mittam99

Marty, that is wonderful information. I just don't think I'm quite ready for that yet. I understand that these moments of despair and sadness and loneliness and emptiness are normal in the grieving process. And I know I'm early in my grief journey. What's frightening is that I know from others here that this grief will last a long time. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief. Well, I loved Tammy will every fiber of my being and then some. She was my world and all I had in life. I can't fathom living in this sort of strange world where I feel so lost and so sad for the foreseeable future. Where doing everyday normal things just feels so painful, anxiety filled and traumatic. And there are many factors that make things even more difficult for me, I think. For one, Tammy really was my whole world. I'm not emotionally close with any family and I don't have any close personal in-person friends. I do have a few select people that I talk to on the phone but they return my calls at their convenience (which is understandable) which doesn't always help when I'm having one of those "moments". I am seeing a counselor but that's only for 1 hour in a 168 hour week. Yes, I'm going back to work Thursday but I'm not looking forward to it. Scared actually. Another factor. My life revolved around Tammy and when her illnesses got worse in the past few years, I was her caregiver. Now that she's gone, it's not only that I have no one to love or that loves me... I have no real purpose/goal in life. Tammy and I had a purpose; we wanted to spend more time together... happy, in love and hopefully with Tammy's health improving. And those "what if's" and hindsight really play on my mind. Another factor... I'm a man. Seriously. Men are supposed to be the strong ones and not show emotions. Of course that's bullcrap. Luckily, I've always worn my heart on my sleeve and have no problems showing my emotions or crying. I am who I am. It's just that some people I deal with tell me things like "stiff upper lip" and "you've got to be strong". Ridiculous advice. Another factor. I was a lifelong bachelor when I met Tammy in 1999. I was 44 years old. She was 30. I was used to living alone. At the time it didn't really bother me. Once Tammy and I fell in love, my life completely changed. You really do become as one. I never knew life could be so fulfilling and wonderful. Tammy made me feel like I was so special. And she was perfect for me. Now, fast forward to today... Here I am, alone with no one in my life that seems to care. I'm without the woman of my dreams. I think about the future plans we had that aren't going to happen. About the tragedy of Tammy passing away at only 45 years old! I'm single again but I'm not 30 or 40 or even 50 anymore. And I'm not the man I was before I met Tammy. I don't want to be alone. But... the only person I want is Tammy. And unless I invent a time machine... I'm 59 years old (turn 60 in May... that's a scary number!) and my future seems bleak.

Amy, you've joined a really caring group of people here. I'm so sorry to hear of your loss of your beloved Daniel. I lost my wife Tammy suddenly on March 6th and I'm also heartbroken and lost. I had my Tammy for nearly 15 years but it wasn't even close to long enough. I hear you when you talk about being Daniel's girl and how you're now trying to adjust to being his widow. This grief journey is really hard. It feels like you not only lost a spouse/best friend/soulmate but it feels like half of you is missing too. Keep posting here and on your blog. It will help!

It's been 5 weeks today and I honestly don't know how I can survive without my Tammy. This isn't living. Unless you enjoy living in hell. That's what it feels like. I take pleasure in nothing I do. Most people in my life have no interest in me, it's not their problem. I'm going back to work next week even though I'm not close to ready, I guess bills have to be paid. I'm just doing the bare minimum... eating and sleeping and not much more. I can't concentrate on anything. All I do is burst out into tears and think about how cold and empty and useless my life is now. Tammy was all I had. She made me feel special, she gave me love no one ever else did. She was the only reason this world was tolerable. Seeing all the overwhelming medical horrors she went through in her life and seeing her come home with optimism after the Feb/March hospital/rehab ordeal only to die less than two days later is unfathomable. The medical staff at the rehab place clearly failed to properly take care of her underlying medical issues while she was in their care. All they were concerned about was doing physical therapy and having her leave the second insurance ran out. There is so much incompetence in the medical profession it is sickening. I've asked some people "what do I really have in my life?" and for the most part no one can really come up with anything. A job? A car? A house? What good is any of that if you have no love in your life and no one that cares? Tammy's daughter Katie (who I raised as my own with Tammy from age 3-18) won't even let me talk about her mom. When I do, she shuts me down. And this is via text because she will not even talk to me on the phone. Suicide seems like an easy way out but that's not something I could do. So here I am, alone, unloved, devastated, in misery and seeing no happiness in my future. Grief just seems like some sort of slow, long lasting torture.

