Mike's Girl

No, it's not easy. I'm finding it difficult to do a lot of the activities we used to do together. One thing really stands out to me, I find myself not able to listen to music much anymore. Our house was always filled with music. We shared the love of every kind of music and would enjoy working with bands. Now, there are too many memories attached to too many songs that are too painful to bring back at this time. They make me miss him more and remind me that my life had changed, until I see him again. I know someday I will be able to reflect and smile without tears, but right now, the water works come flooding in. so now, I find myself sitting in a silent house, just listening to the quiet (and the ringing in my ears from the many years of working with bands). Someday I'll get behind that microphone again...

I'm right there with you.

Michael did the same for me. He loved me like no other ever will. He gave his love to me openly, unabashedly, willingly, unselfishly, and completely. We had plans and dreams of growing old together. We loved to make each other smile. Now alone, I struggle with the "what's next?" too. There's no desire to find someone else. I had my soulmate. I'm not suicidal, but there doesn't seem to be much more to look forward to. That's a pretty sad thing to think, being I'm only 50. But, I dont think I'll find someone who will love me like he did, nor do I want to. I've had my Prince Charming. I wake each day to the drone of routine life, without excitment or happiness. I try to find the good in each day, which helps to keep me going.

Nightwinds, It is amazing to me how similar our stories are. My Michael had Loeys-Dietz Syndrome, which is the ugly cousin of Marfan's. Surprisingly, it wasn't the LDS that took him, when we were always in constant worry that it would. We too endured numerous emergency trips to the hospital, all of which were a life or death situation. Michael suffered so many aneurysms and dissections that I lost count. I think you will understand this...Knowing he had LDS, I've always known in the back of my mind that I'd end up a widow, but with each major surgery that he had to repair something, the more I felt he was beating the disease and it wasn't going to kill him! Read our story in my first few posts. I think you will see lots of similarities. He was/is my best friend and my whole world collapsed when I lost him. Slowly, I'm picking myself up off the floor. I just lost Michael on March 3rd to sepsis, not related to anything LDS. These past couple months have been...well...I'm not exactly sure. I have found myself being struck down with sobbing fits one minute, then perfectly fine and functional the next. Friends and family have been wonderful by checking in with me and keeping me busy. Still, in the dark, long hours of the night, I find my bed cold and lonely. I miss my love. I don't cry as often as I did before, but I still have my moments. I let them come as they may. The best we all can do is just keep on going. Live for them, since they can't do it anymore. Michael always felt like he was holding me back from doing things because of his physical limitations. I know that he now wants me to do everything I couldn't do before and I know he's smiling down on me while I'm doing them. In fact, he's right there with me! I know it seems like things will never get better, but I truly believe that in time, the pain will soften and we will smile more. I'm so sorry to hear about your cat. I have 3 furbabies myself. We lost our 17yo cat a couple years ago, who was the "main kitty". I thought that was the hardest day, until I lost Michael. You are in my prayers for healing and comfort. Just keep breathing...you are not alone!

My new mantra...Figuring out how to get through that time, step by step and little by little. I won't master my life in one day. I need to take it one day at a time and just keep doing that; mastering it one day at a time. Keep true to the 3 F's, for they are my strength - Faith, Family, and Friends!

Like you Darrel, Fridays are my trigger days. I lost my Michael on a Friday. So unfair. The melancholy tally continues each week since his departure. I used to love Fridays and the weekend of freedom that they would bring. But now, I dread Fridays and their reminder that another week has passed without my best friend by my side. Again, like you, I had to execute that final true sacrifice of love and give the word to let him go. That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. But, I knew it was the right thing to do. His suffering ended and he was free. My suffering began. Fridays are somber and are no longer the doorway to the weekend I've always loved. I try to fill my weekends with activities so I'm not sitting home alone, thinking of how much I miss him or how hard life is without him now. I've got a wonderful "framily" (friends who are family) who watches over me and comes to my aid at my slightest whimper. One example, I just went to see the new movie Beauty and the Beast this past weekend with a friend. I loved the movie, but ended up crying like a baby in my car afterwards. The realization that I once had a great love and it is over now hit me like a ton of bricks and I had to pull over because of the tears blurring my vision. My "framily" keeps me in relatively high spirits most of the time. With their help, my days can breeze by without a tear. But it's the times when I am alone when the sadness can come out of nowhere. Late at night, in the early mornings, in the car, in my office, in the shower...it doesn't matter. By Monday morning, I'm actually happy to be back to work for the distraction. I'm only 2 months and 4 days into my widowhood and it's extremely disheartening to think that it's only just begun.

