TerriL

TH and Gin, I wish for us all to find some relief and inner peace from the pain and suffering. Gin. my niece has been pretty good to me, as well. She came over today, in fact, bringing her five year old son with her (she's pregnant again also, with a girl). It's actually hard for me to talk about Paul with her because my great nephew wants to play with his Auntie Terri, but I tell him about his Uncle Paul loving him so he will continue to remember him. I laughed today, playing with that little boy. It felt good.

Cookie, I also make attempts to cook and I hired a grocery delivery service since there are days I have a hard time driving due to my increased anxiety. Sometimes just the thought of having to get dressed, get in the car, drive to the store, shop for groceries and then have to stand in line to pay for them and drive back home is overwhelming to me. I get exhausted just thinking about it, so I gave to work at scrounging something up with the bare bones in my cupboard. I ran out of eggs once and got so desperate, I was contemplating how to make scrambled eggs from some old frozen breakfast sandwiches I found in the freezer. Ha! But, they're basically cooked already, so I just heated up one of them and had it for breakfast. A friend of mine got so worried about me, she sent me a link to a grocery delivery service. They shop for you at your favorite local store and then bring the groceries to you. I felt like a failure at first and it took me a while to sign up for that reason, but she convinced me that there isn't any shame in doing what you need to do in order to take care of yourself. She said that down the road, I may be able to take over the grocery shopping again, but for now, I need to eat to stay healthy. She was right, of course. I have been surprised that I have been able to relive some of the most wonderful memories of Paul. I was miserable almost all of January, anticipating the 34th anniversary of our first date we ever had. It was when we realized we had that special connection that went far beyond friendship. I was listening to all of the songs that were popular at the time of that date and the one in particular that was "our song" and sobbing relentlessly. But, on the actual day, January 25th (and on a Monday again, no less, just like the original date), I felt so good, so uplifted. It was almost as if I could feel him with me and I ended up having a good day. At night, I relived the entire date in my memory, watching the clock and remembering what we were doing at that time---when he picked me up, when we ate dinner, etc. And finally it got to the time where he kissed me good night and we just knew. We knew we were right for each other. It was magical for me to relive that. I wish he was here right now though. We still had so many more memories to make together and it just isn't fair. Thank goodness I found this forum, because I needed to talk with people who understand me. I can sit and share at a time when going somewhere to share would not be easy for me. Plus, I feel supported and I hope I can return that support to all of you who are so generous in spite of your own pain.

Mitch, You're so right about the feelings and how fast time can fly, even though, on a day to day basis, time can also seem to plod along so achingly. In mid-April, it will be the six month mark since my wonderful husband passed away so suddenly, with no warning. A half a year? It doesn't seem possible that he has been gone that long, because the longest time we've ever been apart in 34 years was maybe two and a half weeks, when he visited his ailing father in New Jersey. And even then, at least we could speak on the phone, text or send pictures to each other to share what was happening where we each were. I'm with you, it astonishes me that I am still here, almost five months later. Holding on, but still so scared. I admire your going to work to keep yourself busy. It doesn't completely stop the pain, but it at least makes you feel as if you accomplished something. I've done that, too. I'll try to get something done that I've been letting slide, thinking that I can let another day go by just sitting and crying or I can say at the end of the day, "the pain is still there, but I am proud that I managed to get one more thing done to make Paul proud of me". If I feel I can't do it just for myself, then I do it for Paul. He was meticulous about everything he did, especially the finances. And I don't want to screw up everything he worked so hard for. I prove to him that all his worry and work were not in vain. And so I go on and get it done and in my heart, I hear him say, "Thank you. I love you for trying so hard. You can do this." That's all any of us can do. Just try our best with what we've got.

Marg, I do feel for your sister in that regard then. Being a caretaker is so difficult and draining, especially when you know they aren't going to recover. It's a totally different feeling than when you are helping them heal. As is usually the case, the situation with my family is a lifetime in the making, much of it having to do with our parents, too, and very complicated. My sister needs to be the center of attention and prefers an audience (her co-workers, friends, any person she wants to impress. etc.). In the cases where she has an audience, she may act a bit differently, but when it's just the two of us, and there is no one to impress, she's herself. She was that way when my mother died, as well. When my mom was in the hospital (where my sister works), my sister was there visiting every day, talking with the doctors and nurses, etc. When my mom came home on Hospice care, my sister never came by until the day before my mom finally passed away. No doctors there to impress and much physical work to be done. My sister and her husband, at one point, took a trip to the Florida Keys to go fishing, while I helped my father take care of my mom at home. My husband never cared that much for my sister and her husband either. He would tell me that he felt my sister was a phony. I'm almost thinking she could have one of those "narcissistic personality disorders", but I'm not professional therapist.

