mittam99

Pat, crying is usually cathartic but let's face it, what we're crying about now has a different level of pain and complexity to it. For me, the tears are always just below the surface. Whether it's a thought (or any trigger) those tears seem to burst out without notice. These tears are different. They are the tears of a permanent loss. Tears that come from the loss of so much love. And I think what makes them different is that we know our loved one isn't coming back. That we will hurt and cry for that loss the rest of our lives. This isn't the normal tears of daily misery that just says "life sucks". These are tears of sheer agony. In many ways, we've lost everything. Our whole world has disintegrated. Our heart shattered into a million pieces. There are so many aspects and levels to grief. It's so complex and so complicated. It's a moment to moment learning experience in many ways. Crying is a part of it. In time, we learn that the tears really don't relieve the pain. They're mostly just a "side effect" of our loss. Gradually we learn what does work to help us cope. What keeps us "sane". That's where I am in my grief journey. Just learning how to cope. The next goal is to try and find some sense of happiness. Two years out though, I haven't a clue how to achieve that. I want to be that Mitch from the old days. I want that sparkle in my eye to come back. But, for now, the pain of losing Tammy overwhelms me. There is a deep, palpable sadness that is now part of my aura. Yet as always, I do try the best I can and l haven't given up (though that would be so easy). I'm taking more forward steps than backward ones. That's progress, right? Mitch

Gwen, I wish I had words or thoughts that could somehow take you to a more comfortable place. I don't. Losing our beloveds has made our new world alone such a different and much less enjoyable place. There's no sugar coating it. I've accepted that my world will never feel the same as it did when it was Mitch and Tammy against the world. And I guess accepting things is one of the first steps. It sucks and yet somehow we're supposed to thrive in this place we didn't chose to live in... this grief world. It is torture at times and our soul mate isn't here to make this terrible world a better place. All you can do is try and I know you are doing just that. You want to find a sense of peace and of some sort of contentment. Yes, you're struggling but give yourself credit for doing the very best you can at this point. We all deserve some sort of medal for just getting out of bed somedays. The "Grief Medal of Courage" for pushing ourselves. Look, I know this life doesn't feel like it holds much promise but clearly none of us really knows what the future holds. Here's hoping all of us see some better days ahead. Hugs, Mitch

Well, I put the furniture and grill back on the deck but now what? This is kind of how life is for me now. I find a project to do and all is "OK" while I'm doing it. Then, it's back to my life alone and wondering where this life will take me. I just don't have any real direction. What's my goal? For now, I guess it's still just getting through the day. This life without Tammy still mostly feels meaningless and empty. A former co-worker's son recently died and he was my age. I have to admit the whole mortality thing plays on my mind. How could it not? Tammy died at 45. I'm trying to find purpose and sometimes it's all too difficult. Tomorrow's another day and I'll do the best I can. I just wish I was able to get back the optimism and joy that I used to have. Tammy made life so much better. She was the best part of my world. A world that now feels like it's passing me by.

I'm glad you have family there. If you do get into a situation where you feel overwhelmed, there's nothing wrong with retreating to your room and having a "moment". Just saying.

Tom, if you go and find it too overwhelming, leave. Right now, it's all about finding ways to cope. One thing you don't want to do is torture yourself with angst. You have enough on your "emotional plate" right now and "walking into a minefield" may simply be too much to bear. But, by all means see how it goes. Grief is a moment to moment world, and in part, a one day at a time learning experience.

Here's what keeps me sane and helps me function with at least a bit of a positive outlook... Just today I was handling a problem and then walked by a picture of Tammy with a then 3 year old Katie. Of course I burst into tears and my thoughts quickly went into the deep darkness of grief. Why isn't Tammy here? Why did God take her away when she deserved so much more time? On and on. Well, in my earlier days of grief, those thoughts would have taken over and my day and my week was pretty much done. I didn't know how to get my mind to a calmer place. There was no sense of comfort or positivity. I was simply overwhelmed by my new life without the woman of my dreams. In time, I began to take on a somewhat different mindset. The thing is, Tammy is still a part of my life. It's not like the life I shared with her was erased when she died. To the contrary, I remember and cherish every moment we shared together. The joys and the heartache, because we were always Mitch and Tammy, a team; the inseparable couple who were perfect for each other. Together we were simply better. So yes, I cry for my Tammy. I miss her with every fiber of my being. I miss her love and I miss loving on her. But I also carry her love and her essence inside of me. And that's what gets me through those moments when life feels unbearable. It still feels like Mitch and Tammy to me.

