Froggie4635

I love all my furbabies, and if I was able would have so many more. Sometimes I wish there was a way for me to scream from the highest place how wonderful Mark was, and that the world is missing such a great soul. I can feel the fog lifting some, because I am becoming more aware of the permanent absence in my life. When I feel it, I want to close all the shutters and wrap myself in bubble wrap and not deal with the absence. I know it is part of the healing of my soul, something that has to happen, but it scares me a little the idea of him NEVER again being with me. I try and stand up to the awakening of this reality, but I still have to close my eyes when it gets to feeling too much. I'm not ready to deal with the idea of living without Mark.

I posted something under my "How Long in the Fog" post that was probably more appropriate here...

Dogs (and all animals) are wonderful creatures. Mark and I were big animal advocates. We even talked about leaving everything we owned to The Houston Humane Society. Mark talked about the early years, and his hopes of one day being a dad. He would have been a really good dad. Our hearts were broken when we went to look at dogs that day in March, when Pongo found us. My dog Annie was very ill, and in a lot of pain that day in March. We had taken her to the hospital that Friday, and I knew when we were taking her that she wasn't coming home. Well, that next day, Saturday March 30 was my birthday. We stopped at the hospital to see Annie, and we both held her. Before I gave her back, I sent Mark to find the tech. When he left the room, I told Annie she didn't have to hold on any more, that she could go. I know he wouldn't have been able to hear me say those words. When we were leaving, I told him that I didn't want to spend the day being sad...after all it was my birthday. I said, "let's go to the Humane Society". That was where I got Annie so many years earlier. Well, the place had changed so much...it was beautiful. We went in the adoption entrance, in in there was the place they kept the puppies. No cages, just beautiful individual units with big windows and beautiful brick. Mark walked over to the closest window and looked down and then I saw that smile. I walked over and looked down and saw little Pongo looking up at us. Mark's first words were, "oh, he has trouble written all over his face". We went inside to where the door was and Mark got down on his knees and slid his fingers under the door and Pongo came alive. We went back and visited each and every cabana full of wonderful dogs. It felt good to be able to talk to and pet so many needy dogs. We spoke with some folks there and told them what we were going through...a good place to get comfort. Well, that night I got a call from the vet saying they were having a hard time keeping Annie hydrated and that she was not breathing good. I took the news and talked with Mark. His only question was "is she in pain?" I called back the vet and asked her if she thought Annie was suffering. She confirmed that even with all the pain meds she was on, she was probably suffering. Mark said, "then we have to end that now." Since it was kind of far to go that time of night, I gave consent over the phone (the ONE thing I truly regret). The tech I spoke to was very sweet and said that they would make sure to hold her and be with her. Mark was SO STRONG for me, even though I know he was hurting as much as me. The next day was Easter Sunday...and we stayed home and didn't go to the usual Easter get together. We made it through Sunday. Well, Monday we went to settle things at the vet, and decided to go and see if Pongo was still there. Because he chose us, and was going to be OUR first "child", of course he was still there. We filled out papers, got to play with him (Mark became a little boy in front of my eyes) and adopted him. We had to wait until Thursday to pick him up, but from that day on, Mark and Pongo were BEST BUDS. I have a couple pics of Mark sleeping on the couch with little Pongo on his chest. He LOVED that pup. I get the idea that Pongo still senses Mark around the house. I ask him all the time if he "sees Daddy". So when Pongo crawls up into my lap and "claims me" like Mark called it...I think of him and some days I cry, some days I just put my arms around him. He will ALWAYS be our first baby. I sit here at my desk at work, with tears in my eyes, partly from sadness and partly from love. Sometimes the absence of him is so very overwhelming.

