mittam99

I was a bachelor for a long time. Tammy and I didn't get together til I was 44 years old. So yes, I was independent before I met her. I can cook, clean, repair cars, shovel snow ... you name it. Anything thrown my way I can handle it. But what I didn't have was real love in my life. True unadulterated joy. When I met Tammy, I found that. She was perfect for me. She accepted me for who I was. She loved me unconditionally and I loved her heart and soul. Together we could move mountains. We were made for each other and that's not just words. When Tammy died, my world turned into something I didn't recognize. A dark place. A place where everyone seem cold. A place where I wasn't really sure I wanted to be. The fact that I could fend for myself (the aforementioned cooking, cleaning etc.) was meaningless. What I didn't have was Tammy and without her by my side nothing in life mattered. I couldn't understand why Tammy... this sweet, wonderful woman, died. This was supposed to be our time to shine, our time to grow old together. We had plans to vacation that Spring at the beach. The pain of knowing that Tammy died was staggering. It wasn't just that she wasn't here, it was the confusion and emotional trauma of her dying suddenly like that and being gone in an instant. What could I have done differently ... or better? I was her knight in shining armor and yet somehow I felt helpless to "save" her. In the three years since Tammy died, I have learned to cope. I do understand that there are things that are out of our control. But none of that makes this life alone very livable. It's monotony for the most part. I still feel like I'm taking baby steps or maybe even that I've reached the "highest heights" of my grief journey. I'm here, but I haven't found the formula to find any sustained happiness.

Sandra, in this grieving life, real comfort hardly exists. The best I can say is we try to find a way to survive and to cope. Not much of a long term goal but it's something. I mean, we're still here and there must be a reason for it, but sometimes it's just hard to bear. We've gone from living life with that one person who made every day better to the constant pain, longing and loneliness of today. Personally, I have a really hard time finding purpose now. When Tammy was here I always knew who I was and what I needed to do. I was a beloved husband with a beautiful wife who I cherished and loved more than life itself. I was her champion and her knight in shining armor. We fought the battles together and together we were so much better, so much stronger. Alone, I have little direction and my life feels meaningless. I went from a love story for the ages to a life devoid of love except in my mind's eye and my memories. This new world is so hard. So really, all any of us can do it try our best. If our best means laying in bed and bawling our eyes out that's OK. I think just joining a forum like this and reading and/or posting shows we want to find a way to ease this pain and suffering. I do find some sense of comfort knowing that when I post here, the people here "get it". I feel less alone in a way.

Sandra, I'm glad my words were able to touch you and maybe help in some small way. This life of grief is so unimaginably difficult and at times, nearly unbearable. I know when I first came here in 2015, I didn't know where to turn. Family and friends meant well but truly didn't understand my loss. Here at the forum I found something that made a difference... a real understanding of the pain I was feeling. Members here embraced me with kindness and a genuine desire to help. I didn't get cliches or platitudes. Just the truth. Sometimes that truth was painful to hear but it was honest and heartfelt. Losing your soul mate is losing yourself in many ways and it certainly changes day to day life. Nothing will ever be the same or feel the same. But somehow we survive. Even today, more than three years since my Tammy died, I still live life in 24 hour increments. I have good days and I have bad days. Of course it's all relative. My good days are a pale immitation of my life with Tammy. I know how lucky I was to have a wife like Tammy and to share a life with her. Those of us here at the forum were all blessed. Not every relationship out there is like the one we shared with our beloved. At the same time (because of the deep love we shared) our pain after losing them is that much deeper. With intense love comes intense and prolonged pain. I don't know if what I'm about to write will help you but it helped me early on in my grief journey. A member here said something that touched me deeply. Basically they reminded me that I wasn't the same person I once was. That I was still Mitch but I was Mitch with a whole lot of Tammy mixed in. And that made so much sense. We do become as one. From that moment on I realized that even though Tammy was physically gone, she will always be a part of me. She's with me with every step I take. You've found a really wonderful resource here at Marty's forum. Keep posting... it will help. When you're ready tell us a little about your man, that will help too. And if the need a hug or a shoulder to cry on, we've got you covered. Here's a link to a topic I started not long after Tammy's death that might be worth looking at: Hugs, Mitch

