heidi1

I too am glad it is me suffering this and not Robert, the death of his mother when he was 15 made him aware at an early age about loss through death, and he always said he couldn't bear the thought of losing me. I found him crying once at the thought there might be something wrong with me. You are right Kay that they are not there in the lifeless bodies, and right too when you say' but it represents something all the same', I know there's nothing wrong with cremation, but I couldn't bring myself to burn his body, so now I think of what's happening to it under the ground, there is no right or wrong or easy way to deal with the remains of our loved ones. I do try to do something necessary each day, today I have applied for a bereavement payment, I should have done it weeks ago. Jan, I seem to be always thinking back to when we were young, so many memories over 43 years of them, they are painful to me, I want to shut myself away, I don't even want to let go of my grief, because it would seem like a betrayal. I know my daughter needs me, and probably my sons in a way. I have left the 'sympathy' cards up still, I will take them down on Sunday, 1 month after we put him in the ground. And then there will be no sign left of what has happened, he is simply gone. I do still hope to die every day, and pray for it, I know it's selfish, but i feel that it is the only way to end the suffering, and in spite of what I say, i do think maybe he's waiting for me, it is crazy I know, but I think I am crazy with grief, I think maybe I'm a weak character to feel like this. I should be grateful, we had something rare and special, something that not everyone gets to experience, and only comes once in a lifetime. If you're lucky. Heidi.

Kay, I do believe what the bible says, that the dead know nothing, it does promise a resurrection, and that's what I pin my hopes on, that Robert is asleep, like the meaning of the greek word cemetery as sleeping ground,( btw the friend who told me that, her parents are Greek). I am sure Robert will be resurrected. Like you, I cannot believe that death is the end. There is comfort there, but the loss is now. It's all so overwhelming, that I would far rather just go to sleep tonight and not wake up until I can be with Robert again, that's what I pray for. I don't want any day without him, it's too difficult and painful, every day I find fresh losses, more painful memories, it doesn't get better, it gets worse. You are truly inspiring in your story, my first husband too was a horrible man, and he still is, why is he still walking around and my sweet, kind Robert is dead? And Robert suffered, he didn't deserve that, he was crippled and near blinded by a stroke the year before, my poor poor Robert, then the last one rendered him unable to move or speak or eat, he was like that for 11 weeks and 1 day, it was heartbreaking to see how helpless he was, the fear in his eyes as he was turned, and I'm overcome again, sorry. Heidi.

Fae, Chris, Kay and Jan, Thank you for all your wonderful replies, your sharing of innermost feelings and experiences in an effort to help others, it speaks volumes of the kind of people you all are, loving and giving of yourselves. All of you believe that your loved ones are still alive somewhere, and that gives you comfort. I would love to believe that Robert is alive somewhere, but my dad, although not a religious man, said the bible says the dead know nothing any more, and their thoughts perish (perhaps he was more religious than I knew) also, I worked as a nurse, sometimes alone all night on wards that were reputed to be haunted, never saw anything, my grandma told my mother if there was anything she would come back and let her know, and my mum was the type to see things, but nothing. Like you all, I cannot believe Robert is gone forever, if that is so, then life is indeed futile, or as my cousin says, life is a cruel joke. I do think my dad believed in the resurrection, he would mention the 'good book'. So, like Kay, I believe we will be together in some physical form someday, but right now, life is a painful burden too heavy for me to bear and if Robert is sleeping in death,(a friend told me the greek word cemetery meant sleeping ground, which is a nice thought), then I would like to go to sleep and wake up when I can be with him again, because nothing means anything without him. Heidi.

Did you ever think you would die from grief? Did you? I do.

Chris, just over 5 weeks, and I know I can't make it, I feel so bad tonight, I've been crying on and off all day, I feel panicky, I can't face the future without him, I don't want to live in a world without him, I need this nightmare to end, I'm in so much pain, I'm so frightened, I've been with him since I was 18, I've never been alone, I could never be with anyone else, please may I not wake up tomorrow, I can't face another day. Heidi.