Gwen, you absolutely hit the nail on the head. My sister's husband had originally volunteered to help with my finances, too, and cut my lawn. One day, out of the blue, I got a text message from him stating, "You never ask me for financial advice any more. I've been reduced to your lawn man, No more. Please hire a lawn service." End of text. I simply sat on my couch, staring at this text. So, now I pay for someone to cut my lawn, which is fine, since I had never asked my brother in law to cut it in the first place. He would make all sorts of condescending remarks to me about "not getting my anxiety disorder, so I should expect him to get angry with me from time to time" and "don't talk so much, I don't want to hear it, go to a therapist, they get paid for that sort of thing". All I could do was say to myself, "This is my HELP? I'm doomed." Gee, I sound a bit like Charlie Brown there. Haha! Good grief! I think NOT. Nothing good about it at all, except, as you said, it rewrites your address book. I love the way you put that. It does make me wonder if he volunteered to offer "financial help" just to get peek inside my bank account and see how much I have. That's another thing we have to watch out for---the people who see someone in an extremely vulnerable position and swoop in like the vultures they are. I was taken for two-thousand dollars by a lawyer I discovered I didn't really need after all. Expensive lesson, but lesson learned. I finally fired him when he began asking for MORE money. All I got out of that ordeal was a notarized piece of paper. Most expensive notary on the planet. I have also wrestled with those feelings of knowing that if Paul and I had never found each other or had the kind of love and marriage that we did, I'd be free of this pain. However, I know deep in my heart that I would never trade one moment I had with him, not even the less than stellar ones. That's what I loved about that video with the late Darcie Sims, may she rest in peace. She counsels people to not allow your loved one's legacy to be their loss, for the loss happened in the blink of an eye. She said to concentrate on all that came before. All the time you did have with that person. Let THAT be their legacy. Remember and pay tribute to the love, not the loss. That affected me in such a profound way. My neighbor, the wife, who lives next door to me has never had a great marriage. Her husband has always been a real jerk to her and doesn't appreciate anything she does for him. He has recently been suffering from many health issues and she told me that she knows it's a matter of time before he goes and she'll feel grief, since she does love him. But, she also said her overwhelming feeling will most likely be one of relief. No more constant verbal abuse or arguing, etc. She witnessed on a daily basis the kind of relationship Paul and I had and she tried to comfort me as best as she could, but she said she knew my pain was beyond what she could even imagine. She's right.

Marg, I'm so glad that your mom was able to share a memory with you, even if for only a short time. That is something I have never had to deal with and would never give advice to anyone on, because caring for someone you love who has Alzheimers has to be one of the single most difficult situations to deal with. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it's like. I know what you mean about sisters trying to help. In my case, my sister is ten years older than I am and I think she feels the need to "fix" me. The problem is, unless someone can work magic and bring Paul back, it can't be fixed. That's the only thing that would fix me right now. Maybe with a little more time, I will be able to allow it to just roll off my back, but for now, I find myself dreading having to talk with her. I tire of telling her something and immediately getting the response that nothing I'm going through is ever as bad as I'm making it out to be. The fact that she has not even come by to see me in person since Paul died hasn't helped the situation. She lives about ten minutes away. She tells me I can come to her house for dinner, but I've turned down her invitations. I have enough to deal with. I do love my sister, but I don't get what seems to be her total lack of compassion. Kay, I think I'll do what we were all talking about a few posts back and that is, I will just put on a facade when dealing with my sister and be myself here and in private. (Plus, I'll try to keep the calls on the shorter side.) It's a shame we have to do that, but sometimes when you are in such deep pain, self-preservation needs to be first priority.

