Tableforone

Pmentzer I'm glad you had a good day. I believe that they are right here with us as you said. Hold on to the good days and remember when a bad one hits, that a better one is just around the corner.

I believe that one thing that is always the same when we lose our spouse, regardless of the circumstances...is that 2 lives end that day. Our spouse's death may be sudden and unexpected.... or a struggle that we anticipate. The second life that ends is always sudden. Our life with them. Most people who have never experienced this simply don't understand that. Nothing will ever be the same and its more than hard to do more than simply exist. Its been almost 3 months for me, and the wave is absolutely true. I'm sure people in the grocery can't comprehend why I break down and cry when I pass a certain cereal that I don't need to buy anymore. And Christmas?! I'd rather crawl into a hole until all of the holidays are over. I have already endured my love's birthday and Thanksgiving. The fact that I haven't broken things in the house out of pure rage, anguish and frustration is a miracle. There will be no tree, no lights and only the minimally acceptable amount of presents. I do not want to wrap, bow or tape anything... but I will. I've said in several posts that the most we can do in these early days is survive and I truly believe that. I split my days up into sections. What do I have to do to survive until 10 am. Then 12, then 2 and so on. I give myself "permission" to have meltdowns at specific times and feel no guilt whatsoever about it. You have to remember you are on no one's timetable. Anyone's expectations of you mean nothing. You have to do whatever brings you comfort or helps you to make it for that next "chunk" of time. I hope that time will ease the severe yearning we feel.... although I realize some of it will always remain. I want to get to the point where I can make my thoughts be about our life together, and not his death. About what we shared, what we had and not what was lost. I don't think that's too much to ask, that we be able to remember without so much sorrow. I don't know much about this journey yet, but I do know that the fog lifts some and the bubble you feel like you're in to begin with recedes. The emotions that come with that are horrible..... but I continually tell myself I would not give up one second of our life together to remove this. With great love comes great sorrow. I still can't look to the future, I can't bear to look past today. But having a place where others understand helps. Being able to "talk" without feeling people are tired of hearing about it helps. I read much more here than I post, but know that you've come to a place with no judgment, no expectations from anyone and only sincere people who want to help however they can. Many times the thing you need the worst is someone to simply "listen". Everyone here will "listen".

Harry: I am fairly new here, and new to this journey as well, but your posts have brought me so much comfort. I wish I could offer you some. My Love left this world at 52 years old. We all questioned why so many times, and all I could think was that some people accomplish their work, touch the lives they are meant to touch and make the differences in other's lives in a shorter period of time than we that remain. I know its no answer, but I have come to the conclusion that there are no answers as long as we're on this Earth. Going back through those times has to rip away the "scabs" that had formed. However thin they where, there was a small buffer. The holidays are difficult and adding an anniversary date has to compound it. I believe you have touched many lives and the "difference" you have made is far larger than you yourself think. I wish I had some good suggestions for you, but being a mess myself - you might be better served receiving them from someone else. I think all we can do is try and remember that love lives on and that we truly will see them again. Today will soon be yesterday. I wish you much comfort and peace.

Such a heart wrenching topic. I truly believe that regardless of what we do, we question it - agonize over it. In our minds, we have never done enough. I have had to make the decision to allow someone to move on more than once. Each time was a different circumstance, but ultimately I really tried to focus on what was best for that person. Not best for me. Even so.... you question it. Should I have done it before? Could more have been done? When is the right time to "give up"? Do we ever until its taken out of our hands? There are no wrong answers. Only what you feel is right at the time. The times that are urgent...such as KayC's... you have no real control over your thoughts.... or actions... you're just desperate for the most part. Wanting one more minute even. Circumstances dictate that you can't think past the all encompassing need to save this person you love so much. When the love of my life passed on - I would have done absolutely anything to have kept him. And if I'm honest with myself, even if it had not been what was truly best for him. Then I would have had to come to terms with what I had done. Ultimately, we can't continue to beat ourselves up (although I do constantly) because the choice really wasn't ours'. We didn't chose for our loved ones to be stricken with whatever resulted in their deaths or lingering conditions. We did and do the best we can at the time. We do what we do out of Love. There are no wrong choices when they're made in love. Only different paths to walk, with different but similar heartache and sadness.

