Gwenivere

I don't know what is worse. The times I cannot hear him it the times I can, but he isn't physically here. They both hurt so much.

Feeling lost is, in my opinion, one the worst parts of this grief journey. I don't know how many times I would give anything to talk to Steve one more time, to have him hold me when I cry about missing him. Kay, I used to write him little post it notes and leave them in the mirror in his bathroom and he saved them all. They are stacked one top of each other all over a picture in there. Every time I have to go in there I see them and while it makes me feel happy they meant so much to him, I miss adding more. There is a note over the dryer reminding me not to dry his favorite t shirt. So many things are labeled in his handwriting. I am not a religious person, but I choose to believe Steve lives on somewhere. I cannot accept that these people that so affect and give us so much can just vanish into nothingness. So I don't pray, I just hope so very hard they are at peace and know we will always love them. And that we know they loved us and changed our lives forever. SM, you are the testament to the love you both shared now. It's hard to be alone to do that, but you have no other choice because people that is how love works. There is no stopping it when we find that person we trust and can hind ourselves to without fear. What greater gift than being able to be totally us and be loved for it.

Froggie, you said so many true things. People do think we are doing better because we appear less emotional. But they don't know what is always just below the surface. I find that out often when sometimes the smallest thing makes me crumble. Yet something huge I may handle well. There just is no rhyme or reason when the emotions slip out. I'll do something creative or just a chore that needs to done and look at it later and wonder how I did it. I've felt the times I just want to go to sleep for the day, but I can't. I guess that is good. I don't like any more change in my upended life and that would intensify it. We all do things differently which I learn every time I read the struggles if so many here. Comfort level is a good way to put it. That drastically changes. I really feel for you having to face 3 dates in a week about your loss. That is such a triple whammy. So unfair to be hit by so much all at once. I just had the 1st anniversary and his birthday but they were 2 weeks apart. Thanksgiving is my bday week and I know I will miss him then as well as our little dinner that was his favorite holiday. I wish I had some remarkable thing to say beyond I wish you the strength to do what you need to go thru that week.

I know I will be spending the holidays alone. I lucked out last year as it was a nice day for Seattle and got to take the dogs to the dog park with a walking buddy. But the actual celebration of the holiday Steve and I did will not happen. We didn't do much anymore, but it was fulfilling. It is often the anticipation that is worse than the day and I hope that is the case again this year. Tho I know I will miss waking with him and spending the day doing whatever. Christmas Eve will be hard too. Thanksgiving was really our favorite as we cooked together a tiny feast. Everyone I know will be with their families and like Kay, I could visit, but I would be terrible company. Not saying you would be, Kay. But I know it would just magnify the loneliness as we were content here, so it would be so out if the ordinary and I have that going for me every day. Coming home alone would be too much.

Kevin, if someone ever created a treatment for grief to transport us to being able to live with the acceptance and skip the months, years or however long it takes for each of us....they would deserve a reward beyond anything I can think of. We can do all the sleeping, eating, exercising and all those other things to help, but the inner heart limps along...waiting and hoping that someday it can smile again. It's so sad that we all want so very much to live again, yet struggle day to day. They say it is a testament to our love, which is true, but that love once was the source of our happiness. What a cruel twist. I've knocked over more glasses of water to count. Thank god I don't have a hot tub. ?

Our mornings sound alike. Each day I feel I am losing any progress towards acceptance of the reality of Steve being gone forever. It's a terrible way to start a very long day. I, too, wish it had been me that died. Although I physically did not suffer the pain he did, I was on that journey in my own way, often helpless to comfort him. When he was freed, my 'prison' began. Life is pointless for me right now. It's been too short a time to transition from decades together to this new aloneness. I can't call it 'single' and I hate the word widow. I feel I am still married in my heart. It is too tight s bond to surrender easily. Like you, I just survive. And I don't know if I want to live again. My mind is struggling to make sense of something it can't.

Oh, Kay......how terribly painful to get that package. Sometimes I wonder if we ever get to a place there isn't something that will keep picking at that wound. My heart still sinks at mail addressed to him. Or places he was involved with that call to talk to him. I think I would have lost it seeing a box on my door for him. I'm so sorry that happened to you.