This is a very well thought out article and worth a read for all of us that have lost a beloved spouse...

Right now it seems like my biggest hurdles/issues are the guilt and regrets. I know neither are making this grief journey any easier, My outbursts of tears mostly seem to happen when I'm thinking about what happened to Tammy or how unfair it all was for her and how this wonderful, sweet woman, my everything, didn't deserve any of this. Add those other "triggers" I talked about in an earlier post and I seem to be taking one step forward, two steps back. I've had a rough couple of days. A lot of my guilt and regrets I feel are based on me being Tammy's caregiver for a number of years. After all, I was sort of "in charge of" her health and well being. And in my mind her happiness. She wasn't totally incapacitated, btw. She took her pills on her own, checked her blood pressure (with the occasional reminder from me) bathed herself etc and while I sometimes had to help her to and from the bathroom, she mostly did that. I was the one to take her from place to place (doctors visits for example), help her as needed with whatever she needed, I cooked all her meals, did her wound care (she had many, many painful open MRSA wounds all over), and just generally was there for her at all times. I also loved to make Tammy laugh and she was a great audience for me, oh how I loved her smile and wonderful laugh. On more than one occasion she told me to stop because I was making her laugh too much (like when she was taking a drink of water)! That 's what you do when you are 100% in love with someone, right? I've never understood people that tell me how amazing I was and that many husbands wouldn't have done what I did for Tammy. In my opinion, if a man wouldn't do that for his beloved wife, he isn't much of a man or husband. When Tammy was hospitalized or in rehab, I'd let work know I wasn't working. For the most part I tried to stay with Tammy 24/7. I always felt like I could be Tammy's advocate and being with her made me feel better. A friend of Tammy's recently told me Tammy said "I always knew when I opened my eyes, Mitch would be there". And that made me feel good and cry of course! This past February one of the hospital doctors told me he "admired" me for the way I stayed with Tammy night and day. Again, to me, it was my pleasure and it's what a husband should do. It's sad that most people think what I did was so "amazing". So what exactly is my guilt? Again, this is all hindsight and in reality, I always did what I thought was best for Tammy. What I feel guilty about... For starters, the fact that Tammy passed away. That wasn't supposed to happen on "my watch". I was her knight in shining armor, her protector, so to speak. Obvious on Friday March 6th neither of us had an inkling that this would be her last day. Her symptoms were most just being extremely tired, which is the norm for someone who has severe lupus. When her symptoms became more unusual, I kept thinking "what should I do"? Should I call 911?". Then the thought came into my head "she just came home from rehab, how could this be"? "Don't jump to any conclusions" (I'm a worrywart by nature and tend to think the worst when everything is basically ok), and Tammy herself was just saying she can't get comfortable and was very tired. When I saw her sitting up on the edge of the bed and sort of falling back in slow motion... I went into panic mode. It just seemed so unusual. Was this just someone super tired or something worse? After screaming Tammy's name several times, and seeing her open her eyes, I felt a great relief. And again, she just said she was exhausted. At short time later she was having trouble breathing and I called 911 and she was gone. I keep replaying all that in my mind and wondering, if only I called sooner would it have made a difference? I honestly don't know, of course. I thought a lot of the symptoms could have been due to the new narcotic pain pill she just started that morning. I did call my brother in law (a physician) late Friday afternoon with some of her symptoms (extreme tiredness and some confusion) and he thought it certainly could be the new pill. All my life I wanted to find someone as perfect as Tammy for me and on this day, I just didn't know what to do, which way to go. Then again, why didn't that doctor at rehab take better care of Tammy and see that something was brewing inside? Tammy and I both were so optimistic, so happy to be home. So looking forward to our future. I'm also feeling guilty because I think in the past couple years I was so concentrating on Tammy's wound care and making sure that everything she touched was germ free (she was extremely prone to infections) and worrying about her health/safety 24/7 (she had fallen many times) that I didn't see how emotionally fragile she was. Again, this is mostly based on hindsight. Some friends have told me Tammy told them she was deeply emotionally hurt by the way her own mother and her daughter had sort of abandoned her. She was distraught by her father's death in 2012 from brain cancer (he was her superhero; she always said I reminded her of her dad and that was a huge compliment). Unfortunately, while Tammy would talk to me a little about things like this, she didn't open up very much about it. I think with her Midwestern "stiff upper lip" upbringing, she felt like she'd be "complaining" if she did. Of course now with hindsight, I wish she would have cried on my shoulder more so I could wipe her tears and tell her how much I love her over and over. Of course, I told her I loved her many many times a day, hopefully she never got tired of hearing it! Also, because she was prone to infections and because her MRSA wounds were so bad and located in "sensitive areas", we weren't being as physical as we once were. If I had a cold, I was worried she'd get sick when I kissed her. Sex was a challenge and I was always worried I was going to hurt her. And I feel guilty that I worried about getting the MRSA myself. I also feel guilty for having moments when I felt overwhelmed being the caregiver. Regrets? I'm sure we've all had those. We're all human. Why did I say something mean in an argument two years ago, for example. I loved (and still love) Tammy with all my heart, with every fiber of my being. I hope she knows that and that I always lived life with her with one thing in mind... to try to make her happy and healthy. I hope she can forgive me for all the things I did wrong.

