mittam99

I'm just now reading this and even though the OP may never see this I wanted to chime in with one thought. So, this friend contacts a guy she was interested in romantically from her past. That in itself is not a big deal. Except... wait for it... her husband just died 11 days before the call! A week and a half and she's ready to "move on" to something "new"? I find that beyond my comprehension. I understand everyone grieves in their own way, but still. Hopefully the OP is able to talk to her friend and can help put things in perspective or even suggest she joins Marty's forum.

I honestly think by it's very nature, all grief is complicated. After all, we aren't talking about losing one's favorite pair of sneakers. We are talking about the loss of a human being. And in the case of this particular forum of Marty's, we're talking about the loss of a spouse, partner or significant other. And even at the most basic level, losing a life partner or spouse is (by far) the largest of all stressors. On an individual basis, it's clear that the reaction to the loss of a partner/spouse varies widely. It's pretty clear the regular posters here have lost their soul mate. Unlike others (like my brother in law's brother), who was "looking for a young, hot chick" months after he lost his wife of 30+ years to cancer. What bothers me about these labels of Prolonged Grief Disorder and Complicated Grief Disorder is the idea that we can neatly wrap up grief with a few newfound words. That artificial six month concept of PGD is absolutely ridiculous. But, it's an easy way to to compartmentalize who is grieving "normally" and who isn't. And that's ultimately what this is about. Putting labels on people to conform to what others have decided is right or wrong. Now, you and I know there is no right or wrong in grief. That everyone's circumstances and grief reactions/journeys are different. But to those who haven't experienced it first hand, these new labels create the impression that anyone who hasn't moved on after six months or so is clearly having issue or may even be disturbed. I was with Tammy for 15 years. To some of you who were together with your mates much longer, that may not seem like a long time. But, in my life, Tammy was everything to me. I didn't meet Tammy til I was 40 years old. I've always given the outward impression as being extroverted but I'm an introvert. Tammy was my first and only true love. For the first half of our time together, Tammy's Lupus was fairly well controlled. We were always on the go, whether it was going shopping, going out to eat or travelling. And then in 2007, I got that fateful call from a co-worker that she had been rushed to the hospital. It was touch and go for months with lung surgery and an extended stay at a rehabilitation center. I took leave from work to spend 24/7 with my Tammy. From that time on , Tammy's health went downhill. Dozens of emergency room situations, many surgeries, life and death infections, heart, liver and kidney issues. She got MRSA and I became her wound care nurse. I was Tammy's husband and her caregiver. Our life revolved around our love and Tammy's failing health. When Tammy was rushed again to the hospital in January 2015, I had no idea that two months later, she would die. She died 2 days after coming home from the hospitalization and rehab stay. She and I had hope for the future when she came home. But she died. The day she died I prepared a special meal with some of her favorite foods, including corned beef. She never got a chance to eat it. For two years, I couldn't bring myself to eat corned beef even though I loved it. The article on Prolonged Grief Disorder would have me believing I'm mentally ill because I couldn't eat the corned beef. Because it was a reminder of the day Tammy died. My question is this... How could my grief not be "prolonged"? It's painfully obvious it's complicated. I don't need a study or some findings that tell me I have some "mental disorders" because of Tammy's death. I will be grieving the loss of Tammy my whole life. I will continue to think about her every day. I will from time to time, think about the day she died and if there was anything I could have done better. I don't look at that as a disorder. It's called losing the love of your life and doing the best you can in the aftermath of a tragedy that affects every moment of your life. When I was a young boy I'd often complain to my mom about something regarding my sisters. In complaining, I'd say something like "But, you let Joyce do that, why can't I"? And my mom would always say the same thing... "Don't compare". And it was very wise advice. These studies don't seem to understand that you simply cannot compare one person's grief to the next person's grief. Every situation is ultimately unique. I get it. I'm not a "trained professional". But I'll tell you what. I've have four intense years of on the job training and I've learned a lot. Sorry for the rant. Mitch