Autumn, I talk to myself all the time. Not long conversations, mind you. Just a few choice comments here and there when the urge arises. Especially when doing chores/repairs and staining a deck with a million stairs!

Pat, that one inch at a time is pretty good advice. And don't be surprised when you do the grief dance. We all do that often. There are many variations, like the 2/2 step, for example. That's two steps forward, two steps back. A better one is the 2/1. Two steps forward, one step back. But the one we all crave is the 1 step. That's one step forward and wait for it... no steps back.

Joyce, you're awesome, but no. This was the first time I stained a deck and it's hard work. The step boards and floor boards are easy. It's all the trim work and all those spindles. Marty you mentioned the steps. And yeah, they should have their own zip code. A quick cell pic (sorry for the low quality) to put it in perspective:

Kay, I am on a bit of a hill.

Welhusen, I'm very sorry for your loss and sorry I'm late to respond. Family... Yes, you would think of all people in your life, family would be the most supportive. The most caring. Blood is thicker than water and all that. But the truth is, they're no different than anyone else when it comes to handling someone else's grief. The fact is, they haven't a clue about the depth of your loss. Simply can't comprehend it. They just don't get it. I know how hard it is to deal with this lack of empathy from family. I've lived through it. My wife Tammy was my everything. When she died unexpectedly on March 6, 2015, my world turned into a very sad, dark place. And I felt so alone. Family members were kind early on but after a while they do expect you to "get over it". Once I realized how clueless they were, their ridiculous comments became less troublesome. I knew not to look to them for any emotional support. All you can really do is take a day at a time. Try to figure out what will get you to the next day. It's so very hard and you do need to find a support system. What's great about this forum is that people here do understand and do want to help. It's a very good resource. An empathetc "grief family" if you will. Mitch

Ok Marty, here are some pics of the deck. You have to put it in context. This is a 30 year old wood deck that was never stained before. It was in bad shape. Gray and severely weathered. I don't have a "before" pic but it looked awful. The difference after sanding and staining is huge even though the wood is far from perfect. Once I put the furniture and grill back, it will look even better.

Marita, obviously losing our beloved soul mate has changed our lives in countless ways, and none of it for the better. All we can do is try to adapt to it and make the best of it. And it's no small task. But it's our only life and no matter how miserable it can feel we must strive to find happiness and some sense that life is worthwhile. The thing that hurts about our accomplishments in this new life is that they just don't feel as meaningful. In the past, our beloveds would share in them and we could see the gleam in their eye. The smile on their face. It just made us feel better about all the hard work and drudgery we put in. Now we put in the same hard work and get the same result, but there is only brief satisfaction and maybe a glimmer of pride. Then it's back to trying to figure out what we can do next to survive the loneliness and emptiness. I guess we just have to find a way to put a positive spin on it. We are accomplishing things. We are pushing ourselves. We aren't just laying around in utter misery even though that would be much easier. Are we living the life we want? Living a life filled with love? Well, no. But we're doing the best we can and Gord and Tammy would be proud of us. Even though they died, that love we shared will always be inside of us. Nothing can ever take that away. Mitch

