feralfae

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

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

{{{♥ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥}}} I am laughing in all the fairy dust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I felt Doug with me yesterday as I went in to the lab for the last two tests that had to have samples, and now I wait a week or so for the results. If all is well, I won't need any more tests for several months, and hope to be free to travel. I am still looking of a new car to replace my wonderful Honda CRV that is 14 years old with 220,000 miles on it, and really needs to be replaced. Then I will feel better about driving longer distances. As well, I continue with sorting and simplifying my life, getting rid of a lot of things. I am trying to remember all the good times Doug and I had, to accept but distance myself from a lot of the painful past with the criminals, and to find ways to look at the future and believe that there is going to be a good life for me, and that I am in the flow of time toward more peace, more happiness, and more acceptance of this new life. There are still many days when I find it impossible to make it through the day without wishing Doug were here to share the decision-making with me, here to hug me, and here to enjoy the song of a bluebird, or the gentle bounding of one of the rabbits, as it comes to us for some carrot bits. Making big decisions without him is still an awkward and tiring process, the car hunt bringing this starkly into focus. I am still putting off making decisions about many things until these test results are all back. They loom large across any path to the future that I might want to travel. I am being as patient as I can, but also realistically knowing that I am in a very stressful situation right now with the waiting. At these times, I miss Doug more than I can say. I wish I could write a slew of reassuring words that this grief gradually gets softer and easier to bear, but I don't think it is quite the way it works all of the time. Sometimes, there are great surges of longing and sadness, when it feels as though the world has stopped, hesitating in its path until somehow, Doug will be here with me and I will feel whole and hopeful and certain and confident in myself again. Then the surge fades, and the world begins to spin again, but those times when the world stops, I feel my own heart wanting to reach out and pull Doug back, to pull time back, to pull life back, so that things will be all right again. These times of readjustment, of being retrograde against the passage of time, seem to pull up the deepest of the sorrow and pain. I hope this is a healthy process, and so I let myself wail and sob. When I can let out some of the deep pain, I feel more peaceful and hopeful. It is as though I must occasionally acknowledge and then resolutely step through a thicket of thorns to reach the next place of peace on this journey. Sometimes, the path is simply overgrown with sorrow, and all I can do is bushwhack my way through, crying as the pain leaves my heart, and knowing that somewhere ahead, there will be more peace and that I will be pulled -- rescued -- back into a more even existence. But those times of deep clearing and deep pain are very tiring and hard to bear. I think because so much of my time is now fairly peaceful, that when these world-stopping times come, it feels terrible against the background of some peaceful days. So my thicket of thorns right now is the waiting for the test results. I am going to pamper myself for a couple of days with reading, needlepoint, and only a few hours at the desk, working on one client file. I may not be as active as I usually am, but at least I am still standing. *<twinkles>* fae

Anne, I love that! Especially "and everything heals with love" The 18 simple steps are excellent, too. Great reminders. Thank you. fae