Madly, truly, deeply and endlessly. That is exactly how much I love my husband. What Gwen said about the cold term "complicated grief" (as if someone actually came up with a "grief report card") and also about leaving items in the fridge. I still have the iced tea I made for my husband a couple of weeks before he passed away. I dare not look into it, as I'm not sure what life forms could be taking root in there now, but I don't drink iced tea myself and therefore, it stays for now. And the "experts" would probably not label me---yet---with complicated grief only because it hasn't been that long since Paul died, but I know my grief is complicated by the anxiety disorder I already had and have had for most of my life. But, I don't quite understand how you are supposed to get over the loss of a person who was the only one whom you wanted to be married to or wanted to be with for life. To realize you will never again look up and see them looking back at you or searching for your face in a crowd, it causes my stomach to knot up even writing that. Today started out okay. I talked to Paul's picture this morning. But, after my sister called and I spoke with her, I ended up feeling drained. So angry. I'm afraid I'm getting to the point where I just will not be able to tolerate talking to her any longer. When you feel worse after dealing with a person, is it wise to continue subjecting yourself to it? She actually compared the stress and pain of what I'm going through with the stress she has to deal with on her job, never having it dawn on her that you can always QUIT a job or retire. I can't quit Paul's death. If only I COULD! If only I could say, "Okay, I've had enough of this. He needs to come back now. I quit this." She asks how things are going, I tell her the truth and it's always, "OH, Terri. EVERYONE goes through that sort of thing every day. You aren't unique." and then she proceeds to give a speech (it isn't a conversation because I can never get a word in edge wise) about how wonderfully she deals with the stress in her life and never calls in sick, even though she has Rheumatoid Arthritis and all this other stuff. Then, it isn't long before she launches into how her husband made coffee for her this morning and on and on, ad nauseum... In other words, I have no right to still be grieving after four whole months. I need to pick myself up and "soldier on". Her words, not mine. Of course, the way she and her husband are, it seems a lot more like a business arrangement than a marriage of passion, the way Paul and I were.

Brat, you and Gwen brought up another thing I've been dealing with, as well. Groceries, cooking, take-out nights, etc. I never know what to eat now. Paul would always get the take-out, unless it was a place that delivered. And I'm not sure I could go there now anyway---it would be a reminder of him and how our order used to contain the items he loved so much and now would be just mine alone. My husband also did a lot of the cooking, since he was used to being the cook at the fire station. He loved making me roast beef with carrots, potatoes, onions and baked ziti. He also made the most delicious soups! I'm the baker, but I don't feel like baking or cooking when it's only me. It seems like a whole lot of work and pots and pans just for me. And then, you sit and eat alone. There are times I just make a peanut butter sandwich and that's dinner. I can't shake all the memories of how it used to be during happier times. I watch couples when I'm out and they'll be joking and laughing with each other and I think how much i miss feeling like that. All I want is to have that back again. It's so true, we really do end up wearing a mask to the world. You wear it so other people will not tire of you and wind up leaving you even more alone than you already are. At least they will still occasionally call you if you muster the energy to sound somewhat upbeat.

Brat, have you ever had days since Dale passed where you just want to say "to he-- with it all", get in your car and start driving, not even knowing where you'll end up? Of course, I'd never actually DO it---I have my cats to still think about and to be honest, it would cost me even more to stay somewhere else unless I live out of my car. But, sometimes I have gotten to the point where I'll sit down, doesn't matter where, and begin bawling my eyes out in grief and frustration.

Mitch, I have started crying in the middle of eating, drinking, you name it. And yeah, to the point where you choke. There is no way to know in advance how, when or where the pain will suddenly hit you. I am so sorry you are going through such a tough day, although I'm sure, (as it is for me, too), EVERY day is a tough day Some are just worse than others. Just one week before my husband suddenly passed away, he was clearing out weeds from our garden so that we could replant with native plants . We were so looking forward to doing that together. We had also been talking about getting back into riding our bicycles in the park or at the beach. And then, the following week, he was gone and so, too, were all the plans we'd made. Now, all the weeds that Paul had cleared away have grown back. People have told me that I should get the plants anyway and plant them as a "tribute" to him, but right now, I just don't have the motivation. It only reminds me of what I've lost. If you do build that time machine, let me know what I can do to help. I will gladly do my part in order to go back, armed with the knowledge I have now, and save my husband. I would get him to the ER before he even had that first stroke so they could administer drugs or whatever. By the way, my husband's aunt had lupus and I have a very good friend who also suffers with that. I do know it's a very difficult condition to treat and control and my heart goes out to you and to your beloved wife, Tammy. I'm sure having had a husband who loved her as you do, made her life so much better. Take care.