I also could care less in a sense. It's still irksome that someone who hasn't lived my life or doesn't understand the relationship and intense love story I had with Tammy, is telling me that six months is my grieving limit until I'm considered "out of order". 😧 And unfortunately, the average person believes these labels and disorders to be a fact.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any more ridiculous, I found this. Complicated Grief Disorder Test Prolonged Grief Disorder... Complicated Grief Disorder... Makes me wonder if someone is on commission to come up with as many new mental disorders as possible. 🤔 Our grief journeys are long and difficult and painful. They are not "disorders". They are not tags or labels to be glued to our foreheads. We are living a life that was shattered to pieces when we lost our beloved and we are doing our best to find our way in a world without the one person who made life better.

I understand that we had a deeper love and connection than most others. That's a given and why our numbers are small here relative to the overall population. What I don't understand is people essentially saying we are the ones with a problem. That somehow I'm mentally ill because I still feel married and don't want to be with anyone else. I'm still lost and hurting and I don't see that changing. That whole 6 month concept trivializes our grief. PGD is a farce, IMO. We are just people who lost the most important person in our life. We're just trying to adapt and cope the best we can. That's not a disorder.

It just is sort of ridiculous that we're now being pigeon holed as having a "disorder" because essentially we lost our soul mate. And the criteria being used in almost laughable. To reinforce my original post, please read this: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5990943/ This whole concept of 6 months of grieving being the "norm" is frankly insulting to the magnitude of our loss. "Persisted for an abnormally long period of time (more than 6 months at a minimum): following the loss, clearly exceeding expected social, cultural or religious norms for the individual culture and context." It truly feels like no one, professionals included, understands what this feels like. Where's the head shake emoji? OK, this one will do. 😠

There seems to be an issue with the quote box. Hopefully you can see where the quote ends and my words start. The software won't let me edit it.

I have to admit that beyond popping by here from time to time, my reading on grief these days is very limited. Yesterday I came across something that hit home... Prolonged Grief Disorder

I think it varies from person to person and situation to situation. In my case, Tammy's loss was obviously the most devastating life changing event in my life. I stayed away from work for a couple months to try to "gather myself" as much as I could. Upon my arrival back to work, co-workers (who were aware of Tammy's passing) saw the devastation on my face, no doubt. They saw the sadness. They understood (to the degree they could). But, I work in a very public place and deal with hundreds of people per day. Those customers still saw me as the friendly, funny, kind person I always was. When they asked where I had been and I told them about Tammy, they were shocked. I've kind of learned over the years how to "put on the good act" with the public. Then, I get into my car after work and break down. Tears covering my face on the drive home. I don't think it's a universal thing that others perceive us as rude or that we all project negativity to others from our grief. Tom, those students are reacting to the pain you're feeling and projecting to some extent. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to talk to the students briefly about your greiving without going into any uncomfortable personal details. Or, do what I do and "put on the happy face".

Four years ago today, my beloved Tammy died. She wasn't just my perfect wife, she was my best friend. She wasn't just my lover, she was the only one in the world that accepted me, warts and all. Simply put, she was my everything. She was my world. Long time members here know she lived with Lupus for nearly half of her life. That she had numerous brushes with death and countless medical ordeals. But when she came home the evening of March 4th 2015, we both had high hopes. She just won another medical battle after a long time in the hospital and rehab center. Things looked promising. She had renewed hope that things would turn around. Two days later though, there I was sitting in the hospital waiting to hear news of my beloved Tammy who was rushed by ambulance once again. The news was the end of my world as I knew it. My beautiful Tammy, the love of my life, was gone. She was just 45 years old. Fast forward to today. Four years into my grief "journey". I still am lost and I'm not sure if I will ever really find my way again. My W2 form now shows me as "single" but I still feel married. To the point that, even today, I tell Tammy I love her as I walk out the door going to work. I don't know how to get beyond "functioning". How do I transform my existence into something truly meaningful? I simply may not be capable of that. I'm not happy with where I'm at but I'm still hopeful that in time, I will find my direction. A direction that will take me to a place with some contentment, comfort and some maybe a bit of happiness. Tammy... I love you forever and always, Mitch

Mitch checking in as requested. I'm here, I'm sad and I'm still hurting. In four days it will be four years since that dreadful day I lost my Tammy.

