Froggie4635

Marg, When I started clearing out stuff, I started with all the stuff Mark had stored in the garage; stuff that pre-dated me. Lots of manuals for cars and equipment he used to work on. Notebooks full of test results he got when he was in school. Anything that did not have his actual handwriting on got pitched. I sorted through it, then left what was left in a box to go through it again later. I kept anything personal (birthday cards from his mom and family). I have his high school diploma, and his certificates for various course he took. The things that related to our time together are still in the front bedroom. I sorted through them all, and divided it up. There are stacks of paper stuff, and boxes of other items. NOT ready to let them leave the house yet. I have offered many of his things to his siblings because they had similar hobbies...fishing and hiking stuff, camping gear, stereo equipment and all his tools. I haven't really gotten much of a response. I know they are busy and have children and lives. His mother has asked me twice what I plan to do with his ashes. She is VERY Catholic, and they believe ashes should be buried. There is a particular chest of drawers that came with Mark when we moved into our house. It held some of his clothes. Well, I cleared it out and it is just sitting in my dining room. She made sure to tell me when I make out my will, that it stays with her family. Well, I made it clear to her that it is ready to be taken now...except no one seems to want it. I love having things with his handwriting on them. I like to run my fingers over it.

I keep a book on my desk, actually two of them. I read them every day (they are actually daily meditation books). Today's quote that I felt was appropriate comes from the "Healing After Loss" by Martha Whitmore Hickman. "Under the calmest of circumstances there is no planning that can anticipate every contingency. But when out lives are all but shattered by grief, it is often a mystery how we're going to get through the next 24 hours, let alone make the necessary adaptations for the next five years, or ten, or twenty. There is no hurry. And no hurrying. The future will unfold, whether we're ready or not. We will make what impact we can on that future. Much of it will be out of our hands - a mystery, then as now."

Dear Ana, Secondary losses are so overwhelming. I am just beginning to face those, now that my fog has lifted somewhat. I saw a commercial this morning about Disney World. I have been there numerous times, but not in a very long time. My husband, Mark had never ever been east of Mississippi. so in my head I had planned to make sure he would see some of the places I had been. The one place he wanted so badly to get to was my hometown. He wanted to see where I grew up, and visit my parent's grave and let them know how much he loved me. I'm not sure if I could make a trip back there right now. I so understand what you are going through. Those dreams we had are no longer possible; yet another obstacle, another thing to get over. I haven't been letting myself touch those feelings yet...how I feel cheated out of those dreams; how I feel cheated out of my happier ever after that finally came. Like Kay, all I can do is send you a hug full of understanding.

Dear iheartm, Let me speak from my heart. This forum has been the lifeline for just about everyone who has posted, yourself included. We go searching for a place that understands our pain, our confusion, our anger; a place to seek "answers" and validation. Each and every griever is unique. Our relationships, and the way our spouse passed and where we were in our lives when it happened are all elements that affect our journey. It is not a journey we chose for ourselves. I am sorry you feel unsupported. I am not always good at smoothing things out. We all understand that when we are in a place that the hurt and pain are so intense, we do not wish to see people speaking of their lives "moving along". I, myself, in those days where I couldn't see straight out of pain, turned away from someone who had moved further along. I STILL am not ready to even begin to THINK about letting go of what I am experiencing. This forum is all about expressing what is in our hearts, and sometimes just venting. But, even when we don't agree with what someone posts, we should respect the words that are "spoken". You are not feeling respected, or heard, and I am sorry you feel that. It makes the hurt even more. You expressed that you did not think positive things should be posted here because those in early grief do not want to hear those kinds of things, can not imagine themselves feeling or seeing hope. But, how do you think we get from the low points? Even though we are not ready to accept the "light" words, it is that gentle encouragement that little by little helps us know this journey does move forward. Everything in its time. The agony of our losses is something we will never forget. I always make myself a promise that I will never use a cliche to "help". You are experiencing a pain that consumes us. We come to this site to find understanding, regardless of what stage or place we are in our grief. And even though someone feels lighter at the time, doesn't mean that the dark will not rear its painful head and wash over us. Please know I understand what you express, and respect your opinion. But I also respect the opinion of each and every poster here. It is what makes this work. It is not possible to send you a hug, but I do.