Kay, When I got older and heard the stories Mom would tell others (outside the family) about how badly she wanted a daughter. Her first two children were boys. She even would joke that she had to change husbands to get her daughter. But then, if she wanted me so badly, why did she hurt me so much growing up? I know part of it was her upbringing; but also she had to continue to work as we were growing up. I don't know the entire story of her relationship with my dad. He controlled the money. She worked and her money could be spent how she wanted without having to ask him. He gave her so much for groceries every week. There was stress all the time. Dad had lost his kids in the divorce; his wife ran off on him and married his brother-in-law. Well, he did not try to have a relationship with his kids (I think he got hurt once and just didn't try anymore). So, he resented my mom's boys because she had HER kids and he couldn't have his. There were times Mom would pick at Dad for things unrelated to kids, and I always seemed to side with Dad because Mom's words could hurt really bad. When Mom had her stroke, she had a lot of anger for a different reason. She lost complete use of her left arm and could barely use her left leg. Mom used to do so much, and suddenly that was gone. We didn't know that what her doctor was doing by having her be at home instead of going to a rehab facility ruined her chances of ever getting back ANY use in that hand/arm. Her told her t hat it could take up to a year to recover, and the day the occupational therapist told her it was not going to happen, it was horrendous. She kind of gave up on anything after that. My biggest battle with her was keeping her from getting so deeply depressed she didn't want to live. One day when it was a cold winter day, she went out on the porch at sat. NO coat...and was crying. I asked her, pleaded with her, demanded that she come inside. Her response was "I just want to DIE". Well, I called my older brother, whom Mom adored and told him what was going on. He came and took her to his house for a visit. Dad and I needed a break. The night my brother and I took her to the ER, and found out at that time she had spots in her brain, it was the beginning of the end. That night after I had to tell my father his wife had cancer, I cried and grieved. After that night, it was a short 11 days until she passed. For whatever reason, I believe the tumors/spots in her brain were in the right places, because she never showed any signs of being in pain. The day we met with hospice, she was more lucid and I believe she understood what was happening. The night we left the hospital, she was restless and the weather outside was so bad. When we were leaving, she said "I love you" . The next day instead of getting ready for hospice to arrive, we were at the hospital as she died. I felt such a relief that day. It sounds so mean and awful, but it is the only word I can use. When I shared my story with Mark, he just cried. He felt so terrible that I had it so hard. His life growing up was the "Leave It to Beaver" life. He thought all kids had that life; all his friends did. I always told him that I didn't want him to feel sorry for me. Everything I went through in my life helped shape the person I am I always told him. When I moved away from home in 2002, I finally felt free and was able to find who I really was, beyond the disappointing fat daughter. No one ever saw that I sacrificed 12 years of living my life how I wanted to dedicate myself to her care. When I finally left, I was the deserter. I was sad that I had to leave my dad alone, but I needed to fly. And I had to go far enough away that I wouldn't be drawn back into the caregiver role. I always told Mark, if my mom was still alive, we would have NEVER met. I don't regret any of my choices. I made peace with my mom, and I mourned her. Then my wings sprouted and I found MY life.

Deeana, I loved your post. Thank you for your compliment. I have tried to sit down and write a letter to Mark, but I freeze. The thoughts just don't seem to flow. I was always able to tell him exactly how I felt, and the times I knew he needed to hear it the most, the words would come so easily. I know I don't give myself enough quiet time...there is always some sort of noise in the background, either tv or music on the stereo. When I go outside with the dogs and sit on the swing, my wonderful Pongo wants my attention. He is the dog Mark and I had the longest; we picked him out together and he is an old soul. On Saturday mornings when Mark would be leaving for work, and would come over to try and kiss me goodbye, Pongo would block him. He would stretch across my body and when Mark leaned down to kiss me, Pongo would kiss me and Mark would joke with him, telling Pongo that he was here first and to get his paws off his wife. So now when Pongo does that, I ask him is daddy here trying to kiss mommy? It is a wonderful memory, but even typing it brings tears to my eyes. **** shaking head *** How can he be gone?