I read this somewhere, and I so strongly believe it - If our love withstands and continues on after death, then it only proves that it does for the ones who have passed on. I talk to my husband every day. And I honestly don't care who thinks what about it. We do what we feel the need to do. Those who haven't endured this, have no idea what its like. I also believe that our loved ones rejoice with us and try to comfort us. I'm sure your Harvey will be beaming with pride and I truly hope you feel him with you on that day.

That really is so true. One tear at a time. The strangest things start them.... Today I thought I was doing okay, considering - mask in place. And it just hit me from out of the blue - that we wouldn't be growing old together. It hit me so hard I could hardly breath. People have a lot of goals in life, and our main goal was to grow old together, with our children happy. We would joke about it, of course.... but whatever came our way was okay - because we'd face it together. Granted, the older we got... the older "growing old" was. I still can't look at tomorrow. I'm still just focusing on today. I'm just sad. So incredibly sad. Such an inefficient word... but it so sums it up. His birthday is next week. I'm going to write him a letter and send it up in balloons. I'm going to try and use the environmentally correct kind, but honestly - if I cant find them... I'll still do it. People say writing letters helps... so I'm gonna give it a try. I talk to him... and I'll always do that. And thank him for sharing his life with me. I wish we had found each other sooner....14 years wasn't near enough... but I'll take what I can get. Missed time doesn't erase spent time. If you've love for 6 months or love for 60 years...... you still love.

Elly: The thing that seems to help me the most is to allow myself to be exactly where I am. It sounds simple, but its not. It doesn't take away the foggy disbelief or the pain, but you don't have to try and fight yourself to be anywhere or anyway other than how you are right now. I wont allow myself to think past today yet, that would be unbearable. Focusing on trying to get through this next hour is the best I can do. And that's just the way it is. I know this is a long long journey.... And like you - I still don't know how to accept this as reality. One hour at a time......

Bluelady: Its been almost 4 weeks for me as well, and it is overwhelming. All I can say is to take it an hour at a time. I don't even say a day at a time. Having someone to talk to has been the biggest help for me. Someone who will talk, listen, cry or just sit with me. Even if that someone is on the other end of the laptop screen. I too cannot move shoes... or even make up his side of the bed...Because I need those things. And you know what, that's okay. Don't push yourself. Take care of what absolutely has to be done, forget the rest. Your focus right now has to be on taking care of you. Just getting through this is all you can accomplish. Going back to work has been extremely difficult for me as well. Like you, we exchanged texts and calls through out the day. What I've found is that letting myself cry helps. I give myself "permission" to cry. If I have to go to the bathroom and cry.... I will. When I'm home, I cry when I need to, which seems to be most of the time.... but it helps. I'm considering a grief counselor in my area, because as you said - this is the hardest thing and your whole world has changed. There are a lot of threads here that help by showing you that you're not alone, you're not crazy and you CAN get through this.

In some ways, our stories are similar. My David was only 52 years old. No history of heart problems. Had a recent physical. I had even scheduled him for some heart scans - that would have been done tomorrow. Just to be on the safe side. His dad has some heart issues, so we were very careful. He had a heart attack at home, but I was here. I'm thankful that I was.... but its very hard to deal with as well. All the ifs, and what ifs.... The guilt that I didn't do enough or do things right. Replaying it in my mind. Trying not to. The list goes on and on. I don't remember several things about the hospital over the next couple of days - or the days right after the service... and I wasn't on any medication. I think part of that is God's way of helping us cope. I remember a constant feeling of unbelief. That I would wake up and it would be a horrible dream. That it absolutely could not be true. In shock throughout the funeral. I still get that feeling... And of course, still expect him to here when I wake up... go to bed... and all the times in between. One of the doctors at the hospital said "You have experienced a traumatic sudden death event". I remember saying, all death is traumatic. Now I know what he was referring to. But I also got very angry that he (and others) kept referring to David's heart attack as an "event". I understand why they did.... but it seemed such a horrible word. I cant fathom having to cope with the loss and being in the hospital after major surgery. Your body is hurt and then your soul is broken. Its unimaginable. I'm so sorry you went through that.