Sandra, sorry for the terrible loss that brings you here. There's nothing more devastating and life altering as losing a beloved spouse. It not only feels like your life has no meaning but it's as if you're in some sort of alternate reality that you no longer fit in. I lost my wife Tammy to the ravages of systemic lupus on March 6, 2015 and honestly, I'm still going through the motions of life. I don't say that to scare you in any way. It's just how it is. You just take things one moment at a time. Build up to a day at a time. A week at a time etc.. After all, this is a wound that never fully heals. It's far too deep and far too emotional. Everything that had meaning in life is no more. In time what you can do is cope. I function fairly well now but life just doesn't have the joy it had when Tammy was here. It's a process... a very hard one. In some ways grief is a learning experience. Everyone's journey is different. My path and my direction are different than someone's else's. What works for me, may not work for you. But there are things that all of us here at this forum share. We all loved our spouse more than life itself. We all share an intense sadness and pain and confusion and we think about the why's and the what-if's and we just want to go back in time and somehow, some way, prevent the death of our beloved. You talked about the grief waves and believe me there will be plenty. And you never know how big those waves will be or when they will hit. But they will. There's also what I call the grief dance. There are many versions. You have the one step forward, two steps back version. The two steps forward, two steps back. And on occasion, I enjoy the two step forward and no steps back version. That's rare but sometimes it happens. You're early in your journey and I know how much it hurts. I wouldn't wish this kind of emotional trauma on my worst enemy. But we're living it and this is our life from here on out. Just don't look too far ahead. Cherish the small victories. Pat yourself on the back for just making it through another day and leaving the fetal position. And know that your man will always reside in you, heart and soul. Mitch

This is something I posted in March 2016, about a year after my beloved wife Tammy died. I'm reposting it here for those who haven't seen it in the hope it will help others...

Yep that's exactly it. Let's face it, life isn't easy. But with our spouse in the world those rough days were a lot easier and the little joys were that much more joyful. Now alone, there's a whole lot of shrugs of the shoulders and "whatevers" replacing any sense of accomplishment or happiness. I guess the challenge is to somehow transform those "who cares" feelings into a sense of pride in ourselves. Fact is, just getting here and functioning is quite an accomplishment. Unfortunately, we can't change what happened so all we can do is cherish the life we had and move forward with our spouses love in our heart.

"Fake life" is an interesting way to put it, Tom. Unfortunately this life is oh so painfully real. But I totally understand what you mean. We had everything we needed in life. It wasn't about possessions or money, it was all about being with the one person that truly made you whole. They made you better. You were part of a team and you shared an unbreakable, undying love. This life isn't fake but it sure feels empty and mostly meaningless. But, this is all we have to work with. With Tammy by my side I knew my place in this world and knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Now, I don't have a clue. I do what needs to get done, sure, but life doesn't have any real zest to it. It's tedious and it's often me just going in circles. I guess this is sadly my "real life V2" as you called it. Or maybe it's just the beta version of V2 because I have a bunch of kinks to work out. I can only hope and keep on plugging along.

