mittam99

Marie (and mind you, I'm only an "expert" in my own grief) ... I don't believe that a wound this life altering ever really heals. We'll have days where it doesn't hurt as bad. Even weeks where we might not feel the pain as intensely. And then, without warning, one of the multitude of triggers hits and we're brought back to the day our beloved died. In the moment, we go from feeling somewhat sane to a babbling basket case. That's because this pain is always with us, right below the surface. Our constant companion, lying in wait. So brace yourself, those grief waves will hit when you least expect it. ---------------------------------- So far in my journey (29 months and counting), I've come to a few realizations. 1. Life as we now know it (the pain, the angst etc.) pretty much won't change very much. This is our life moving forward. 2. We need to embrace the small victories and those small moments of comfort. No matter how trivial. 3. This life of grief is more about learning to adapt versus expecting to heal. And it takes time and mighty effort. 4. We can't expect anyone else to fully understand what we are going through. Each of our journeys is unique. This is a life that is hard beyond words. Mitch

You are so right, Sean. That's why I've learned to take the "advice" of people who haven't experienced a loss like ours with a grain of salt. Even many who have lost their spouse/partner don't quite know the feeling. The people posting here in the loss of partner/spouse section know the intense, life altering pain of losing their soul mate. The agony of living a life that doesn't quite feel like living. Some days, it feels like a prison sentence on death row. And the calendar on the wall isn't used to mark upcoming events. It's used to "X" off another day in the depths of our living hell.

Gwen, I know you feel more ghostly than warrior-like but facing what we face on a daily basis and still trodding through is pretty amazing. Like you mentioned there still is that innate survivor instinct we carry deep inside. And you're 100% right. This life of ours has little to offer in terms of satisfaction or emotional fulfillment. It's a monotone world that rarely has glimmers of hope for the future. Some days (like today) I wonder if happiness will ever come again. Not in terms of finding someone else. Tammy was my once in a lifetime magical event. My one and only love. It's simply hard to imagine life going from the bleakness of today to some sort of happy go lucky fantasy future. So we hold on. Hold on to the memories of our life of love. Sometimes we just hold on for dear life; this life of grief can be more frightening than the world's steepest and fastest rollercoaster ride. I don't have the answers on how to make our life better beyond some basic ways I've learned to cope with the heartache. I'm just glad we have a forum like this to share our feelings and our grief. Mitch

HEALING; ˈhēliNG/noun tending to heal; therapeutic. "a healing experience"/ alleviate, ease, assuage, palliate, relieve, help, lessen, mitigate, attenuate, allay /"time will heal the pain of grief" ----------- The definition of healing I quoted above comes directly from Google. It's that last part I take exception to. Time may heal some wounds but it doesn't heal an open wound this deep. A wound that goes right to our heart and is forever embedded in our soul. I lost my Tammy over 29 months ago and the hurt is still there. It will always be there. There is no healing in grief. No miraculous "cure". It's a nice thing to say but it isn't the truth. In a way, it's no different than phrases we hear from others like "they're out of their pain". Sure that's true, but they also aren't alive, so there's that. Grief healing is more realistically "grief coping" or "grief adapting" but those terms aren't as catchy. Aren't as appealing. Those of us living life alone without our beloved know there's no sugar coating it. Grieving a lost soul mate is gut wrenchingly hard. It often feels hopeless and futile. Feels like one day of meaninglessness followed by another day of aimless existence. Another day of longing for the past. Another day closer to our own demise. I know I'm not painting a pretty picture but it's the reality of this life of grief. And yet all of us here try our best everyday. We push on even though it hurts like hell. We are all so brave. We are all grief warriors. Mitch

I don't think they necessarily lack compassion Gwen, just understanding. I've lost both my parents and I was devastated, but in time, I bounced back. In a way, there is an expectation that parents will die in your lifetime. Their deaths in no way prepared me for the enormous mountain of gut wrenching, life altering grief that happened to me when Tammy died. We haven't just lost our best friend, our confidant, our lover or our "better half". We've lost absolutely everything. And the fact is, even among those who've lost their partner, few are grieving their loss like we are. Not all unions were as indelibly bonded as ours were. That's why I no longer get angry when people say those seemingly insensitive and inconciderate things. That's why this forum only has a small handful of active posters even though there are multitudes of people grieving the loss of their spouse or partner. Those of us here have lost our soul mate and we do "get it". We understand the pain and the angst. We know this isn't a loss you "get over". There's no moving on; only learning to co-exist with our grief. The others, well, they just don't know. And frankly, I really don't care what they think. This is my grief and my life and I'm grieving my way. Mitch

When I fire up Netflix on my TV, the profile says "Mitch and Tammy" and it always will. She's my forever and always wife. The Mitch and Tammy team will always exist. Tammy's doing her part from heaven and I'm doing the best I can from here.