Unfortunately I don't get 6 hours sleep, more like 4 or 5, as soon as any consciousness comes to me I'm awake, and a horrible feeling in my chest and back comes up until I start to cry, I did have one of Roberts' sleeping tablets the night before the funeral and it helped, but I took one the night after and it didn't seem to do much, I haven't bothered since. I don't have a lack of energy, certainly not for crying. I am a mess, nothing can temper the unbearable fact that Robert has died, I'm trapped in an unending nightmare. Heidi.

Chris, I do understand, I'm sure Fae is right though, you should eat something, I eat thousands of calories in junk each day, mostly sweets and chocolate, but I don't put any weight on at all, people think I don't eat and are quite scornful when I tell them I do. I think it's the grief burning it off, plus I have to do plenty of walking or I won't sleep at all. I don't go to bed before midnight, don't get to sleep easily, and am awake about 6.30, when it all comes to me, and I cry and pray to die. I was mowing the lawn last night until it got too dark, and we have a BIG one. My thoughts are torture to me, Robert is everywhere I look, in my every memory, a constant ache in my heart, a knot in my stomach, a cry from my soul, please don't leave me behind, please let me be where you are, today, please. Heidi.

Oh Chris, I am nothing and nobody without Robert, he was the confident one, I'm just background material, I don't know what to do with myself, I used to like reading, a good murder or psychological thriller, but I can't seem to get interested, actually I haven't tried, no motivation. Robert couldn't watch TV for the last year as his sight was damaged by a previous stroke, so I've got out of the habit, now, as with reading, I'm just not interested. I used to read to him at home, he was never much of a reader, but I read books to him and he said then he could understand why I read. He didn't want the talking books, said he liked to hear my voice. So that was what I did for those 11 weeks & 1 day in the hospital, read to him, so he heard me and knew I was there. And just writing this I'm overcome again. Heidi.

Wifflesnook, My daughter was talking yesterday to someone she knows who lost her husband 7 years ago and she said she doesn't think she really accepted he was gone for about 5 years, and this person had only been married to him for half the time you me & Chris had been married. Sometimes when I've been doing ordinary things, I feel that it isn't real, it can't be, Robert must be in bed, and I try to hold onto it, but events creep in around the corners of my mind, the hospital, the funeral. I've been and taken the 40 red roses and the anniversary card, my daughter laminated for me. I talked to Robert for about an hour (and cried). Chris, I have often thought it would be good if we could just lie down and will ourselves to die, I have tried. I was never easy in myself when Robert was very far from me, he used to go up to the north of England (270miles) to sort business out once a month some years ago, before he became ill with heart failure, he always set off early and tried to be back for the night, but I was always uneasy. Now I know I'm going to feel the same when I have to go away and can't be near Robert & visit him every day.

Chris I understand exactly how you feel, today at 10.10am 40 years ago we were married , I sat thinking and crying at that time this morning. I love him more now than I did then, because of all the shared years in between then and now, the joys, the heartaches (yes there were heartaches as well,) all the shared memories. We walked through life together, and now I am left crippled by grief and loss to stumble through what is left of this painful burden I call life, I was so sure I would die soon after him, and it being only 5 weeks tonight since he went, I may yet be right. The 1st night after Robert was buried I kept thinking 'it's the 1st time he is not being looked after, he's alone' and I really wanted to go down to the cemetery in the night, but 1 of the kids was staying with me, and I knew they wouldn't let me. I will take my 40 red roses to him this afternoon, it's a horrible day here, dull, cold, (8C) and raining, and that is in accord with what is in my heart, raining and bleak. 40 years is supposed to be a ruby wedding anniversary. I never wanted a ruby. I only wanted him. Heidi.

Mary, Kay, Chris and Karen, Thank you for your thoughts, I have bought 40 red roses from Asda (Walmart in the U.S.) and a card, I will write in it and my daughter will laminate it, tomorrow I will take them down to the cemetery and place them on his grave. I don't keep the blinds and curtains drawn any more as we have no neighbours so are quite private anyway, otherwise I would do, I too wish to hide away now, to be alone with my grief. Every day I pray to die, many times, and every night I pray not to wake up in the morning, who knows, tonight may be the night my prayers are answered, I know Robert would have been pleased to think I followed him shortly, and everyone would know how much I loved him, although I think they already know. Isn't it strange the way it takes away your fears, I say to people that nothing could happen to me now that's worse than has already happened Heidi.