Three years ago I lost everything. The woman of my dreams, who I loved like no other, was taken from me in an instant. Wednesday March 4, 2015... Tammy had come home after another life and death medical emergency and an extended stay in the hospital and rehab place. I finally felt like the world was where it should be. Tammy was back in our bed and my beautiful bride and I were sharing the same bed. So much better than her in a hospital bed and me curled up in a chair next to her. I remember thinking how beautiful she looked when we were leaving the rehab place. Tired but oh so lovely. Tammy left via an ambulance and I followed them in my car. It was a horrible weather night. Torrential rains were going to turn to a snowstorm on Thursday. As we approached or neighborhood, the ambulance drivers took a wrong turn on the way to our house. I parked my car in front of our house and frantically ran to try to find where they were. All the while I was getting soaked in the freezing rain. I finally found them and they helped Tammy into the house and upstairs to bed. Tammy was exhausted and went right to sleep. That night I felt like our world was back on track. The future was bright for us... at least that's what I thought. Thursday March 5, 2015... This was a fairly uneventful day except for the horrible 10" of snow we were getting. I wasn't able to get to go to the pharmacy to get Tammy's meds so I'd have to wait til Friday morning. It was a good day overall. Tammy still felt weak though and wasn't able to do her exercises. I changed a few things around in an exercise area of our house to accomodate Tammy. Friday March 6, 2015... I got up very early to clean the snow off the car and our sidewalks so I could get to the grocery store and pharmacy. I told Tammy I loved her and made sure she was OK before I left. Came home with her meds and some food including the ingredients to a special meal I was making. She loved my cooking and she loved corned beef. So, a delicious corned beef supper was cooking away. I worked on a few safety items in the bathroom that would help Tammy. Tammy and I were watching some TV shows and I brought up a little snack for us to eat. Around 12:30 PM or so she said she was rolling over to take a nap. Not unusual at all as Tammy did sleep quite a bit. During the afternoon I was doing some chores around the house and checking in to make sure Tammy was OK. Around 3 or so Tammy got up and I was talking to her but she seemed confused. I wasn't sure what was going on. I called my brother in law (a physician) and asked if it was possible that the new narcotic med Tammy just got could be causing her confusion. He said it was possible and that put my mind at ease. I also called Tammy's mom in Illinois to update her on Tammy. Tammy seemed very restless and again I thought maybe it was the new med. Then she told me she was having trouble breathing and I called 911. While on the phone Tammy said it was a false alarm and that she was "sorry I scared you". I felt so much relief. She went back to bed but the breathing issue came back and I called 911. And it was BUSY!! I called again frantically was put on hold! How is this possible?? Finally I got through and the EMT people finally arrived. Tammy was not doing well at all. I felt so helpless. So scared. I saw frightened the look in her eyes and she struggled to breathe. She looked up and said "help me!" help me!" and they put the oxygen mask on her. And those words will always ring in my ears because they were the last gut wrenching words I heard Tammy speak. I lost Tammy shortly after. I'm crying now and it's too painful to type out the rest of the story of that day. Tammy should still be here. 45 year old people aren't supposed to die. Why did she have to suffer so much throughout her life? She was a kind, gentle, loving, beautiful, funny, sweet person and she was my whole world. My whole life. My happiness. My love. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- March 6, 2018... Three years later, I'm still hurting. I went to work but my heart was elsewhere. Reliving the traumatic events of three years ago. The events that changed me and changed my life forever. I got a text today from Tammy's sister Tracey. She wrote "Thinking of you today. Remembering Tammy and how much she loved you!". I was just glad no one but me was in the break room at work when I read that because I burst out into tears. Tammy was perfect for me. I was the bread, she was the butter. We meshed together so amazingly. We truly were those proverbial two peas in a pod. A day never went by we didn't tell each other how much we loved one another. It was us against the world. Our life wasn't easy but we had each other and love overcame it all. With Tammy I knew my place in the world and it was being Tammy's knight in shining armor and her being my special bride. And now alone, my life is so different. I'm trying to find some meaning. Trying to find a way to see some real happiness. Some glimpse of a future that feels fulfilling. For now though, it's still one day at a time and getting through another 24 hours in one piece emotionally. It hurts so much because Tammy deserved so much more time in this life. I'm not just saying that for selfish reasons. This world lost one of the best of the best when Tammy died. The sun shines a little less bright now. I miss Tammy with every fiber of my being. That pain will linger forever. I accept that and understand that. It's the price of finding my true soul mate and the intense love and bond we shared. I'm a better person today because of Tammy. Our life together and the love we shared is etched forever on my soul. I love her forever and always for eternity. I still have a life to live but ultimately Tammy and I will be reunited in some way. It has to be that way. We were meant for each other. Mitch

