Brad

I've stated more than once, just recently at that: I am no longer contemplating taking my own life but if I were to have a heart attack I doubt I would dial 911. It sounded good to me but upon reflection three times in the past year I have had bowel obstructions. Each time I hopped in the car and drove the 200 miles to get medical care. So much for my bravado. It is apparent that I would much rather live.

Just doing some computer work and as always the music was playing. I listen to my playlist in alphabetical order so that the genres are mixed but symphonies, ballets and operas are played from beginning to end before moving onto the next tune. Obsessive compulsive I guess. I digress. The theme from the Alfred Hitcock movie "Charade" was followed by the theme from "Chariots of Fire". I remembered those day when I go to the movies and then stop on the way home to purchase the sound track because the music was so good. I don't remember the last time I left the theatre impressed by the soundtrack. I don't remember my kids ever going crazy over a movie's soundtrack. Maybe my memory is tainted.

so are beans, peas, corn, cucumbers, grains, nuts, olives, peppers, pumpkin, squash, sunflower seeds and tomatoes.

Gwen, this really does sum up my feelings too. I can't imagine ever finding anyone who could see me the way Deedo did, warts, scars and all and still give me that requited love. But then every time I go there I'm reminded of a gal in one of my support groups who had just buried her third husband. What she said was that she knew she could never love anyone as deeply as she loved her first husband, then he died and way down the road she met number two and found she loved number two more than number one; and then he died. It was the same with number three. It was after his death that she figured out that she was able to love all three complete and unequivocally. Now I learned a long time ago to never say never. I don't know what my future has in store. I do know that any woman would be insane to want anything to do with me and the baggage I am carrying; but then Deedo was that crazy...

So much to respond to: I don't read the quote as saying there is no more existence, just that Deedo is no longer here on Earth. I believe that if I am to move ahead with my life, at some point I will need to stop living for both of us and go back to living for myself. I was happy before I met Deedo. There was a time when every decision I made was not based on Deedo. I will never stop loving her but I do think that at some point I need to start living for me. I see nothing wrong in holding on to our loved ones. For me it is a question of tryiing to find myself and how I belong in this new normal. I still see myself as BradnDeedo and not as Brad. My new normal is as Brad and BradnDeedo is no more. At some point I will need to identify myself as Brad. I'll need to change my social media to Brad. I'll need to change mailing labels and checks and addresses to Brad but for right now it is still BradnDeedo. My two email accounts are BradnDeedo. Amen and the loneliness seems to intensify as time goes on. Initially it was the excruciating pain of loss but as time progresses that pain is slowly replaced by that asphyxiating emptiness. You could have my trails to walk. Just hop in your plane - it's a short 45 minute flight and you have a place to stay. You can scream to your hearts content and only the squirrels will object. I talk to Deedo all the time; occasionally it might make sense. Most of the time I'm letting her know how much I miss her and how empty life is without her. I also believe strongly that we will once more be together. I don't believe in organized religions but think of myself as very spiritual. I've mentioned before that I hope Deedo cannot see me. I know how devastating it would be for her to see me in the kind of pain I am in. That being said I would like her to know of my successes just not my struggles. But then I don't believe you can have it both ways.

“A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.” ― Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking I'm nearing fifteen months since my world became empty. Rarely do people ask how I am coping. For them, they have moved on and I am left still seeing myself as having a world which no longer makes sense. The void is ever-present. The loss still controls my thoughts. I've settled into a comfortable routine. I found pleasure, joy, gratitude, humor: but they all are still tainted. I search for things that will help assuage my funk. I am fortunate that I can see my grandkids any time I need a fix. I am fortunate I am surrounded by trails I can wander while I ponder where I am headed and what it will take to get there. I am reminded of another passage from Joan Didion's book: “I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead. ” I'm not ready to relinquish, I still want Deedo here in my thoughts and my life. Yet I know someday I will need to stop living for her and start living for myself. I try but I'm not there yet. The day will come.

Smile. Music written by Charley Chaplin was inspired by Puccini's "Tosca" 1936. I always see the Tramp when I hear the song. It wasn't until 1954 that lyrics were added by John Turner and Geoffrey Parson's. Most people don't realize it but Charley Chapman composed the music for most of his movies. I listen to it frequently and have several covers of it by Natalie Cole (who we lost less than a year ago) her daddy (the first to record the song with lyrics), Michael Bublé, Jimmy Durante and Barbara Streisand. There is little music that I listen to from after 2000, although there is some. I enjoy most genres especially music from the 1700's to the 1970's.