Mary, That's a lovely picture of your Bill, you must almost feel as if he's in the room with you, I know some people struggle with seeing pictures of their loved ones early on, but I had to face it straight away as the children wanted a big photo of Robert at the funeral, it now resides on the hearth and i see it as I sit here and write. Tomorrow would have been our 40th wedding anniversary, in our wedding photos all the apple blossom is out, and in our garden I can see it will be in full bloom tomorrow. Oh how my heart aches, instead of anniversary cards tomorrow, the 'sympathy' ones will still be there, I intend to leave them there a month from when we put him into the ground. I left the blinds drawn until the funeral, I don't know if you do that in the U.S., but here in England, all the curtains or blinds closed is a sign there has been a death in the family. Five weeks tomorrow night, and I seem to sink further into grief. Chris, I understand the thought of wanting your love to be proud of you. I try to dress ok (but I wear black all the time), I brush my hair and make an effort, WHY? I really couldn't care less about myself. It's because in some strange way I don't want Robert to be ashamed of me. Heidi.

Chris, if you have found a path to lessen the unbearableness of your situation please tell me what it is, in the hope that it might help me, or point me in the right direction at least. Today I enquired of the funeral director whether Roberts' grave will take me too, and thankfully it is a double grave, so I can go in there as well, aside from anything else it saves money not having to buy another plot next to him, even if that were available, I wouldn't have liked not being next to him.

Chris, in that dark place where your soul now resides without your Paula, I and others reach out to you, to say we care, we understand, tell us how you coped with this 1st anniversary, tell me what I can expect if I'm unfortunate enough to live that long, because to me every day is like a year without Robert. What has happened in your heart in this last year, I have read your story in these posts, I have seen the false dawns, the dashed hopes in your struggle to come to terms with the tragedy that your life has become. Please let us know you're alright, no I know you're not alright, but talk to us Chris.

Chris, you would have liked Robert, he was a very genuine, kind and friendly man, and he would have liked you, he never thought badly of anybody, and from 1st meeting me he loved me, I did know he would have done anything for me. My sister told me at the funeral that he idolised me, and a friend said the same thing the other day, but I didn't know that. Imagine my loss, a lovely man who thought the world of me and I him, 43 years together from teenagers to middle age, children and grandchildren together, suffering together through his illnesses, then devastatingly he suffers for 11 weeks and 1 day, after a stroke. He fights, I fight with him, the battle of our lives, our enemies are the stroke and the staff who think he should die, I tell them life is precious, and his, priceless to me. I had hope and tried to give him hope, but the enemies were too powerful. Now I know I will be reminded of my own words that life is precious, but mine is not to me now, because I have lost that which made it worthwhile. The hours march on for you Chris, my thoughts are with you, and those of many others here, in England it is after midnight and I'm going to bed, i hope to sleep, may God be with you during your darkest hours. Heidi.

Ok Chris, fresh back from the cemetery, it's so nice there, so peaceful where I go to visit and talk to Robert every day, on the way there I passed 2 teenage girls sat laughing & giggling by the stile you have to climb over to the cemetery (if you go the back way, which I do so as to hide away). And I said to Robert, 'we were like them once, not knowing what life had in store for us, or who, and we were so lucky to have found each other'. Then the tears came. Again. If I could have one more day with him, one hour. I always say I will be back tomorrow, unless my prayers are answered, and then I'll be with him soon, and if he needs me, I'll be at home. It is crazy isn't it? But it's the way it is, and I love him so, and I am assured that I can live without him…..but I don't want to. I will be thinking of you tonight Chris, as I'm sure lots of others on this site will be too, my thoughts and others from the UK will start earlier, and others will follow from all the different time zones on this forum, may God be with you. Heidi.