Mary Beth, I fully understand the pain that overwhelms you. The feeling that there is nothing left in this life. The feeling of not knowing who you are anymore. The feeling of having no place or purpose. The feeling of desolation and isolation. The feeling of "stop the world I want to get off of it". I lost my Tammy nearly three years ago in a way that shattered me. There I was chatting with my lovely 45 year old wife who I loved more than life itself. We were home watching TV after she had just come home from another long hospital and rehab stay. It was suppossed to be a good day. Our life was going to get better. We were going to be those two peas in a pod forever and ever. Six hours later, I was sitting with her in the trauma room at the hospital but she didn't respond ... because she had just gone to heaven. At that moment my world went dark and colors turned to gray. Happiness was in the rear view mirror. I was a stranger in a strange land. Lost. Confused. Traumatized. Devastated. I too didn't think I could make it. How could I possibly live in a world without my beautiful, amazing perfect for me wife? How could I carry on? How could I live without her by my side? Somewhere along the way I found a way. No, this isn't the life I wanted. It's not a life filled with the touch of Tammy or her scent or her smile. But I learned that she is forever in my heart. She is forever a part of me. I'm not just walking in this life as Mitch. I'm Mitch with a lot of Tammy magic sprinkled in. She helps me get through those dark days and motivates me to hang in there. Life is just too precious to give up. It is a gift. I miss Tammy's love and giving her mine with every fiber of my being. But, if I give up, I'm also giving up on the chance that my life will somehow get better. That I will find meaning or purpose some day. The fact is, Tammy never gave up. She faced medical ordeals that could have easily had her giving up. Surgery after surgery, massive life and death infections, sepsis, cardiac arrest. The list goes on. She is and always will be the best part of my life. She is my inspiration. This life without our beloved does feel impossible at times. I have days where I almost feel like everything is pointless. Useless. Empty. But I've learned to give it another 24 hours and I'm often in a bit better place emotionally. There are no giant leaps in grief. It's a two steps back, one step forward kind of life. Someday, you might just take an unexpected couple of steps forward. We're here for you and we care. Mitch

That's the thing. We all try our best... do the "right" things. Yet, ultimately none of it really changes our "quality of life". What quality, right? It's living, yes, but it often feels like living in some sort of purgatory. We're waiting for something good to happen, but when? And from what I've learned in this journey, this may be as good as it gets. In March it will be 3 years without my sweet Tammy. The days turn to nights and when dawn breaks it's just another day of emptiness and longing. I wish I had the answers to soothe all of our aching and broken hearts. At least we're here for each other and in a small way, it helps, right? Mitch

Like everyone else I'm lonely but I can't even fathom another relationship. I have to find my way to some sense of peace and happiness on my own. My grief is forever and so are my memories. It sounds bleak in a way, but it's what my mind says and I'm working it out the best I can 24 hours at a time. Tammy was my once in a lifetime love.

Thank you both. Winter time is a struggle for me. Tammy was so sick that last winter and it brings back so much pain and anguish now. It feels so cold both emotionally and literally. Tammy's not here to snuggle up to and her empty side of the bed reinforces what I once had. The love of my life is gone. Life seems to go in 24 hour cycles. If I have a bad day, I do try my best to make the next one better. I am trying to find some meaning and purpose. Yet ultimately, it's still an unpleasant, uncomfortable Groundhog Day kind of life, devoid of love.

Going through some rough days recently. This was the time of year back in 2014 that Tammy's health took a turn for the worse that last time. The cold and extreme winds we're having feels eerily similar to the weather back then. And yesterday wasn't just Christmas Eve... it was our wedding anniversary. I'm trying to maintain some positivity and hopefulness but it's eluding me right now. The world just feels cold, lonely and empty.

Gin, I think we all have those feelings from time to time. I know in my mind, I did everything I could to have Tammy in my life forever. Yet, she did die. I realize her body simply gave in to the ravages of 25 years of severe Lupus and other illnesses. But she did die. And I'm here. And all alone. Missing the world we shared and the love we shared. She loved Chrismas. She was so passionate about the joy of the holiday. Now alone, this time of year feels cold and empty. There's no joy to be found. Sure Tammy will be in my heart forever. She's etched on my soul. She's always on my mind and each step I take has her still beside me. But, it's not the same without her sweet smile, soothing voice, soft skin and that twinkle in her eye. My life will never have the happiness it had. Tammy elevated my world to a place of true bliss and contentment. I wish all of you "happy" holidays and hope that all of us can find some meaning (and make some sense of all of this) in the new year. Mitch

