Dew's Girl

Mitch, Just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you today and sending good thoughts your way. I know it is a difficult day for you and hope you are ok. -Amy

I am so sorry that yesterday was particularly difficult. I hope today is better. Grief seems to come in waves from behind. It's hard to anticipate when the next one will roll past. You are in my thoughts. -Amy

Maryann, Mark sounds like an amazing person. As a Texan myself, I am proud to call him neighbor. Thank you for your kind words.

Thank you for these words. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes: "Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." Just as we may never know what someone else is struggling with, we can't always know how much an encouraging word can mean to another person. It's a gift that costs us nothing and can be invaluable to those who receive it.

I've found that music sometimes help in my darkest hours. These are the songs from Daniel's service. They still make me cry, but are a balm to my soul too. I thought I would share in case they help any of you. With Hope - Steven Curtis Chapman https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmyUgsmCzB4 Homesick - Mercy Me https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3k1rJOQPdY Because You Loved Me - Celine Dion https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_r8pDziQKE Welcome Home - Micheal W Smith https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjPC_zLhz48 This one was my song to Daniel. He was my home. Feels Like Home - Chantal Kreviazuk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Am7EI5tdaX4 Please let suggest other songs that you've found helpful during this time. My old dog is probably tired of hearing these over and over.

Waking up like that is the worst! I hope you get some better rest tonight.

That is such a hard spot. Can you ask your employer if they can make an accommodation to provide a less interactive job for a few weeks to let you ease back in to work? Maybe administrative work or stocking? You've been there 25 years, so hopefully they can work something out with you. Sometimes people who haven't been there just don't know enough to offer. It can't hurt to ask. I remember returning to work after about a month. I was a mess. If people offered condolences I felt awkward. But then I also felt upset when people went about their work as if nothing had changed when my world was in pieces. The worst is walking down the hall and people asking in passing "how are you?" It's a habit to just say "Good, and you?" while we keep walking. I couldn't say "good" but people aren't truly asking so "falling apart" isn't an appropriate response either. I usually end up saying "I'm OK." OK is now relative to me. That translates to "I made it out of bed and to work with matching shoes on the right feet." I'm OK. If your employer cannot give you a modified job for a while, then be sure to pace yourself and remember to BREATHE. My advice is to take a break when you need to and try to focus on the the small victories. Did you make it out of bed and to work with both shoes on? Now work is a godsend to me. If I was home all day watching the clock I would already be insane. It gives me mind a break to focus on something else for a little bit. I hope you find some solace too. My thoughts will be with you tomorrow.

I think one of the hardest things is not knowing yet for sure what caused his death. He was only 36. He was ill a few weeks before with bronchitis but had taken all of his antibiotics and even had a chest xray come back fine. He was not sick at all and even joking with me before we went to bed. I woke up around 2:30 am from his breathing heavily and I thought he was just having a bad dream. I tried to shake him to wake him up, but he didn't respond. He was pronounced dead in the ER but the ambulance took a very long time to even leave the driveway and I could tell he wasn't ok. 3 months later and we are still waiting on the tests from the medical examiner. The ER doctor said based on the symptoms I described, he thinks it could have been a blood clot in his lungs. I feel like I can't even move forward yet because I just don't know what happened.

It was definitely not your fault. I am sure you would do anything to help him. I think it is normal to have those feelings. I know that I would have cut off my right hand to save my Daniel. But that doesn't stop my mind from racing through lists of things I could have done differently. I was so panicked that it took to the third try for me to dial 911 correctly. I mean, it is just three numbers and two of them are the same. I just wrote a post on my blog about this very topic. . But my biggest guilt is that I haven't died of a broken heart. I thought that Daniel and I were so close that I couldn't possibly live without him. Three months later and I still wake up every morning. Of course, I know that is what he would want and I would never hurt those I love by deliberately harming myself. But I still feel guilty that my heart is still beating. -Amy

I remember when I first met Daniel, he tracked every possible date. He would say things like: Today is the 6 week anniversary of the first time I held your hand. Today is the 3 week anniversary of the first time we kissed. Today is the 1 year anniversary of our first date. This is on my mind as today marks three months since I lost Daniel at 3:20 am on January 13th, 2015. I expected to have many special dates to mark my time with Daniel, but not this one.