I did not realize I had been away from here for this long. Things keep happening. Life goes on. I am slowly learning to cope with this autoimmune disorder that has taken a toll on my liver, and I am holding off on taking any of the chemo (my cancer is in remission, but the chemo can help suppress the symptoms of the autoimmune disorder) and other medications, because the side effects are notably terrible and can be terribly dangerous, including the possibility of developing more cancer or a fatal infection, and of causing more damage to the liver. I do not understand much of what is going on these days in the medical profession, other than that I do understand much of the education our doctors here in the US receive in our medical schools is sponsored by pharmaceutical corporations, who greedily push their drugs. I wish I had more energy, but my energy is slowly increasing. I find my plate so full most days of things to get done—especially things I must do to take care of my own health—that I seem to have a lot less time for reading or sharing here. Most days, I just ask Doug and G*d to help me make it through the days, and know that things will work out for the best, no matter what. I am so very grateful to still be alive, to have found a way to stay on this healing journey, to have not become too bitter or angry to be able feel the wonderful love Doug and I had, and to be able accept where my life is right now. Goodness and mercy keep arriving in my life right on time when I most need it, and I have come to have more trust in the loving care and constant presence of a kindly and magnificent Creator who brings what I need to me, whether it is a fresh outlook, a new healing path, or a friend who says the very words I needed to hear. I am surrounded by miracles and lovingkindness every day, and I think sometimes I forget that fact when the pain of loss strikes and my grief swells so much that I cannot swallow, nor can I stop the tears. I don't cry every day now, and some of those tears are for the trauma, but mostly, I simply miss my husband and his love and his presence here in our home. There is so much going on in my life right now that the days are very filled with "doing" and that helps. We take down the art show next week; the foundation taxes are with the accountant and almost done; my medical tests are coming back better although I am not taking the pharmaceuticals that were prescribed—which totally confounds the doctors; I am shipping family heirlooms off to family members so they can have the fun of dusting stuff for a while ; I am in the initial stages of vetting and perhaps taking on a new client; my courage, confidence, mental sharpness and curiosity are all returning, as well as my creativity; the studio is almost ready for me to begin a new series; my dear friend whom I visit often and who is now in assisted living is holding stable, and that is a blessing for her and for all of us who love her. This journey along the grieving path is a slow one, with healing happening at depths of my heart and spirit that I did not know were there. I have gained some bits of wisdom, and must say that I think that while this grief will continue to soften and the pain will grow less prominent in my daily life, the loss and sadness are going to be a part of who I am from now on, and that is how we humans are designed, I think. I would love for Doug to show up and take me in his arms and hold me one more time and tell me that everything is all right. But I do feel him here, comforting and reassuring me, and that is enough for today. And today is all any of us have. I am learning to love and appreciate life again for its own beauty and richness, and finding ways to enjoy and savor my days even while I long for Doug's presence. But I am finding solace in the certainty that we will be together again. It is comforting and gives me a sense of continuity to come here and feel a part of this community of grief and healing. We are each finding our way on our path, but we have much in common and much to share, and I hope that some of my words may offer some hope for healing and finding a way along this new, solo path for anyone who reads this. We will make it. Life will never be the same, but it can be rich and full and we can know joy again. I do believe that, and I think we are given that reassurance by our Creator as well. namaste and *<twinkles>* far

It seemed the only thing to do was "Like" this new feature and Marty's last post.

Thank you Kay, Although my health is better, and many things are going far better than I could have imagined, the absence of Doug is hitting me hard today. When I go out to the garage, Doug's work bench, with his tools, is there. Everywhere I look around here, from the benches to the gardens to the bird feeders -- all are reminders of Doug's creative and loving work and his presence, his consciousness, his hands, and our life together. I keep crying and having moments of being almost paralyzed with missing him. I know we are all going through this same feeling of being left behind, and so much longing to be together again. The holidays seem to hit the hardest as I unpack decorations, thinking of past holidays when Doug was here. I am smiling through tears right now, remembering our first Christmas together, when we found the tallest tree we could fit in the vaulted living room, and loaded it with ornaments just because we were so happy being together. So, this evening, I am going to light a candle and let myself hold and gentle my grief while I write in my journal and remember, remember, remember. There are so many good things in my life, and I don't mean to dismiss all the blessings, but for a while this evening, I need to let myself grieve and feel this flood of sadness that my magnificent husband is no longer here with me. namaste fae

Thank you, Kay. I am grieving a lot healthier as I heal from the medical and psychic traumas, and that makes a huge difference. My emotional balance is returning, as is my physical balance, and my psychic balance. Belleruth Naperstek and my wonderful healer here have been remarkably effective at helping me put myself back together. The other day, it felt as though some special piece clicked into place, and that now I can stand back and admire the new creation and get acquainted with me. I hope things are going well for you over there. Is it snowing yet? I know it is due here, but only snow in the mountains. We are due for rain down here in the foothills. I have had a super busy couple of weeks with clients and art. Today, I am resting and letting my body rest from a bit too much exercise and moving wood. And it is a beautiful sunny day for taking a wellness day: sunshine, warm, breezy. A good day for kite flying, actually. Hmmm . . . maybe I will go on a picnic to one of Doug's favorite places where we could sit under the huge trees, near the creek, and listen to the water gurgling. It is really warm here. Down on the lake, there is a little breakup, with ice ridges piling up toward the western shore. But I know in a few days the North Wind will remind us that it is winter in Montana. Is everyone about ready for Christmas? One of my fun projects this week is to send out Christmas cards, and I love taking the time to write personal notes, think of the person or people who will hear from me through the card, and how wonderful it is to have friends and family, tribe and community. namaste, fae