Tammy was my once in a lifetime love. Sure, one is a lonely number but I know moving forward it's about me living a life without a partner. It's hard to find happiness in the present when you're missing the one person that put a smile on your face and made you feel like you belonged... But, I'm still here and although my life will never be the same I do find the occasional feeling of hope.

Sometimes the pain comes when you least expect it from the most unexpected places. I came home from work and opened up my county property tax bill. Shockingly, it was $800 more than I expected. I called the county to ask why it went up so high and their answer put me in a tailspin. The charge was for some new sewer and water fees. I asked why my rate increased so much. The woman proceeded to tell me that the new fees were based on a new formula. The new formula? Well, it's based on fiscal year 2014 water consumption. 2014? Isn't this 2017? Of course in 2014 my water consumption was higher because Tammy was alive and Katie was still at home. This hit me hard. Not only due to the ridiculous (and unfair) way my county is charging me. It just hurts knowing that my Tammy is not here and yet in essence I'm paying again for all the meals I cooked, the clothes I washed etc. for my family back in 2014. I am writing an appeal letter but I'm sure the county won't care. Mitch

Gwen maybe you need to take that box back to the store for a refund. All kidding aside, here's hoping that somehow life starts feeling better for you. OK, here's a new box of chocolates I hand picked for you. All fresh and yummy. Hugs.

Gwen, my heart goes out to you as always. Believe me, this life without Tammy is a shadow of what my life was. Like you always say, we're existing; this isn't a life that feels like it should be cherished. But, at this point, as sucky as it is, it's all we have. I have many days when I do wonder why I push, why I try. And then I wake up the next day and feel a bit different and go into one day at a time mode. This new life and my moods are kind of like the whole Forrest Gump box of chocolates thing. I never know what the day will bring. Will I have energy? Be down in the dumps? Miserable and sad? Feel like life is hopeless? Feel hopeful? It is what it is, I guess. One thing's for sure, it's not the life I dreamed of. That feeling of Tammy being my forever bride and feeling her love inside me is my only real motivator. My only real comfort. Without that, the emptiness and the feeling of futility would probably overwhelm me. To the point I'm not sure I could even function.

Tom, speaking of loss of identity... We truly have lost ours. I went to a family event today and I just feel so out of place now. With Tammy on my arm, I had a strong sense of who I was. I was part of the Mitch and Tammy team. Two silly lovebirds who made each others life better. I felt whole. Complete. Comfortable. It was where I belonged. It's not that I begrudge the other couples who are lucky enough to still have their beloved with them. But sitting there in a sea of happiness and seeing so many couples in love, my mind wandered back to my life with Tammy. Dreaming that she was there with me... feeling her love. And then coming home to the empty house. Seeing Tammy's pillows in bed and her belongings still on her nightstand and dresser. I try not to ask the "why" questions anymore because there is no answer. No rhyme or reason for why Tammy went to heaven on March 6, 2015. Yes, she had been ill on and off for most of her life. But that day was supposed to be a good day. Somehow through all this tragedy and pain, I'm trying to find my way. I still feel married to my beautiful bride and always will. Tammy's love was the best thing that ever happened to me and her love keeps me going in this sometimes bleak new world. Mitch

We're here. And we're in a world of pain, Gwen. In a world without the love that made life worth living. This is something I was reflecting on just today. It's been nearly 2 1/2 years since my beloved wife Tammy died. I've adapted to life alone in many ways. Day to day, I function. I set goals and accomplish many of them. But these are just activities and chore and "things". What we're missing is love. And I think it's love that truly makes the world go round. With Tammy, I had so much love. Some of it was physical, the touching, the kissing... the sex. But much of it was purely emotional. Tammy loved me with everything she had and I loved her more than life itself. Her love made me feel good about myself and the world around me. No doubt, we all need a healthy heart to pump blood in our veins and strong lungs to get the oxygen we need. But we also need love to give our life some joy. We all hurt because our beloved is no longer with us. We ache because they had so much more life to live. But ultimately, the biggest hurt is the fact we no longer can give and receive that love that enveloped us when they were alive. And when you love someone as deeply as we did our soul mate, there is no "replacement". Somehow we have to re-create a livable, worthwhile and enjoyable life knowing love most likely is in the rear view mirror. And that feels like an impossible task. I know some who have lost their soul mate have chosen to date again and find new life partners. And if that's what works for them, that's wonderful. For me, Tammy was my once in a lifetime, perfect for me, funny, sexy, sweet little valentine. I know my future will be me trying to find my way to a sense of comfort with (maybe) some happiness mixed in, alone. And so far, the road trying to get there has been brutally hard. Mitch

