mittam99

Gwen I'm not sure why but your nacho cheese joke reminded me of an old Flip Wilson joke about how Worcestershire sauce got it name... Back in the day it had no name unlike ketchup and mustard. People just called it "brown sauce". One day a newcomer to town saw a bottle of the brown sauce on the restaurant table and being the curious guy he was, asked the waiter... "what's dis here sauce??"... The rest is history. 😋

Optimism. I think that's one of my better traits. I always try to look at things from the glass half full point of view. Throughout Tammy's illnesses, many of which were life threatening, I couldn't bear to think in a worse case scenario way. I had to try to be upbeat. In this grieving life, it's easy to become pessimistic. Our life has been torn apart. We're without the one person who brought joy and love to our world. If someone was already a glass half empty person, I think losing their soul mate could send them into a downward spiral of depression and despair. Being without my Tammy is so hard. The missing her never stops and never will. But, I keep plodding along... trying, hoping, pushing. There is some happiness out there... somewhere. It's just that there's no Google Maps to guide us and no definitive grief tutorial to show us the way. It's all trial and error. And it's all so very hard.

I hear ya Gin. No question, we all want to feel like we matter. That someone cares even just a little about us. That we can somehow make a difference. Before our loved one died, we always knew someone had our back. We knew we mattered and we were loved. These days, we have very little true emotional support. It's us and our weakened emotional state against a world that, at times, feels like it's passed us by. A world we live in, but maybe don't feel we belong in. It's against that not so wonderful backdrop that we're expected to not only survive, but thrive. It's an uphill battle and we often find ourselves slipping trying to climb that hill. At best, it often just feels like we're just treading water. Some members here have moved forward and found love again or have decided to look for love again. And if that brings them happiness, that's absolutely wonderful. For me, Tammy truly was my perfect angel and my one and only. That's what my heart and my inner voice tells me. So for me, this grief journey will be taken alone. It hasn't been easy in any way and I know it never will. But I'll keep on pushing and trying. I'll keep looking for that elusive formula that ultimately gives me some sense that this life (after losing Tammy) will once again have meaning. And I'll do it with Tammy and her love always a part of me, always inspiring me. Telling me to never give up and to always do the very best I can. Mitch

Gwen and Gin, let's face it, this existence we have is just an endless 24 hour cycle of trying to fill our time with "something". Unfortunately, that something seems mostly meaningless and repetitive and basically unfulfilling. A far cry from the life we had with our beloved where life felt like life. Where love and passion and joy and meaning was a given. Trying to find that meaning in this world of emptiness seems like an impossible task. I think we all are trying, but alone, it's hard to muster much enthusiam or energy for that seemingly impossible dream. I guess I'm emotionally in a better place than I was. I don't feel as though life isn't worth living, it is. It's just so hard to find anything that ultimately doesn't feel like drudgery. Not that Tammy and me were constantly on the go or doing amazing things all the time. We were basically homebodies. And unfortunately she was ill most of the time. But whatever we did or didn't do, we were together. Even the most mundane thing feels OK when you're with the one you love. We all ache for the one we lost. That sadness is a constant in our lives. We miss them so much. But ultimately, its also the loneliness that makes this new life so challenging. The thing is, I found the one person who was perfect for me. There is no substitute. Tammy was and forever will be the only one for me. Yet somehow, I need to find a way to make something of my life that resembles a life. And I haven't yet figured out that formula for success. And the beat goes on...

Gwen, I think we're all going through the motions to an extent. This wasn't how our ideal dream of life was supposed to go. It's getting up to another day of sameness. Even if we switch things up, ultimately it feels no different. That's where I'm stuck. How do I go beyond functioning to actually feeling some sense of enjoyment? I know Tammy would want me to be happy. No doubt about that. But how?

Kay, that's an impressive feat. For me, as much as I try to make things feel meaningful, they just don't. Having a life with Tammy brought love and a new meaning to my life. We were a team and although our life was far from easy, it was easy to find purpose. I guess I don't find "just trying to make it through" very meaningful. And yes, I am continually learning and pushing and trying. But there's little to no lasting satisfaction from it.