Wow, I am so glad to hear I am not the only one with concentration problems. Most times I feel I am operating in a fog. I really have to pay attention when I drive now. I am at a loss for the simplest words often. Makes conversations quite a challenge sometimes. I also get what Steve called 'shiny object syndrome'. I'll start do'ing something, then divert to another and another as I see them. Have to backtrack to finish what I start. I keep notepads everywhere because my memory is not reliable. The most 'fun' thing is going to bed and having a thought and afraid I'll forget. Notepad and pen by the bed now.

I had a long cry last night. I thought about doing something, but without him, it seems empty to do so. I don't even remember last year at this time as I was in shock 2 weeks after his death. I will light his candle as I have every night since he left. Thank you all for your caring.

People around me think I am doing well, also. They have no idea the energy it takes to get thru a day. They don't see what hell the nights and any time I alone in our home. After another cry in the shower last night, the feeling was different. It could be called selfish, but I don't care as I have learned there are so many phases we experience in this life altering situation. While I witnessed the suffering Steve went thru for years fighting the cancer, the barbaric treatments medicine had to offer and I didn't suffer physically, all I could think of was why couldn't I have been the one to die? I travelled that road with him and felt the pain and frustration with him. I think of the strong people we were thru those years, but think he would have done this alone thing better, tho when we discussed it he said he wouldn't. He had so many friends and interests that might have sustained him better as the survivor. He created music and was there to ease his friends about his eventual departure. I look at what my life is without him and feel I offer the world nothing. So much of my life was taking care of our home so that we could have time together to enjoy. Now I do that, but there is no true pleasure in it. We all know that life is forever changed, no matter how much time passes. i just read Enna's post as I was writing this. Expectations. Yes, I am victim to those as I was so alive once upon a time. I let myself fall into those traps still. Doing things I sometimes have to push myself to do in hopes I will feel SOMETHING besides pain. They may distract, but it is always waiting for me. I do now make better decisions at times about what I want to do as opposed to hat I should do, but I hate surrendering to that of motivation. I think if I do I will be swallowed into a darkness I may never come back from. So for now, I do wish it had been me. Not that I would want Steve to feel this horrible pain, but because for so long it is wearing me down. To be free of it sounds like a siren song calling. I want to live, not just exist and that is what it feels like. Today is his birthday and I thought I would do something more than light the candle I have every night since he died. But I realized that there is nothing I can do that will not intensify the pain so I'll just let the day be what it is. Tend to the dogs and get thru like every other day and....that is OK. Part of this is giving ourselves permission to do what we, not others, expect as they don't know the depth of sorrow we carry daily. Even my brother in law said he removed Steve's name from today as he didn't need a reminder of the loss. That helped me to hear after some emails I got from well meaning people telling me how they would be toasting Steve today. More power to them.

Thank you, Janka. I have no idea what the day will bring. Last year I was in shock, so little registered with me. Having just been punched in the gut of the years anniversary at the end of October and not handling that well, I hope this isn't as bad. He would have been 64 and the Beatles song keeps running thru my mind. Would I still need him? Would I still feed him when he was 64? You betcha! Hugs to you too. I know the anniversary is coming up for you this week about Jan.

I cannot listen to any music I associate with Steve. Also, he being a musician, recorded many songs that I know would be too much to bear hearing. I do but don't want to hear his voice. I want to hear it for real. I am just getting to where I can see him in the pictures around the house. My mind shut them out for a very long time. Just like it shut out what he looked like from the ravages of the cancer and its treatment. Music is such a primal path to the heart. Add to that the sound of our loved ones voice. We'd know it anywhere. Steve's voice it still on our answering machine and I scramble to grab the phone if I am home to not hear it. As his recording studio is still running for his buddies use, I can't stay out there after saying my hellos while they play because he is missing. Even if he didn't do any vocals, he is missing on some instrument or at the controls. So I have all these recordings of his gorgeous voice and wonder, will I ever be able to listen to them again? I avoid so many songs that evoke memories of our life at the time. Like you, Margaret, I even have a hard time with TV. Either they were shows we watched together or there are couples and the worst....someone has cancer. Because I need some sound in this terribly quiet house, I'll now let the TV run with shows we never watched and in the background. Meaningless stuff. It's a no win situation because that depresses me. What was once a very full and content life comes down to changes made just to survive to do it over again the next day. Changes that are reminders of everything his death took with him including me in spirit. It's hard to be a shell walking among the living with their laughter or feeling of purpose in life.