Kay, I don't think loss is emotionally harder for men but in some cases it may be harder to function. Especially if those stats went back a generation or two. Back in the day, the men were the bread winners and the wives mostly stayed at home. This meant that the wife pretty much handled all the day to day chores. In some cases, I guess it applies today as well. That type of man (who relied on his wife for everyday tasks) probably could feel more lost and ill equipped to function in the real world alone. I think that's where the "loss is harder for men" idea comes from. Emotionally of course, the loss of a soul mate knows no bounds; male or female, young or old.

It's understandable Tom. Time does seem to have softened those razor sharp emotional reactions to things that I felt earlier in my grief journey. I hate to say you get "used to it" but the knots in the stomach seems to change to more of a shrug of the shoulders in time. It's all a process.

I don't get upset with the happy couples and events I see. I can't begrudge anyone for having a happy life. After all, that's what we all strive for and that's what we had. I understand that it can hurt because it's a reminder of the life we had with our beloved. But the truth is, all those painful reminders are there with me everyday... The empty space in bed beside me, not seeing Tammy's infectious smile, not feeling her soft skin or hearing her lovely voice. Not being with the one person that made my life feel worthwhile... who made me feel a deep passion for life. I'd give anything to be able to re-write history and have Tammy recover and get better and for us to continue living as "two peas in a pod" as we called ourselves. But that fantasy isn't in the cards. So, it's a one day at a time existence. It's trying to live in a worst case scenario world and somehow making the best of it. And right now, I'm entrenched in the "I have no idea how to find a sense of happiness" mode. It just doesn't seem possible. Sure I can make my own meals, clean my house, go to work, shower, shave, exercise, watch TV, occasionally do a social event, etc... but at the end of the day, where's the enjoyment, contentment or joy? I'm alone with my memories of the life I shared with Tammy always inside me, but the future looks cloudy and gray. I want to have hope, try to have hope, yet everyday seems to be a sea of sameness and emptiness. This is where my journey is. I've reached a roadblock of sorts. I function and function fairly well but I can't seem to take that next step where I feel like I've noticeably moved in a positive direction. I guess I'm sort of stuck it neutral, for lack of a better way to put it.

Everything in our lives seems to easily trigger the pain of our loss. Everything they ever touched, every memory in our head, songs, movies, TV shows, restaurants... the list is truly endless. This grief journey is wrought with so many emotional roadblocks. Unfortunately, there's no GPS to navigate us through the potholes in our path and the land mines we face daily.

First of all, my apologies to Gwen for the "off-topic-ness" of this thought... Every time I see this thread, I think of the 1963 Ingmar Bergman film "The Silence". Interesting movie by the way, if you don't mind subtitles and like Swedish films.

Gwen, I know what you mean. I'm definitely not anyone's VIP either. I probably have one or two people that care about me but I'm not truly important to anyone, anywhere. It's tough to go from being with someone who loves you unconditionally, to living an existence of loneliness, emptiness and meaninglessness. Not to mention a life devoid of love or physical contact. Grief like this overwhelms and envelops every one of our senses. And sadly, none of us are getting younger or healthier as the years go by. The future is not a pretty picture is it? And somehow we are supposed to not only function, but thrive. Not only thrive but find contentment. Find contentment and happiness. Talk about a tall task! I for one have tried my best. Tried to make this life livable. And I've had some moments when I thought maybe things were "looking up". Then, back to earth and reality I fell. The reality is that life without Tammy sucks. It's drudgery, it's torture and it's not the life I wanted as I grew old. You mentioned that we're not the most important person in the world to anyone and that's a fact. I guess the idea is that we become important to a very special person... us. And that's easier said than done. It's hard to feel great about yourself when the life you live in feels like a great big ZERO. I went from feeling like I was special to feeling like I'm a nothing. That's quite a downgrade. I haven't been feeling really great in the past few weeks. It's all just so damn hard. I try and try and try and no matter what I'm still in the same place. I have small bursts of positive activity and hope followed by the same old, same old sadness and angst. It's like the cat chasing his tail... it's a lot of hard work that seems to get you nowhere. It really is deja vu all over again. I wish I had a positive spin to put on this but today is a day I'm not able to. But then again, tomorrow's a new day and maybe things will feel better. At least I still can hope, right? Mitch