I have twenty pictures of Deedo spread throughout the house. Granted, they occassionally trigger tears they are also reminders of much happier days. They remind me of what a vibrant, loving, energetic, funny, caring person she was. They are the things I talk to when I need to let her know how I'm coping. I can't look anywhere without having her joy radiating down at me.

1- You're not rambling, actually you a quite coherent. 2- This is also my greatest fear. I do not like the idea of being dependent on anyone. The only person I got that close to in now gone. I saw the toll those seventeen months took on my children; they certainly don't need to go through that again or something far more taxing emotionally and financially.

July 29, 2015 10:43 a.m.: Life stopped being a gift. Up until that point life was indeed something to be treasured and I really reveled in every minute of it. Now life is a challenge. Each day it is a challenge to find enough distractions to make it from waking up to going back to sleep. It is a challenge to figure out how to manage my grief in such a way that I am progressing. It is a challenge to confront grief head-on and not try to run and hide from it. It is a challenge to try to find those rare and fleeting glimpses of hope. It is a challenge to try to find a way to not dwell obsessively on what once was. It is a challenge to find hope in what the future might be. Prior to July 29, 2015, I would have done anything to continue to live; now, at this point I am fine if I don't. I no longer look at suicide but I did for several months. But all the same, if today were to be my last day I'd be okay with that. I have plenty to live for and that is why I continue to plug away; to exist; to try to make the most of each day. But the challenges continue. The pain is not as debilitating as it once was. I do find myself smiling, joking and laughing: I couldn't say that a year ago. I am luckier than many; I know that. But for me life remains a challenge and I don't know if I will ever be able to truly see it as a gift again.

Gwenivere - My best guess is Steve knew how deep your love was/is long before he left. I too know how the mind works in those wee sleepless hours. Those times when the enormity of the loss keeps reverberating and those self doubts and unwanted memories get stuck on a seemingly endless repetitive loop. I too understand the anger at the unfairness of it all. They were the ones who made the world right. They were the ones who gave us strength and without them we aren't sure who we are now. I do hope over time we will find that strength we had before them. I hope over time we will find ourselves focusing more on today and tomorrow and less on the part of us that has been ripped from our soul. For you it's been nearly two years and you are still devasted: and yet I see a stronger and more assured woman than the Gwenivere I met thirteen months ago when I first came here.

For my part I am relieved Deedo never had to experience this ultimate void. One of the discussions we've had several times is in regards to the involvement our loved ones now have in our lives. I'm of the frame of mind that I hope she can't see me because it would devastate her to see the pain I feel and I would hate to know she was hurting. It does hurt so much knowing that the time will come when I need her most and she won't be there. It does not sound crazy to me Gwenivere. It would be so much easier to have Steve or Deedo here to comfort us and help steer us through this void created by their absence. But then if they were here there wouldn't be an absence. Here's to the day whenever it may come that we once more can care about something other, or in addition to, the emptiness that is such a central focus point of each and every day.

Joyce - what a beautiful picture and such a touching tribute. I want to wish you Happy Anniversary but I know that today will be anything but happy. Hang in there my friend. These special days are so difficult.

I think I can do this because it was always in the future; it wasn't real. The Sunday before Deedo was diagnosed I made the final payment on an Alaskan cruise we had planned for the summer of 2014. Instead we spent ten weeks at Hope Lodge while she went through chemo and radiation. We had also paid for a Fall Foliage Tour of New England for October of 2015. Instead I was deep in the throes of early grief. I could hardly talk without sobbing. Both of those trips were very real and I don't know if I'll ever do either one. Right now there isn't much interest. Marg - the fear or sense/feeling that is so closely related to fear generally catches me by surprise. I don't notice it on a day to day or even week to week basis. It's a sneaky little thing. What I do feel is all encompassing sadness that so much joy is now gone: there is no one to share those poignant moments with: no one to talk to: no one to caress. But every now and then my pulse quickens and not in that wonderful way it would whenever I saw Deedo, it just quickens and my stomach feels nauseated and a sense of fear comes out of nowhere.

Kathy - so well put. You indeed created a tribute to your soulmate. You have been such an inspiration to me and to so many others here. I hope that today of all days you found some tranquility.

