Patty65

Thank you Marti for sharing that. I will remember the three P's. I need to. Patty

Ron would say that too. Or I would. We could get through anything! We were the best team in the world! But not this. I have so many regrets. I had so much hope, it was the only thing keeping me going while he was even in Hospice, I didn't give up that hope until the last two days. I feel like I robbed him of being able to come to terms with what was happening. We never talked about death. It was unfathomable. Poor Ron, alone with his fears. In the last minutes of his life, he opened his eyes just a little and he cried. It just kills me. Today our pasta shop is one year old, our one year anniversary. There couldn't be more things going wrong here, it seems I'm cursed. I guess I shouldn't say that because things I haven't even thought of yet will go wrong next. For the past week or two since I stopped posting, though I still read, my therapist has asked me to check in via text daily, since I called her from the side of the road just wanting and trying to end it all. Every minute has too much pain. But in the early morning, I find comfort in blasting music, alone at the shop, and baking. Even though it is usually accompanied by crying. I've bought a digital piano with my "condolence money" that I should have used to hire a plumber for the house, and I'm teaching it to myself when my brain functions enough to be able to. Its mathematical and creative both, the best distraction. It kills time when I can't sleep and occupies my mind for brief periods. But man, does it all seem so, so, so pointless.

Definitely true of me. I told my therapist a while ago -- there is a reason for the expression "don't talk ill of the dead". All those petty annoyances - all the little faults, the things that may have driven any one of us crazy sometimes -- that is not the higher truth of who they were and are. All of those things were simply responses and coping mechanisms to what he went through in his life. I don't see it as my idealizing Ron. I see it as holding dear the higher truth of Ron, who he really is and will always be. His heart and soul. That's all that matters now.

I'm with you Marg. I gave up the week before this nightmare started. Haven't worn any since, except on the day of his service, and that was only to please my daughter who was here for a week for the service.

I have cried more in the last 71 days than I have in my entire life -- combined.

i pulled it myself, sorry

(((hugs)))

Mitch, I hear you.

Yes, I've been known to be the quieter one, Marg... Ron was the talker, I was the listener. He had a rough childhood, and did not feel loved, a home with domestic violence, he was shipped off a lot to relatives, yet he did not have a mean bone in his body. He was fiercely protective of my daughter and I though. He made a lot of mistakes trying to find love and happiness before we found each other, and he had many regrets that would affect his self esteem. And it affected his ability to take care of himself, and be worth getting better. And I should have been able to help more. Mitch and Kay, you all are so much stronger than I am, so tenacious in your fight to survive in the middle of this heartbreak. I am none of those things anymore. Ron You were a little boy, crouching, Searching for love in the cold night - Unrequited, sad, lonely, grasping, You crouched even lower and you dug a hole Deep in the earth you found a gemstone, and it pleased you. It was pleasure. It could suffice, that pleasure. And so you dug deeper and found more, But there were sharp rocks among those gemstones They cost you, those regrets, and they cut you. So you climbed out, searching for love again And you found me, alone and searching too, in the dark The dawn grew bright As you made me whole As you loved so deeply So gratefully So completely I was so loved And so proud to be loved On our bright day But that hole, now gemless, would beckon you. Draw you Snatch you back. I would hold on, and make you remember Our daylight Our blinding beauty Our life, our love And you would crawl out to me And you would find me, all over again And I'd be loved, all over again Your gratefulness swelling even larger than before But with each fall, you'd fall harder. Deeper. The sharp rocks cut you And drained you Of your very life Until you had barely a breath left But you crawled out one last time And looked at me Pleading for our daylight Our life, our love But the sun was setting for us - You slipped away. You made it out of your hole, But you are gone. And now, I am just alone in the dark Staring at an empty hole, Wondering how I could have kept you From falling in so very many times And why I could not keep you in my arms And make our daylight last forever.