We kind of have to accept that this life will never be what it was. There's no way to go back and moving forward, alone, there's no way our life could ever have the same appeal it once did. I guess the trick is to somehow mold what we have and elevate it beyond meaninglessness. And that's a magic trick that as of now is not in my bag of tricks. It's beyond elusive and feels downright impossible. What's that saying? Make lemonade out of lemons? Unfortunately for us, our lemonade stand isn't open for business due to lack of motivation.

It's so hard. When we had our soul mate, no matter how difficult things may have gotten, we were where we wanted to be. We felt happiness and comfort and love. We were part of what felt like a perfect team. Not that we were perfect people but we were perfect for each other. Tammy and I used to say we were two peas in the pod. She was the peanut butter, I was the jelly. Now alone, this existence we trod through is some sort of odd mix of loneliness, emptiness and meaninglessness. Along the way, mix in those grief waves that hit you in a gut wrenching way. And people who don't truly understand the enormity of our loss or the pain we're in. It's amazing that we even roll out of bed and face this world. But we do. And all you can do is face it to the best of your ability with that love your beloved gave you tightly wrapped in your heart. We can never let go of that feeling. Never.

Kay, none of us signed up for "this' for sure. But, the worst happened and we're left behind to somehow find our way in a life that's nothing like the life we had before. A life that feel like so much going through to motions of existing. We're here, but at times (actually most of the time) our heart really isn't into it. The passion and the zest is missing. Without our soul mate we feel so empty and the love that we had in abundance, is nowhere to be found. I know It's a bit of a dreary, dismal picture I'm painting. Yet somehow, we're supposed to find comfort or even happiness within these walls of grief that surround us and to an extent, imprison us. I wish I had the answers or had the key to finding happiness. I've read the books, listened to the lectures, had grief therapy, read the posts... and still, I'm clueless. I'm searching but coming up empty. And so it goes...

It's been over 38 months since that dreadful day of March 6, 2015. The day that my life changed in so many ways and none of them good. Tammy made everything better for me, plain and simple. She gave me love I never dreamed of and allowed me to shower her with my deep love for her. The only way I'm surviving in this new world is to live with her in my heart with the hope that we will reunite in some way. I wanted to discuss an observation I've noted that may or may not be unique to my journey. On the one hand, we all talk about those anniversaries like our loved ones death, birthdays, holidays etc. as being days we dread. And they are. Yet I find it's the anticipation of those days that's actually as painful or more so then the actual day of the event. What I've noticed is my most intense moments of sadness and tears happen during a very particular type of scenario. A perfect example was yesterday watching the Preakness horse race (an event that happens in my city). As the horses lined up at the gate, the tears started to well up and got more intense. I started crying out "Tammy should be here... Tammy should be here"... It's events like this or historic moments in the news... or a new season of a TV show that we liked... or me cooking something that I know that Tammy would love. It's those moments when my grief bursts out from deep in my soul with an intensity that takes my breath away. After I calmed down yesterday I tried to understand why this happens. Why are these the moments my angst and pain are the worst... It's those moments I would have shared with my Tammy. Moments we might smile about or cry about or talk about. Now these same events happen with me surrounded by no one. It's emphasizing both the extent of my "aloneness" and the permanence of it. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that the woman I loved more than life itself is gone. It hurts because Tammy was a wonderful, beautiful person who suffered so much throughout most of her life. No one should die at 45 years old in our modern world. It hurts because I had a life I loved with Tammy. And now I have "this". "This" being whatever you call this often meaningless world I live in. The enormity of my loss and my grief is often too much to bear. Yet, I do bounce back. I do continue to try my best. I push forward in a way that I hope would make Tammy proud because she is and always will be my inspiration. And she's my perfect wife, forever and always for all eternity. Mitch

Robin, my heart goes out to you. It's not easy. I think sometimes the anticipation of these anniversaries is actually the worst part. Not that the actual day is easy, it's certainly not. It's more to the point that all of our days since we lost our beloved are already incredibly painful and challenging. Hoping you can find some semblance of peace and comfort tomorrow.