C.S. Lewis begins his book "A Grief Observed" likening grief to fear. I don't know why that struck me but it did. Today I ran to the store to pick up some groceries. As I was sitting the the car, waiting to back out of the parking spot I felt that emptiness in my gut, I noticed that my heart was racing just a little, I had that sensation of fear; of grief. I have no idea what precipitated it: my actions were routine, I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, it was just there and it lasted until my driving distracted me from the sensation. I have had this sensation repeatedly for the past nearly fifteen months. Today marks 450 days since Deedo died. 450 sounds like such a large number and yet I still am surprised at what a challenge it is to get from waking up to going back to sleep that evening. I've been making initial plans for my Europe trip next summer: lots of tears shed as Deedo and I have been talking about Europe since we met. Deedo lived in Germany for eight years and always wanted to take me to show me around. Our house is full of her treasures: lots of copper pots, antique clocks, figurines, all of which she knew the history and importance; I should have listened better. This was going to be our retirement trip. Little did we know I would retire to take care of her. She invisioned us jumping on a cheap last-minute deal to spend a weekend in Venice. I always figured I would be fortunate to make there once so I might as well see as much as I could. I've always been one who believed bigger is better, Deedo: less is more. This is one trip that I will get my way although if truth be told she always acquiesced. Maybe the planning is giving me a delayed trigger.

Oh Amy, I am so sorry for your meltdown. That is the thing I despise most about grief. Like you, I'll be going along doing better, thinking maybe the worst is behind me and then BAM out of no where I feel like I'm moving backward; the tsunami syndrome. Just know that this will not last. Nothing lasts; neither the better times nor the bad times. I suppose this is our life.

The physical impact of grief, the exhaustion, the lack of restorative sleep, looking at what used to be routine chores and now seeing them as hurculean tasks. Things I once took pleasure in now are chores that get put off until the last possible moment. The physical toll that is taken on my body. I remember my last nap July 23, 2015 - we had just returned from the Mayo where they had decided to not do chemo that day as Deedo's edema was too pronounced. The last night I slept through the night without the aid of chemicals: July 27, 2015. This was the night before Deedo was moved to Hospice of the Valley. Although I knew she was quite ill I didn't dream that within 36 hours she would be dead. But then there are those moments, those times when there is respite, those times of smiles and laughs. Marie - I sincerely hope you and everyone else is having a better day.

My experience is that slowly life is adjusting, not to the life I want but to a life I can accept. I do find glimpses of joy and for that I am grateful. I still structure in my morning times to remember Deedo and have a cry but then I also try to balance that out with my evening gratitude reflection where I find things daily I am grateful for. It's my alpha and omega; my yin and yang.

My GI retired in October of 2014. He was wonderful. At that time I switched all of my medical care from the myriad specialists and my PCP to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale. It is so refreshing having doctors who actually talk to each other and everyone knows what everyone else is doing. For me it is worth the 200 mile drive to have the best medical care in the nation. Additionally everyone I have met from the volunteers through the specialists are so kind, welcoming, accommodating and caring. I found I get far better care much quicker by making the drive than by driving fifteen minutes to the local physicians. Plus in hundreds of appointments I have seldom had to wait past my appointment time. Most of the time they take me early. That is unheard of in the real world.

Marie - Welcome to our little group. I am so sorry you have reason to be here and hope you can find some comfort. I hope you have found a grief counselor as you have so much to deal with. Four months is such a short time and the circumstances also complicate the process for you. We are here for you. Brad

I am, and always will be, Deedo's husband. She is the love of my life. What I want, and seriously doubt I will find, is someone I can travel with, hike with, dine with, converse with but someone who can accept me for how I am and for who I am. I don't like an empty house. I don't like traveling alone as much as I like sharing experiences. Currently I am planning a European trip to return Deedo to some of the places she loved there. I know I'll love the travels but hate the aching loneliness. Back in my twenties I spent several months living alone on the rim of the Grand Mesa in Colorado. The vistas were amazing as I could see the Colorado River valley stretching past Moab, Utah. I would sit on an outcropping, watching the sun retreating, lost in the splendor and yet aching for someone, anyone, to share those moments with. I really doubt I will remarry although I've learned never to say never, but I would like a travel buddy, a dinner buddy, a hiking buddy, a conversation buddy.

Kay, Wishing you comfort today. Like you, I do not believe that God took your George nor my Deedo. We are born and we die. Those are the absolutes. If we are very fortuneate we find someone like your George to love and to share the journey, no matter how long or brief.

Just saw some friends I haven't seen in awhile. Of course they were concerned with how well I am coping and very compassionate. And then the platitudes started....."At least you're on the right side of the dirt" "Every day is a gift to be treasured" "She's in a better place now" Once more they mean well but are so naive. Sadly one of them will discover the hard way just how naive.