Night Winds - I'm so so sorry for your loss. I completely understand your feelings. I just lost my husband of 24 years on March 3rd, 2 months ago, yesterday. I know exactly the pain and loneliness you are feeling. These past two months have been filled with lots of tears. Lots of fear of the known future. The feeling of living in a nightmare. The frustration of having a new life forced upon you. One that doesn't include having your partner by your side. It's frightening to think about going through the rest of your life without your soulmate, best friend, partner, love of your life. It can become very overwhelming. But please try to remember that you don't have to master your life in one day. You are not alone in this. You have friends and family to help comfort you. You have the wonderful people in this group! They have helped me through a lot of questions, feelings, and breakdowns. Speaking of special days/anniversaries being harder to handle, I've had a couple this past week to deal with. The first one was, I just held the Celebration of Life ceremony for my husband this past Saturday. It was a lovely ceremony and many of our family and friends attended. It showed me just how loved my special man is. I'm not alone in my grieving and I have lots of support! The other special day, Michael's birthday was this past Tuesday, May 2nd. That was a very hard day to get through. But with the help of close friends and family, it was tolerable. Yes, I cried, but I'm finding that my tears are more for me than for him. I know he's pain free now and no longer has to suffer with his afflictions. I'm the one that is suffering now. My best advice is to give yourself time. This is a fresh and raw to you. Don't do anything too quickly. You don't have to do anything that you are uncomfortable with. You don't have to rush into anything. Take time for you and take care of you!

I love this! What a wonderful way to look at it.

Cut yourself some slack, Darrel. You loved Cookie with your whole heart and soul. You will always miss her and grieve for her. She shared 41+ years of your life with you. It may not be the white hot pain that you first felt when you lost her, but you will probably always feel a pang of pain when you think of her. You're allowed to be melancholy for her being gone. Allow yourself to remember all the good times and smile. You will see her again. Just keep moving forward. :-)

She completely surprised me and said that she was fine with my decision to wait. She did admit to being a little hurt about having to wait, but she said that as long as it isn't NO for ever, then she can wait. I said it isn't NO forever, just NOT NOW. She's amazing. :-)

Well, I told her. Now I wait to see if she's still talking to me. I know she will be upset, but I asked for her to try to understand and that this does not mean that it will never happen, just not now.

Thanks KayC. I'm of Christian believe too and believe that his spirit lives on and the ashes in his urn are just that, ashes of his old shell. That's why I'm finding it silly that I feel this way about his ashes. I've been praying over it and I feel that the Lord is telling me that I don't have to make a decision now. It's ok to wait.

I just don't think I'm ready for this yet. I'm going to tell her that I'm really not comfortable with splitting his ashes at this time and we can revisit it later in the year. (She is supposed to come visit me at Christmas) It's only been 7 weeks (tomorrow) since he's passed and I haven't done anything with any of his belongings yet. His clothes are still in the closet and in his dresser, his shoes are still by the door, his glasses are still on the nightstand, etc. I'm not ready to give up anything yet. I like the idea of offering hair from his brush to her or maybe a shirt from his closet, but his ashes are just too sensitive of a subject for me now.