Brad, I had the same feelings when I did all the legal things switching everything yo my name only. It felt like I was erasing Steve. It's a hard thing to do when we are already feeling such deep loss from their very presence. I still talk in the WE mode regarding some things. Just makes me feel better for some reason even tho I am alone. 100 days is not very long and at that time I was still operating in shock mode. I was quite productive. I took advantage of it. I was also very careful about decisions about what to keep and what could wait go be decided on later. Deeds inspires you and that is the best path to follow. I would get ideas of something to attend of Steve's som days and knew it wasn't the right time. She looks likes very dynamic woman from h picture you posted.

Kevin, I met Steve in a bar also. He was the lead singer in the band as well as guitarist. They played top 40 cover songs and he hated it as he was a folk guy. Fascinating watching the women go ga ga over him. I was the challenge because I didn't do that (that he saw). My roommate was in a country band and I loved going to see her sing. Rondstat and so many other great groups were popular. It was more country swing/rock. I miss dancing! Miss my boots. Steve could never really dance because he heard music as a language. Always analyzing it instead of feeling the primal beat that makes us shake our booty. ?

Fortunately, there was nothing said I regret. What did become frustrating was when my irritation with what the disease was doing would make me cranky and short tempered. Steve assumed (as anyone would) those feelings were directed at him. With what little energy I was always dealing with, I would have to assure him it wasn't him. As things got worse, this happened often. The feelings of wanting to die came after he was gone. Kat, I know you feel terrible about saying it, but I am guessing that your wife knew they came from thinking of life without her. I shared some thoughts with Steve because I needed him to know that losing him would forever change my life and not because of the toll of the care and crisis it created. It was losing him that was paramount. I do look at the disease as a murderer. An insidious cold blooded killer. I always will. All of these things that have taken our partners are monsters with no other agenda than to kill their host. People that did nothing to warrant it. That is something that will anger me as long as I live. It will be how I come to terms with this that will matter on the power it had and if I want it to have any more, which I don't. It won, but it could not stop the love. There is a greater power in that.

I had been feeling shut down for the last week after the 1 year anniversary. Couldn't really feel anything. I knew this was only an illusion and there was a fragility in it that would crumble it at some point. This morning I woke up and I felt some feelings I hadn't in a long time. I could not believe Steve was dead. It was incomprehensible. Every time I realized he was, my mind fought back saying this was not possible. I bounced around to different places. Years ago when we talked about it happening and I wouldn't accept it tho I knew it was coming. How I felt when it actually did happen. Days along the way since that I didn't want to believe it. I've lived without him all this time and still want to think this is not real. Then I jumped into anger. A different kind I haven't heard much talk about. Anger of all I want thru with him and what it did to our life and that this is what I am left with. Pure pain. I did everything to run this house and monitor his care and there is no 'reward'. I had to attend to his physical needs and I hated it. I hated being becoming a nurse. I hated having to do laundry because of accidents. I hated coming home to find him in crisis and taking him to the ER. I hated when he stopped eating and became unable to think clearly because the cancer caused a dementia like state. I hated that he would call me from the hospice (when it came to that) upset with me because he thought I was in the next room and ignoring him. I hated becoming his advocate because he could no longer make decisions for himself. I hate the chaos and unfinished projects he promised to clean up in the garage so I wouldn't be left with that mess. I hated he wasn't strong anymore and an equal partner. But I did everything I did because I love him. I went blind to the things I did because he needed me and I would never ever desert him for any reason. Now that he is gone, these feelings that I could never express to people around us have to be expressed. They are a part of me. People want to see me as some kind of heroine over those long years. I am not that. They always say they don't know how I did it from the little they saw of what he battled. He was very good at acting quite normal for them. I was the one who saw the true devastation that was happening. Sometimes I don't know how I did either. I am a just woman who deeply loved her man. That was forged by all the years prior to the monster that entered uninvited. That love will never change. But I am tired of feeling smothered by not expressing resentment and anger at roles I had to take on. It wasn't easy or fair. They are like taboo thoughts because we are expected to say only good or noble things about our battle. We lost the battle. The feelings are more than the pain of losing our loves. To fight so hard and be defeated is devastating. We should have won for how hard we fought. We couldn't even see the enemy. It was inside his body. The frustration of so long and hard a fight bringing this outcome enrages me. I want this to be some kind of sick or cruel, twisted joke. But I know it is not. I want him back and I know that is not possible. And while I love him more than I ever imagined because of this, I want to tell him I am not happy our crushed plans have have humbled me to my knees without him and yes, I am angry about it. But not at him. I want to yell and scream with him by my side as he hated all this too. i want a different ending. One where he is still here. One we look back on and say....we did it again, together.

