Brad

AB - I was on Remeron because I was not eating and could not sleep. Side effects for Remeron, aka Mirtazapine, include helping with sleep issues and an increased appetite. I was prescribed this antidepressant by my psychiatrist and stayed on it for four months. I then went back on it for two months last summer as lack of sleep once more became an issue. Other than eating again and sleeping, some times eight to ten hours in a night, I did not notice any other side effects. I still cried, although not as frequently, and missed my wife but, for me, it was a good call.

Letting go; saying goodbye; I struggle with that as well. I believe for me to move forward, to become Brad instead of BradnDeedo, I need to find a way to let her go, not have her a part of every thought. I am trying but it is such a challenge. This is not synonymous with removing her from my life, it is simply giving myself permission to find my new life without my wife. She wants me to find happiness; she told me so in several notes and letters. She wants me to find companionship. She is and always will be my love and soulmate but she doesn't want me to spend my days in isolation and solitude. Now the question remains: how do I find the energy to make the effort to reach out and open myself up for significant interaction with others?

Ana, I understand. I keep on trying to find things to help with the emptiness and am frequently disappointed. I am getting somewhat used to traveling alone and with family. But the emptiness remains. I miss her so much while I am traveling as we loved traveling together. I miss her even more when I walk into an empty house. I was alone before I met Deedo but then that was thirty-nine years ago. I just want to get to my new normal where I am somewhat able to fill the void.

If one adhere's to the Theory of Everything, also known as the String Theory, this may not be too far fetched.

Exactly! At times I still feel as if I'm stuck in someone else's life. This certainly isn't what either one of us imagined.

This was our life too for thirty-seven years except I was the one in an out of hospitals. For thirty-seven years there was no doubt that I would be the one to go first. I was positive I would not see forty, stunned when I hit fifty and still can't believe that I am sixty-four and still moving. She was the health nut, the runner, on the go moving like a gnat all day long. I was the one fighting one health issue after the next, there has never been a year since I was nineteen where I haven't hit my out-of-pocket maximum by mid March. Picked up all three air-evac insurance plans as soon as they became available because of me. C'est la vie!

Even after Deedo was diagnosed and I learned that the five year survival rate for her cancer was less than 5% I knew the odds were not in our favor but still death was abstract. For the next seventeen months as I watched her slowly lose one battle after the next death was abstract. For the last two months where cancer as so ravaged her body and it was appartent that death was the most merciful outcome death was abstract. After she died, for the next eleven days and I was in a state of shock simply going through motions dealing with kids and arrangements death was abstract. On day twelve following her death when everyone left and I was alone for the first time death became a reality. Oh how I wish death could return to being an abstract.

That's because AB my dear, you are not alone. We do have a pretty fair idea of your pain, your fears, and your grief. We are here because we all felt what you are feeling and many of us are still there trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. It isn't easy when all you can do is hurt.

I apologize for being redundant as I've mentioned this a couple of times before; but I do think it merits repeating. Early on in my grief my grief therapist told me it is important to remember every decision you made, you made out of love based on the best information you had at that time. Being kind to yourself is a valuable gift to yourself. Sadly we tend to second guess ourselves far more frequently than we would a friend.

I just finished watching a movie I rented the first time last March. There was not a single scene in the two hour movie that I recognized. I know I watched it the first time, or at least I loaded it into the Blueray and pressed play. I'm guessing I could go back and watch every movie and read every book that I've seen or read over the past eighteen months and would discover that most of them did not register with me. I hate how grief messes with the mind.

Ranger Kate, I deplore the landmines that trigger such strong reactions. It seems as if every time I get to a point where I think I've encountered all that grief has to throw at me: BAM. This is the nature of the journey we are all on. Many metaphors, analogies, similies, have been coined to describe the emotional upheaval brought on by our grief and it seems as if those words lack the potency for what we are feeling inside. I personally try to confront those triggers, face them head on and try to take their power from them. Sometimes it works; other times not so much so. I still find notes left behind; notes of comfort, but at this point, less than a week away from eighteen months, they still evoke more pain than comfort; more tears than smiles. I am so sorry you have cause to be here but am happy for you that you found us. I hope you find the comfort and inspiration that I have found.

Gin, I'm glad you found some good memories. They do help. I try to have some of those on hand in my mind to substitute for those unwelcomed memories when they force their way into my head.

Raising a family in a small town and being two teachers to boot, we could not go anywhere without running into myriad friends and acquaintances. A trip to WalMart on a Friday evening was a two hour affair with impromptu parent/teacher conferences and catching up with friends. Now the town has grown and I am retired. It is rare that I see a face I recognize while grocery shopping and I rarely go to WalMart anymore. Amazon is my shopping place now, no lines. I am still avoiding group situations and probably will for a while. I recognize that I need to join some clubs or something to make myself more sociable. Maybe this summer after I've come back home.

This is a major reason why I choose to avoid most group situations. I do understand that those platitudes are intended to be comforting and most people fail to really understand how empty and inane they really are.

With all of my travels I've learned to eat at diners alone. Don't enjoy it but it's a necessary evil. My biggest problem is food still doesn't sound good so I can never decide where to eat. Every time I do stop I'm looking for other diners who are eating alone. When I find them I'll have the waitress discretely slip me their tab hoping it gives them a smile.

I took Deedo's ashes on a tour of our lives together leaving them at our various chapters. I want the kids to do the same with mine leaving me at the same places: Where we had our first kiss; where we got engaged; where we got married; our favorite lakes and streams; our favorite cove in the Caribbean; Disneyland. Trouble is the kids will spend a significant part of their inheritance getting me around to everywhere Deedo is. Oh and the last little bit I want mixed with Deedo's and left by the pond in the backyard.