I definitely get a kick out of Gwen's posts when she says something funny. She's a good person and even through all the pain her personality still shines through. ----------------- Speaking of plumbers bending over... Funny Tammy reminiscence. Tammy always got a huge laugh out of guys bending over and exposing their butt crack. So much so that everyone knew about it in her family. Every year for her birthday and Christmas, Tammy's mom would mail her two sets of cards. One normal and one "crack card". Yeah, there is such a thing. Tammy would see Santa or some male hunk's crack on a card and her day was made!! Oh how I miss my sweet, funny Tam Tam.

Gin, most painful of all, there's no one there to catch us when we fall.

Hey Gwen.. I know what you're saying about the whole concept of "I was blessed just having them in my life". It isn't the magic answer to solve the many dilemmas we face in this grieving life of loneliness and longing. I guess the way I use it and feel it isn't meant as some mystical voodoo spell that brings me contentment and bliss. It's nothing like that at all. My life sucks. I will never sugar coat that. I don't know how I even do it sometimes; this life is so maddeningly hard. But none of us (I can't imagine) would go back in time and give up the life we shared with our beloved to lessen today's pain. That life contained the best moments we ever had or ever will. Here's how I use those moments etched in my memory to help me get by. A thought about something to do with Tammy and my life with her will pop into my head. And often, the result of that is both tears and smiles. Tears that she's not here but a smile from the joy a particular moment gave me. I guess in some ways it's all how you spin things. That's not to say this will work for you Gwen, I get that. I just hope in time, your life takes a turn for the better... and you know what? It just might... really. Mitch

I guess I'm in the "now what?" stage of my grief journey. A month or so ago I had a flurry of activity that culminated in my deck renewal project. Since then, I've basically been "depressed and mopey". I just can't find the motivation right now and I'm not happy with myself. I know I'm supposed be gentle with myself but I feel like I need to kick things in gear. But how? No accomplishment has any real lasting positivity to it. I get a tiny boost and then I'm back into "this life sucks mode". I'm trying to find the formula for some sort of contentment without Tammy and it's eluded me. She truly was my happiness and I know she'd want me to be happy. But, I dont know how to be happy in a world without the one person that made my life worthwhile. Not that I don't think I'm worthy of a good life. I think I am a good guy. Alone, and without my Tammy though, it just feels like an existence, not a life with any exuberance to it. I want to feel that zest for life I had. Maybe it's just not in the cards?

I'm not so sure Marg. You seem like a pretty good swimmer to me. Matter of fact, I think the spouse/partner end of this pool is actually pretty darn deep.

Gwen, no doubt the life we had with our soul mate was the life we wanted and loved. But, I don't think the "novel" has ended. Yes, there are no new stories to write with the two of us physically together, only memories of what was. Yet, I don't think we can write off what's yet to come. I've still got a life to live and who knows where it will ultimately take me. Tammy will always be with me. Her impact on me is never ending. Her love and affection still ring strong in me, heart and soul. All of our stories are forever intertwined with our past, present and future. And the hope is, some day, we'll be reunited in some way with our beloved. Until then, it's obvious life will be filled with much angst and pain and numerous emotional challenges. I guess this is our "cross to bear" for the deep love we shared.

Cookie, there are so many "why" questions! Unfortunately, there are absolutely no "comforting answers" so I've learned not to go there anymore (try not to anyway). Going from a life of love and happiness and contentment to a life that is so brutally and starkly different and so empty, is mind numbing. It's painful, depressing and often times, overwhelming. All we can do is try to make the best of it. Not much choice really. The past few days, I've really been down. I've tried so hard and I've even accomplished some major goals. But the reality is, I still have nothing that brings me any true sense of happiness. The future still basically feels like one Groundhog day leading into another day of sameness. Another day filled with not much of anything worthwhile and lacking in love. Tammy and me were a great team. We loved each other come hell or high water. We fought every day for her health to improve. And no matter how bleak it seemed we always had each other for comfort and support. We were always there for each other. To go from that, to this life of me, myself and I is staggering. Yet, I do go to bed hoping tomorrow will be a better day. I do have hope that someday, some sense of meaning will come into my life. Until then, life is (at times), almost unbearable. I know we always say "put one foot in front of the other". Sometimes though, it feels like all I'm doing is the side shuffle. Mitch