Today's another one of those "milestone" days that's a reminder of how empty my life is. I'm 63 today and it's just another day in this perilous and sometimes bleak life without my Tammy. I'm another year older, maybe a bit wiser, but... my life feels so shallow and meaningless. Maybe someday, my life will be enriched with some sense of happiness. For now, I carry Tammy inside me, heart and soul, and take it one day at a time. What else can I do?

I've had my fair share of unexplainable things happen that I've documented over the years since Tammy died. Things that defy logic. From the ceiling fan that Tammy loved that turned itself on to falling asleep on the highway at 70mph going to Tammy's funeral and somehow avoiding death and damage. The bond Tammy and I shared in life was strong, so strong that I believe it's for all eternity. Last night something happened and I know it was Tammy. I was watching TV in bed, and I keep my cellphone in bed on Tammy's side. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a glimmer of light from the underside of my phone that caught my eye. Now, keep in mind my phone is far away on the edge of the bed, out of my reach without me stetching to get it. And I was lying there arms at my side relaxed. The reason I bring this up is that my phone turned on it's flashlight on it's own. Keep in mind to turn on the flashlight you need to pull down a screen and press a button. It was Tammy for sure and she was trying to get my attention and let me know she's still here. And that is both comforting and frustrating. Frustrating in the sense that I don't know how to communicate with her. Sure, I talk to her but I don't know if she hears me. I reach out to touch her side of the bed in hopes she feels it. Maybe on the surface this sounds like some form of insanity but too many things have happened to not conclude that Tammy is with me, loving me and letting me know she will always be my girl and always be with me.

Marg... We're definitely emotionally lost. But, I think we actually know where we are in most ways. Sadly, it's an awful place we never imagined we'd have to live in.

I know what you mean, Gin. Things that should bring us some small measure of comfort or happiness simply don't anymore. That's what's troubling me the most at this point. Finding something that gives me a sustained feeling of enjoyment or real satisfaction. Oh I have little accomplishments and some smiles here and there, but it's fleeting. Yesterday I decided to paint my front door. It went well until I knocked over the paint can and paint flew everywhere (yes paint actually can fly ). I was able to clean up the mess for the most part, thankfully. What I missed was coming back inside and sharing the story and a few laughs with Tammy. It just doesn't feel like an accomplishment when you have no one to share it with. In the nearly 38 months since Tammy died, I've learned to cope. Learned how to take the grief waves in stride. I function. I do what needs to be done at my speed. I've learned to co-exist with my deep and profound grief. In that sense, I guess I've done "OK". What I haven't learned to do is live in a way that makes me happy. That's a goal that often feels unattainable. And yet, I still hold out hope that some semblance of happiness will come back into my life. Mitch

Elizabeth, My wife Tammy died suddenly on March 6, 2015. She was all that mattered to me in this would. She truly was my everything. I know how right now, so early in your grief "journey", there just seems to be no color in this world. Just darkness and shades of gray. I understand the feeling that this life without your beloved feels like a life not worth living. I've been there. This is the hardest, most painful and angst filled thing any of us will go through in our lives. It's a process, albeit a very slow and painful one. It's a one day at a time life. One thing that's helped me cope with the pain of losing my Tammy is honoring her memory and trying to keep her alive in that way. I post about her here all the time. She will always be a part of me. She changed me, made me a better person. In the same way, you carry your husband inside you, heart and soul. Every step you take and every breath you take you still take with him. I'm convinced that my Tammy is here, guiding me, helping me and still loving me, although I can't touch her or see her. Your road ahead won't be easy, I won't sugar coat that. Reading the posts here will help. The members of this forum understand what grieving the loss of a soul mate truly entails. My heart goes out to you on your loss. Mitch