I can relate, George. I feel the same way. The motion of grief is not a smooth, set one. Today I am missing Mark so much it is hard to breathe, but I am continuing on as I have been. I still am not real motivated to do much more than necessary, and I still find myself exhausted by weeks end. But I am learning to not be as hard on myself because things SHOULD be done, but it isn't a true priority. There was an analogy I found on a post somewhere along my journey....that grief is like rolling up a ball of yarn. Sometimes it jumps out of our hands and rolls across the floor; yet it NEVER completely unrolls. so we pick it up and begin rolling again, just in a different spot. Kind of helps me visualize the ebb and flow of grief....the spiral motion it has...not really staying in the same place for very long. Some times we just need to stop, be still and breathe until the minute passes. YOu are making strides on your journey, George.

Dear Marg, What a wonderful way to connect with your husband. Just think about it. Even though they are gone, you KNOW that even though they are in a place with no pain or trouble, they have to also be missing us. Love never dies. So why wouldn't they want to somehow connect with us? They want us to know they are okay, but they also want US to be okay. Though it may not sound like it by the things I say, I am missing Mark so much that it is hard to breathe. But I want to take care of it when I get home. Still wear that "work" mask pretty well. Sometimes when we get "advice" from different people, we need to try something if we wish to feel better. Sometimes we don't get the result we want, but if we didn't try....we get NO result.

Dear Cookie... It is pretty common early in our grief to not be "aware" of the kinds of things Kay wrote about. I went and saw a speaker, who talked about those types of connections. What he said is that when we are so bogged down with grief, that it kind of blocks our reception of those precious connections. Sometimes when we really NEED that, it is good to just ask. I did it once; specifically asked for a sign and not long after that, and I mean minutes, a cardinal flew to my bird feeder. It happens; we just aren't open to it because we are surrounded by our grief....and that is normal also. If that helps you any.

Today's meditation in the book "hope & healing for transcending loss" by Ashley Davis Bush is very interesting, and visual: "We are like sea glass as we grieve. We start with sharp, jagged edges as our world is shattered. And then, with time, with mourning, with sharing, with reaching out, with grieving some more, oue edges get softened. When we let grief change us, we take on a new shape. Let yourself become softened by the sea of grief."

Just to let everyone know the distraction of grief in my life...I bought a sweet potato I'm not sure how long ago. It has always been sitting in plain sight. Well, it is now turning into a plant. It just shows how much focus it takes to deal with grief. We have to give ourselves the time necessary.

Dear Amy, So very glad to see you back, and with such upbeat news. Such a wonderful step in your journey. I use something every night to be close to Mark. My sister-in-law made a pillow from one of his shirts. I am due to add some more of his cologne. It helps me to be able to touch something that touched him. So good to hear your news, Amy.

