Dr Lenera

Now this is one thing I've kind of avoided doing. I want to go to 'our' places, it seems a good thing to do, but I just can't face doing it even though it's now over a year. Our favourite places to visit, our favourite restaurants [not that I'd want to eat alone anyway], our favourite pubs, our favourite beaches/parks etc, going to the theatre which she loved doing so much and I can't see myself ever wanting to go again...I've just avoided them. I did go away for a few days last September to a seaside town [I'm in the UK] we fell in love with and where we'd had holidays six times, but I was still in a daze from the death back then. I'm not sure I'd be able to go there now.

I'm just so pleased [if that's the right word] that our favourite restaurant/bar near where we lived changed hands a few weeks before she died and had a huge re-fit so it now looks nothing like the place we used to love. Otherwise I'm not sure I'd be able to handle walking past it two or three times a week [which I have to do due to its location].

It's silly really, and almost insulting to my Jo's memory. I want there to be a time when I can visit these places without fear and get some fulfillment out of it. Maybe I'm not doing so well as I thought.....

On ‎9‎/‎3‎/‎2017 at 3:23 PM, mbbh said:

Peace in my heart-

Can it ever truly be?

I long for stillness between my ears, yet such stillness sometimes brings me back to grief (as if it ever really leaves). 

The heaviness in my chest radiates out to every part of my body. It is as if my body fights the pain my heart has become accustomed to.

Peace in my heart?

I have all but forgotten what that feels like... Or have I?

I have all but forgotten how to bring such a feeling into my being... Or have I?

There is a strand of hope that peace will once again inhabit my heart.

At times, I can peer into the future, a future without the love of my life and sometimes that future is salvageable and even promising while other times it appears bleak. 

Perhaps peace in my heart in my current definition is too tall of an order to expect. 

Perhaps peace in my heart simply means it beats on and on and on.

Perhaps peace in my heart simply means a stirring in my spirit to live and breathe one moment at a time.

Perhaps peace in my spirit will come so gradually that my soul changes one molecule at a time so that such peace is not a sudden, abrupt, earth-shattering change, but one that is gently noticed in passing one day.

Peace in my heart? I can hold hope that it wil come and that it will stay, not without pain, but with an expansion so that my heart may hold ALL of the intricacies of a spirit of peace.

May peace in our hearts be so.

Mary Beth

Beautiful....and despite its sadness, just about as positive as I think it could realistically be.

On ‎9‎/‎4‎/‎2017 at 4:34 PM, Brad said:

It is nice to be back at school.  I had forgotten how much I enjoy the kids.  The distractions are wonderful.  The only downside is coming home.  For thirty-seven years, there'd be a hot cup of coffee and a wonderful woman to share our days with.  Now it's making dinner, get ready for tomorrow and count the minutes until I can go to bed.  

Coming home is still one of the hardest things isn't it? My wife would always have a cup of tea ready for me when I got home from work as she would finish earlier than me. My days tend to be a little better of late, but no matter how good a day at work or a day out has been, the act of coming home and opening the front door into an empty house is still ever so miserable, so weird, so wrong. 

On ‎9‎/‎3‎/‎2017 at 11:30 PM, ipswitch said:

This, so much.  I suspect most people actually do mean well, but have no idea what to say, especially after the first few weeks.  The platitudes that seem appropriate early on (he's in a better place) don't work nearly as well (eye roll) later on.

Our society stigmatizes and averts it's eyes from the journey we will all take one day. 

I think you've stated it perfectly. Many people find it hard to deal with folk like us because it reminds them of what is gradually creeping up on them though they try not to think about it.

In a way I think it feels like we're damned if we do and damned if we don't.

If we do our very best to get on with things and move on and at least pretend to be happy, many people seem to think there's something 'wrong' with that, almost as if it's preferable that we look and act thoroughly miserable every day, and even insulting to the person who's died [I've got that vibe a couple of times from a family member and it nearly brought me to tears]. But on the other hand....if we make little attempt to disguise how we really feel and tell it like it actually is, folk just find it hard to handle or suggest in so many words that we're dwelling unnecessarily on the "past" and the "negative"....as if there's really a positive to it all!

I still wear mine. It just doesn't feel right with it off. I did try going about my day with it removed a couple of weeks ago and it just felt wrong so I put it back on. There's something comforting about wearing it. And at the moment I don't like giving the impression to anyone of the opposite sex that I'm 'single' and therefore 'available'. I'm aware that some people I know think that this is silly but I really couldn't care less about that! I'll may very well take it off one day...or I may not. But for the time being it's staying on.