It isn't real, it can't be, Robert has always been there, he is so often resting or asleep, I've been alone a lot, I'm used to it. Yes, that's it. I won't go and look though just in case. Perhaps I'll hear the click click of his walking frame soon, I do hope so, because that means he's awake and we can spend half an hour together. Otherwise, if I can't find him, I'll run through the place calling him, and looking in every room, I've done that before. Now the panic and tears are rising, I must wake up, but there are all those cards around, all with Sympathy on them, don't let it be true, please, dear God, don't let it be true, let me die, I don't want to live in a world without Robert in it.

I don't think for a moment anyone is judging me, it's just that i can see how unfair it must seem, that some are struggling to live while others don't want to, I was trying to apologise, there was no double meaning in my words I have always thought I am ungrateful for my life in feeling this way, I just can't help it, tonight I am trying to sort a terrible financial tangle, Robert would never have left me in such a mess if he had known, but on top of my grief I must try to sort this out, and as I go through the convoluted paperwork, I am hit by waves of 'what does it matter? I've lost the person who made my life worthwhile,' and 'it can't be true, he can't be gone, this cannot have happened' and I just want to die, I'm so sorry, I don't mean to hurt anyone, I just don't want to live in a world without Robert.

I understand those on here who feel it wrong that ones such as me long to die, I know I seem ungrateful for the life I have, and yes I'm aware that while I visualise a swift demise, e.g. heart attack, I'm well aware that may not be the case, I may get some illness that makes me even more of a burden to my children. But my life is so painful and my need to be with Robert so great, that I feel some relief to pray for an end to it, please forgive me, for I know it is selfish, I just feel so utterly wretched I long to join my beloved. For Fae, i so hope that things go as well as they can for you, and you make a recovery. For Karen, may your daughter beat this cancer, or at least go into remission, she sounds like a remarkable and courageous young woman. I join my prayers to those of the others for you both. Heidi.

Oh Boogieman, What has life come to when we pray to die? Keep on posting on here, especially in these darkest of days, your emotions are a valuable barometer to me, sometimes I feel numb and empty, and I hate that more than the pain. I walk as fast as I can up the hill from the cemetery hoping to induce a fatal heart attack. All I've succeeded in doing is hurting my back. Perhaps the reliving and facing it head on again is a healing, and I know you don't want to be healed, can't be healed, but perhaps it is the way our minds and hearts work. I know that on Christmas Eve if I'm unfortunate enough to be forced to live that long, I will enter an even darker tunnel than I am in at present, right through to 17th March. As I write this, I know I can't do it. Please merciful God. I don't know whether you felt like me initially, I felt some relief that Robert wasn't suffering any more, that didn't last long, as I realised that when he took his last breath, and his pain died with him, mine magnified a thousand times. You are right about not burdening our children, and I must stop it. There is nothing in life now that could make me happy, no amount of money, nothing, there is a sickness in my soul, a large part of it has died and is now rotting and festering, destroying the rest, you hear of the broken heart syndrome, well mine is broken, why can't I get that? I will reiterate what I said earlier, please keep on posting, tell us, tell us what you are going through, know that we hear you, and in our replies feel that someone cares, Across the thousands of miles, know that we all suffer for you as we think of you, and we walk our own lonely painful road. Heidi.

It is on this thread from Boogieman that I have posted, because I recognise in his anguished and heartfelt outpourings of grief over the last 12 months, echoes of my own feelings. I am at the beginning, and have no desire to endure further, would be so relieved to just lie down and die. There is nothing I can imagine in life now that would make me want to live on, only to find that Robert is alive again, and I well know that cannot happen. On the 20th of this month we would have been married for 40 years, 59 is no age, and he suffered, never smoked or drank much alcohol, just dealt a bad genetic hand as the doctor said. I suffered alongside him in the hospital, and died when he died, the pain for him is gone, and magnified a thousand times for me, he tried so hard to live, he would never have left me voluntarily. I ask myself how he would have coped if the roles had been reversed, and I know he would have been the same as me, you cannot know how awful this is until you experience it, and then you are trapped in it. Heidi.

