mittam99

Gwen, you're absolutely right about outsiders. They'd rather this whole "grief thing" was swept under the rug as quickly as possible. What I'm trying to understand is that other grievers have lost their spouse/partner and are able to move forward, find purpose or even find new loves. For those of us who regularly post here, that isn't the case. Is it because our love was deeper?

Thanks so much. Sorry I missed this earlier.

May 10th is my birthday and more than ever, it's just another day. Another day of sorrow, loneliness and yearning. Yearning for a life I can't get back. Yearning for the love I once had. Yearning for a life with more meaning than the drudgery of today. Without people who care and love you sharing in the day, a birthday is far from a celebration. It's just a blip on the calendar; a day to shrug your shoulders and say "whatever". I miss my Tammy so much. I miss her smile and her hugs and her kisses and her unending love. I miss being her knight in shining armor and giving her every ounce of love I had to give. I'm trying my best to find my place in this world. But, I'm stuck in my new role as the lonely widower who doesn't have a clue how to find happiness or purpose. "Happy" Birthday to me.

Kay, you're in my thoughts. Hoping for only the best outcome.

You could ask your neighbors to help. Might be a unique way to find a new friend. 😋 Can you imagine this pick up line at a bar... "Hey, how would you like to go back to my place and bandage me?". 😀

Johnny, it's now been four years since Tammy died and I'm still in the "functioning, but not living life to it's fullest" mode. I just don't know what to do or how to take the next step. Living life where love is only a memory is difficult to say the least. For a long time, I felt like if I enjoyed myself I was somehow diminishing the love I had with Tammy. In some ways I know that's sort of absurd, yet, in my mind, I believed it. I know Tammy would never want me to hurt or be wasting my life away. But here I am, a man alone with no joy, no real passion and little to look forward to. I guess what's holding me back is... me. Maybe I'm afraid to take new steps in a new direction. Maybe this life I live, as dull and monotonous as it is, is simply easier and safer than trying something out of my comfort zone. It's pretty bad when your only contact with other people is basically at work. I come home and it's Groundhog day over and over and over. You get used to it but it's anything but satisfying. I mean, how much Netflix can you binge watch before you say, "no mas!"? In my case, I apparently have a high tolerance for mind-numbing boredom.😏 I haven't given up hope though. Hope that I can find some purpose and meaning. Hope that I can break out of these chains I seem to be wearing. Hope that I can find my way to a better, and more than just functional mindset. Mitch

When daughter Katie moved to Illinois in June 2014, I was excited. It was finally going to be time for me and Tammy to go on trips alone together. Some nice, quality "adult time" without distraction. Katie was basically a good kid but was quite a challenge at times, to say the least Sadly, it never quite worked out that way. Tammy's health was deteriorating. She couldn't even attend Katie's graduation but we were able to Skype the ceremonies to her at home, in bed. Those romantic trips never happened. And by December, her health prevented her from really even getting out. You may remember that Christmas was Tammy's favorite holiday and we were married on December 24th. Needless to say, it wasn't an easy or joyous time but at least we had each other. By January 2015, Tammy was back in the hospital... and in March, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect for me wife, was gone.

You have two options... "like" and "upvote". Like is pretty obvious but upvote is a bit murky. I take upvoting to mean you feel the post is valuable or important. I believe upvoting started on Reddit. If a topic got an upvote it was bumped toward the top of the topic list.

I'm coming to terms with certain things I've been reading (about not being able to move forward). Yes, I long for my life with Tammy to somehow magically reappear. But of course I know that's not reality. To this day, I tell Tammy how much I love her as I leave for work, just as I did for all those many years she was bedridden. I guess a part of me is hoping against hope that this nightmare was just that, and my life will go back to what it was. Keeping her things in their place gives me comfort but is it really just a way to avoid the bitter reality and fool myself into thinking she's coming back? I need to take a new course on my journey. One that gives me permission to be "happy" (a relative term) or at least try. My life with Tammy was the best time in my life. Not because it was easy. It wasn't. The stress of her constant medical issues and our subsequent financial struggles were immense. But we had each other. We had unending love and we were truly made for each other. I need to understand that my life isn't over, even though Tammy is gone. There are new chapters to write. And that Tammy will be up in heaven, cheering me on, hoping for my success. Mitch