13 hours ago, TomPB said:

Gin, when I think of happy times with Susan my mind short circuits to the pain of the loss and my throat constricts involuntarily so it's hard to talk but easy to cry. As you say, the thought that those times are gone overwhelms the positive. I'm beginning to try to focus on the happy memories but it's very hard.

That's precisely how I've been feeling of late. I feel that I should remember the good times for the rest of my life and have been making a concerted effort to do so out of respect. But whenever I try to do it,  sadness just takes over and I have to think of something happy that's unrelated, or go and do something, so my mind clears.  

Yep the 'special days' certainly do keep coming. Luckily we got married on her birthday, she suggested it in case I forgot our anniversary [I think she was joking!]. But we also used to celebrate other days many others would probably find ridiculous - the anniversary of the first time we went out together, the anniversary we got engaged, the anniversary we became 'intimate', etc. That's really biting me on the 'ass' now, I sometimes just wish I could forget them but that's never going to happen.

On ‎7‎/‎28‎/‎2017 at 3:16 PM, Eagle-96 said:

That is reality smacking them in the face. A reality they have a 50/50 chance of facing one day. They had probably secretly hoped you would say you were doing "great" or "much better". If you tell them that then it is a relief to them. Not because you're doing much better, but because it makes them feel better about any grief they have in store down the line. The rest of the world wants nothing more than for us to be "back to normal" after a month or two. That's THEIR best case scenario in all of this. Then they can tell themselves that they will do fine in 10, 20, or 30 years when it happens to them. It's interesting when they get "the look" on their face when they ask about how we are doing and we actually tell them how we really are. They get that pained look like we are putting THEM out and making them feel bad for a minute or two. The reality is that we STAY in that pain for the rest of our lives. I wanna ask them, "Would you like to trade places. I'll feel awkward for a minute and you get to be in complete despair forever. Sound good?"

Exactly! I do genuinely feel that people mean well and are at least a bit concerned, but that they just find it hard to deal with how things really are. I've noticed that 'pained' look quite a few times and on those occasions I actually felt guilty for speaking the truth and making people feel ill at ease or even upset....which is ridiculous really!

On ‎7‎/‎29‎/‎2017 at 4:06 PM, TomPB said:

Even if I'm having one of my better days I don't want to say so since they will immediately jump to "O good he's finally moving on"

Same here. It's so hard to say to people how we really feel, especially as most or even all of us tend to alternate 'bad' days with 'not quite so bad' days. I have four people - my mother, my father and my two closest friends -who I feel able to say exactly how I feel whenever they ask, though they sometimes have to get it out of me as I'm not one for talking about things and don't want them to worry too much about me! Everyone else now [two people asked me how I was just today] just gets one of my usual 'semi-positive' type answers e.g. "I'm not too bad all things considered", "I possibly feel ever so slightly better". But obviously I don't want to sound too positive. It's so hard. Sometimes I feel as if I don't want friends or acquaintances to speak to me at all, it'll be so much easier then!

I had a break from here too of five or six weeks but found myself drawn back here.  It's weird because I sometimes feel that I don't want to be on this forum....not because people aren't friendly and understanding [the opposite is true, and I do usually find it therapeutic to talk on here and read],  but because....I don't know, I find it hard to explain....it kind of feels like there's something wrong with me. Which is kind of true I suppose. I guess I'm not making any sense, I'm just rambling so I'll shut up now lol!!!!!!!

This was devastating to read, and right now I probably only have a slight sense of the pain you must feel. I'm not sure that I could ever truly love again and that's partly because I don't want to go through losing somebody again. I hope one day you find some small measure of comfort in that you did find that love again, even if your time together was horribly brief. My thoughts are with you.

I'm not a praying man as I don't "believe" but I cannot fail to be moved by that post. The night before Jo died I did go to sleep saying to myself "please don't die", though I don't entirely know why as I pretty much knew [partly due to a premonition a few nights before] that it would happen.

Very good poem, I can relate a great deal even though I'm a man, funny [well ,maybe not] thing about the pink - we decided at my Jo's funeral that we didn't want black and that everyone should wear pink, even if it's just a tie - it was her favourite colour and she would have found the sight of us all sporting that colour both funny and wonderful.