Maybe some day, when I retire, maybe I'll write a book about it all. This has been almost a four-year saga, but I think it is over now. And here is what I know, for sure, and it does not matter what the comparison: G*d is (the) Good and Love is STRONGER *<twinkles>* feralfae

Life keeps getting better. I am healing. And things are just falling in line like a wave of synchronicity sweeping down the river of time with the tide.

And here's another really good one about Leaving an Old Identity Behind It helped me to recognize and think with more awareness about the process of becoming, and the state of emotional and identity limbo that accompanies these shifts in who we are, have been, and are becoming. *<feralfae>*

Gratitude and remembering. Keeping in my mind that I could hold the happiness of the Thanksgiving season, and the sadness of celebrating without Doug, I went into the holiday mindful of my own need to balance, acknowledge, and find a place of comfort for my own spirit. After a fairly quiet two days of company, too much delicious food, lots of being social, and occasionally taking breaks to send love to Doug, I sat quiet for a part of today, to write a long letter to Doug, remembering four years ago, our last Thanksgiving, when he was here, and we had company, and after dinner the guys went out to sip port and puff cigars, and I stayed inside to clear the table, set out candles, and make some coffee and tea. We had torte au chocolate Callebaut with raspberries for dessert. It was a warm Thanksgiving day four years ago. Things were so very different. We had not quite given up hope, still knowing that miracles could happen at any time, but the surgeon and doctors had been pretty clear after the last surgery that there was not much hope of many more months, and Doug was anxious to get many things resolved before he left. But we had that Thanksgiving day, and that holiday weekend, to enjoy friends, hold hands, snuggle and smile into each other's eyes, and tell each other of our love. We had dear friends where with us, patient and helpful to Doug as he did his best to be host through his weakness and inability to eat much. But he smiled a lot, and told great stories. Yesterday, one of those same dear friends raised his glass, and with tears in his eyes, made a toast to Doug, because he misses Doug as well. It was a touching tribute, and warmed my heart. I am glad Doug is still loved and remembered by friends here in Montana, and I am sure by friends all around the Earth. I am so very thankful we had our years together. I am so very thankful we got to love each other, share from our hearts and spirits, and have this love that is enduring and forever. Doug's spirit is still with me every day, and I am incredibly thankful for that. He guides, reassures, and comforts me. No matter what has happened, he has been here with me to help me to carry on, to help me to hold on to my faith, and to not give up. His gifts to me are unending and fill me with gratitude for his love and the blessings of his spirit joined with my own. In the midst of all the celebration and beautiful tables, candlelight and epicurean-delighting food, I am thankful I have such beautiful memories to sustain and strengthen me. Even while the sadness brings tears, the memories and the loving presence I feel always in my heart, speaking spirit to my spirit. I am sustained by those days and hours we share with each other from the depths of our being. I am most amazingly blessed to have such a love in my life. Blessings to us all. *<twinkles>* fae

In my email box this blustery, chilly morning was an email linked to this article: http://www.emotionalgeographic.com/blog-1/2014/11/23/holidays-and-trauma-holding-both Which speaks to all of us who face this holiday season with a loss, with that sense of someone missing from the days, and the challenge of holding our loss, our trauma, while also holding the beauty of the celebration with those who are still here around us. It was just what I needed today, so I thought I'd share it here, because we are all in the midst of the holidays, while needing to honor our own feelings of loss. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! *<twinkles>* fae

Anne, I cherish your posts and the wonderful links and images, music and meditations that you share. I often don't sign in these days, but just know that your generosity is appreciated and welcome. *<twinkles>* ff

Kay, Thank you so very much for keeping us "in the loop."