Deeana... Mark's mom picks me up from work each night (I don't drive yet). Tonight she asked me if I was going to go to mass with them on Saturday and then go to the dinner. I told her I was thinking about it. I then asked her if anyone was going to be with her on Sunday. She said, not that she knew of. I told her that I would rather come and spend time with her on Sunday, Mother's Day. I know Mark would have done it...whether anyone was going to be there or not. When the family gets together, it is no longer about her...it's about the kids and what they are doing. I don't want a day, especially THIS Mother's Day to be about anything but her. I know she is not my mother, but she was Mark's mother. I am her closest connection to him, and she is my closest connection to him. I don't want to know what the other kids think about me or my mourning and grief. None of them have lost a spouse. I never see half the affection between any of them that Mark and I showed each other. I don't want to sound mean or judgmental, but they have no idea the hurt I feel. I don't want to spend the time trying to keep a brave face while the children run around and that is all anyone notices.

Congrats Karen...Marley will bring you all sorts of love and comfort. I am so very thankful for my pack at home...Pongo, Hannah and Max. Mark and I were both the kind of people if we had a big place, we would go and adopt all kinds of dogs to love. It feels wonderful when we can give love to a rescue dog. I can already feel all the love that Marley is going to get. Best to you all, Maryann

This year, Mother's Day is stirring up things in me. My mom, whose birthday I shared, passed away January 7, 1999. Her passing was quick. We found out on December 28 that she had cancer that had spread to her brain. She had suffered a stroke 12 years earlier that changed her life and mine forever. I became the parent and caregiver. Over that 12 years, I learned to forgive her for the things she had done in the past. I didn't have a wonderful relationship with my mom growing up; I suffered emotional abuse from her, and my dad really kind of ignored it. I came to understand that Mom learned about being a mom from her mom, who was an emotional abuser...and so forth and so forth. My mom did what she knew. And by learning that and understanding, I was able to forgive. I had 12 years to grieve the loss of my mom, because things changed when she had her stroke. When she did finally pass away, I also experienced the sense of relief. Her suffering was over. Now that I am dealing with grief from losing Mark, I feel so much for my dad; how he must have hurt when Mom died. If I had even known, I would have tried to make it easier somehow for him. I continued to live with him for a few years after her passing. I can remember getting the feeling from him of being lost, which I know COMPLETELY understand. Taking care of her was his whole life. She had her stroke not long after he retired, and that is how he spent his retired years. I stayed with him, and was his social life for about three years after Mom passed. I encouraged him to get out of the house, for us to take a trip here or there. I was always very protective of my dad. But there came a time when I needed to make my own life. I stayed at home and took care of my mom from the time I was 24, until age 36 when she passed. If I hadn't gone, I would have never made my life in Houston, and I would have never met Mark. Over the years, after Mom passed, I didn't do much Mother's Day celebrating. Most of the commercials and presentations for that day were for the living moms. When I began to really miss her the most, was when I got married and we moved into our home. When it became a HOME, I found that I missed her and dad so very much...especially at holiday times. I found it difficult some years to even think about putting up a tree and making a big deal about Christmas...I felt such a loss and missing of her. Because of how things were with my brother back home, I didn't really have anything that belonged to my mom. Before her stroke she used to crotchet and create things for Christmas. How I longed to have some of those items when I was finally decorating in MY home and I Wanted her to be a part of it. Christmas time really began to become a time of hurt. I would every year. This passed Christmas was right after Mark died, and I was deep in dealing with his passing. His service was held on December 18. I am not allowing myself to think about this coming year. I am just trying to get through Mother's Day. I want to be there for his mom, because I understand how hard it has to be. I have never been a mom, and can't begin to know the loss of a child. But I know that I hurt for her, and her pain has always been a priority with me. Even the day Mark passed, I was worried about her. I didn't think losing a husband would make dealing with Mother's Day so difficult. I guess we just don't know where our triggers will lie.