Nightwinds:

THREE MONTHS?!!!! I could not believe what I've just read. That comment just shows no real understanding or knowledge of how things are. Your response summed it up very eloquently.

It's just over a year now for me now and I have been recently been asked twice if I'm feeling a bit better now and when I reply [depending on my mood at the time] "not really" or "maybe a tiny bit, but that's all" the person asking the question seemed very surprised though tried to half-heartedly conceal it.

Nobody really has even an idea of what it's like until they experience it themselves.

And yes, those final 15 mins or so cannot help but replay in our heads over and over again. I sometimes feel like I've just made a film and consider that the original ending is too sad so I'm thinking of a different, happier one but none of what I come up with seems right for the story I've tried to tell.

Tom PB I can relate to that coming situation you describe...have been in it several times, they exist on a knife edge don't they, they can either be really good and fulfilling, or can go terrribly wrong, especially if someone says something that triggers something else, even unintentionally.

Gwenivere same here, I hated doing all the legal stuff, I was also numb during most of it which maye have been a good thing, but as you say it's really upsetting afterwards for ages,  even now I stil hate looking at bank statements [thank goodness I paid off the mortgage and now own our house, so that's out the way] and the like, seeing a certain name is missing, is yet more cruel evidence that our love is gone!

On 6/12/2017 at 1:15 AM, mittam99 said:

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?

 

I get like that whenever I watch a film my better half would have really liked. We were both avid movie goers and I still am [I was even before I met Jo so that won't change], but it's difficult sometimes. I went to see the latest Pirates of the Caribbean instalment...and I'm sure it was a fun romp as usual...but I just felt upset half the time and couldn't really get 'into' it....she loved the series and was a huge Johnny Depp fan.

I'm sure our spouses would want us to carry on enjoying these things...but it's not always easy is it?

10 hours ago, Marg M said:

I used to write stories on FB for my friends.  I told about days gone by and old family reunions, I told stories from my grandma's book she wrote for the grandchildren, I wrote stories about growing up in a small milltown in the 1940's, 50's, 60's, and just stories my friends liked to hear. (Most had grown up with me.) I don't need to get started, cause I don't shutup.  I would always have Billy read them and he loved them because he was the main character in most of them and he was a ham.  I wrote of our RV adventures and misadventures, but they were never sad.  After he left I swore I would not write unless it could be uplifting.  I tried a few times but my spark was gone.  My proofreader had left.  Today, I wrote of memories of places I cannot go back to now, but it wasn't sad.

“Something will have gone out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be destroyed ... We simply need that wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in.” ― Wallace Stegner, The Sound of Mountain Water

I was fishing at the top of a rocky cliff like this when I snagged a huge bass. Pulling it up, it naturally got knocked back into the water. I was not disappointed, the fun was in catch and release, it had just released itself. We saw it, it was huge. I have not seen Billy get so aggravated at the loss of a fish. It was funny to me. This is the Mountain Fork River (I think) that runs below Mena. Not our picture. While we lived in Arkansas for close to 20 years, we took advantage of the wilderness. Just on the edge of Mena was a park that had a trail that was rigorous. We walked that trail with our trekking sticks many times. You had to have a walking stick because it was a terribly unsteady trail. I saw my first mulberry tree in years and years. My Mammaw had had a huge one when I was a little girl.

The most beautiful wildernesses this side of NM and Colorado, we were on nearly every day. There was a wilderness that crossed the border of the two states. The trail was about five miles long and we walked it and back. Sometimes, most times, we never saw another person, but the little creeks that led into the Ouachita, Cossatot, Caddo, Mountain Fork and Poteau Rivers, we found with no footprints of modern man. Never found an arrowhead though. I looked. Never have found one and we walked places that you knew only the Native Americans had trod. (At least in my vivid imagination).

Those memories are in the past, won't happen again, but still are fresh enough to enjoy. It was a pleasant time in life. The wilderness is important, as Stegner said, "even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in."

 

Possibly only slightly related...but looking at that picture caused me to think of it....I think there's something about being with nature that's very calming when trying to deal with grief, at least to me personally. I've never been the most 'outdoorsy' person, but of late I've enjoyed going for longer walks,and just being 'out there', listening to the sounds, looking at the water...I can't quite explain it, but I tend to come home feeling very refreshed and even fulfilled.