I thank you all for your words of encouragement. I have been reading a lot of the posts, downloaded some of the books, etc. Honestly, it has only been in the last few days that I can focus enough to read. Although I'm sure I'm still losing half of it. KayC - you expressed exactly what I said to my son this past weekend. One tender mercy I find in this, is that it is me and not him going through this. Those are the things I'm trying to hold on to now. The tender mercies. That he wasn't alone. That I had the gift of him for 14 years. That I know with no doubt at all, that he would have stayed with me if he could. That he knew he was loved, by me - by his family. That I know he loved me. That he wouldn't want me to hurt like this. My brother lost his wife 6 years ago. They have young children, she was only in her 30s and of course he was more than devastated. He reminded me of what I had told him at the time. "Some people need 80-90 years to fulfill their purpose on this earth. To touch the lives they were meant to touch. To make the difference they were meant to make. Some need less time. Try to find some peace in that when you ask why." I also told my in-laws that very thing at the hospital. Or so they tell me, I don't remember.... but it must be so because they repeated it at the service. I suppose I should take my own advice. I believe its true, and if I think on it... it does bring a measure of comfort. Knowing that I do know that he touched so many people and made such a difference in so many lives. That he did all he was supposed to do. But I always go back to we didn't do all we wanted to do. I spoke to a co-worker today who lost his son 3 years ago in a very traumatic way. His grief is still very evident and as I talked with him I realized that no matter how bad my grief is - there are people who have hurt worse. I don't think that's possible at times, but I do know it is true. And the fact that he reached out to me was overwhelming. I know it had to rekindle some of the pain he went through, yet he did it. He comforted me and let me cry and gave me "permission" to do nothing. Coming from someone who has and is walking through a horrible loss, it hit home. I do not have to do anything other than the best I can today. The shoes can stay by the door. I do not have to try and force myself to make his side of the bed. These things are okay until I can deal with them. I shouldn't beat myself up about them. I need them..... my little pieces of him, of us. And its okay. His glass can stay on the bedside table. I can sit in the closet in the middle of his clothes and cry if it brings me comfort. Some people can say the stupidest things "I know how you feel, but at least he didn't leave you for another woman".... and others are so kind. One thing is true.... the best place to find comfort and acceptance is with those who have been through it. People who have felt like there wasn't enough room inside their head for all the thoughts and emotions. That they can't possibly take one more breath, or know how to even just be. How to exist. Those that understand getting up and getting dressed is an accomplishment. How nothing really has meaning anymore. That you cant just accept it and go on. Of course I know what the reality is. That doesn't mean I can believe it all the time. Marsha mentioned unwanted advice..... I don't think people realize ..... some are already telling me our home is too much for me to take care of. I understand that logically... but its our home. There are pieces of us in these walls, and our peach tree and the ceiling lights he made for me. I wanted something delicate and we couldn't find anything. And he took all these pieces and made me the most beautiful lights and we put them up. And you're right... every nerve ending is on high alert and you may explode with so much advice. Thank you all, again - for giving me a place to pour out my feelings... I wish none of you were on this site, didn't have a reason to be. But I'm glad I found you.

I've read several of the posts here over the last days and have found comfort. I've never posted to any forum before... but I've never lost my husband either. I have wonderful friends and family who have been so supportive... but you also know that you make people uncomfortable after a time. Some don't know what to say. Some think that you should be farther along. Some, you just feel like you've burdened them enough. I lost my love only 3 weeks ago.... and it feels like forever... as well as like it still can't be possible. We were "those people" who truly did everything together. And that was all we needed. We are simple people who built our world around us, home and our family and friends. He was a kind and gentle soul. A true gentleman. In every sense of the word. And then... no forewarning, he was gone. I feel guilt because I couldn't do more. I feel loss. Disbelief. Anger (not at him). My faith has been shaken to the core. I know everyone knows all the gut wrenching feelings.... I feel broken... and the pieces needed to fix me.... are gone. I see the "event" as the hospital called it, over and over.... trying to push it from my mind - yet trying to figure out what I could have done differently... and the why didn't you-s........ I know I've in the very early stages. I've buried my mother and two brothers, so I understand logically.... but this sudden and total loss is different. I lost my best friend, my husband, our life together, the person who held me up during the other losses. I guess I just need a place to grieve with those who know....