I have written a poem last week about Ron, digging holes, regrets... maybe I can share it later. It is in my journal at home, I'm again at work, trying to hold on. It has been several days since I have been able to post. I don't remember what I read about the rules here, when there is such extreme despair that it becomes dangerous. It's where I've been. I didn't want to risk posting, I was too desperate. Honestly, I still am. The shop is failing, an employee broke the ravioli maker, it will cost $7K in revenue and repairs that I cannot afford. That's one of a hundred issues, and its just too much. We - I - may have to close. And that's just the final straw. Or boulder. To lose Ron, and then our Dream... like hanging from a tightrope over the abyss, and only my pinky finger is left still holding on, and it's the weakest, and its failing. There is no place, no one, no family, no life, no dream. I'm on a rock in the middle of the Pacific, alone, no family, and the mainland is a foreign world reserved for vacations with my honey who is no longer. So impossible to keep going. And I'll go now, having said too much.

We used to say "glisten"

As I have settled in here, I find it comforting to post under a topic that is in the general arena of how I am feeling. For example, "reflections and musings" or "it hurts so bad". It is definitely less intimidating than posting a brand new thread, and I have found it is easier to post than shy away. It is a conversation that is restarted over and over again with the same theme, and I think that makes sense. It is very helpful, too, for those of us who want to "hide" a little under a thread already started, just to have a place to write. Patty

When I read your post, I thought, "SHE has secret things she always wanted to do..." Yes, Gin, that was so not about you, and her blindness hurt you, it seems to me.

Thank you Marg, I am learning to love the bits of numb I get. I still feel guilty for them too. I told my therapist in a text yesterday - "I have burns all over my arms, I am working so hard and fast (with stoves) I'm not careful. Ron would see me go there (workaholic that I am) and make me slow down. He was my speed control." I've lost 25 lbs in 2 months. My staff is trying to feed me. I try, but it makes me sick, I throw up, then the pressure of throwing up makes my nose bleed. UGGH! I try to eat a little something in front of them so they leave me alone. And I'm grateful they care. Marg, I am hanging on... albeit barely... it is cus of all of you. You are an echo in the dark. It's not vast nothingness, at least there is something out there to reverberate back to me. And for now, maybe forever, it's our cave, and I'll take it. How I relate to the breathless crying. Patty

The most and only legal thing I've done is take Ron off my health insurance (i haven't mentioned that I teach at the local college 3-4 classes per semester in order to have health insurance from the college). That's the only thing i have done, since it saves money and i'm so worried about my daughter making it through her last year of college next year. I know things will catch up with me eventually, but I honestly don't care. I probably will when they hit, but right now there is not an iota of energy left for anything like that.

We used to camp at the top of the volcano, Haleakala National Park, and the stars you can see from there is just insane. And oh, does it get cold at 8,000 feet! One time all the campfire spots were taken, so we made our own out of blue rock -- a ranger came along in the morning and told us we shouldn't use those -- but we already had figured that out because they explode when they get hot. Our dream was to eventually have enough from the shop to be able to take off across country. Ron wanted to take me to all the National Parks, Yosemite, etc. that he had grown up going to. Sometimes I am grateful for "numb" (like now, at work) until it makes me feel like I will explode and the lump builds up in my throat.. anxiety, driving too fast... all comes with the numb... sometimes I don't even feel safe in my own skin. I asked my counselor friend last week when I was numb for a couple of days -- is it inevitable that I will feel again? I had been numb. She said yes, and by that night I was beyond bad shape. The worst of worsts is unstoppable wailing deep in the night. I don't know how to deal on any level with the loss of my future and all our dreams. I'm a solitary empty nester now but the forest has burned down around me - no life as far as I can see. Ron and I hired a baker a year ago, an impressive resume, and when he started here, he told us his wife had passed away almost two years prior. He cried often, he was silent mostly, and it was a hard energy to have in our brand new retail shop. But he was very skilled, and we felt so bad and couldn't imagine his loss, and we all learned to let him come in early, do his very good work, and slip out. He left almost 6 months ago for a chef job, but stopped by when Ron was in hospice. He was in tears. He told me I should sell the business. I told him I didn't know what I was going to do, I was still determined Ron was not going to die. He knew what was coming, what I would go through. I didn't understand. I do now. I lived for the life and love of my family around me. The Christmas parties we'd host, our house was where all the kids gathered, our beach days, our camping trips, so many million things more. It was who I was. It was what I lived for, that joy, that love in the house. Who the hell am I now? Well this was supposed to be about camping. Patty