I'm finally beginning seeing signs of Michael around me. I've been waiting, but I think I needed my spirit to calm a bit before I could see them. Not often and just little things mostly, but one that strikes me the most was last weekend. I was dreading the weekend being a holiday and Michael has only been gone for 6 weeks (it will be 7 weeks this Friday). I was sitting outside on my lanai by the pool alone when I heard the softest sound. It was a young male cardinal just sitting on our bird bath and staring at me. When I looked at it, it tweeted again as if to say, "Hi!" I've read that cardinals are considered a visitor from Heaven so I spoke back to it in response, "Hey Baby! I love you!" It never stopped looking at me and then flew toward the lanai and landed right outside the door. It tweeted again and I said HI again. We had a short "conversation" with me confessing to missing him. For the longest time, it just sat there singing to me every time I spoke to him. I took it as a visit from Michael and made me smile. I have since seen it in my trees and bushes around my house. I hope it sticks around for a long time! :-)

Thank you Marty and Dave for your input and kind words. You both have made some great points and have given me lots to think about! It's also nice to know that I don't have to jump with a response right now. I will be sure to talk with my pastor on this, as well as a trusted family friend. This is an emotional situation for me and I've been beating myself up pretty good about it. Example thoughts have been: "Why are denying her request? Are you being selfish? She's more connected to him than you are, being she's an actual part of him and you're not." "It's silly to think that it matters. It's just ashes, not him". Maddening... Since she is grieving for the loss of her father, I don't want to deny her request, but I love the idea of sharing other things of his that was part of him instead of ashes. That's brilliant Dave and just may be the solution I'm looking for. There are a few items that Michael did state to me that he wanted his kids to have when he passed. Maybe she will be happy with those and won't need some ashes. Next week, she will be down here for his Celebration of Life memorial. I'll talk to her then about it more. Thank you again! It's wonderful to come here and ask questions without judgement.

Michael's daughter (my stepdaughter whom I'm VERY close to) has asked me for some of his ashes, to be put into a decorative urn for her. I'm not proud of it, but I'm having trouble giving her some. It's not that I don't want her to have any, it's the "splitting up him" that I'm having trouble with. Right now, all of his ashes are in the urn and he is "whole". The idea of taking some out, even if I wanted to fill something for myself, bothers me. Like he's no longer going to be "whole". This is weird, right? What do I do to get over this? I don't want to deny her her request. It is her father. But, I can't shake this feeling of him being "broken up" and "separated", no longer whole. It really upsets me.

Today marks 6 weeks since my Michael has passed. It's so surreal. Life has become one big boring routine for me. The weekdays rush by, only to bring me to another depressing weekend without him. I put on my smiling face all day, only to cry at night when I walk into an empty house. Friends have been keeping me relatively active, so I'm able to get out and distract my self for a while, but every day when I wake, the horror of him being gone is still there. Every night when I go to bed, the horror is still there. I spend most nights lost in Netflix or sitcoms, not speaking a word to anyone, except occasionally to my cats. He used to be there for me to talk to, to play games on the tablet with, to share a laugh with. With this holiday weekend looming, the emptiness will only be more enhanced. I don't have any family left in my area. All live up north. Friends have invited me to their big family Easter dinners, but I don't want to be the pitiful widow odd-man-out. That's uncomfortable and I'm already uncomfortable as it is. I can't wait for the days when a memory will make him smile instead of cry. I know it's extremely early in my grief and I have a lifetime to go. But, again, with Gods help, I'm taking it all one day at a time.