Jeffrey, I know that this is an incredibly hard time right now. I remember the first weeks after my husband was gone. As you said, the clock seemed to be in slow motion. I had heard people say take it one day at a time, but I was struggling to take it one minute at a time. I remember thinking, oh good, that took 15 minutes... only 9 hours and 45 minutes before I can go to sleep again. Every 5 minutes I made it through felt like a struggle. I hope it helps you to know, that for me at least, that sense of time standing still went away after a couple of weeks. I think that keeping hold of the good memories is a wonderful idea. I was so concerned that those crazy minutes from the time of the 911 call until they told me he was gone would be the most vivid memory of him. But I am happy to tell you that, for me, all of the wonderful, laughing memories overshadow that one horrible one. -Amy

I completely understand what you mean about being in a fog. For me, it's like I am in a bubble filled with water. Everything happens so much more slowly like walking against the tide and it's hard to breathe, while those around me are going about their lives at a normal pace. I feel that there is an invisible barrier separating me from everyone around me and looking out is distorted. I found your other posts really poignant. It's in the normal, every day things like going to a family gathering or shopping where I really feel the most out of sorts. I see the vacant space where Daniel isn't as more vivid than the rest of the scene. Everything else is a bit hazy. My heart goes out to you as you move through the days without Mark. -Amy

Harry, It is nice to meet you. Thank you so much for sharing your story. It really resonated with me. Some of my husband, Daniel's things I have already given to friends that I know he would want to have them. But like you so eloquently described, his wedding ring is much more than an object to me. It is a representation of our life together. We chose Claddagh rings for our wedding rings. It is a traditional Irish symbol with a heart for love and a crown for loyalty surrounded by hands showing friendship. When worn on the left hand with the heart pointing toward your own, it symbolizes that your heart has been given to another. This felt perfect for us as he was not only the one I loved and married but also my best friend and confidante. You can see on the picture below all of the dents and scratches that recorded the 13 years that he wore it before I took it back on that last morning. I felt tears on my cheeks as I read your post. Firstly, for you. I can imagine what a momentous decision that was. I hope that the rituals and comforts of your religious practice are a balm for you as you re-balance the weight in your heart and on your hands. But I also admit that selfishly I was crying for myself because I too feel the weight of Daniel's ring on my finger in a intense way. I've added his ring to my middle finger next to the one he gave me both on the left hand. Whenever we faced a difficult challenge in our lives, we would always joke and clink the rings together. "Wonder Twin Powers Active!," we would whisper. For us, this meant that together we could overcome any obstacle. (And perhaps that we were a bit too geeky with the comic book references.) I find myself clinking the rings together now whenever I feel overwhelmed. I'm glad that you felt Jane there on the wind with you on that difficult day. Amy

ML, I am so sorry that you are having to go through this. I recently lost my husband as well and your words really ring for me. Like you, for me the mornings are the worst. In that first waking fog, I often forget that he is gone and reach out for him. Then I remember and it is like losing him all over again. I don't have a lot of wisdom to share but I will say that it has been helpful for me to give myself permission to experience my own grief in my own way and try not to compare it to others. Richard was yours and you have to allow yourself to say goodbye in your own way and live without him on your own healthy terms. I will also say that we never really know what someone else is really going through. Those friends who seem to have moved on much faster may have been broken inside and going through the motions for longer than can be seen looking in.

Thank you all for the amazing hospitality and compassion. It is nice to be around people who have been through this as well and really understand. I'm surrounded by loving, supportive people but they don't truly know what it is to be cut in half as Maryann stated. Good intentions sometimes makes things feel worse. Someone told me last week that they were concerned for me because I don't seem to be bouncing back to my old self. First of all, it hasn't even been 90 days yet. But more importantly, I will never be my old self. I hope to be less lost one day but I will always be profoundly changed. Perhaps the worst is when they say things like, "You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. You'll meet someone else." Of course I am paraphrasing and they aren't quite that blunt, but that is the basic sentiment. Who knows what will happen in the future, though I cannot imagine anyone by my side except Daniel. But this feels like telling someone who recently lost a child that they can always adopt another. Then there are those who want me to "move out of that big house" and find something closer to them. I know this comes from worry and wanting to be able to care for me. Daniel and I did not have children, so I am alone here now. But this was our home for 10 years and I see happy moments in every nook and cranny. It's sad, but a somehow comforting at the same time. All that to say, thank you not just for knowing what to say, but also for knowing what not to say.

I am struggling with the sudden death of my husband. Daniel was only 36 years old and was not sick. He was laughing and joking with me right before kissed me goodnight for the last time three months ago. I was so lucky to have him for 13 1/2 wonderful years, and know that I should be grateful for that. But I still feel like I was robbed of the long future we had planned together. Daniel said he knew he wanted to marry me after our first date, but I made him wait about a year. We were to get married at the JP, but instead Daniel threw a surprise wedding for me. The theme was that everyone came wearing their pajamas. He told everyone that marrying me was like a dream come true. He made every day feel like a storybook adventure. I just expected that we'd have more time in our happily ever after. Today I took the first steps that I hope will help me work through that. I joined a few support communities and started a blog to help get things out of my head as I go through the process of learning to live without him. As I wrote on that blog page I created, after almost 14 years I knew so well how to be Daniel's girl, but I am still learning how to be Daniel's widow. -Amy