I completely understand Cassandra. My Tammy also accepted me for who I am, flaws and all. I've never had that before, that unconditional love. Like you said it does feel like everything's wrong in your world. The world does seem like a different place. The truth is, the world hasn't changed but we definitely have. Losing you soul mate is a traumatic, life changing event. Just like you, I'm early in my grief journey. I'm just taking it a day at a time. Trying to put one step in front of the other. Really, that's all you can do. Keep posting here and letting your feelings out, it will help!

I thought this was a pretty interesting read from Dr. Phil.

I'm finding if I do something that takes concentration, I can keep it together fairly well. But, there are so many "triggers" that just send me immediately into a burst of tears. A photo, something on TV, a song, thinking about all that Tammy went through, the future we didn't get to accomplish/share... I just miss her so much, it just hurts.

Cassandra, I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. It sounds like you and Jack had something very special. I lost my wife Tammy suddenly on March 6th after a long battle with lupus. You've definitely found a wonderful resource for those who have lost a loved one. This forum and it's members have been absolutely amazing and comforting to me. Please continue to post about your grief journey here. I know this site and it's members will give you insight and inspiration and much needed comfort as well.

I had my second session with my counselor and she seems to think it might be good for me to go back to work Monday. I have sort of been isolating myself from people and while I know it will be difficult, she might be right. I do need the money, obviously, and while I'm dreading the "what happened" questions and all the cliches I'm going to hear, in the long run, it may be the time to go back. Still though, I'm nervous. Ironically, I ran into a co-worker while buying groceries today. He had heard about Tammy and gave me his condolences. We talked for about 15 minutes and as it turned out, he lost his 92 year old mom in February. He was perfectly nice about everything but I still felt awkward in that situation. Multiply that by 100's and that's what work will be like in the first weeks back, I'm sure. Another thing I'm dealing with is the whole concept of "your wife is no longer in pain or suffering" that I often hear. I know there certainly is truth there... Tammy went through more medical trauma than anyone I know of. And she became more and more debilitated over the years, But... and this is what I'm trying to come to grips with... she wanted to live; she had an amazing positive outlook. And so did I. And I needed her in my life. So yes, she isn't feeling that constant pain or dreading what the next medical problem will be... but she's also not sharing a laugh or a good meal with me or a hug or a kiss or... Tammy was my whole life, my whole world. It's hard to go from a life filled with love to a life filled with loving memories. It's difficult to go from being a loving husband and a loving caregiver to concentrating on myself. At least I'm thinking of a future, though. That's good, right? I'm on a grief forum learning from others and mourning Tammy, I'm reading books on the subject, I'm seeing a counselor. Hopefully, in time, I will be able to look at the "big picture". For now, I'm just trying to put one foot in front of the other.