I'm always talking to Paul, too. I make sure to tell him every day, how much I love him, the same way I did when he was here with me in person. I can't see any reason to stop doing that. I don't have much help from anyone else, so if there is even the remotest of possibilities that he can somehow help me or get me through each day, I talk to him and ask him to guide me in the right direction. I've been amazed at times how much it actually has helped me. But, I still ache for him all the time. It's funny how things may seem to go wrong, one right after the other, when you have your soul mate still with you, but sharing the aggravation makes it more bearable. That's especially true when your spouse is very handy and mechanically inclined, things that I am NOT. Paul could actually take care of things that went wrong, with me as his trusty assistant. However, lately, things have been breaking or going wrong and now, it's all on ME alone to deal with it or clean it up or attempt to get it fixed or make it right. I have no one to gripe with, no one to help me out and now, since my beloved handyman is gone, it usually results in me having to open up my wallet yet again. Mind you, the bills have increased due to my needing help but with him gone, the money has been cut in half. It's hard enough to be suffering this loss. Having all sorts of issues and problems arise at the same time makes you feel like you're drowning. So, should I worry what anyone thinks of me talking to my husband? When I'm sitting, crosslegged, in the corner of the room, using my finger to play with my bottom lip, maybe then they can worry a little.

Have a safe trip, Marg. And you're right---we do understand all too well. I felt the same about my husband. No one can truly understand how my husband was my partner, my soul mate. We were each a component of our own private team and now, a huge piece is missing and I feel as if someone has cut my anchor and left me drifting out to sea. I panic and struggle to figure out how I can get my bearings again. I watched the video with Darcie Sims that was posted earlier in this thread and I must say, it is such a powerful message and presented in a way that resonated deeply with me. Thank you for posting that, even if I did cry through much of it.

@hollowheart, I won't take it the wrong way. I have always been known for my sense of humor and I have been desperately trying to hold onto it as much as I can through all this. It was one of the things Paul loved the most about me and anytime I could crack him up was such a joy and a triumph for me. He was very laid back and low key and we were such a Yin/Yang coupling. No, I didn't say that to my sister, because I've learned to just let it go---that's just the way she is, like Barbie on speed. Come to think of it, my brother in law has always been kind of a jerk, too, so there you go. It wasn't long after Paul's death---maybe several weeks---and my sister called and cheerfully asked, "So, anything different going on today?" I wasn't having a great day (my joints were hurting from my autoimmune condition) and she just really got to me. I answered back with a false cheerful tone, "No! Paul's still dead!" Silence on the other end of the line. Then, she tried to backtrack and explain what she meant and that's when I felt horrible for having said it. I apologized to her, told her I wasn't feeling well and that I knew what she meant. When I was first in shock, my anger was in overdrive. It even frightened me at times. I was furious at the entire universe and some people got caught in the crossfire. But, I can't go back and undo what has been done (if only! I wouldn't be HERE right now), so I move forward and figure that if anyone is holding a grudge against me for things I may have said in anger at a time when I'd just lost the love of my life and my entire world was spinning out of control, it's something I have to accept as a natural consequence of my actions. I did apologize to anyone who experienced my wrath, but it's not for me to insist they forgive me.

Kay, thank you very much for the compliment. It was very kind of you. I have not yet read the links, but plan to after I go outside to run the cars. That is one thing I have to do at least every couple days or so. I start the car and truck up to allow them to run so the batteries don't die out. My next door neighbor's husband, who is not well himself, kindly came over shortly after my husband's death and charged up the dead batteries for me. I'm attempting to reward his kindness by doing my job to keep them running so he doesn't have to come back over again. His wife brought over shock treatment for my pool when the water turned green and helped me get the water clear again (yes, my husband took care of that, too, and I'm totally clueless). I am thankful every day for people like that. I don't know where I'd be right now if it hadn't been for them. Gin, I believe you summed it up perfectly. Sometimes, people are clueless. And Marg, I was reading your post and sitting here with my mouth hanging open. Everything of my husband's is still right where he left it the day fire/rescue took him to the ER (my husband was a retired Firefighter). He never returned. Well, he returned, just not as either of us would have wanted it. I figure that this is still his home, too, and I'm the only one who sees his things every day, so I can leave it however I want to. It isn't anyone else's call to make.