JeL, you are doing so well, you seem so much better balanced, it's different inner resources I suppose, my dad died suddenly waiting for his flu jab at the doctors, he was 80, my mum had died 3 years before. while we were very shocked as he had not been ill, we recognised that he had a 'quality death' and it did help, as you say about your husband. I do know that I did all I could when my husband had the big stroke in hospital, no one could have fought harder than I did for him, and being a trained nurse I knew how to do it, I showed them pictures of him, told them about him, made him real to them. I was by his side my every waking moment only leaving to wash & change etc., even then he was never alone, I always had another family member sit with him. I told him how much I loved him, tried to encourage him. But…..did I make him suffer because I needed him to live? Your situation was different, you knew the cancer was terminal, you have the comfort of knowing you did the right thing. I needed to give Robert the chance to recover that the doctors wanted to deny him, i realise that a lot of it comes down to cost, here in England we don't pay for hospital care, so it cost the NHS a lot more for Robert than it would have done had the doctors had their way. Initially of course, we accepted what they said, but when Robert didn't die, but was fighting to live, we just had to do all we could. You trust the wisdom of others on here, that makes you wise, I'm so glad you feel better. Heidi

I put a photo of us on my profile, the expression on Roberts' face is such a lovely one & so typical of him, our son said at the funeral that everyone who ever met his dad even if only for 5 minutes, said what a lovely man he was, it doesn't seem possible that he has gone, I hope to wake up & find it was all a nightmare, or I've been in a coma & will wake to find it not true, anything. I go through the household calling him & checking every room just in case, I keep his walking frame by his bed and always look hoping to see him lying there, if only for an instant, I know I'm not rational, I don't care. I don't care about anything, I just need to be with him. Exercise is walking down to the cemetery, to talk to him and cry and tell him I will be with him as soon as I can, I love him, I can't bear it, I can't bear it, I need to be with him. My eldest son who lives away won't talk to me when I tell him how I feel, the others have their own lives and their own grief, but he was not their everyday life, he was my life, my love, and I cannot live without him.

To tell you more about us, we met when I was 18 and Robert only 16, he had lost his mum in a car crash a year before in questionable circumstances, she had simply driven off the road, his father had another woman in the household only weeks later. Robert was deep in grief for her, never truly got over her death, I had just come out of an abusive marriage, shell shocked. We clung to one another, marrying 3 years later. I had a son from my previous marriage and Robert was so good to him, we had 2 children together. Robert was a lovely man, very kind and generous would help anyone, as witnessed at his funeral, there were about 100 people there, we only live in a small coastal town, population about 70,000 so that is some testament to how well he is thought of, some had travelled a long way to be there. I always knew he loved me as I loved him, he told me recently that he had never at any time wanted to be parted from me, we had something very special, something that only happens once in a lifetime….if you're lucky. He developed diabetes at 41, mild stroke and angina at 47, heart attack in 2007, heart failure in 2011, mild stoke in 2012, a month later a bigger stroke which left him disabled, I never ever minded doing anything for him, these things brought us closer. Christmas eve 2013 he had another what appeared to be mild stroke, but 4 days later a big one, the doctors wanted us to let him die, me & the kids fought a very hard battle for them to treat him, 11 gruelling weeks & 1 day. The emotional ups and downs were huge, the staff were stunned at our determination (and not pleased) they inflicted little cruelties on me such as not using the toilet or having a drink, I was there from 7am to 11.30pm every single day, only leaving to sleep for a few hours, when I paid a carer to be with him, he was awake but couldn't speak or move, it was heartbreaking to see how helpless he was. The 2nd opinion we had (with difficulty & much unpleasantness) was encouraging. All for nothing, he died of aspiration pneumonia, brought on probably by incorrect positioning during feeding. In the past he would talk about dying but I wouldn't listen, I said,'if you go, I go, I can't bear it,' how true those words were, & a couple of times he said, 'maybe I needed to hear that', I feel he gave me permission to die soon after, but how? Nothing means anything anymore, I now realise, everything I did was with Robert in mind.

Dilusion, I lost my husband in March, I too was his caregiver for some years, I can honestly say that I never resented him being ill, I loved him so much, I cry every day many times, it is an effort to be with other people even my own children. It does seem as though crying is an outlet, a release, and I really don't care who sees me cry, because nothing matters anymore. So please don't worry about crying, I'm sure it is very normal.