I finished the first coat of stain on my deck today and it is really starting to look nice. And of course I had a moment when the tears started to well up. Looking out at my nearly done russet brown deck, I was overwhelmed with the thought of how much Tammy would love the new look. And how proud she would be of me. And of course the pain and realization that she isn't here to enjoy it hit me hard. Tammy had been so sick those last few years. All our effort and time was spent trying to get her health under control. Everything else took a back seat and the house maintenance was neglected. Now, I have time to try to fix things a bit. But it's so bittersweet. Sure, things are looking nicer but I want Tammy here to share in the positive changes. Alone, it just drives the point home that I need to find happiness by myself. I somehow need to learn to take pride in things I do for myself. And I need to learn that It's not selfish to pat yourself on the back once in a while for a job well done. Believe me, staining a big second story deck with stairs is a huge project for a 62 year old man. I paced myself but I pushed to get it done. On another note, I felt good about something that happened at work today. A customer of mine was ready to leave but I could tell something wasn't quite right. She was standing there with a blank look on her face and then took a step to move and I could see she was wobbly. I asked her if she was "OK", and she said "yes". As she went to take another step, it was clear she wasn't "OK" and I told her to take my hand and I walked her over to a bench to sit. Got her a glass of water and I had someone stay with her until she felt better. Thankfully, I think she was just a bit dehydrated. It felt good to be able to help someone when they were in need.

Well, it's Father's Day today but for all intents and purposes. it's just another day for me. I worked earlier and I'm home now pretty much twiddling my thumbs. While many of my customers wished me happy Father's Day, the only family member I've heard from is Tammy's younger sister. Daughter Katie has been silent. It bother's me that Katie pretty much ignores me but I've come to accept that this is how she is. I think a lot of it has to do with the amount of guilt she feels over Tammy's death. Just the mention of Tammy's name (in any context) and she shuts down. Life without Tammy continues to be a life that feels empty and devoid of love. It's hard to feel upbeat and positive but I try. What other choice is there, right?

Pat, I'm so sorry for the loss of your beloved husband. You say you "don't even know what else to say". And you know what? That's totally understandable and totally "OK". Just making an introductory post like you did is a big step in your grief journey. Your loss is so new... I totally know what you mean about the world losing it's color. Everything feels so gray and so cold. I lost my beloved wife Tammy two years ago and when I lost her, I lost my everything. This forum has been a wonderful resource for me since then and I've tried to help others when I can. You've joined a truly understanding group here; a group that really "gets it". Please take good care of yourself and read some of the topics in this forum. Post when you're up to it. In grief we need all the kindness and understanding we can find and you surely will find it here. I hope you can find some comfort in the days ahead. Mitch

Marita, and mind you this is only my opinion, not gospel... This "toxic" person in your life sounds like a problem. Especially if as you mention, they're only pretending to listen. You're going through the hardest thing you've every experienced in your life and you need to surround yourself with genuine kindness and understanding if you can. I know how hard it is to feel like you have nothing in your life and no one. No one who truly cares. We all want to feel like we matter. I just hope that this person you describe doesn't cause you any type of additional heartache. You don't need that. It's your wedding anniversary today and I know it will be hard to bear. My heart goes out to you. Hugs, Mitch

Marie Lee, no words I can say can truly comfort the pain I know you feel. The one year mark is a very agonizing reminder of both what you had and what you lost. Just always remember that you and Kev had something very special and no one can ever take that from you. Hope you were able to find some comfort in the past couple of days.

I'm glad what I wrote helped. At this point in my grief journey, if I can touch someone in a positive way, well, that makes my day. It's also important for me to share my life with Tammy with others here. I need to keep her memory alive in that way. She only had 45 years on this earth and much of her life was so very difficult. Everyone who knew Tammy, loved Tammy. People loved being around her. She had a joyous spirit. If my words about Tammy and our life together soothe anyone's pain even in a small way, that means Tammy is still touching people's hearts, even today. Often times I've noticed that many others who have lost their soul mate only briefly touch upon who their soul mate was and their story. It could simply be that for them it may be too painful to discuss. Or maybe they are just very private people. It's all about what's right for YOU. For me though, I have to talk about Tammy, Sure, sometimes I write the stories of our life and tears are streaming down my face. But, seeing her name on that page and knowing others are "getting to know" her, means the world to me. Telling the world about my Tammy has definitely helped me progress in my journey. Mitch

George I think we all wrestle with that tug of war of opposite emotions. After all, we lost the world we thought was forever when our beloved soul mate died. Early on in grief, hope definitely doesn't spring eternal. It's a struggle to even motivate ourselves to get out of bed. And down the road when some sense of hope does creep in from time to time it just feels wrong. The feeling of are we somehow "disrespecting" the memory of our beloved passes through our mind. How can we be hopeful or smile or laugh or God forbid have a moment of happiness? That's just how our brain works early on in grief. Grief has our thought processes all jumbled up. With time, and with mighty effort, I think we begin to realize we need to have an existence that is more than just a griever. Don't get me wrong, the pain of the loss we've all experienced will stay with us forever. But, as Kay once told me, we need to "co-exist" with our grief. It's another one of those balancing acts in grief that's easy to say on paper but much harder to achieve in reality.