March 6, 2015 was the day my life changed forever. And not in a good way. My wife Tammy was the best thing that ever happened to me and I cherish every moment we spent together. The medical ordeals she went through on a daily basis and the life and death moments we shared were far too many. Lupus can be a very cruel disease. When you and I get a cold, for example, we get over it. For Tammy, that cold or a minor infection could turn into something much, much more life threatening. Her own immune system would attack her organs instead of healing them. She was on 20 daily medications that had many horrendous side effects. I'd go to work and I just prayed that when I came home Tammy would be OK. Our life together wasn't easy. She lost her job due to her illness and money was very, very tight. What got us through every day was our deep and total love for each other. She truly was my perfect wife and I always did my best to be her knight in shining armor. I miss her so much. How could it be nearly four years? One thousand four hundred and fifty seven days. "Living" without the love of your life is hard. How have I survived the loneliness, the heartache, the emptiness... and the feeling that the best part of my life is over? Honestly, I don't know. I do know I want to live and maybe that's all there is to it. It's not much of a life, though. I simply don't know how to find happiness without Tammy. Maybe I'm a slow learner and that time will come. Who really knows? My heart goes out to all who are suffering. This grief "journey" makes climbing to the top of Mt. Everest seem like an easy task. And "one day at a time" (mostly) adds up to another day that feels like life is passing us by. But, like you, I'm still trying to find my way. Mitch

No one should ever feel ashamed for "still grieving". This loss means not just losing the love of our life, and the magnitude of that. It literally has put us into a completely different new place. A lonely, empty place where we feel surrounded by happy people in love. Feeling fenced in by a sense of angst and misery. This isn't grief that just magically goes away. It's here with us for the rest of our lives. We simply learn to live with it and adapt the best we can. There is absolutely no shame in that. My heart truly goes out to you, Ana.

That's my wish for everyone as well. Very tough day today... it's our wedding anniversary. Tammy loved Christmas more than anyone I know and Christmas eve was her favorite day of the year. When I proposed, I suggested a small wedding back in her hometown on Christmas Eve. Our wedding took place at her parents house with a small group of family and friends. We read our vows right in front of the family's Christmas tree. This was also the time of year in 2014 that Tammy's health took a terrible turn for the worse. So, for so many reasons, the holiday season now takes on a completely different feeling, to say the least. The cold weather doesn't help either. Where is my Tammy to snuggle up with? Spring can't get here soon enough! I got a text message from Tammy's sister today mentioning how wonderful and loving our wedding was. And how happy the day was. My reply was simply that the day Tammy came into my life was the beginning of the best part of my life. Tammy was a joy to be with. I was blessed when she said "yes" and she showered me with unending love and understanding. As I'm sure most of you do, I talk to Tammy from time to time. Well ok, you probably talk to your beloved spouses and not Tammy, but you know what I mean. Today, I looked up to heaven and wanted to tell Tammy "Happy Anniversary" but I couldn't get the word "happy" out of my mouth. Instead, I told her I love her forever and always. Finally... Gwen, thank you for remembering about our anniversary. That really touched me so much.

For a variety of reasons, this time of year has become the hardest for me. Not just because our anniversary was on Christmas Eve or all the celebratory holidays coming up that now have so little joy to them. Back in 2014, this was the time of year that Tammy's health took that turn for the worse. The weather that year and into 2015 was some of the worst we've ever had here. It's deeply depressing. There's a chill in the air and gloomy feelings abound for so many reasons. Let's hope all of us that live in cold weather States have mild winters. That would be a positive development, for sure.