One thing I noticed is when I thought I wasn't thinking about Steve, I was. I don't know about you, but there isn't anywhere I can be in our home that doesn't bring something to mind. If it wasn't a direct memory, it certainly was a feeling one would evoke. Missing them is so much harder because creating future memories is impossible now. Things happen I cannot share with him. Watching TV or anything that elicited conversation doesn't exist. So, what do we do with this life without our companion? It's a cold and lonely place to be. I so want to visit my memories without pain, but I don't know when that will happen. Sometimes I feel a sliver of peace and think...this will be possible. But as we are all finding, time moves mercilessly slow right now. You have to be where you are. It is certainly your choice whether to talk about Andre or not. Follow your gut. I also don't want to talk about Steve. But he will sneak in there because he is a part of me. Just as Andre is of you. Sometimes fighting is more work than surrendering. There is nothing about this that is easy. I truly wish you some slivers of peace.

Margaret, I have so many What Would Steve Do moments. I think that is natural as we had them to talk to about decisions. Steve said he often thought that himself about me when I wasn't around.

Seems we are all echoing the same feeling. I get input from my counsellor and the few people that know me fairly well that I am doing well. I chalk it up to them seeing me in social situations, where I have to relate to people. When I come home it is not like that at all. I have new routines because they are necessary. Not because I wanted them. Often those changes trigger the pain because of why they were made. My darkest times are waking up knowing it will be another changed day and parts of the evening that I so lived for being in our home together. Dinner is a biggie. So I guess I am 'improving' by the very fact I get thru another day and have done so for a little over a year now. Just wish it felt better as far as acceptance in the sense that I find some peace in the memories. Haven't gotten there yet. I've found I will sometimes tell someone some anecdote about Steve and it catches up with me later when I am alone. Felt good to share, but hurts so much having thought about it later. Always creates a conundrum for me wether to say anything or not right now. One thing I know I DON'T want to hear are other people's memories right now. It adds to the pile. So, doing better? Like you, Kristine, sleep is about the only place that I get that respite between the dreams.

Margaret, I experience the same thing regarding watching TV or movies that have medical content now. I was never fond of it, but now it really affects me. I volunteer at a nursing home and see so much of it too. I totally relate to wanting to run. It must have been hard dealing with death certificates. I hated it because it changed Steve legally from my partner to a name on an official paper to pass around. I logically know it needs to be done, but we can't hold or talk to it. It's a cold thing to add to our grief.

I was reading Margaret's thread about too soon to make plans. There was so much in there that just tore at my heart. Last Thursday was the one year anniversary of Steve's death and something I can hardly explain is happening. I haven't cried once, tho that is all that all that is on my mind. I've never felt do alone in this. I have no family, no close friends or anyone that fits that description. I know people, but those are acquaintances. I am not religious and we never had children. My life changed over 25 years ago when I got panic disorder. Had to leave my career and learn how to live with panic on a daily basis. It was not an easy journey. He was resentful and I felt deserted by friends I did have because I 'changed'. I am not an introvert, tho people think that because I have limits with the anxiety. Steve was perceived as the social one and was because of his job and musical pursuits. Thru those, I got my social 'fixes'. It was a perfect balance. When he became ill I had a new job as his caretaker and confidant of his true fears and devastation that no one saw. I was always amazed at how he could make others comfortable about his limited time because I knew the fear he carried. We created a life that was safe when we were alone. It became my world and I was so glad I could be there for him. Now that he has been gone, I look back over the last year and how adeptly I handled all the legal needs and got done projects that needed to be done around the house. I should feel good about this, but I don't because I never doubted I could do these things. It was the sharing as we have all described that made them matter. They were but tasks to be done and checked off a list. I So they are done. I proved I am self sufficient. Do I feel good about this? Yes and no. Putting aside feminism and empowerment, I miss our dependence on each other to share in the feeling of accomplishment. I wanted to be a part of a team, not this solitary existence I live now. I wasn't any less strong because of our being together, if that makes sense. Something happened at the anniversary. My mind and heart cannot accept the enormity of this loss. Yet I had been living it for a year plus as he was lost to me mentally for 2 months before he died. It's the weirdest place I have ever been. The closet I came to tears in the last week was where I volunteer and a mortician showed up with a gurney and a bag. It was all business like. I have shut down inside which I do not understand because while I wanted some relief from the pain, I didn't want to feel so robotic, for lack of a better word. I know this is a temporary so I am wondering when it will crack and what will be there. Wondering what will trigger the flood of the now true meaning of his being gone forever. Now that all the tasks are done, what awaits is the pure emotion. I talk a good game to the outside world. Pull off I am still alive and surviving, which I guess I am. But I am not living. That, to me, means enjoyment and interest of being part of the world. I am so dependent on the few routines I have left since Steve left, that hearing that my volunteering was cancelled for tomorrow has me in a tailspin. Haven't a clue what I will do with yet another day without some contact for another day. Sorry this is long winded and woe me. At least I have grief counseling today and my dogs to come home to. They aren't great conversationalists, but they are happy about life. I marvel in that every day.