When Tammy died on March 6th 2015, the world I lived in changed forever. Any and all future plans were gone. In an instant everything was different. From that moment on, I became a different man. Not entirely, I mean I'm still basically the same Mitch to most people. I put on a good show. But inside, I'm not the same. How could I be? I had one perfect best friend. One absolutely perfect for me wife. One person in my life who I knew loved me. One person who was always on my side and by my side. When Tammy died, I pretty much had no one and my emotions were instantly out of sync. The world, which I thought I had a pretty good grasp on, became foreign and painful to live in. That's when I just started "existing" and not living with the same zest and joy for life. Tammy and I came together in 1999 via the internet. She was living her life in a small town in Illinois with her 3 year old daughter Katie. Me, I was in Maryland living the life of a confirmed bachelor believing I'd never find the right woman for me. Who would put up with me and all my quirks? Yet somehow, there was this instant connection. First in our writing and then in our sometimes all night phone chats. One night in particular, she read to me from Katie's book "Goodnight Moon" and I fell asleep clutching the phone to my ear. In mid-snore I awoke and Tammy was still on the line waiting for me. Over the months we talked (before her move with Katie to live with me in MD), we were clearly falling madly in love with each other. When we met at the airport for the first time and I saw her and touched her and kissed her... there was no doubt she was the one. And vice-versa. Tammy never was blessed with good health. She was diagnosed with systemic lupus at 20. Her case was severe. Tammy lived a life of courage and strength facing health issues literally 24/7. Multiple cases of sepsis, cardiac arrest and too many life threatening infections and surgeries to count were a way of life. And yet somehow Tammy had a smile on her face and loved to laugh. I think my sense of humor was a big attraction for her. Tammy and I were a team. We fought all the battles together. We truly were better together, that's no cliche. Having Tammy in my life made me a much better person and gave my life a sense of joy and fulfillment I never had experienced before. And then Tammy died. At 45 years old. How unfathomable is that in this day and age? After coming home from another long hospital and rehab stay. Her mind was willing but her body succumbed to the ravages of her disease. When Tammy was rushed to the hospital on the last day of her life, I frantically followed in my car. I had just seen that man in the ambulance pounding on Tammy chest and she did not respond. My emotions at that moment were incomprehensible and inconsolable. A doctor came to where I was sitting and told me Tammy had arrived unresponsive and that she had died. At that moment, I was gone too. Emotionally checked out. I sat with Tammy in the hospital's trauma room for hour after hour. I could not leave her. I could never leave her. She was me and I was her. After about six hours they told me I had to go and I understood they needed that room. I drove home and arrived at our house after 1 AM on the 7th. At that moment, the world went dark. My life had no meaning. I had no purpose. No direction. I had no one who loved me and no one who wanted my love. I was there but I wasn't there. I'm sure you all know what I mean. Time. I have no concept of time anymore. Some days, 24 hours feels like an eternity and then I look at the calendar and see it's been over 32 months since I lost my Tammy. How could that be? How has it been that long? How have I even survived? And yet with all of this, I still have some inkling of hope. But my expectations have been lowered. It's not about hoping to find a new love and start a new life with someone else. That's not even part of my thinking. What I had with Tammy was a once in a lifetime moment. The hope I have is that somehow I will change my life into something that has some sense of fulfillment and a modicum of happiness to it. Right now, it's just a day to day moment to moment "to-do" list kind of life. I'm functional, but there's no joy to be found. All of us know our lives will never be the same, it can't be. Life will never feel as good as it once did. But we all want to find a way to go beyond just existing. Beyond staring at the walls and marking off another day on the calendar. The problem is, figuring out how to accomplish that. And the path and ultimate goal is an individual thing. There's no "one size fits all" solution. And so begins another day on this lonely (but still hopeful) journey... Mitch

Life without Tammy just doesn't get easier. Sure I've adapted to the rhythm of this lonely life to an extent. It's a one day at a time life repeated by another 24 hours of the same loneliness, emptiness and longing for my Tammy. Today was another day in this difficult journey. I decided to make some slow cooker bbq'd pulled chicken. Something I've never done. I'm not really a slow cooker guy but I figured, what the heck. Tammy loved the slow cooker. Well, after six hours it turned out ridiculously good. Made some slaw too. So there I was munching on this juicy, succulent, sweet and tangy chicken sandwich and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the flavor. This was one of the tastiest sandwiches I've ever had. Then it hit me... hard. In mid orgasmic bite, the tears started to well up. All I could think about was how Tammy would love this. How I wished she could taste it. I screamed out "Tammy you have to eat this". "Why can't you eat this???". My head now tilted down hovering over the plate, the tears threatening to water down the homemade tangy cole slaw. The pain of losing Tammy will never leave. That's a given. Sure, it's not always at the surface, but it's there just waiting to burst out. I've learned to calm myself down after a few minutes of anguish. If I went longer I don't think I could bounce back like I do. I have a void in my life that nothing or no one could ever fill. Tammy was my whole life, my happiness. Even though it's been over 32 months, what happened on March 6, 2015 still seems so unfathomable.