Nights and weekends are the worst. During the weekdays, work keeps my mind occupied and tires me out. I get into my routine and things just naturally go by rote. I lie awake at night and cry myself to sleep, but it usually doesn't take me long to drift off. Fridays are no longer the gateway to a possible weekend of fun and rest, but they have become a depressing anniversary of his death. Michael passed on a Friday night and I can't help but find myself counting the Fridays since he left. As the number of Fridays since his passing get bigger, the hole in my heart gets bigger and colder. Weekends in general are tough. Yes, I have chores around the house to keep me busy. I also try to make plans with friends as much as possible to get me out of the house. It's the times when I'm alone in the house with nothing but my thoughts that kill me. I know these times are important and they must be tolerated. I try to survive them with prayer to God and by talking to Michael. Out loud. My cats look at me like I'm nuts, but I don't care. I feel he hears me. I know he's with me. I just wish he could talk back to me. Sleep evades me every Sunday night. I'm not sure why. On Monday, I'm usually a zombie, functioning on 2 - 3 hours of sleep. I lie there looking at his empty side of the bed and weep. Inner turmoil fighting in my head on the "why's" and the "how comes" . My brain tries to figure out the mysteries of the universe, then it flashes to the moment he took his last breath. The flood of sadness overwhelms me again and I end up getting out of bed and sobbing. This can go on for hours. They say to let out your emotions when you feel you need to, so I'm just praying that all of this is healing.

Autumn2 - I'm so sorry to hear about the untimely treatment for your husband that resulted in his death. That is a true tragedy! That quick of a timeline is enough to leave you completely numb, dumbstruck, and angry. I'm so sorry! I have been finding some comfort in these posts. Reading others going through the same situation as me is both somber yet comforting. I see that you can create a new life from the ruins of your old life. It just takes time and faith. You never lose your loved one. They grow with you into a new person, because they are always a part of you. Helping you and guiding you into the new you.

Thank you everyone for your kind words of encouragement. I know that this is just the beginning of a long, hard journey, but with God's help, I believe that it can be a fruitful one. Michael would want me to continue with my life and try to make it as joyful as possible. With God's help, that's what I shall do. One day at a time. When Michael asked me to marry him, he confessed to me that he had a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome, which is a connective tissue disorder. He said he was prone to developing dissections and aneurysms and warned me that they could occur at any time. He said he already had one in 1985 that almost killed him and resulted in an artificial heart valve. He said he wanted to explain everything to me before I answered his question, because it was a crap shoot to put my future in his hands. I said "yes" anyway, because he is the love of my life and my best friend. I couldn't imagine my future without him and I would take what I could get! Unbeknownst to him, I lived with a constant fear that he would be stricken and I would lose him. This has been my nightmare. But, we had 26 wonderful years together, 24 of them happily married. Yes, we went through many health scares with him. He encountered many dissections and aneurysms, but with God's merciful hand, He kept him on this Earth. My nightmare was constantly on my mind and many times almost came to fruition. Michael endured so much physical pain and mental anguish from the disease. He lost his ability to work and was put on disability in 2009. He suffered constant pain from the many surgeries he had to endure. That man constantly amazed me. Even though he had this constant worry of possible death hanging over his head, he always faced each day with a smile, grateful of his life, our love, and God's mercy. We always said that God was keeping him here for a reason. Well, January of this year, we were thrown a complete stunner...Michael was diagnosed with bladder cancer. This was a new health scare that we haven't encountered before. We quickly went into "medical mode" and called all the doctors, made all the appointments, got the plan set up for dealing with the problem and getting it taken care of so we could continue on with life. Michael favorite saying whenever he was faced with another surgery, "Just get it over with so I can start healing." The cancer was seen during a cystoscope at the beginning of January. CTs were done and we found it was still contained in the bladder wall, not outside of the bladder, nor in the lymph nodes. Praise God! During the next couple weeks, surgery was scheduled to remove his bladder. Before we could finalize the plans with Moffitt and the oncologist, the surgeon said he saw something on his CTs he didn't like and ordered a PET scan. A week went by and the PET scan was performed. The day we were to go to the oncologist for the PET scan results, Michael was feeling too much pain and sickness to get out of bed. I went myself and was told that it was Stage IV and inoperable. That was on Tuesday Feb. 21st. By Thursday Feb. 23rd, Michael was admitted into one of the local hospitals. By the following Friday, Mar. 3rd, he was gone. Renal Failure caused by Sepsis was the official diagnosis. He died surrounded by family and friends, with me holding his hand. I got to watch that sweet, miracle of a man take his last breath. It was a blessing to be loved by such a tender heart and a privilege to carry his name. There it all is. There's our story. These past two months have completely rocked my world. I'm now faced with a future that I'm completely unsure of, knowing that I now face it alone. I'm extremely grateful that Michael isn't in pain any more, nor did he have to endure any of the ramifications of cancer treatment. By the end, his oncologist said that he probably wouldn't have survived the treatments anyway. He was just too weak. His body had enough. Now, I'm the one in pain. One day at a time, Dear Lord...