Kay, thanks for the kind words. From the doctors and nurses who saw me by Tammy's side 24/7, to friends and relatives, I hear how lucky Tammy was to have me. But, as much as I loved and cared and cherished and tried my best to do the very best for Tammy, she still died. I'm hard on myself. There's a part of me that says that maybe a decision I made (or didn't make) contributed to her death. Even though my logical side says Tammy had too many horrendous, life threatening medical issues to even count and that I did everything with only one intention... for Tammy to be with me forever. It seems like my lack of motivation stems from some sort of self punishment. Maybe this is what's holding me back from living my life in a more productive, happy way. It's like I'm telling myself internally that I don't deserve happiness. Just thinking out loud here...

Marty thanks for that post and hopefully that will help some members. As you probably know, I'm aware of everything you wrote/quoted/linked. After fours years, I have adapted. I have accepted, even though in my dreams Tammy is coming back. I know she's gone. I have a job and I function well at it... Where I'm stuck is finding true meaning and purpose. Getting out of my comfort zone to do and try things that would get me out of my grief rut life. I think the problem is that I've always been an introvert anyway. It never was easy for me to try new things with new people. At 63, and with enduring the loss of the love of my life, I am even more reluctant to to break the lonely pattern my life has become. It's easier just to roll with the sadness. I know Tammy would want me to find happiness and not suffer. I just don't know how to push myself. Sure I can motivate myself to do chores and such but that's different. Pushing myself forward to change my life's drudgery, is the issue. I could reconnect with my family, but I don't. I have offers from my co-workers to attend social events but I turn them down. Ultimately, I revert to the grief prison of my own home and the self-induced loneliness of it. I think the fact that I'm even thinking about all of this is progress. I'm just not willing or ready to accept that this is all my life will be. I need to push myself and see where it takes me. Of course that's way easier said than done. It's still baby steps for me even four years after. Mitch

Complicated grief, Prolonged Grief Disorder and now Persistent Complex Bereavement Disorder. https://www.depressionalliance.org/persistent-complex-bereavement-disorder/ In reading the article I linked above with an open mind, I clearly am suffering from all three. And suffering is the appropriate word. It's been over four years since Tammy died and I still don't know my place in this world. Still feel my life is mostly meaningless without her. I've kept her clothes and most of her things just where they always were. I feel like if I got rid of that stuff, my life would feel even more empty than it already does. Her things being where they always were gives me a small sense of comfort. I know Tammy's not coming back in this world. But, reading these articles makes me feel as though I haven't fully accepted Tammy's death because I've kept her things. I just can't bear any more emptiness. Removing her things just feels like another loss of what I had. I need something, anything, that eases my pain. Categorizing those with prolonged grief as mentally ill seems harsh. We've lost not just the love of our life but the life we loved. The article mentions that people who were caregivers and who have limited social and family support are more prone to prolonged grief. I fit that description to a t. I know I need to find a way to push myself forward and to try to find some happiness for myself. To try to find meaning and my place in this world without my beloved Tammy. But how? Maybe there is some truth to a thought that has been playing on my mind. It seems like I still feel a bit guilty when I do find those brief moments of comfort. Maybe somehow I can't push forward because I feel guilty that I might be enjoyng myself but Tammy can't? Or that I'm enjoying something without Tammy being in this world. Does that make sense? Maybe I am nuts. 😉

Kieron, here's the embedded version. Hope that's OK.

Thanks for the report Tom. 🙂 Sounds similar to my brother in law's brother who lost his wife of 30-some years to cancer a while back. He also had no issue with PGD, clearly. He was on the hunt for "hot young women" six months after she died. It's painfully obvious that those of us that post here had relationships that were rare and beautiful and full of real, unending love.