This is where my journey on this forum began, about 14 months ago. It took me a couple months to find my way here, and once I did I followed along as so many of us came and left, and returned again. I was looking at how many views various posts have received. This one has over 10,000, so there must have been something put here that people found helpful, interesting, thought-inspiring. I read through my very first post and see how I was so lost in grief. I know that grief is like a roller-coaster. Right now, I feel on a high peak, where I can look beyond the dark realm of grief. But I know with no uncertainty, that I could find myself plunged down in its depths once again. It is part of the journey. When you can't see beyond your personal, protective place, it is hard to listen to someone speak of hope and getting down the road. I know that, because I found myself there plenty of times. I wrote about how muddled my life was; that I felt I was constantly treading water. My question was "how long"? Well, I am finding that my fog has lifted to the point where each day I bear the hurt of missing the one person in this world whose love was beyond measure. I still struggle often to make the simplest of decisions, and my focus and concentration are not even close to my pre-grief life. Through these struggles I will face that anger I have kept at bay while existing in the fog. Anger at having to start again, of having to relinquish a life I waited so long to have. It is hard to think about dealing with something that has no blame. I now find I examine my beliefs in everything. I have to find the confidence I gained when I found Mark. You wonder how you can lose that, when it must have been a part of me all along. But Mark enhanced so many things in my life, and with him I was able to test the waters of new things, step beyond what was safe and know he would catch me. I still find myself with little motivation to step, once again, beyond my comfort zone. It is like all the colors that filled my life have been watered down (with tears), and looking for them takes so much effort and energy. At 16 months, I still find myself exhausted by Friday. I have learned to keep my grieving to myself; there are a few colleagues I can turn to when grief awakens. I know I have a right to grieve as I need, but not the strength to convince anyone of my rights. I learned a long time ago, you have to pick your battles. The only battle I have strength for is to get through each day feeling a little better, doing my job to the best of my ability and give all the love I hold for Mark to my three furry children. My heart always goes out to those who are just learning what this journey is all about, and their hurt brings mine to the surface and I remember. Writing has always helped me free myself; when I was waiting for love to come to me, when I stepped away from my family to find a life I could love and now when I am facing the toughest journey of my life. Sometimes we need to really be honest with ourselves and know when it is time to move on to something else. When it is time to try and use our experience to lessen the fears of others. We can't FIX the problem; we can't judge their decisions. The are no rules for this journey, and sometimes that is VERY DIFFICULT. No way to judge our progress; no way to know where we stand. I know I find that hard. I always liked to check things off my list; show a goal achieved. But we have no goals, other than to find our way to survive. And no one can tell us how to do that except the most simple of advice: one minute, one hour, one day at a time.

Mitch, A short while after Mark passed, my brother in law came over to assemble a television stand I had purchased before Mark died. Mark would usually have jumped on it to build it, but we had an existing television stand he had built long before we met. He was concerned that I would relegate it to the garage or something, so his way of making sure that didn't happen was to not put it together. Well, I had disconnected all the electronics (receiver, dvd player) in preparation for moving them from the old stand to the new one. I thought I had paid attention to where I unplugged each item, and the order of re-connection. Well, using the original book that came with one of the pieces, I managed to get things plugged in as I thought they should. Well, when I turned everything on, the dvd player was only in black and white. One of the wires got plugged into the wrong place, but there were so many wires and places. So, I sat quietly and asked Mark which one was in wrong place. Didn't take long to get the answer. He also helped me hang a rather large picture on the wall. I had framed a movie poster from one of our favorite movies, but we never got around to hanging it...would definitely be a two person job. Well, when I finally decided where I wanted it, I measured and marked the spot on the wall. I thought it needed to have a wire strung on the back to hang it, but it had D rings. Well, one of them was tight and would stay up, while the other kept dropping down when I would get it in place to hang (it was heavy, but I was determined). I tried like three times. Then I sat it down on the floor. Without really "asking" I tried one more time, and low and behold, the rings slipped right in place and the picture was hung. I know he was there helping me. So, like you, I keep faith he watches over me, just like Tammy is watching over you.

Dear Mitch, Once again, so eloquent. Those of us who came here around the same time, have spent time watching out for each other, and it is usually others who can first see our progress. But it becomes TRUE progress to ourselves when WE can see the words coming from US. I can attest to the roller coaster that grief brings to my life. I know I have a ways to go. But I try to keep my eyes looking forward, instead of reaching too much into the past. I know I am not close to being ready to let go; the thought terrifies me. But I do find myself smiling more than I have. Having to create a new life that I did not choose is not easy or wanted. But perhaps there is something I am supposed to do. I have to see what is in store.

Dear Mitch, What a truly beautiful, heartfelt, honest post. Like you, I can feel a little of me finding her way back to the forefront of my life. I have done what I can to survive so far, but as the days go by, I feel a little stronger. I still don't let myself think about my future, a future that no longer includes Mark. But I think more of him smiling at how I am doing, instead of concerned that I am stuck. I am no where near ready to think of letting go. He was my anchor in so many ways; we leaned on each other. It is hard not to have his strength. But he always had faith in me, and I am going to continue to honor him by looking forward and no longer looking back. I hold tight to the love we had. There are no words I can use to describe how very much I miss his presence in my life. We were together all the time, other than when we had to go to our jobs. When I think too much about him being gone, the tears come. But I know I am doing better. I am grateful to you for always sharing your journey; the good days and the hard, hard days. It is still HARD to be without the love of our lives. I can honestly say it is going to take me a long time to adapt to that. But I know I am not alone. Thanks for sharing.