Mitch, I remember on my birthday, I made the same wish. Our love for our beloved makes it an easy wish to make, but circumstances make it one we know won't be granted. Since my mom has been gone since 1999, I didn't celebrate or even Mark the holiday. I missed her, but tried to avoid it. After I met Mark, we took part in the celebrations, though for his mom not mine. This year I am missing them both.

I am feeling all sorts of emotions right now, and I didn't want to tread on someone else's post. I am feeling hurt and a lot of possible mis-directed anger. I've read a lot about unexpressed grief from the past being stirred up by new grief, and I am not sure if that is what I am feeling. Mother's Day is this Sunday. In the past, Mark would always receive an email from his sister (a group email amongst siblings) about what to do for their mom. I personally have already purchased something for Mark's mom. My thoughts since Mark died have always included his mom...how hard this Mother's Day is going to be. I cannot relate on a mother level, because I have never been a mother. I can't pretend to know how it hurts to lose a child. But somehow this year, I kind of wanted to be included as more than just the sister-in-law. I wrote Mark's sister an email to see what plans they had for Sunday, and if everyone was going to go to mass as part of the day. Now I know that all Mark's sisters have their own families, and want to allow for their own celebrations with their children. The response I got from his sister really hurt me. Right now I want to respond to her email in a not very nice manner, but I know it won't do anything to help me feel better...it would probably make me feel worse, and guilty. I kind of always didn't give much attention to Mother's Day; perhaps I was trying to forget about it because my mother is dead. I always went along with Mark so he could be with his mom, and his family. But this year, I think I am feeling that loss of my mom, because of my loss of Mark. I know I may be feeling hyper-sensitive, but I interpreted Mark's sisters email as telling me that it is THEIR mother and not mine. I know she is not my mother, but I was married to her son. I guess I am just feeling put in my place right now, and it has brought some anger to me. I always accepted the idea that I married into a big family, and never once did I make Mark choose between me and his family. If there was an event, and I did not feel like going, I never tried to keep Mark from going. I never made him make a choice...I did that. He knew there were times when I felt out of place at a Mueller family event. A lot of times all the conversations at the get-togethers were about babies and children and the things that went along with those two topics. We talked about our feelings that we didn't quite fit in because we did not have children. But I would never try and keep him away from his family. Now that Mark is gone, I feel like the outsider standing there looking in. Does that make me sound irrational? Am I looking at things from a self-absorbed place? Do any of his siblings know that the day Mark died, I was more concerned about how it was going to affect his mom than my own self? This is one of those times when I can't say anything to anyone in the family, because it would create hard feelings, and that is not my intention. But I feel hurt and put in my place.

Dear Micki, Like you, coming to work helps me a lot. I have lots of support here, and since my weekends are so long, I am ready for Monday morning to get here. I am lucky that my job is pretty much the same every day. My routine is my salvation right now. And my three dogs are my strong motivators...they have to go outside, they have to be fed and they need attention on a regular basis. I'm sorry you do not seem to be able to get comfort with your mother-in-law. I spend a good bit of time with Mark's mom; she seems to always want to be strong for me, and I really feel for her loss. I know that Mother's Day is going to be hard for her. She had 10 children, but I know losing Mark is a pain no one can erase. I try not to get too emotional around her, because I know she is trying to be strong. We are growing a strong bond. I know it must be hard to go to a place that has always given you so much strength, and find it a difficult place to be in. I am slowly allowing myself to believe that one day this hurt will not feel so intense and overwhelming. Take your time with going through Don's things. I went at it with a fury in the beginning; because I knew in my heart that if I waited too long, then I might not want to part with ANYTHING. I started by going through things that Mark stored in the garage...things he accumulated before there was an us. I went through all his notebooks and papers and kept things that he wrote with thought and meaning at that time. I shared some things with his siblings, and still have things put aside that I want them to go through and decide if they can use them, or want them for sentimental reasons. I have washed and prepared his t-shirts to be made into a quilt, but I can't allow myself to cut them up just yet. I had to empty a big chest of drawers to give back to his mom, and the t-shirts happened to be what was in it. so I washed them and put them aside. Mu weekly laundry has diminished greatly; I miss the weekly washing and folding of all his work pants. He only had enough to get through the week, and it was a normal task (I miss it). I have to allow myself to admit that I am in a better place than I was 5 months ago (today is 5 months Mark died). It seems I have a harder time with the actual day (Thursday) than the date of his passing (the 4th). My mind still has a lot of "fog". I have trouble with having clear memories and remembering the sound of his voice. I still haven't had any dreams of him, and I ache for that. I have to be honest, I don't allow myself a lot of QUIET time...there is always the tv on or music on, even when I fall asleep at night. I have three pages left in the journal I started January 1. I keep reading any book I can get my hand on about losing a spouse; looking for some phrase that explains exactly what I am experiencing at that particular time. I can't focus on anything with a plot or story I have to follow...I watch mostly re-runs and old movies, because they really don't need my attention...they are company for me. I don't want to dip myself too deeply too often in the complete hurt. I am still finding my way. Be gentle with yourself, Micki.