"I didn't get over it. I don't want to get over it. No matter what you do, the pain is always there in some recess of your mind, and it affects everything that happens afterwards. I think you can assimilate the pain and go on without making an obsession of it.": Meryl Streep talking about the death of John Cazale. Seventeen months after the death of my Deedo I wonder if I might be making an obsession of my grief.

Janka- The music and videography are both wonderful. You have such exquisite taste in music. I sent you a private message. Did you receive it? I hope you are finding some peace, I know how badly you miss your Jan. Brad

A neighbor of mine had knee surgery ten months ago, shortly afterward he developed an infection; ten months and four surgeries later including a knee replacement he is finally on the mend, we hope. The thing is that for ten months the neighborhood kept close tabs on his progress and his set backs. There is genuine empathy for him and all that's he's been through. You could tell how he was doing simply by watching his daily excursions out to the porch to have his smokes. Somedays he couldn't make it out, other days it could take thirty minutes to walk the five feet from the door, have a smoke and then walk the five feet back to the door. We all watched and helped when we could. My point, I suppose, is that we could all see his regressions and victories; there was a physical element that communicated to the outside world where he was with his recovery. Grief, on the other hand, attacks and dwells in our hearts, our souls and our minds. To quote Cheryl Strayed "Grief doesn't have a face". People can't see what is so very obvious to us. I think that is largely why the larger the group of people, the more lonely and isolated I feel.

Marita - I am experiencing the same thing. I am trying to reach out and form new friendships but most of these new friendships a pretty far away so they're not the kind of let's meet for coffee or take a quick hike kind of friendships. Acquaintences typically only ask how I am doing? I'm at that stage where I don't know if they are asking how I am holding up and progressing with my grief or if the a simply using a socially acceptable greeting where they really don't want to know honestly how I am but instead are fishing for an; "I'm fine (lie). How are you?" so they can tell me about their travels with their mates, friends, siblings, children, etc. I hope we both find the energy and desire to find new friends. At my age my interests are becoming more and more narrow and the field to choose from is already pretty limited.

Darrel, As I read the article my take was different than yours, much like my grief is different than yours. I did not see an attack on any of us. My take is that in grief unexplainable phenomena are common occurences and should not be dismissed out of hand. Many of us have experienced various phenomena and many chose to see these things as signs, others not so much. When my oldest was a cub scout, on the first day he made a bird house from a kit. For the past 25 years that birdhouse has hung on our porch and never once did a bird move in. This past Spring a nesting pair moved in and laid one egg. The egg hatched and when the chick was ready to leave the nest, it flew and landed on the screen for my den window window. I was on the computer and watched that little chick for nearly an hour as it got up the nerve to leave on its own. An hour after it flew off I found it stuck inside a bucket. I release it from the bucket and it flew to a porch swing where it stayed for another thirty minutes before leaving. That was the last I saw of all three birds. The affective part of me wants desperately to believe Deedo was directly involved. The critical thinking part of me sees it more of a coincidence than spritual intervention. I've talked before of how the greatest distance known to man is the distance from the mind to the heart. In this case I'm glad there is that distance because it gives license to enjoy the thought that maybe Deedo somehow directed my feathered friends to find me. Oh and by the way it wasn't that long ago I got my nose out of joint by posts and private messages that I thought I found unacceptable. I chose to completely withdraw from the forum, that's why on occasion you will find posts made by Guest. When Marty closed my account as I requested all of my posts switched to Guest. It took a few months to realize that I really missed the interactions here and that people were not attacking me but were simply sharing their own takes and experiences. Grief does warp our perceptions.

“But you seemed so happy was all they could say. And it was true: we had seemed that way. Just as I’d seemed to be doing okay after my mom died. Grief doesn’t have a face.” Excerpt From: Strayed, Cheryl. “Wild.” I read this and started thinking how others can only see our exteriors, they're not capable of looking inside to see how shattered we really are.

I miss the old me too. OR more correctly I really miss the old us. One of the many sage quotes from Winnie the Pooh is: "The best part of the day is when you and me become we." That was always my favorite part of the day. I always maintained that if I were to get a speeding ticket it would be when I was driving home to see Deedo. And no AB3, you are not that happy, laughable, free spirited woman, I'm not that happy nor free spirited as I used to be. It was months for me before I laughed at any thing; now I find myself laughing on occasion but certainly my with the frequentcy of three years ago, before we knew she had cancer. Your mother, I am guessing is hurting for you, and I am also guessing that maybe she hasn't experienced the kind of loss you have. For her, her live is going on pretty much as it was before your fiancé died. She is hurting for you but her day to day continues pretty much as before. You, on the other hand, have had your life completely thrown out of balance and there is not quick fix. I don't know what kind of relationship you and your mom have but maybe you could sit down with her and help her to understand just how devastated you are and how you are on a journey that no one can help you through. Sadly in our culture, as in many cultures, we emphasize youth and do not prepare people to confront death until it happens and then many in our society run far away.

Joyce, I am thinking of you. You are nineteen days ahead of me. You will always love your Dale as I will my Deedo. Hugs my dear. Brad

AB3 - you never will be the same again. Your fiancé has changed your life, forever. You will find that very slowly these months will start to add up, just as the weeks, the days, the hours, the minutes are so slowly adding up. Over time your grief will not be as debilitating as it is today. You will always love hime. You will always miss him. You will never be the same person you were before you met him. Hugs and hopes for comfort today.