In the sense that the definition of survivor's guilt (in our context) is "feeling guilty for living while our beloved is gone", I don't believe I have it. I certainly have feelings of guilt that I could have done things differently and maybe things would have been different. But, I can balance that with the absolute fact that my intention was always to help Tammy feel/get better. It's just so hard getting older in solitude, without companionship and without love. The days are long and I have way too much time to let my mind wander. And mostly, my mind wanders to depressing places. Thinking about my future alone. Because for me, as much as I dread this loneliness and boredom, Tammy was my one and only. I simply can't imagine myself with someone else. Well, sometimes I do imagine being with someone else and then reality sets in. That's not happening. In recent months my journey has hit a wall. I'm having a hard time getting motivated. I'm not exercising or eating right like I was. I'm fighting it, but apathy is trying to take over. Is it inevitable that my life will never see joy again? The whole Groundhog Day of the same old, same old dull routine is starting to wear out it's welcome. I wish I had the fix for this. Life does feel like it's passing me by and some of it is my own doing. I know I need to fight this feeling and push myself but there are times I can barely get out of bed. It's pretty clear I'm a bit depressed. The 30 degree April temps and gloomy gray skies around here aren't helping my mood either. Anyway, if you've read this, thanks for reading and sorry for the non-upbeat post. Mitch

Gwen, I'm in the same boat. Tammy was my one and only in so many ways. Our relationship, our love and our connection to each other was amazing. She was all I ever wanted. Someone who loved me no matter what. Who believed in me. Who made me feel special. I cherished her love and our time together. She truly was my world. And I loved being in love with her. Without her, the devastation is real. It doesn't go away in time. You never really get used to it. Coping is about as good as it gets. Four years later, I'm still sad, still lonely and still longing for what I had. But, there's no way that's happening, unfortunately. I'm not willing, ready or interested in starting a new relationship. Mind you, I've had offers and that's flattering. Friends and co-workers tell me I'm still quite the catch and charming. And that being alone and not in a relationship is not good. I get that, I really do. It's just that the life I had with Tammy (from the intensity of our love, to the intensity of those life and death struggles with her health), is etched on my soul. Yes, it feels like life is passing me by to some extent. I look around and it feels like I'm getting older and everyone else is getting younger (am I the only one?) The aches and pains and increasing gray hair are real. Frankly, just getting through the day in a somewhat positive way is my current life goal. I guess I set the bar kind of low. 😉 And so it goes.

Kieron, I know exactly what you mean. I often find myself playing mind games in an effort to find things to look forward to. For example, on a Tuesday night, getting ready for bed, I might think about the weather being better on Wednesday. Or maybe that's the day my favorite show comes on. I'm trying to find anything that gives me some sense of optimism in my lonely and heartbroken world. I guess that might sound a bit pathetic, but, it is what it is, right?

This forum is honestly a fantastic resource. We can openly talk about our feelings and pain here without judgement and with real understanding and empathy. If you were to vent about your pain in real life, all you'd get would be "understanding" nods, and a bunch of "I'm so sorry's". It's not that people don't care, they just don't know what to say. Even those insensitive people who tell you it's time to move on think they're helping. Marty's forum is an oasis in the cold, dark, dismal world of grief we live in. It's our own little grief safe house.

Johnny, The reason it's so rare that others understand our pain is easy to explain. Few people in this world had relationships like ours. We found that perfect for us person that made every moment of our life feel "right". We had unending love and real joy. And then, abruptly, we lost everything. It feels like we're nothing but an empty shell and our heart's been shattered into a million pieces. Things we used to love have little interest to us. The world and the people in it, seem different somehow. They seem oblivious to our pain and our loss. We've fallen into a bit of quicksand and we don't know how to pull ourselves out. We're stuck in a place that hurts so bad that, at times, it's a challenge to even roll out of bed. That's how it is in the early stages of grieving our beloved soul mate. There's no magic wand to wave and no definitive tutorial. It's just a one step, one moment, and one day at a time kind of life. Coming here and posting like you have is a big step and it will help. We all need each other.

Thanks for posting that great picture of the two of you.