Hi Kath, I believe you will make the decision that you need to with that. I just wanted to say, though... would your son be insulted if you said you were unable to come because you just had heart surgery? Because the way we all feel -- it kind of feels like that. Our hearts have been ripped out. This kind of grief is so impossible to understand unless you are in it. I would have never ever known this could even exist this bad, it still doesn't even feel survivable. Like I've been treading water forever it seems, no land in sight, and any minute a wave is going to take me over and I'll be gone. I just wish there was a way for you to be able to not go since you are not feeling up to it, and have him not be insulted - to have him understand. Any way your daughter could talk to him? Mostly, I hope you find a way to be as gentle on yourself as possible, you've been through enough, no matter what your decision. Patty

My numb broke when I was talking to my old college counselor and friend from 20 years ago a little while ago. I had a preset time we were going to talk, given the two month mark. I was numb when I called. She said, "are you home?" The last 2x we tried to talk I was still at work and couldn't. I said, "I'm homeless." She said, "What?" I said, "well, i have the house, , but I have no home." The numb broke when I was talking about how much Ron loved me. He loved me fiercely. He adored me. I felt "worth it" finally in my life. I JUST don't know how to live without that love. He gave me so much love that he gave me self esteem, that I know I should have on my own, but here I am, not knowing how to go another minute without his fierce love for me. It showed in his eyes. My protector. She said his love and energy is still out there. I told her I couldn't find it anywhere. Mitch it's so good you can feel Tammy by your side. I so wish I could feel Ron like that.

Hi Gin, Do you feel the opposite at the same time? I hate more and more going to "the house"/"home", yet at the same time, it was the one home that I felt completely wonderful and safe in because Ron was there for me... and so I sometimes have the urge to rush home to my safe place, shut the rest of the world out... but then I do, and I'm like -- "what did I want to do this for?" Yet I don't want to lose it, my familiar, my old comfort, our place where we were together. It's both, and it's none. Patty

Just needing to post, as I sit here quietly at work and read.I am numb with a knot in my throat and tears almost in my eyes, but I am not attached to it or anything. Today is two months. I am putting in 15 hour days even on the weekend, and avoiding "the house". This morning I had to get up at 4:00(am) and be here for a catering order by 5:15. On the way down the... well, volcano, we live upcountry. I mean I live upcountry and can see the whole island as I drive to work. I see a big fire in the distance, in the same spot that Ron, Mr. Navigator, would point out to me was where our shop was. It turned out wasn't our shop, just near it, but I was shaking all the way down the hill, because it would have been just like me to leave something on for it to catch on fire; not having Ron to always watch out for my forgetfulness. I try hard not to beat myself up. I know I shouldn't, I know it's a defense. G*dd*nm logic and emotions fighting again. But numb makes me feel crazy and like it will always be numb to prove I am betraying him, I didn't love him enough. So I'm wrong for feeling bad, and wrong for feeling wrong, a nice little loop. Until it is in circles and I'm just absolutely nuts. And now as I write that, my therapist would tell me it's ok, to just observe it. To notice it. And to know that feelings and thoughts will always change. To wait it out. This morning, my daughter texted me to call her when I woke up (was already up), she is 6 hours time zone away. She is working on her script for her senior film project next year. It is going to be about an elderly woman in her 80s who dies in her sleep alone, but the film will be her final dream, her life flashing before her eyes. But my daughter is only 21, so she wanted to ask me my perspective on my life. About what I remember, what pops first, decade to decade, and we start talking about "big events". Life changing events. I start to talk about how profound Ron's death was to me. Dry-eyed. That only those who have gone through it can understand, that if this woman in her film was alone, perhaps it is because her spouse died, and she could be with no other because of its profundity. She wants a view from the bedroom ceiling, as if the woman was looking down upon herself as she dies. I told her about how in the final hours, I felt Ron around me, but not in his body. I would look up in the corners and around the room, expecting to find him, even though he was in front of me. She wondered about that, how could you see from a different perspective and your with eyes closed? We talked about that. About seeing tunnels and white light and your loved ones. And about the reports of near death experiences and trauma survivors. I am proud of her for exploring. And I am numb. I will not go to the house tonight. I will go to my friend's - the one I said I wouldn't go to - and probably comfort her about her trials and tribulations about her husband who she is mad at and her handicapped son. I set it up. Because I will not go to the house. And because I'm crazy and I'm afraid of losing the one friend I've got, and I've got nowhere else to go. I will not text my therapist because I think I have something to prove about doing this day on my own, even though I don't. My computer just freaked out, anything I had my mouse over would be like I clicked on it. I had to reboot, but somehow this post is still here, so I guess I will press Submit. I just want today, and every day, to be over and my Ron to come home to me. I used to feel him around me. I don't anymore, and it feels like punishment for... I don't know. Being so messed up. I know it's not. Logic at war with emotion again. Thanks for listening, Patty