I am always a little nervous about posting sometimes for others...sometimes I don't feel that I have the right or enough experience. Also, I am still learning my way with my stuff. It hurts that everyone here is here because they have lost something very precious. I was a caregiver for many years with my mom. She had a stroke that debilitated her when I was 24 years old, and I cared for her until her death. I am a caregiver by nature, but I didn't really have to be a caregiver for Mark. For the most part he was always healthy...never saw the heart attack coming. But a majority of my life was made up of loving him with my entire being. We weren't very social and didn't have friends we went out with, so I don't have the anguish of feeling deserted by friends. Mark WAS my social life, my best friend...my world. My work life isn't much different than it was before...except it is not Mark dropping me off and picking me up very day. I'm not experiencing the feelings of abandonment...I don't even feel abandoned by Mark. I wish there was something I could do to take away the pain that I read in these posts. But I am coming to understand that with GREAT love comes GREAT grief. Today is 5 months since Mark passed, and it is still as vivid as it was the day it happened. I don't focus on it every minute, but I feel it every minute. My heart also aches for everyone.

I watched the YouTube clip with Joyce Meyers, and it really spoke to me, especially about the not asking Why? I normally am not drawn to such things, but it really spoke to me. I am so glad it was shared.

I really hate these early morning awakenings...heartburn made me get out of bed. My normal routine with that is to go and sit in the recliner until it goes away. But I then have two wonderful dogs who want to keep me company by sitting with me in the recliner. I do what I always do when they are around; I pet and stroke them and talk quietly to them. Yesterday some staff went to a visitation for one of our co-workers; he died recently at 55. I reached out to his wife by sending her a sympathy card, adding some words of comfort and understanding. I, myself, couldn't go to the service...it just feels too soon. This early morning took me back to the service for Mark. I spoke at his rosary service. He would have been proud of me. I knew what to say because I knew him so very well. Amy pointed out in a post that Mark would have been proud of me the other day when I managed to handle the situation with taking the dogs to the vet. I know he would be proud of me...I know he wouldn't want me to hurt. He struggled with his self-esteem sometimes, and a small part of him would say he wasn't worth all this hurt. But that was where he would be wrong. I know there is a tendency to put our lost loved ones on a pedestal and see them as perfect. I know Mark wasn't perfect, and there were times when he frustrated me because he did things that were detrimental to his health...he was an alcoholic, something I tried to understand. He wasn't a bad drunk...he functioned; it was his crutch. I wanted to be his crutch. But I loved him despite it. He smoked, which was a factor in his death. I tried to help him lose that crutch, also...but he continued on. I remember the day he told me he was an alcoholic; early on in our relationship. He told me because he wanted to give me the chance to walk away. He didn't feel he was worthy of love because he had a flaw. But I saw in him the true Mark, beyond his flaws. He would rush to help anyone if they asked; he was a fixer and wanted to do what he did best. When he set his mind to something, he worked magic. I know the things he did were self-destructive; but they never made me love him any less. We never held back how we felt about each other. I know Mark left this Earth knowing he was loved. And I know exactly how proud he was of me. He held me in awe sometimes. He always said how brave I was to leave a safe life back home in PA, to move to a place where I had no family to start a new life. He was thankful I was brave enough to do it, because then we would never have met. I can sit here and know exactly how Mark felt about me; how much he loved me. Of course he wouldn't want me to hurt; but he would understand that when you love this deeply, there is pain to bear. And there are times when it is beyond words. Sometimes it is almost suffocating. Mark