It was a month ago today on March 6th that Tammy tragically passed away. Today was pretty much like many days I've had. Lonely, quiet, sad. I think I'm still in disbelief. I had a couple really emotional outbursts of tears that happened each time I read a particular sentence in one of the books on grief I'm reading. The sentence read "the first step toward positive change is to recognize that the life of the person your cared about is over and that yours is not." It was the "the life of the person you cared about is over" part that got to me... deeply. Maybe I still am holding out some sort of hope that she will come back and that this was all just some sort of nightmare I'm having. Maybe that's why I still haven't emptied out the glass of lemon water on her nightstand she drank from. I guess I still haven't fully accepted what happened? The book goes on to basically say that by "holding on to the past" we tend to make it more difficult to have a forward looking present. I'm only a month into this grief journey... isn't it normal to still be putting parts of our lives on hold until we feel ready for it? Your thoughts would be welcome.

Welcome to the site, Barb. I lost my beloved wife Tammy on March 6th and the people of this forum have been amazingly understanding and helpful. You won't get the "get over it" or "you need to be strong" or any other such nonsense here. Losing a soulmate is a life changing, incredibly emotional and traumatic event. None of us will "get over it", it's just learning to cope and finding a way to have a meaningful life without them by our side. Please continue to post here. I think you'll find it a very good way to express your feelings in a very caring environment.

Everything you said mirrors how I feel. Thank you for putting it into words. I think another thing that makes it harder to go back to life alone is the age factor (at least for me). I was a lifelong bachelor when I met and fell in love with Tammy at 44 years old. And of course she made my world a much better, happier place. She gave me something I never experienced before... unconditional love. I'll be 60 in May and the idea of living into my "golden years" without Tammy seems very dismal.

I was invited to a family dinner last night. It was extremely hard for me to do, but I went. I sat there trying to listen to other people but all the while I was thinking "Tammy should be sitting next to me". I know that's normal, but that doesn't mean it's easy. I saw a couple of people I hadn't seen for a while and the "sorry for your loss" comments were difficult to hear. I know the people were sincere, it's just hard to respond to that. I'm dreading going back to work and literally dealing with a hundred people daily asking me the same questions about losing Tammy (I'm in a retail customer service business). I'm concerned I won't be able to concentrate on my work like I need to. \ find myself needing to be extra careful with my keys and wallet and things because I seem absent minded these days. I find myself being clumsier and shaky and I've knocked over a few cups of water and plates of food. Living a real life and doing real life things without Tammy is going to be very, very hard and very painful for the foreseeable future. I have a couple of books my counselor recommended coming in the mail today. I'll read them looking for some insight. I see my counselor again this Tuesday, and again, I'm hoping that helps. I also hope it's ok that I'm using this topic as a place to post about my journey. The members here have been very kind. I think I'm still in disbelief that Tammy is gone. It's only been four weeks yet sometimes these four weeks seem longer than that. I'm so scared that as time go by I'll forget her voice, her smell and some of those happy memories might fade. I cry when I think about the overwhelming medical ordeals she had to go through. How undeserving she was of such trauma. How I think the medical pros let her down. I truly don't believe most doctors are knowledgeable/skilled enough to properly treat a patient with a complicated and severe case of Lupus. I can't tell you how many times a hospital doctor told us "Tammy is the most complicated patient I've ever seen". In some ways I think Tammy looked at that as a badge of honor, she was proud of her "battle scars". Surviving another bout of sepsis or getting through another life threatening ordeal was just "another notch in her belt". Not that she wanted to go through all that but she was proud of herself for being a fighter and I was proud of her for kicking lupus's butt time and time again. She was my everything.