I know that perhaps I am simply in a bit of a reprieve from grief, but I can appreciate the fact that I am still standing. I am not looking at what tomorrow holds, but I am in the moment and am able to smile just a bit. I don't allow myself to think too long about never having my Mark here. There are enough reminders of that around every corner in my home. I don't want to focus on sadness right now. Oh, I miss him...there are not enough words to describe that. But I have made it so far, and am on my way to learning all about my new "life".

Dear myeverything, I am so sorry for your loss. The best thing I can say to you is be kind to yourself, and take it hour by hour, day by day. Everything you have known before is changed and different. I lost my husband in December 2014, and just recently passed the 16 month mark. Be assured that he is still with you, and that love you have for each other will carry you through this journey. There are many caring individuals here to lean on. I found reading books and articles about loss of spouse helped me understand that all I was experiencing was normal. Rest when you can; grief is exhausting. My husband was my soul mate, my rock, my very best friend. I have just recently started to not feel so much in a dark place. Come here often and write and post; it will help you so much. you are safe here.

I too am feeling as Mitch is; a little lighter and not so gloomy. But I also know this could change in the next hour if a trigger presents itself. Part of this is helped by blocking the thought of what could be. I don't let myself think of my life without Mark. Not right now. I am trying to focus on me, in the moment. The hurt and the missing are still there, I just keep it at bay right now. I'm not saying that I have had an epiphany or anything. I still get very tired from the grief, and motivation is minimal. But I don't feel like there will never be light for me. While I am feeling this way, I am going to enjoy the respite for a bit.

I found this on Pinterest. Perhaps can be inspiring.

I don't want this to come across as an apology; just respectful thoughts about our community here. The world of grief is a tough place to navigate. I have made it a habit of not responding to a post that is full of emotion without first letting myself digest all that was said. I would then decide whether or not to respond. I never want to respond just to respond. And sometimes the way I interpret a post changes with the frame of mind I am in. When we are down in a low place, we just want to be heard. Putting the words down releases it from our soul. I guess since I have taken the grief writing courses a couple of times (and how my responses to the prompts changed so much from October to March), I have taken my writing for the most part private. Now I present things to my friends here to perhaps get a different viewpoint. Some posts here just tear my heart out; bring the emotions right to the surface; some posts cause me concern for the person posting. It has always been a safe place to come, but I find myself standing back sometimes. I never want to do/say anything that would be counter-productive, that would cause anyone to feel picked on or not heard. There have been many people who have come through here, and then never come back. Perhaps they found something to send them in a new direction; perhaps they felt hurt or misunderstood. We all know that our grief journey is unique and individual, and this is a good place to reach out, and to support and uplift and reassure. I know when I am in a down place, reading something that sounds too positive doesn't sit well with me. But I do not respond because I don't want to squelch the good intentions of that positive message. I respect everyone here far too much. The same goes for when I am having a good period, and I feel more hopeful. Reading negative responses to positive ones defeats the purpose. We are sometimes in very sensitive places in our lives, and feel alone and lost. The fact that we all continue to come here and keep posting shows we want to keep moving along our journey. Marty has created this forum for us and all those who need help. I feel privileged to be a part of it.

Even though we come here as strangers, we find a connection with each other. We begin to look out for each other. We notice when there are long periods without a post; when someone is "missing". Even though we are grieving and hurting, we are observant of those around us. We truly begin to care and develop relationships. We are a community. We are friends. We are here to encourage and to understand. We are here to listen, and to share. I know I wouldn't be where I am without my furbabes, and this wonderful group of souls. I know I have a ways to go, and that there will be more hard moments and surges of grief. But I know where I can turn, and also be there for others who don't know which end is up. Hugs to everyone here.