made me feel safe and wanted and loved...even in those moments when he irritated me. He would never share with me how worried he would be about me, but I know he did. I saw it in his eyes the day he had to take me to the ER with kidney stones. I saw it in his eyes when I would tell him about a bad day. I saw it in his eyes the day he comforted me when my dog, Annie had to be put to sleep and I had to be the one strong enough to make that decision. I know he would have that same look in his eyes right now if he were to see the pain I have. But is because I loved him so very much that I have this pain to bear. I am getting better at not having so many emotional times at work. It doesn't mean that I don't miss him every single minute. I am getting better at holding it in until I can get to a place where I feel more comfortable to let it out. I still have some bad days, and I work through them. I love my job, and it is a great distraction some times. I can feel like I accomplish something, and can still be available to help other staff if needed. My job isn't a stressor in my life, and for that I am truly thankful. Some days I call "swiss cheese days" when my focus is not the best, but I push through. I am still dealing with the fact that I am never going to be the same as I was. Just as I am still dealing with the lifting of the "fog"...a wee little bit at a time. I get a glimpse of reality, that I will not physically have Mark in my life anymore, and that is hard because in many aspects I was dependent on him. I still find myself asking the question, "what am I going to do with the rest of my life without him?" Right now that question is completely rhetorical, because I don't know what the next day holds, but I understand it is going to be a day without Mark. And I try and make the best out of that day, and the next day, and so on. It feels empty and lonely, but when it is over I can say I made it through...on to the next day. There are occasions when I can laugh, or try and make someone else laugh. I try to share the little bits of me that are unbroken. It is all I can ask of myself right now, and I have to be happy with that. I have made it this far, and know that some day I will be better, and then some day I will really be okay. But I won't ever be the same. This experience will some how teach me more about myself, and I will grow from it...but not right now. And that has to be okay.

Kay, I hope Arlie continues to improve. I hope you are feeling better, too. Yesterday was very emotional in regards to the trip to the vet...but when I went to pick up the babies, I felt better. They all did well, and my vet bill was pretty good for three dogs. My little Max put on 6 pounds since he was there in June...Pongo has gained 11. Their nails are clipped and they are good to go with new flea meds. This morning was actually a good morning, partly because it is Friday and I am looking forward to a visit from my friend and her puppy. I hope you continue to feel better.

I have been reading "Grieving The Loss of Someone You Love" and I came upon a paragraph in one of the chapters. "Most of us feel that we can handle almost anything if we just know how long it will take. There is something comforting about knowing where to find the end. It is only natural that we should want to know how long we must grieve if we expect to do a "good job." Unfortunately, there is no ideal answer to the question, "How long is long enough?" And, whether you believe it or not, it really is a good thing that we have no answer. There is a hazard in having a reference point. We tend to turn a reference point into a finish line if we are not careful." I, myself struggle with this. I like to have reference points when dealing with situations; I understand that it doesn't work that way with grief. I have to keep reminding myself that other people's ideas of what I should be feeling and experiencing should be disregarded. Like the friend who thinks I should allow myself to be open to someday having someone in my life...or the friend who thinks she hears my old self. I know there are parts of me that are and will always be who I am...my soul core hasn't changed. My beliefs and the things that make me Maryann are still there. But my life moving forward will be changed forever. That is something that I have to come to terms with, and through this journey I will.