You're so right Cookie and Kay. I think we all have come to the realization that our life will never have the same dimensions, color and meaning. It was our beloved that gave our world all of those things. Gave us a different and more upbeat outlook on everything in life. It wasn't just the love we felt, it was the feeling that we found our perfect place in life. We were where we belonged; with the person that made us feel complete. Tammy was truly my everything. I am so lost in this world without her. At this point, alone, I have no real direction. No clue how to live in a way that feels like something beyond mere day to day survival. The bigger question is, do I give up? My answer is a resounding NO. Because no matter how tedious and angst filled my days are, I believe that life is a gift. Sure, sometimes I feel like I'm accomplishing absolutely nothing and I feel like I'm wasting this gift. But, I'm not going to just give up on myself and I know Tammy wouldn't either. We all are hurting and sadness is our constant companion. We all long for the life we had and for our horrible loss to have just been a passing nightmare that we awoke from. But our nightmare wasn't a nightmare, it was tragically real. And we're left behind to somehow make a life for ourselves. A life that doesn't feel like much of a life at all. I wish I could wave a magic wand and all of us could find peace and happiness again. I want all of us to feel like this life we have is something special. That it's where we want to be and that our futures will be filled with contentment and blissful happiness. Unfortunately, I don't have that wand. None of us do... that would be way too easy. The only way to function in this "new" life is one day at a time. Do the best you can. And know that if today wasn't your best day, there's a chance tomorrow will be better. Build on those little "victories", and who knows, maybe in time we'll find some meaning and color and dimension. And find ourselves and our place in the world again. Mitch

Gwen, one thing I try not to do is compare. What other people have and what other people do just isn't a part of my life I need to worry about. I think if I did, and compared their active lives to my empty schedule, I'd be in a much worse place than I am now. But, I totally hear what you're saying. We had a life that had real meaning, real love, real understanding, real companionship etc ... in other words a life that was fullfilling. What we have these days is more like some poor imitation of a real life. The happiness and love has been replaced with a gloomy haze of drudgery, loneliness and emptiness. No matter how hard we try, real contentment or the feeling that our lives have real meaning eludes us. I often wonder "is this as good as it will ever get?". Of course, none of us knows exactly what our future holds. We both know how true that is. Life goes along blissfully and in an instant our life changes in ways we never could have imagined. We've been on the tragic side of that equation. There is that hope that maybe, just maybe, we'll see positive changes in our futures. Those prospects may seem bleak and farfetched today, but you gotta have hope, right? Mitch

Linda, honestly that may not be the case. We assume those people that say those heartless, callous things would feel differently, but I have my doubts. Some people just have no empathy or compassion to begin with. Even when they lose a spouse their tune may not change for one simple reason. Few people have had what we had. A true love story. A person who was perfect for us in every way. Someone who made our life better and someone who we can barely live without. For example, my brother in law's brother lost his wife of well over 30 years a couple years ago. Within a few months, this 70+ year old man was chasing after young women. Not every relationship is like the one you had with Julian or me with my beloved Tammy. We were blessed. And now because of the deep undying love, we feel empty and lost.

I need to buy two bottles of memory enhancing vitamins. The second bottle is to remind where I left the other one. But seriously, my memory used to be my strong suit. Concentration too. Now I find myself forgetting things left and right. I can have something on my mind, and if I'm just a bit distracted, I lose my train of thought. I'm sure part of it is grief brain but I wonder if it's age too. My memo/note/to do list app on my phone is my close friend.

It's been over three years since my Tammy has been gone. I think my concept of time is out of whack because I can't fathom it's been that long. At this point, it seems like time (whether it's counted in hours, days, months or years) is just a continuous period of emptiness, longing for the past and loneliness. How we've survived to this point (in some ways) is kind of miraculous. Hugs to you, Gin. Mitch

I'm OK but still shaken. I needed this day off. I got a new hair dryer today (yeah I still have hair lol) from Amazon. Opened the box and plugged it in to see how it worked and I freaked out a bit. It had that burning smell to it due to being brand new. Logically, I knew the smell wasn't from fire, obviously, but I'm a bit paranoid at this point.