Dear scba, Making a BIG change is difficult for a lot of people, but even MORE difficult when in the midst of grieving. You want to be better, you want your life to be past this. It is hard to have the desire inside to WANT to be happier. I know I find myself feeling guilty if I have a few good days in a row. How can I be laughing and making jokes and feeling so "light" when my husband is dead. It is terrible the thoughts and feelings and things going on inside us...all at the same time. It is overwhelming and confusing. You are right about not having a guide, or "rules" to move us along. A check list of steps and accomplishments along the way. And you are also very wise to realize that the old "YOU" doesn't exist anymore. You did die when he did, at least the part of you that made a life with him. Finding out who we are NOW is a HUGE task. And you are trying to do it in a new place. Please be gentle with yourself. You are making strides, but it is hard for you to see it right now. Big HUGS to you. I keep a quote on my desk at work, and in my living room at home : Let Whatever You Do TODAY Be Enough".

Dear Mitch, I wanted you to know that I have seen a change in your spirit and posts over the last couple months. I remember when you first came to this group, and how many of us were worried and concerned. I know I even wrote to Marty because I was so concerned. But you are an example of all the things I read in all the grief and loss books; the change is gradual, and at first it is others who notice it. But there comes a point where we are able to see all the growth we are making, and how our own "awakening" happens. I know I am proud of the steps you have taken, and know you will be a great inspiration and help to those who are just stepping into their journey. Tammy is smiling down on you and very glad to see how you are keeping all that love for her with you and letting it help you get stronger each and every day.

I've been attending a loss of spouse group for a couple months now, and last night was the first time that the whole group came at one time. It was 8 widows, all in various stages of loss. It is held at a time I normally would not be out of the house. Well, last night when I got home, I felt myself over stimulated; not emotional, but just not able to quiet my mind. I find myself worrying about one of the members. She is just two months out and she used the word desperate. She is on an anti-depressant and anti-anxiety meds, and feels they aren't working. It is not my place to say anything, but I am concerned for her. I also find it hard in a group setting to not to compare your progress. How is something so individualized as grieving helped in a group setting? How long should I give it and how much of a connection should I allow myself with the others in the group? I know it is all up to me. If I left now, I would feel almost like I am deserting the others. There was one of the ladies, she is only 44, and already talking about trying to find love and going out to try and meet someone. I was really kind of upset by it. I still feel so married that the idea of looking for a "replacement" is completely out of the question. I guess it comes down to the reasons why you find a spouse...out of need, out of necessity or because you want someone to walk along with you. Are these normal things to think about after attending a group? Am I maybe not ready? Or perhaps it isn't something that I need?

I think I know part of the reason why the hurt has lessened at this point. I am now passed all my major dates until fall. February was so hard, and my birthday just a week ago was the final date I dreaded until Thanksgiving. No more birthdays or anniversaries or major landmarks in the emotional cycle. It is the same feeling I get when Friday arrives and I know my work week is done for a couple days; no more wearing of the public mask. I am still coming out of the "fog" and believe me, I still put up barriers to keep from letting too many emotions come to the surface. I don't even let myself think for more long enough to say the words, about the rest of my life without Mark. I completely stay in the NOW. I know that I have reached a point that I don't have to keep myself from dealing with an important date. Gwen, it will come; it may last only for a few minutes, or maybe a week, or perhaps it will stay long enough for you to take a break. Please don't envy me because I have some lightness. We all know how quickly it can get dark. We can't compare timelines; each journey is unique. From all the books I have read, the second year is supposed to be harder; reality becomes more a part of life. I am making it because I don't let myself think beyond right now, and that is what works for me.

Well, perhaps in some way, hearing it reminds you that life is out there, even though you are not wanting to participate in it. This new life takes so much adjusting; some days are easier, some days it doesn't happen at all. I get upset and want to go back in time and do what I can to change the outcome. I like your word "gloried". Nothing could describe it better. I couldn't wait for his phone call every day when he was on his way to pick me up from work at the end of the day. I hated when I had to do some special days at work on Sundays, because it was our only full day together.