I spoke to a dear friend this weekend, someone who is a retired social worker, and we talked about all the questions we find ourselves asking; not only questioning did we do the right thing, or did we do enough. I, too, feel those twinges of guilt...did I call 911 soon enough? I always remind myself that when the paramedics arrived, Mark still had a pulse, because I did what the woman on the phone told me to do and that was give him chest compressions. I looked at the timeline from when I found him in the bathroom not feeling well, to the time I called 911 to the time he died ( probably not even an hour and a half), and tell myself I couldn't have done any more than I did. Neither of you should feel that you failed your spouses. I also spoke to my friend about not allowing myself to ask other questions...specifically why did this have to happen? My logical mind reminds me that there are questions we will not find the answers to at this time; we will know when it is our time to know those answers. I have enough to deal with without causing myself anguish to try and look for an answer that no one can give me. I guess that speaks of the trust I have in my faith. I wasn't raised religiously, but my spirituality has given me a strong faith. Sometimes, I will say "I don't deserve this" ...because it hurts to be without Mark, and I am a good person, just as everyone who is on this forum and didn't deserve to lose the love of their life. I guess it is the beginning of acceptance.

Made it to the vet this morning, dropped off the doggies. Then when I got into my friend's car, I cried. He said to feel my feelings, but to also feel good about doing it, that I dealt with the change. The hurt feels so much stronger than the accomplishment.

This evening I went to run a couple errands with a friend. She is so very sweet, but her frequent comments that I am doing SO WELL, and that she heard the ole Maryann in my voice...I had to cut the visit short. I needed to pick up a sympathy card to send to the wife of a co-worker...we found out about his death earlier this week. Because of what I have been through, I know I can reach out and try to offer comfort and to let her know someone understands. Reading through the sympathy cards for husbands, took me right back to reading the ones that arrived at my doorstep. Is it awful to feel irritated by those who want to try and make things better? I know they just want to know I am going to be okay...somewhere inside I know I am going to be okay, but right now I don't always want to feel OKAY. I got all choked up as I was reading those cards, but I knew I had to keep it together. Coming to this forum, I get the greatest support, and not the "Everything is going to be okay"...I am told that what I am feeling and experiencing is just what needs to be going on. When I tried to explain to someone how it felt to let myself think just a little bit what a life without Mark was going to be like...and it hurt...she was just "you don't know you will always be alone. You met Mark, you could find someone down the road to love." Not what I am wanting to hear. Am I being too critical? Or am I just being afraid of moving forward? I was in a staff meeting for a little over an hour...15 minutes into it was as much attention as I could give it. I don't want to think any further than tomorrow. I have a friend coming over this Saturday with her puppy...she was my maid of honor and also lost her husband a long time before I met her. I look forward to the company because I know SHE UNDERSTANDS. This is the first time I have felt irritated (not quite angry).

Dear Mitch, I am coming up on 5 months since Mark is gone, and I am still putting things off. I walk by something and really don't have the desire to complete it. Like you, I go to work every day (and sometimes it brings on emotions because of reasons I have posted in other places), I sleep, eat and take care of the three dogs. I still feel no real joy in things. I may laugh here and there, but no "spark". It had always been just Mark and I. We have no children, step children...no one but us. My evenings are long, and if there is nothing on tv, I find myself putting on "Mike & Molly" just for company. I have been reading the books I have on grieving...I can't really concentrate on novels or anything with lots of details. I just got out of an hour staff meeting, and my focus was lost about 15 minutes into it. Tomorrow is the first time taking the dogs to the vet without him, and a friend is helping me to get there. I know it is going to be emotional. I understand the loneliness and emptiness you experience. I have to hold on to hope that one day it won't be this intense.