This will be a bit of a novel but hopefully an interesting read... Yesterday was Easter of course and it just wasn't the same without Tammy. Nothing is. It also was a day that something very frightening happened. But first a little background. I live in a townhouse. Basically a house connected to many other houses. It's sort of like living in a 3 story apartment that you own because you have neighbors on the left and right of your outer walls. And often, you're at their mercy depending on the type of neighbor they are. I've lived here for 30 years. For a long time everyone here owned their own home. But in the past 10 years some of the homes have become rentals and unfortunately one of those homes is next door to me. Let's call that the house from Hell or maybe the house of horrors. Keep reading for all the gory details... The first renter moved in next to us maybe 5 years ago. And they were horrible and inconsiderate. For all I know, they may have even been vampires because all their loud noise and activity was after dark. It was unnerving living next to them. And it affected Tammy deeply. She was homebound and mostly bedridden and she just couldn't relax with their random thumps and bumps. It often sounded like they were taking a sledgehammer to the wall. A part of me knows these terrible people contributed to Tammy's emotional stress. And that angers me. One night, the adults in that family encouraged their kids to throw icy snowballs at my house. My daughter Katie and I watched the madness in disbelief from her bedroom window. As it turned out, when they were finally evicted a couple years ago, the landlord told me they did over $20,000 in damage to that house. They even knocked kitchen cabinets off the wall. How is that even possible? For lack of better words, they were monsters. The next renters weren't as bad but they weren't exactly friendly and they enjoyed throwing trash in my yard. But enough about them. Let's get to it and talk about my current next door neighbors and the frightening event of yesterday. The only way to describe them is to say an unlimited amount of people live there. There is a constant flow of different families and individuals there. It appears to be some sort of safe house or drug house. They scream at the top of their lungs and argue often. They litter. And often, live music and heavy, thumping bass pound my walls, well past midnight. The police have been called to that house multiple times for domestic incidents. You get the picture. My life alone with Tammy is hard. I need neighbors like this like I need a hole in my head. Easter Sunday. Around 4:30 PM. I hear a male voice screaming at the top of his lungs. He's next door on the backyard deck. I figured it was just another day with the neighbors from hell. In the distance, I hear a siren. What's new, right? The police have been called in... here we go again. And honestly, that would have been better than what transpired. Oh, it was sirens alright. Not police sirens though. It was the entire areas fire, ambulance and police departments arriving at the scene. My guess is at least 10 fire trucks, 5 ambulances and several police cars. The main road leading to my house was cordoned off. I see a crowd starting to gather and I throw some clothes on and go outside. And then I smell it. The overwhelming smell of a house on fire. Yes, my next door neighbors house is on fire. Heavy black smoke billowing out of both upstairs windows. Keep in mind our houses are connected and I'm worried about my house being damaged. Seeing those dozens of firefighters with axes in their hands pointing to my house has me scared $hitless. I find out from one of the fireman that the blaze appeared to have started in their basement yet smoke is billowing out of the third floor. This is bad. We're all in shock watching this unfold. And then they bring out a victim of the fire. She appears to be OK but belligerent. She's fighting with the EMT crew as they try to put her on the stretcher. About an hour later, the smoke stops spewing out and things calm down. Firemen go in my house to check on it. The air levels seem fine and they allow me to go back in my house. I'm shaken, understandably. I wish Tammy was here so we could console each other. Oh how I need one of her hugs. I called out of work today. I think the smoke inhalation has gotten to me a bit. I'm a little lightheaded and woozy. Plus, I need the day to just sort of relax. This was an Easter I won't soon forget.

You know something Gwen? You're right of course that those certain dates (holidays and anniversaries) are extra painful and full of angst. But, the even harsher reality is that every day is now full of pain and angst due to only one date... The day our beloved died.

That's just it George. I don't have any real passion towards anything in particular anymore. No one item as a must do on my bucket list. At this point, my bucket list contains one item... to find a glimpse of satisfaction in life. I'm not expecting real joy. Just something that makes me feel like I'm actually enjoying myself. That my life isn't just a futile, repetitive, Groundhog Day of dull, empty and meaningless going through the motions activity. When Tammy died, it changed me, understandably. I lost that sparkle in my eye. I hope it comes back but so far it's been 100% elusive. I'm so glad that you've found some sense of joy again. We're all seeking something better than what we feel today. Hopefully that spark is out there for all of us.