Thanks everybody for your words and advice, it does help. Today just hasn't been a very good one. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact Tammy passed away shockingly four weeks ago on Friday March 6th. I'm reliving that day in my mind and feeling guilty I didn't call 911 earlier than I did. Tammy herself thought she was just super tired throughout the day. And of course I had no idea what was happening inside her body. But why didn't I just call 911 early anyway? Of course things like "Tammy just got home after a hospital/rehab stay and she was supposedly doing much better" popped into my head. I thought the new narcotic pain med prescription (oxycontin... she already took oxycodone as well) could be causing the extreme drowsiness/confusion I called my brother in law doctor and he agreed it could be that. That was 5 PM, And then, Tammy couldn't breathe and she was devastatingly gone by 7PM. On hindsight, it's pretty clear a lot was going on medically that the rehab place missed. The med staff there was pretty non-existent/poor. We often pointed out that Tammy's feet and legs were extremely swollen. Even after putting her back on her water pill, the swelling/fluid retention didn't change. The med staff there just kept telling us that Tammy needed to keep her legs elevated. She also was dealing with 3 blood clots, two of which were created by the clumsy way they did a procedure in the hospital a month early. And now Tammy was dealing with another drug, warfarin, that had a new set of issues, especially for someone who was prone to hemmorhaging, like Tammy. There's a part of me that questions whether or not poor medical care by the so-called professionals is what ultimately took Tammy away, But, I also know that Tammy's overall health had been going downhill for a number of years. She had so many surguries, you could hardly fit them on a piece of paper. She beat sepsis a number of times. cellulitis, e-coli, a cardiac arrest, a massive lung infection... She had become more or less bedridden. It took all her strength just to get dressed to even attempt to go out. And her walking and balance were poor. She had fallen a number of times at home. Not from losing balance, she just dropped. I took her to a specialist and they couldn't explain exactly why this was happening. She suffered from MRSA and open skin wounds. Imagine seeing your spouse bleeding profusely from an open wound and just covered in blood. This happened a number of times. Even with all these incredibly horrible ordeals, Tammy would deal with life in a positive, smiling way. Tammy was my world, She was courageous and simply an amazing human being. So today has been a tough one. I do know that Tammy would not want me to give up. It's just that fighting side by side with Tammy seemed a lot more worthwhile than fighting for myself without her.

Maryann, I think that's also what I got out off my first counseling session. The idea of taking care of myself in a positive way. Since I've been in the role of caregiver for some time, it's hard for me. I'm used to worrying about Tammy; it feels odd concentrating on me. And when it comes to the meals, Tammy LOVED my cooking. My food always, well almost always (I had a few duds from time to time) put a huge smile on her face. And that made me feel happy. She always told me I used that most special ingredient in my food ... TLC.

I went to my grief counselor today for the first visit. It went pretty well and she seemed to be someone who might be able to help me. Maybe it was the fact it was a sunny day or something else but for the most part, I felt pretty much ok today. It wasn't easy talking about the events of March 6th (the day Tammy passed) but the counselor made me feel better in some way. She gave me a couple of books of suggested reading for grieving spouses and seemed to care. I will be seeing her again this Tuesday. So, the day went better than expected although... I made myself a meal of something I think Tammy would have enjoyed and of course... I lost it. I mean, I'm used to cooking meals for me and Tammy... This feels so wrong, cooking for yourself. So goes the rollercoaster of emotions when you grieve for someone you love so deeply.

Kakalina, I am feeling the same. I lost my Tammy on March 6th and it doesn't feeling like living right now. This is a very hard journey to take alone. I actually have an appointment tomorrow with a counselor that, hopefully will help. Please continue posting your thoughts here because it really does help. This is a wonderful group of people. My heart (what's left of it) goes out to you.

I told them I just honestly could not function the way I need to right now. It's a job where I deal with the public and need to project a happy attitude. I've set a "goal" of coming back to work on a part time basis in about a week and a half.

Thanks for all your replies. Reading them helps but then I'm right back to my 24/7 feeling of sadness, emptiness and hopelessness. I just called my job today about returning to work and everyone just seemed so cold. It still feels like I have nothing in my life. And the guilt I'm putting on myself just compounds the sadness of what happened to my dear Tammy. This "new" life isn't just hard, it seems impossible.

Thank you Queeniemary.