Hi Kathy, My mode of communication is writing. I can take my time and express myself, and my feelings, so much better than speaking - it gets all jumbled and I end up trying to make the other person feel better, and I don't sometimes honor what I need. I will be in your shoes soon actually... my sister, daughter and parents want me to go back East this June so I have family around sooner than later, I have no family here. It will be around the 4 month mark. I would love to see them, but even the thought right now of getting on a plane alone, with all the memories of our last trip back East at Christmas when my Ron got so sick and it was the start of it all, I know I can't and don't want to do it, I start to cry just thinking about it. Not to mention all the good trips and plans we had. Or the impossibility of leaving the business. Anyway, I will write my sister and daughter an email, and explain. I will let them know how I am and how I am feeling, and how I wish I was up for being there, but to spare my elderly parents the details. They will understand, and even if they didn't, I am honoring my needs... Ron taught me to do that, and so I'm honoring him, and that will help me too. Patty

I don't know what I believe anymore, but I think the hurting for me (words like "hurting" and "missing" him are so insufficient) is how important it is for us human beings to experience touch. How important that physical form is. Maybe it is "just" a biological body housing who we truly are, but if there is anything that drives me to tears the quickest, it is remembering his touch, or mine to him. I spent the last hours doing that, knowing I didn't have it much longer, and knowing/feeling it getting close to being over, that physical presence, it is what broke down my efforts to let him go with only love and peace (my passionate "mission" as I called it at the time). And probably why hugs are so important. I open up photos on my phone, and touch his arms, his face, in the photo, remembering and missing when it was real touch. Gut wrenching to be without. How insanely desperate I was that first couple weeks to find something with his voice on it. His voice, his lungs blowing air across his vocal cords physically, but every tone and lilt was his essence. His choice of words. Don't get me started on aromas! I still cannot sniff his cologne without bursting into tears. There are plenty -- so so many -- reasons why it keeps hurting so much -- essence and physical form are as one, like a marriage -- in each of us. It makes me think of how physically sick I've been because of this emotional pain. Just some rambling thoughts.

Me too Katpilot and Brad -- my father's sister and her husband are both passing right now. They are in their 80s. Both very final stages. When my sister texted me, that is the first thing I thought of, and wrote back to her. I was glad they are able to go together so they don't have to go through this.

Absolutely! Our mess was our mess because we just wanted to hang out and have fun together after a long hard day of work (together)... we didn't care about the rest! I liked our mess. I'd look at it and think, "it's not messy, it's just full of life and living!" Now, there's nobody to mess everything up. Not even me. The only mess is a pile of bowls in the sink from the only thing I can eat anymore, soup.

Thanks, Mitch, yes, that is true. As grateful and as much as I did consciously feel how sacred our life together was, it is true that how profound that was is felt deeper in its absence and loss.