Isn't it amazing that we would all give anything to just have a few brief moments back with our beloveds? Once we had all the time in the world, but now the smallest of time could soothe our hearts just a bit.

The lifeboat analogy is so right on. There is nothing worse than watching your 'ship' go down and know it is gone forever. And on it were all your possessions, tho I see them as emotional ones. The lifeboat is small, exposed and bobbing around adrift. That there are others in it is the only thing keeping you sane.

>I now live in a house that my partner and I purchased and renovated every free moment of our time. I used to be so proud of our little home and the new lives we built bit by bit. Now it seems like everything is worthless. Nothing brings me pleasure as i don't have my partner to share it with. All the happiness is gone. I feel like an empty shell of my former self. I don't recognise myself anymore. The thought of building a whole new life again alone scares me. Ricky, You have expressed what so many if not all of us feel. I operated in shock to get many things done. When that was over, I realized there was nothing I cared about anymore. I could feel no meaning in anything. All the things that did bring me pleasure died when Steve did. It was like he took that part of me with him. I read all the words you wrote above and see myself. It is a cold and dark place to be. The hard thing is accepting this is 'normal'. I get so tired of hearing that, but when I stop and think about up the monumental loss I live with, how could I ever expect to feel anywhere close to what life was when my soulmate was here? So, I know it feels indescribably terrible. We are all waiting for time to do it's thing. Not to erase our love or memories, but to to hopefully change them into something that brings us more joy/gratitude for having what we did instead of pain. The people here have helped me so much with their sharing and listening. Another thing I have learned is I only take 'suggestions' from my heart now. They are the only ones I trust and usually find I can handle because triggers are sneaky. I once tried getting take out from our favorite restaurant only to cry all the way home. It is about creating a new life, BUT...at our own pace. Fear is a big part of that. I wish I could say it wasn't.

Brad, Steve and I talked about what we envisioned each of our lives to be if we lost the other. When the topic of another person came up, we found we felt the same. That there would never be anyone else. Both of us would spend their life without that connection ever again. We were so in sync that we said it would be taking care of our furry kids that would become the most important thing. I know some people have found another partner, my mom did when she lost my dad when I was 4. But I know in my heart that no one can ever 'fit' with me again. Steve said his time would go to music. I have yet to find what mine will be. I have his wedding ring and tried to wear it, but it is quite bulky for my hands. I would love to have it with me all the time, but what I do wear he gave to me. I never wear anything else. Same earrings, necklace and rings everyday and it has been that way always. I have our favorite picture (which is the one attached to this post) in our bedroom and one of him on the wall by my monitor that I see all the time. It is so sweet you have Deedo's picture in your living room surrounded by light. It is the same premise as the candle. They are still a light in our lives. I also talk to him. I don't know if you have had people suggest to you the possibility of someone else, but I have and find it quite insensitive and have told them so. It really is something that anyone who knew the pain of this would never say to us. That is the pass I give them. Loneliness is not filled by just anyone. There was a very significant bond we all formed with our partners. For some that can never ever be replaced. We will live on and someday join them again, I hope. That is what keeps me going. I'll do what it takes to live my life alone, but it is waiting for Steve and I to be together again.