My heart is with you today, Gwen. No words I can muster will ease the loneliness and the pain this day and every day brings. Just know there are people here that understand and care. Hugs. Mitch

Ana just let these people know you aren't ready for anything like that and to not ask again. That's simply stress/pressure you don't need at this point.

The loneliness is horrible, no doubt. Yet, at least for me... the only way to really fix that is to somehow travel back in time and cure Tammy of all her medical conditions and live happily together forever. Short of that, no one, no group of people and honestly nothing could ever change the emptiness, loneliness and meaninglessness of life these days. All I can do is accept that this is the life I have for better or worse. It's not a life I wanted or a life I would have ever chosen. Yet here I am. Taking it one day at a time and just trying to keep my head above water without my Tammy. It's not much of a life, but who knows... Maybe someday, I'll have some sort of epiphany and figure out what I need to do to at least feel some glimmer of happiness. So, I guess in that sense, I do still have hope.

I don't need to compare my "new life" to my life with Tammy because it's painfully obvious how this one sucks. There is no comparison. And that's just it. I had love. Contentment. Pleasure. Comfort. A shoulder to cry on. Companionship. I had intimacy. Truth is, I had a good life that was special because Tammy and I had each other. There's nothing special about life these days. Unless "especially awful" counts. Having said that, I do try my best. It's just that life before was so much better and it feels like I just tread water these days. Mitch

Kay, I'm not trying to speak for Gwen or the others but it's not that there's nothing to do. We all can fill our days with the mundane type of chores you mentioned. I work five days a week. What we can't seem to do is find things in our lives that are emotionally fulfilling and bring us a measure of real happiness. Those days seemed to have died along with our beloved. That's the biggest struggle in this new life. Creating the formula that finds an emotional "comfortable and happy place" without the love of our life by our side. Mitch

Weekdays are no different than weekends for me. Every day is an exercise in loneliness and "existing". The emptiness of life without Tammy is often so overwhelming I can barely fathom what lies ahead. The future? Pretty much the same as today and the day before and the day before that. Biding my time until... and that's just it. Until what? Life seems to be different variations on the same theme. Just trying to get through the day in one piece, emotionally and physically. There's no joy. No love. And for now (and maybe forever) no real sense that I'm doing anything truly worthwhile or ultimately, fulfilling. I know that sounds a little bleak, but, hey, at least I'm trying. There's that, right? And Gwen, here's a big hug. Mitch

It' is so hard dealing with so many day to day issues after our beloved has died. I remember going to the bank for the first time after Tammy died and opening up an account in my name only. Sitting at the desk with the woman from the bank felt like I was having an out of body experience. Why wasn't Tammy sitting there by my side? I literally ran out of the bank suffering an anxiety attack. Having to write the word "deceased" on paperwork and tax forms brought me to my knees. At work, I'm no longer listed as married; I'm single for tax purposes and yet I still feel married. There's so many levels to this life of grieving and none of it is easy or comforting. I don't know how we maintain our positivity or maintain our sanity (or what's left of it).

The saga of my new terrible renter neighbors continues. There is a stream of different people living there it seems. By my count I've seen 15-20 different individuals come and go. This week, there were two "events". The police responded to a domestic incident and last night they had a party with loud music and pounding bass until about 2 AM. They throw some of their trash on my property. None of this matters. The landlord on that property only cares about getting his rent. Doesn't care if it's a safe house for criminals or houses drug dealers. This is all so stressful and disconcerting. I'm the type that minds my own business and respects other people and their property. Sadly these neighbors don't care how anything they do affects others. Being alone here without Tammy and dealing with something like this is taking it's toll emotionally. I have enough on my emotional plate already and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed by it all. It's hard to heal when the stress level is this high.

The combination of now being over 60 and grieving for my Tammy isn't doing my body or my mind any favors. Nothing is easy. Just trying the best I can, but my best isn't what it used to be, that's for sure!