Gwen, unfortunately there's nothing I can say to truly give you any real comfort or solace. I'm so sorry these health issues are making things so much more difficult than they already are. And with it being the anniversary of Steve's birthday you probably feel like the poor critter in that whack-a-mole game. One hard hit after another. It's exhausting. It's overwhelming. It's just plain hard. Just know that we all care about you and hope that there's some glimmer of joy in your near future. Mitch

With the Holidays rapidly approaching, I feel that same sense of heightened dread I've felt since Tammy died. Christmas was a huge event for Tammy. I mean, she listened to Christmas music virtually 24/7 from Thanksgiving to New Years. 😀 December 24th was her favorite day of the year. Wrapping gifts and anticipating the goodies Santa would bring. These days, Christmas takes on a palpable level of gloom for me. After all, knowing how the 24th was Tammy's favorite day of the year, I suggested we get married on the Christmas Eve. Why not make her favorite day even more memorable, right? We had a small ceremony at Tammy's parents house in Illinois with a select group of family and friends in attendance. We were married by the local preacher in front of the family's Christmas tree... in the family living room... located in a very small farming town (population 200, including cats and dogs). A truly special moment in time for me and Tammy. Like every holiday that's occured since March 6, 2015, It won't be easy. Nothing is easy in this life without our beloved.

Over the years since Tammy died, I've detailed many of those explainable things that I'm sure were Tammy. From my falling asleep at the wheel traveling to Tammy's funeral, hitting a barrier and both me and the car ending up unscathed. To the ceiling fan that turned on by itself. Or Tammy's combs on the vanity that sometimes move a bit on their own. And many other things that tell me that Tammy is still loving me and communicating with me. The other day something happened that was amazing. A couple days before, I noticed something odd on my desk. I keep my phone laying on top of my tablet and I kept noticing the phone had shifted positions. In other words, I'd stack it vertically at night and in the morning it would be horizontal. Similar to Tammy's "moving" combs. One morning I sat at my desk and literally saw the phone move slowly on it's own. Right there in front of me! There's no way that could be anything other than Tammy trying to get my attention. Of course it would be even better if she was able to talk to me! Some may try to explain this stuff away with a scientific reasons for all this happening. But, in my mind, it's Tammy's loving me still and letting me know she's there.

I don't cry as often as I did and there's a part of me that feels "guilty" that I don't. But the tears still happen when I least expect it. The biggest outburts for me are those moments when something memorable happens and I wish Tammy was here to see or enjoy it. My life is so empty without my Tammy by my side. But like we all do, I try my best.

Marita, none our brains are working as well as they once did. Apparently, the warranty is up on mine because it's definitely in need of major repairs. 😋 Btw, thanks for the chuckle you gave me when I read "bad math" as your edit reason.

It's been a while... Marita my heart goes out to you and all of us who are struggling to find our way. I honestly don't really count the months or days or hours anymore (it's been nearly 44 months) since that life changing day I lost my Tammy. I knew Tammy had so many life threatening medical problems but I never thought she would die. And certainly not at 45 years old. When she died, so did life as I knew it. Replaced suddenly by a cold, dark, dismal place I didn't recognize. Nearly four years later, life is still hard, although I've adapted to ebb and flow of grief. It's still a one day and sometimes one moment at a time kind of life. A life where happiness comes in tiny increments. A chuckle here, a brief moment of success there and then it's back to the feeling of sadness, loneliness and emptiness. We're all here, but sometimes we want to be somewhere else. A place where our beloved is in our arms and we never want to let them go. It's so hard to have everything and suddenly nothing. To reach out and no one is there. All we can do is live our life with our beloved not only in our hearts but live as though they still walk beside us. Motivating us, telling us to move forward and to try to find those elusive moments of happiness. I wish you Marita, and everyone here a life that feels less painful, that feels more purposeful and that ultimately feels like a life truly worth living. Your friend, Mitch