On 6/10/2017 at 0:43 AM, mittam99 said:

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

Seems like we have some stuff in common - my Jo was ill for all of her life from heart and heart-related problems, we were in and out of hospitals often, and she had surgical scars...yet she was always so positive and glad to be alive, especially with each birthday!  It was stressful...and yet would I have swapped any of it for being with someone else without all these kinds of issues?....no, not at all. I feel that her inspiring attitude to stuff has been partly transferred to me and gives me strength to overcome those really dark moments.

Thankyou for sharing this beautiful post... though you may not believe it, it was actually a great help for me personally to read.

And 'full birthday week'...yeah, that sounds familiar to me too!

On 6/11/2017 at 4:05 PM, Marie Lee said:

Today my mind is filled with the events that weekend and our goodbye on 6-12-16 my dear Kev.I will celebrate your memory and your life every year now.

Thank you for showing me what matters. I am thankful the weekend was spent with all of your favorite things: Good food 

Great friends

Many drinks and toasts 

and lots of laughter...

I was not ready for goodbye so I need you to stay in my heart and beside me as I try to carry on your memories and traditions.Charting a new course with you in my heart love-

Your Marie Lee ?

 

Time to go push Mason on the swing ?

A lovely and really quite uplifing post. Seems like you spent your first year 'anniversary' [I wish there was a different word we could use!!!] far more productively than mine which was eight days before. I just buried myself in work doing an extra-long shift on the Monday which was the 'day', and spent the Sunday on my own, though kept kind of busy. Maybe next year I'll try to follow your example!

I honestly don't think age makes much of a difference. Three people said to me last June, in so many words, to try to look on the bright side, it could be worse, I'm only 46, I have plenty of years ahead of me and new experiences to have and lots of time to find someone else if I want to. And my response was that I don't want any of those things, and that the other side of the coin is that I have lots and lots of years to get through without Jo.

Cookie, I passed my one year anniversary on Monday and I felt pretty poor, though I did that anticipatory thing I often do and went through the 'feeling absolutely horrendous' period a bit before, spanning I guess a week...and then I wasn't quite so bad on the day. I felt very numb, but I can cope with numb reasonably well. So I can relate totally to your post, as to yours scba. The lead-up to these things can be worse than the actual day which I guess we try to be 'ready' for, and prepare ourselves for it the best way that we can....and then sometimes find that it's maybe slightly less bad than we thought.

Sending hugs.

On 6/5/2017 at 2:11 PM, mittam99 said:

I often tell people here to be gentle with themselves. After all, this life of grief, alone, is so very hard and painful. We can't spend our time beating ourselves up for the wouldas and couldas that play on our mind. We shouldn't be hard on ourselves when we lack motivation or feel like we're not really living a full life. Truly, there are days that just getting out of bed is an accomplishment. 

That's the "good cop" point of view.

There are other times I've started to play the "bad cop". My inner voice filled with tough love. It's the voice that says I need to get off my ass and push. The voice that tells me that laying around feeling sorry for myself isn't very productive.

In recent times, I've done quite a bit of pushing. Whether it's landscaping around the house or painting the deck or building a shed, I'm trying. Sure the sense of accomplishment in my work is fleeting, but it is giving me some small sense of purpose. 

Is it anything close to the life I had with Tammy? Of course not. Her love made my life better in every way. She was the best part of my life and the best part of me. Tammy's no longer here physically but I know she would be proud of me and that in itself is motivating and comforting.

Mitch

It's the balancing act that seems to be one of the hardest things to get right. I think that, of late, I've been what you call the 'bad cop' perhaps too much. Okay, I haven't been doing the kind of jobs you've been doing, but my equivalent is that I've been getting out and about as much as I can, doing stuff, going places, constantly trying to have something to do...and consequently not giving myself time to reflect and, if I need to, even feel upset, and also not giving myself time to do absolutely nothing. And I'm realising that I stll need to have those times and shouldn't try to run away from them. But it's so hard to get right.

On 6/4/2017 at 8:52 PM, MartyT said:

Yep, that's definitely more like it. I do feel I've 'plateaud' [is that an actual word, probably not!] a bit the last few months aside from my nasty dip a few weeks ago

On 6/4/2017 at 6:53 PM, iPraiseHim said:

Dr Lenera

You express well what many of us go through in the first year of grief and loss.  I initially, could not listen to music, watch shows, read, or do anything that reminded me of my beloved, Rose Anne. Gradually, I began to realize i could do those things that now bring me comfort and joy.  

