days of deep pain and overwhelming grief. I feel fortunate to share with others the struggles, the triumphs, and the day-to-day living that we learn to do without our husbands or wives. I feel honored to listen and to speak among this tribe of loving strangers who become close friends through the process of sharing from our hearts. This journey is a long one, starting in the deepest center of our hearts, and branching off in all the healing directions we need to travel to find our way back to a new balance and a new sort of life. Without this Tribe, around this Fire, I don't think I would have found my way along my Path. Thank you Marty, for your beautiful spirit and your loving presence, and for the gift of this healing place. *<twinkles>* fae
  9. I'm so glad to see this reminder. This wonderful place certainly kept me going many times when I was deep in grief. Thank you Marty, and I hope you know how much we appreciate this caring, healing, loving place to come and ease our broken hearts. *<twinkles>* feralfae
  10. Oh, joy! Three pounds, eight ounces is a special mark, if I recall. It means Gracie is growing, gaining cells, her organs are working better, and she has better control over her body temperature, too. So very happy to hear the news. *<twinkles>* fae
  11. Dear Anne, Thank you for your generous spirit and all that you share. Sometimes, I find exactly the words I needed to read (hear) and those words stay with me through the day, bring comfort and hope. Thank you. fae
  12. Oh, Anne, how wonderful to have all those wings above you as you celebrate Jim's birthday! Doug was a pilot too, both before and during his service and then after. Aviators often seem to have a wonderful perspective on life. I know Jim did -- it shows in his smile. Much Love to you today as you remember, celebrate, and as the grief flows from your heart. namaste, far
  13. Oh, such good news! Please pass this along to the folks at the hospital where Gracie is: premature and newborn infants love music. Bach seems to work well, and also helps with their ability to get the while sucking, swallowing, breathing right. My younger daughter was hospitalized until her weight got up to 3 pounds, and the nuns played Bach for her while she was learning to take nourishment. (I was recovering from a C-section). Today, she is 5'9' and a VP at Warner Brothers, but mostly she is a wonderful person with a warm and generous heart. So, music for Gracie! I am so very, very glad to know she is doing better. Thank you Kay for keeping us up to date on her progress. *<twinkles>* for Gracie. far
  14. Thank you so much, Kay and Anne and Marty. I am trying really hard to keep in mind that worry is never helpful, but also being realistic about what the doctors have said. Well, some of what they said, anyway. Some days are super and filled with promise and activity and feeling that I am making it very well through the challenges. But I have observed that generally after a few days of being very involved, busy with people, and "out in the world" I need to withdraw and recharge my energy levels. This is my long-time personality: I used to take Wednesdays off when I was at Northwestern, and also when we were very active with the foundation. So, today being Wednesday, I am hoping to take off most of the day from work, worries and needing to check things off of the task list. Just rest today, I hope. I sometimes think of how wonderful, active, full, rich, happy, and complete most of my life has been, and that this trough of grief, healing, recovery, health issues, and occasional confusion and despair are simply a part of the balancing out of life. I believe there will be more summits, but right now, I must admit I still feel that I am convalescing much of the time. It takes me back to after my bad fall, with both my arms in casts, a dislocated knee, cracked head, all that stuff that happens when a human falls a long distance. And I trusted my body to heal then, with the help of doctors and therapists. So, I must trust now that my spirit and heart will heal. Healing is a natural process for us, although I think we all go about healing in our own way, at our own speed, using our own means to arrive back at wholeness. I can feel my body and my spirit longing toward wholeness, and some days, I can feel that wholeness for a while. I appreciate more than I can say the support and love of each of you, and know that my world is a better place, and my healing a better journey, because of your presence in my life. I cry for myself sometimes, thinking about what I have been through these last several years, and yet I know that my blessings continue: I have wonderful support around me; I still have Doug's love and loving presence; I am walking and moving around better than I have since before the cauda equina, although I have lost some nerves and muscles. I am tentatively reaching into life again, not being so fearful of what I might discover there. Thank you. Thank you. *<twinkles>* fae
  15. Dear Butch, I have not been around much, but have been reading Kay's updates on Gracie. I am sending prayers, loving thoughts, and lots of love to Gracie and you and the family. May Angels surround you, and may you all be held in the Light. *<twinkles>* fae
×
×
  • Create New...