Johnny, that story about the wheelchair definitely hits home with me as well. While Tammy was trying to regain her strength and was at the rehab center after another near death crisis, I ordered her a fancy walker with all the bells and whistles. They delivered the box to the rehab place, I paid the medical supplies guy with cash for the co-pay and took it home that night. The night of Wednesday March 4th, 2015 Tammy came home. Thank God! This was to be the start of a new beginning. Tammy was tired but had a renewed sense of optimism. She was determined to exercise and eat properly. She looked so beautiful. The next day, my plan was to fill some of her prescriptions and get some food from the grocery store. But we had a 10" snowstorm and we were snowed in. Overall, Thursday was a nice calm day... Tammy was tired but in good spirits. I felt like the world was back to where it should be... my beloved by my side, in our home. Friday March 6th started out with promise. The roads were plowed and the sun was shining. I made an early trip to the pharmacy and picked up some food. Tammy and I watch some TV for a bit and she ate a bit for lunch. She was still zonked and rolled over in bed for a nap. In the meantime, I was preparing a special dinner for her and setting up exercise equipment for her to use. But this day turned into the worst day of my life and the day that I re-live in mind forever. In just a few hours, my Tammy was gone. And I was devastated, in shock and forever changed. A couple weeks later, I received mail from the medical supply place that we got the walker from. They wanted payment in full. What the %$#@? My insurance had paid them 80% and I already had given them the balance in cash. I was angry and could have gotten on the phone to "let them have it". But, in the scheme of things, it wasn't worth it and I surely wasn't paying twice. I tore the letter up and deposited it in the trash. The thing about grief is you need to take care of you and your well being. Pick your battles. Do what you want to do. Tune out the babble from people who don't really understand how you feel. It's not an easy way to live. The loneliness and emptiness make it all the more difficult. But, life is precious and we only get one chance at it. And even four years later, it's still grief bursts and baby steps for me.

Johnny, no offense meant but your aunt doesn't have a clue. I'm sure she means well, but the idea that you must do this or must do that or as the English say "keep a stiff upper lip", simply doesn't apply. You've just lost the love of you life. It's not just the intense sadness you feel. It's the fact that losing your soul mate effects absolutely everything in your life. From the time you wake up til the time your head hits your pillow, you ache from the loss. It's best to do things on your own timetable, and not based on someone else's idea of what they think is "proper". Your grief is your grief. There's no rulebook in grief. It's all on the job training and doing what feels right to you.

Believe me, I get it. I've relived March 6, 2015 in my head far too many times to count. I asked the very same questions you're asking... to myself and to members here. I received a very profound answer from a member here. They pointed out that I did the best I could do with Tammy's best interest at heart. As a human being who loved another human being with all their heart, I tried my best to be Tammy's knight in shining armor as I always did. But still, she died. Sometimes you have to realize that there are things you cannot control no matter what you do. You were blessed to have Rene'e in your life as I was with Tammy. Most people never experience the type of love we shared with our beloved. That deep love is what brought you to our forum. The wonderful thing about this forum is that people really understand what you're going through. I had many a day (and night) where posting here and reading the replies gave me some relief from my intense pain.

Johnny, this grief "journey" as we call it, will be hard, there's no way to sugar coat it. Like you, my relatives really don't stay in touch or even remotely understand what my life is like without my Tammy. It's very much a battle I've fought on my own for the most part. And it is a battle. Finding reasons to go on when you feel like there's nothing left takes an extreme amount of courage. I've learned that although my Tammy is gone physically, her strength, her courage, her smile and most importantly her love, are with me forever. She will always be a part of me and I do live my life knowing she and I will reunite at some point. You may find it helps you to talk about your beloved wife. I know it helped me. It was important because I wanted the world to know what an amazing person Tammy was. In time, you'll find what works for you. It's all trial and error. You'll do plenty of grief dancing too. That's when you take a couple steps forward and then a step or two back. But for now, it's all about living in the moment and taking care of yourself. Doing things in your own time and on your own schedule. At this point in your grief journey I'm guessing you often ask... why? Why is life so unfair? Why did this happen to my wonderful wife? That's all normal but at the same time don't let that consume you. Right now it's about finding some small sense of peace and comfort in this world that now seems so different and so unimaginably and painfully hard. Mitch

Johnny, I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your beloved wife. I truly feel your pain. Four years ago, my wife Tammy died suddenly at only 45 years old. She was my one true love. She was everything to me. There's no words I can say that will ease your pain right now. I can only tell you that all of us here have lost the love of our life and we all hurt. I know right now it feels like your life has little meaning. How the colors are gone and the world is a cold, dark place. It just becomes a one moment at a time life. You do the best you can. I know how much you ache for her and I know how things race through your mind about the day you lost her. Grieving the loss of a soul mate is staggeringly hard. If you haven't gone to a grief counselor, think about it. Read and post here as often as you want. We're here to help. Try your best to eat properly and get as much rest as you can although I know it's easier said then done. Again, I'm so sorry for your loss.