The Kübler-Ross  "five stages of grief" was initially supposed to apply to a person who received a "terminal illness" diagnosis.  It was for THAT person to realize the stages of their own grief.  Somehow, over time, it has been misapplied to all of us who grieve.  

Your purpose is something that each of us learns how to incorporate into this "afterlife".  We are progressing even when we don't FEEL like we are.  Kudos and thanks for

sharing with all of us.  It helps in ways you may not ever be aware. 

Thank you! - Shalom

You know what, I didnt know that, so thanks for informing me!  It really has been misapplied hasn't it?

I don’t really know what I’m going to write here, I wouldn’t even dignify my ramblings with Marge’s lovely term ‘word salad’, and it’ll no doubt be a really long post so I don’t expect everyone to wade their way through it! But I do feel a need to express my thoughts, and at least folk here can relate, and I’m doing it today rather than tomorrow as I aim to spend tomorrow at work doing a 12 hour shift so I get home exhausted and stand more chance of going to sleep!

I guess loneliness is the biggest issue at the moment, the two people who have been most supportive aren’t really around at the moment. I fell out with my mother over a separate issue – without going into too much detail, she keeps borrowing money which she probably wouldn’t need if my schizophrenic and often violent half brother wasn’t living with her, I got sick of it and we haven’t spoken for two months even though she lives virtually around the corner. And my best friend….he’s having severe problems in his marriage so he’s had to concentrate on that and I completely understand. I do chat to my father once or twice a week, but he tends to go over the top with worrying about me and I often end up more miserable after we’ve been chatting! And as for other people, I don’t like to bother them with my stuff anyway.

I was going through a phase of contributing to this forum quite a bit but it tailed off the last couple of weeks, that was because I went through a really bad phase and almost shut off communication in any way shape or form. I had an inkling several times last year that the reality of the situation hadn’t truly sunk in yet and may do so at some time in the future. Well it did so the week before last and I couldn’t even go to work which is normally the best thing for me to do, I just sat there at home watching films and TV. Though not suicidal, I did wish that I would die of a broken heart. But you know what?....there were times where I could actually feel Jo’s ghost trying to take over me and lift me up. That probably sounds weird to some I know. But eventually it did pick me up, and oddly I’m not too bad right now. Maybe I’ve now done the majority of my ‘one year anniversary’ grieving?....much like the days leading up to her death when I pretty much knew what was going to happen and kept doing odd things like almost fainting.

The silly thing is, I did feel I was getting a little better. The ‘five stages of grief’ thing did apply a bit during the first few months, though these ‘stages’ were all jumbled up. Then I was left with a combination of pain, numbness and loneliness, but because it pretty much remained the same, I was getting used to it, and even starting to accept. I was getting back into some of my old hobbies like music festivals, and I even begun to play the piano again. This was a big deal for me because I used to play a lot and music was very important in our lives, but ever since Jo died ‘something’ prevented me from playing, I’d just sit there like an idiot and often cry. Maybe it’s because playing the piano was very important to us, and I actually wrote her music on a few occasions, and the last time I’d played was when I recorded a piece of music I wrote to be played back during the funeral….something I don’t remember doing so, I must have been in such a daze! But of late I’ve found myself able to play again.

And so I guess now that this terrible brief phase seems to be easing off, I can continue in the direction I was previously going in, something I guess I’d call ‘Healing Extremely Gradually’. I honestly don’t think the grief will ever really go away, but there will probably be more and more ways of dealing with it, and it will get easier to accept. And Jo’s fighting spirit, that kept on being so constantly positive [“I know there’s many people worse off than me” she’d always say] despite she being ill all her life and knowing from a very early age that she wouldn’t make it into old age [though she was told 30 years and she reached 39], will always be inside me. Her wonderful grin that she had every time she woke up and knew she’d reached another birthday. Her unconditional love that was written all over her face every moment, and which finally gave me a purpose….to try the very best to make every day she spends on this earth the very best. And now, I guess I still have a purpose….to try to live the way she did, and the way she’d want me to. It won’t always be easy, but I’ll reckon I’ll manage….kind of….just about.

Thanks Jo….for choosing me, and for having existed, and for everything else.

Again, apologies for the ramblings….it’s just that you lot understand!!!! Actually my post wasn't that long was it?!

Terribly sorry to read of your situation, please try to do your very best to take care of yourself in this horrendous time that you're going through. I'm not a praying person but I hope with all my heart that your situation improves and you can return to this forum which has clearly helped you considerably. Sending hugs.