Tomorrow morning a friend from work is going to help me get my dogs to the vet for their annual visits. It was always something Mark and I did together. He was always so proud to be out with his furbabies. I cannot stay with them, as I need to get back to work and then pick them up later and take them home. Their vet is very good and will touch base with me. I didn't think I would feel this emotional about the whole thing. Kay, thank you so much for your response. I try and understand that it is my mind trying to protect me. Right now the clearest image I have of Mark is of him laying on that table in the ER. Because he had a tube in, I couldn't even really kiss him goodbye. It is not the image I want to have, but it is the most real one I can recall. It is all still so fresh the whole event. All the other memories in my mind are still kind of fuzzy.

I continue to find books about grieving and loss, each one gives me a little more insight and sometimes really touches a cord. The current one I am reading is "I'm Grieving As Fast As I Can" and it is geared towards young widows. Now I know I am 53, and not sure if I fit into the "young" category...but I feel young, and still felt like a newlywed even after 5 years of marriage. But in one of the chapters was something that put something into words that I had a hard time explaining... "Your conscious mind is your thought process in the here and now, that is under your control. It knows your husband died. You attended a funeral. The problem is your unconscious does not want to believe it. So it creates a psychological defense mechanism called denial, to protect itself. Your unconscious is also confused. "My husband is dead, but I still feel married" Your unconscious is trying to spare you from the shocking reality all at once. So it allows you to absorb the effects of your loss only a little at a time. Your unconscious mind needs time to catch up to your conscious mind." I'm having a hard time remembering Mark. I look at pictures, and close my eyes and try to remember him. The most vivid memory I have is him laying in the emergency room, the image the validates that he is in fact dead. I'm having a hard time remembering his voice...when I do, it is so very faint and muffled. Each time I try and remember, it reminds me that for the rest of my life, I will be without him, so I stop trying to remember. I also experience that feeling that I have seen mentioned frequently. Did I dream the entire relationship? Was everything just a very sweet dream? How can that be all there will be?

Dear Teri, You and I lost our rocks within days of each other. Mark died on December 4, 2014 from a heart attack. Suddenly, he was gone. I know just exactly what you speak of. The absence and the silence are heavy. Just like you, I lost my best friend, the person whom I did everything with and everything for. We met in 2006, were married in 2009, and now he is gone in 2014. I am glad you found your way to this forum, but I am sorry you needed to. It is very helpful, and a great place to express whatever it is you are experiencing.

Amy, Thank you for sharing that. It is EXACTLY the feeling I had with Mark...our souls were so complete with each other. Being around him always made me feel safe, protected and loved. How could someone not want to be around that all the time? How could I not feel the tremendous absence with him being gone?

Amy, So true. I know that at the core of my being, I am strong. Because I opened my heart to Mark and let him really SEE me, it helped that strength grow. And I know that I helped him get stronger. I wish I could have taken away all the doubts he had in himself, but all I could do was love him and allow him to be who he was. Loving someone is the greatest gift you can give them, but it is also a gift you give to yourself. As painful as this loss is, no matter how much I hurt and feel lost, I am thankful for the love I had with Mark. I wish it would have gone on longer...I think we all wish that wish, to have our loved ones with us and not have them be gone. But like you said, it is the price you pay for having a deep and wonderful love. I know in my heart there will come a day when the memories won't hurt this much...when I will be able to smile and not cry. I know I need to continue and grieve not just the loss of Mark, but also the loss of the future we hoped to have. I want to be grateful for every day I am given; right now it's hard because making it through the days is painful and I want the pain to be gone. I have begun to repeat a phrase when I am in the midst of a meltdown...I tell myself to push on through. As I feel this fog lifting, and the reality and pain rub against the raw wound, I try and push through. Even after almost 5 months, I still can't believe he is gone, and I need to believe that will get better. His absence in my life is still so profound. The folks who post that have been where I am, and can give me encouragement and validation that I am where I need to be...is a blessing. It would be so easy to turn this hurt into hatred and face the world in anger, but that is not who I am. The same God who brought me to Mark and Mark to me, will help me find my way through this grief journey. I have to continue to have faith.