littlebro thank you. Feralfae, kayc and sharirouse... thank you for your long and kind posts. It just feels like I'm going through the motions. All I had in my life that made me happy was Tammy. Without her, it just doesn't seem worth living. I just feel like I have nothing and the truth is I don't think I do. No family that is there for me emotionally and no close friends. Tammy was all I ever had and all I ever wanted. She was the only one who loved me unconditionally. Right now it feels like 24/7 of emptiness. And it's just overwhelming to think of all the physical pain Tammy went through in her life and all her ordeals knowing that, ultimately her life ended way too soon. It's just so unfair. All our plans for the future and a future filled with love and happiness are all gone. Honestly, how on earth does someone who's lost everything that made life worth living carry on? And carry on in such a way that life seems worth living? And the other thing is that, in my life, no one does get what I'm going through. Perfect example, I texted Tammy's youngest sister and asked if I could call her (she's the only one in Tammy's family that has even maintained a bit of contact with me after Tammy passed). She said she was too busy. I texted her in a way that clearly made it sounded like I was in a very dark place. And yet she waited an hour to text me back and wrote "do you have hobbies?".. SERIOUSLY??? My sister is constantly telling me I need to go back to work and to do this and do that. I know these people mean well but they are clueless as to the pain and suffering I am feeling. I'm anxious about going to the counselor Thursday but I'm hoping she will help. At least I'm trying to think about a future of some kind. Most people I know don't understand that this kind of grief is a long term "healing" process. And it makes me feel even more alone, like no one is on my side. I still can't fathom having a "real life" without Tammy in it. And the crying, the feeling of hopelessness and the feeling that Tammy didn't deserve any of this consume me. Mitch

I've had more than a few of those in the past few days. The feeling that life is futile now and I can't go on. That I don't see the point of living if it feels like this. After all, what do I have left? Tammy was the woman of my dreams and I waited my whole life for her. Seeing her battle the overwhelming illnesses she went through and seeing the way she handled things with courage and an amazing attitude, I was in awe of her. Tammy, was my world and honestly, my happiness. Since March 6th, this life doesn't have any happiness. It's pure and utter heartache. The silence is deafening. I keep replaying the things I saw on March 6th and it's like watching a tragic horror show over and over. It's unbearable. The thing is, although I don't see how I can go on, I don't want to take my own life. That's just not something I could do. I mean, I have tons of Tammy's pain pills right here if I wanted to do something and I won't. I've scheduled an appointment with a grief counselor for Thursday and I hope it helps. Although... I don't know if it will. My grief is very complicated. I wasn't just Tammy's soulmate. I was her caregiver. And I'm traumatized by some of the things I saw on March 6th. And I've never loved or felt love towards me like I did with my Tammy. My sisters don't understand what I'm going through and Tammy's family honestly doesn't seem to care (that's a whole story in itself). How much sadness, emptiness, loneliness and hopelessness can a person take? I guess I just needed to vent to people who know what I'm going through. Mitch

Thanks KayC. Your replies are always so understanding, thoughtful and caring. I'm in the process of setting up an appointment to go to counseling. I have a list of 10 people my insurance recommended and I think I found the one I'd like to see. I'm calling Monday to make an appointment.

My wife Tammy has been gone just over three weeks. I know I'm very early on in my grief and the tears, the what-if's, the emptiness etc. are all to be expected. And the fact that I loved her more than I've ever loved anuone and she loved me the same make this even tougher. I am alone in my grief at home, I do have some friends I talk to on the phone who allow me to vent which is good... Unfortunately, what's left of my family (2 sisters) don't really seem to quite understand the extent of my loss. And Tammy's family has been distant and cold towards me. I haven't been able to go back to work yet. I work in a retail environment where I'm expected to "put on a happy" face for the public but I just don't think I'm up to it. I also deal with many people who know me (been there over 20 years) and I don't think I'm ready to deal with the constant "what happened?" questions. So for now I'm just trying to live with this "new life" I now have. More like "new reality", I guess. It doesn't much feel like living to me. The few times I've gone out in public, have not gone well. Opening up a new checking account at the bank felt like pure torture. I told the woman at the bank I was opening a new account because unfortunately my wife had just passed away. I thought she'd get the message to be gentle on me. Instead I got a constant sales pitch, trying to get me to purchase other items. I almost ran out of the place! There was an empty chair next to me and all I could think was "Tammy should be sitting there and all would be good". A trip to the grocery store was no better. People were smiling at me and I did my best to smile back but it felt weird. I've never had these type of issues before. Anxiety almost to the point of panic attacks simply from being out in public. It even felt odd drivng around in my car. And when I did get home I breathed a sigh of relief, until I realized Tammy wasn't upstairs. I talked to someone on the phone who told me a funny story... I got off of the phone and turned to my left to tell Tammy the story until I realized her side of the bed was empty. Bottom line, I'm not myself. I know it's to be expected. It's only been a short time. I know I will never be the same; I know my life is different but... how do I ever overcome this feeling of not being myself and the world being an uncaring, scary place? I miss my Tammy, I need her so badly...