Thank you for the welcome, even though, as you said, this is a club no one truly wants to join. If someone had told me last September that I'd be here right now, first of all, I would have said "shut up!" because I'd be afraid they were jinxing things, but I would have told them they were insane. My husband and I were making plans for three years from that time, for what would have been his 70th birthday. I do appreciate the comfort though in being among people who finally "get" me and what I'm going through. I've lost both of my parents and went through the deaths of my husband's parents and one of his brothers, but losing my husband has been the hardest hit of all. Paul was my life, the family I chose for myself, the only man I've ever really loved and wanted (and still DO). Yes, he was my boyfriend, too! I would tell him that all the time and he would tell people that living with me was like living with a teenager in the house. Haha! (I can't believe how remembering that honestly made me laugh just now.) We'd leave funny notes on a dry erase board for each other all the time. Now, it's just a blank slate attached to the refrigerator. We were opposites in certain areas, but in a way that complemented each other. We rarely ever clashed. I respect him and admire him so much. He was the person who could "ground" me, hold on to my hand and make me feel as if everything would be all right. I wish I could have saved him---made everything all right for him. I tried, but failed. I so deeply understand how all of you are feeling and my heart goes out to you in the same way you have offered yours to me. I have cried so hard just reading some of the posts because I see myself in them. We're like this unseen society of people in deep pain and despair, while all around us, the world goes on as if nothing at all has happened. It's surreal to me. Nothing for me is normal anymore. I feel so scared all the time. Scared of the future. Scared that I will feel like this and be living like this for the remainder of my years. And then my sister will call, tell me all the things that she and her husband have done together that morning and then say to me, "I hope you're enjoying this beautiful day, too!" You have no idea how bad I wanted to say, "Oh, yes! Paul and I took a walk around the block this morning, too. But, then his urn got too heavy and I had to carry him back home." Instead, I graciously suck it up and exchange pleasantries. Of course, then you hang up and that's when the anger hits you. And thank you very much for the links so that I can read them and better equip myself with information on how to get through some of this. I am trying meditation, but I become so easily distracted now that it's rather a joke. I keep trying though. And I try to take care of myself and my fur babies. They also realize their dad is no longer here and still look for him at times, especially in the early morning. He always got up before me and fed them. I tell them all the time that he is looking out for them and he still loves them very much. They may not understand the words, but I do believe they can pick up on your intentions. Who knows? Maybe it's myself I'm actually trying to convince.

I have been reading the posts here, but this is my first comment. My wonderful, handsome, loving, sweet husband passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 67, of multiple strokes in October of 2015. We had no real warning, since he seemed to be in great health. We have no children, but we do have four cats. My husband and I did everything together. In fact, when I was reading iheartm's posts, I could have sworn she was quoting me verbatim with so many of her feelings, emotions and observations. In fact, I tried starting a journal and many of the things she wrote were the exact words I had written down before I even discovered this forum. So uncanny. It's been a little over four months since my husband passed and January was particularly brutal for me, since that was the 34th anniversary of our first kiss, first date, when we realized we felt something real for each other. We lived together for nine years before we married in 1992. I, too, feel as if I can't do the regular things or go to the usual places we always did as a couple, which was pretty much everything. I have an anxiety disorder and an autoimmune condition on top of my grief and it makes things even harder on me (my anxiety has worsened since his death). Add to that the fact that I have relatively little help or support from family or friends and it has been downright overwhelming at times (although I count my blessings for the friends who have come through in my most desperate moments). My own brother in law, one week after my husband died, sat in my living room and stated to me that since I have an anxiety disorder and he doesn't "get it", I can expect him to get angry with me from time to time. I just stared at him. I was still in shock from my husband's sudden death and I stared at him. Then, I became angry and told him that I'm sick of having to explain myself to ignorant people. My entire life has been turned upside down. My husband did everything---he was exceptionally handy, smart and so good to me. It's as if, when he died, my life as I had known it for almost 34 years, died along with him. And I don't know how to put it back together again. I am ten years younger than him and yet, I can't see a future that doesn't have him in it. We had made all sorts of plans and every one of them involved the two of us being together to share them. I have no one to share my life with any longer, no one to share jokes or interesting stories we'd both read or hear, no one to go out to when he's washing his truck or trimming the hedges and ask if he wants something to drink, no one to go to the park or beach with on beautiful, sunny days (like today)... It's such a lonely, monotonous existence now. Once in a while, I may have a visitor. I had some former neighbors stop by last weekend. But, then, one of them began talking about "when I'm ready to find a nice man to take me out, make sure I don't allow him to move in to my home" and again, I found myself simply staring back at them. I think it just takes me a moment or two to adjust my brain. I think to myself "they couldn't possibly be saying what I think they're saying", but lo and behold, they truly ARE saying it. So, I immediately stated that, as far as I'm concerned, I am still married to my husband and I won't even think about anything like that. We didn't divorce. Our vows were "til death do we part" and we've parted. It doesn't mean my marriage ended. How have any of you dealt with condescending attitudes, inappropriate remarks or "advice" from people who are supposed to be "supporting" you? I can't believe adults can be so callous and thoughtless sometimes.