My sweet Tammy... my perfect for me wife, died on March 6, 2015. And it didn't take me long to find Marty's forum. I needed help and I found some sense of understanding and comfort from members here. One of the first topics I started was called "It hurts so bad". My life wasn't much of a life at that point. It was 24/7 of agony followed by another 24 hours of figuring out if I even wanted to survive alone without the only person that made my life worth living. The only person who gave my life joy. Tammy was all I ever wanted and needed. Every day was a struggle to find a reason to go on. Trying to find meaning in my emptiness and trying to come to grips with the question that resonated in my mind... That word was repeated over and over in my head... Why? Why was Tammy, a woman filled with amazing courage and beauty and love, taken from this world at only 45 years old? Why did she have to suffer so much? Why wasn't my love enough to save her? And then there were the woulda, coulda, shouldas that played on my mind and gave me much daily angst. This life alone just hurt. How was it possible that Tammy was gone? Didn't we just come home from an extended hospital and rehab stay? She was on the mend or so we thought. A day and a half after coming home, she died. It's been 3 years and 5 months since that day that is forever etched in my soul. Three years and 5 months without holding or kissing or touching my dear Tammy. Yet somehow, I'm still here. Coping and functioning in a world without Tammy. I've done it by living my life with Tammy in my heart. Living my life in a way that would make Tammy proud. I still feel married to Tammy and always will. She was the only one for me. Today, I felt gut wrenching pain that rocked me to my core. Pain so deep it took my breath away and I could not stop crying. I had just finished a project in the kitchen... adding a backsplash. It's something I always wanted, but never got around to doing. I put up the last tile, and stepped back to check out the room. And it look good, I mean amazingly good. Probably the best home project I've ever done. And in that moment, gazing at my work, all I could think of was how much Tammy would have loved it. And then it hit me. That deep, mind numbingly intense grief burst. Hell, this wasn't a burst, it was more like an atom bomb. I screamed out for Tammy... over and over... at the top of my lungs. Somehow hoping my voice could be heard all the way to heaven. And that word came up again... Why? Why can't this all just have been some sort of maddening nightmare? Why can't Tammy come back so we can live our life the way it was meant to be? Why is this life so hard? The hurt never goes away. You adapt. You cope. You get through the day. But, when love is this deep and forever, the pain (in one form or another) will also linger forever. Nothing is easy in this life. But... I still get up everyday and I try my very best. And I will love my Tammy for all eternity. Mitch

Tammy's been gone over three years and in that time there have been many signs that she is still with me. Things that defy logical explanation. But, one thing that's bothered me is that she's rarely in my dreams. Last night though, I had a dream. One that was quite vivid and will be etched on my mind for some time. I opened the door to a house (it wasn't our house) and there was Tammy, looking beautiful and healthy and happy. I instantly ran to her with a huge smile on my face and held her and didn't want to let go. It was a moment of magic. I asked her where the heck she had been. I don't think she really answered but that dream gave me such an incredible feeling of happiness.

Today was one of those days, definitely hellish. Nothing seemed to go right. The worst of it was finding out the hard way (sloshing through the flood) that my water main (inside the basement) had sprung a major leak. To make matters worse, the water shut off control had seized up and was stuck in the on position. High pressure city water was blasting into my house. I frantically started calling plumbers, holding a bucket in one hand and a phone in the other. Being a Saturday, it wasn't easy to even get somebody out to my house. Finally, a plumber came out but it was hours later. What a mess. I also was at the mercy of the plumber and he definitely overcharged me, but... based on the circumstances, what could I do? As if all that wasn't bad enough, my Tammy wasn't here to give me some sense of comfort, and compassion and most importantly of all, her love. The pain never ends. But, I'm still here and I'm still trying the best I can. But nothing about this life of grief says "easy".

Tough day today. It would have been Tammy's 49th birthday. She was so incredibly young. And no one should have had to go through the medical ordeals that she had to endure. This life without Tammy by my side is so hard to bear. It's so lonely and filled with so much angst. There's no joy to be found. But I'm here and I'm trying the best I can. I love my Tammy, my sweet dear wife, forever and always.