To your first point, I feel exactly the same. I had the best wife. It was the love of a lifetime and as much as all us humans need love, I know my life from here on out is going to be mostly alone. I simply can't fathom being with someone else for a variety of reasons. Regarding the second point, it's so important that you do just that. Trying to find the good in each day because no matter how tiny those positive moments are, they do help us cope. And coping skills are surely needed in our grieving world.

Gin, I totally know what you mean. Nothing is the same without them. That spark of pleasure is gone. Today I had another one of those out of the blue grief bursts. Tammy enjoyed watching the Netflix show Orange is the New Black. Well, today I started watching Season 5 and as the theme song came on I burst into tears. The feeling that she should be here to enjoy the show with me took over. I couldn't get it under control for a while. One day moment at a time, right?

Thank you for all your kind thoughts. Tammy truly was the best part of my life. She gave me her unconditional love and she gave my life meaning. Now alone, I struggle with exactly those two things. The lack of love and trying to find meaning in an existence that often feels meaningless. No amount of household projects, praise at work from customers or other accomplishments really mean all that much. After about 5 minutes of pride and satisfaction, it all kind of feels like "whatever". "Now what?" is kind of how life feels. I guess it's how grief works. After all, this isn't the way life was "supposed to go". Me and Tammy were supposed to grow old and gray together. We had so much more life to live and love to give. It still feels like this is some sort of bad dream. But, it's real. All too real. Too lonely. Too empty. Too sad. And yet, every day I wake up hoping for a good day. I guess I do still have some sense of optimism even though life feels pretty bleak.

That was the day a very special little girl was born in the small town of Longview, Illinois. Population: 200. Around that time a young man of 14 from the suburbs of Baltimore had just finished 8th grade and was nervously looking forward to high school. What were the odds that these two people from different worlds would one day be soul mates, husband and wife... That little girl, Tammy, made me a very happy man. She was the best part of my life and being without her has been unimaginably hard. Tammy lived half her life dealing with horrific medical ordeals stemming from her systemic lupus. Long before I met her, doctors were telling her parents that she may not survive a particularly virile infection. An infection so bad that they thought her leg would have to be amputated. Thankfully, it didn't, but she went through a touch and go surgery where they had to "re-wire" veins in her leg. She always was a fighter. Time and time again in my life together with Tammy, we were both fighting to keep her health. But just when things seemed fine, she would collapse or hemorrhage or be in such pain that her very strong prescription meds wouldn't touch. Off to the emergency room we went. So much time spent in hospitals, doctors waiting rooms and rehab facilities. And every time we were told that Tammy might not make it. She beat sepsis and cardiac arrest and severe kidney and lung infections, cellulitis, and much more. My Tammy's will to live was strong and my love for her was unending. She had many surgical scars. She called them her "battle scars" and she didn't let them bother her. Her attitude and outlook on life was amazing and so positive. She was full of life and love. I've never had anyone love me like Tammy did. She made me feel like some sort of superhero. She was funny and sweet and I loved to make her laugh. Loved being with her. Loved being in love with her. Tammy would have been 48 tomorrow. She would have had a full "birthday week". That's how they did it in Tammy's family. Tomorrow will be hard for me. Every day is hard. Yet, I know I was blessed when Tammy came into my life and she will always reside by my side, heart and soul, forever and always. Love you Tammy! All the way to the moon and back times infinity. Mitch

Kay, we're all just trying to find a way to make this life bearable. All of us have our own way of coping. We all want a life that has some semblance of meaning. A life that includes some accomplishments. And that's called progress in this difficult day to day world of grief we live in.