April 3rd was the one month anniversary of my darling husband's passing. One month. I can't believe it's only been one month since he's been gone. It feels like it's been forever already. I miss him so badly and I desperately long to hear his voice, to feel his hug, to see his sparkling eyes smiling at me, to talk to him about my day and share a laugh, everything. I can't sleep. I can't eat. My life as I knew it is no more. I go to work and put on my happy face, but once I'm home, I crumble. The house is quiet and cold now. It's a shell that holds memories of a once wonderful and joyful life. We've been happily married for 24 years, happily together for 26. I was 24 when we met and now a widow at 50. He's been with me for half of my life. He was my best friend. How do you recover from the loss of the love of your life? The loss of your soulmate? How? How do you stop the deep pain in your heart where there is now a gaping hole? How do you stop the sickening panic and terror from settling in when you realize that he's gone forever and you won't see him again until you meet up in Heaven? I guess it's all really starting to hit me that he's truly gone. The first couple weeks were a blur of family and friends swooping in to help me out. Now that the newness of him being gone has worn off and everyone has gone on with their lives, I'm finding myself facing my worst nightmare come true. He's gone. Lord, help me to pick up the pieces. Help me to take these first frightening steps as a newly widowed woman, into my new life without him. I didn't want this new life, but I have no choice. It has been forced onto me without my consent and there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is remember the beautiful life I had with the love of my life and realize that I was so blessed to have him in my life and I probably won't be blessed like that again. I'm sure there are a lot of you that can relate to my story. How do you do it?

April 3rd was the one month anniversary of my darling husband's passing. One month. I can't believe it's only been one month since he's been gone. It feels like it's been forever already. I miss him so badly and I desperately long to hear his voice, to feel his hug, to see his sparkling eyes smiling at me, to talk to him about my day and share a laugh, everything. I can't sleep. I can't eat. My life as I knew it is no more. I go to work and put on my happy face, but once I'm home, I crumble. The house is quiet and cold now. It's a shell that holds memories of a once wonderful and joyful life. We've been happily married for 24 years, happily together for 26. I was 24 when we met and now a widow at 50. He's been with me for half of my life. He was my best friend. How do you recover from the loss of the love of your life? The loss of your soulmate? How? How do you stop the deep pain in your heart where there is now a gaping hole? How do you stop the sickening panic and terror from settling in when you realize that he's gone forever and you won't see him again until you meet up in Heaven? I guess it's all really starting to hit me that he's truly gone. The first couple weeks were a blur of family and friends swooping in to help me out. Now that the newness of him being gone has worn off and everyone has gone on with their lives, I'm finding myself facing my worst nightmare come true. He's gone. Lord, help me to pick up the pieces. Help me to take these first frightening steps as a newly widowed woman, into my new life without him. I didn't want this new life, but I have no choice. It has been forced onto me without my consent and there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is remember the beautiful life I had with the love of my life and realize that I was so blessed to have him in my life and I probably won't be blessed like that again. I'm sure there are a lot of you that can relate to my story. How do you do it?

Numb and Lost - I know exactly what you're going through. I just lost my husband that I was happily married to for 24 years on March 3rd. Exactly one month ago today, my world came crashing down. He passed suddenly after a very brief illness. I was stunned and in total disbelief that he was gone. Still am. It all happened so quickly, since the beginning of the year. I really haven't had time to completely process it. My pain is very raw and I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm coping as best I can with the loss of my best friend and partner, but it's all so overwhelming. My family flew in and was there for me during the first week of him being gone, so the realization didn't really hit me. I was numb. After that first week and the family went back up home, my "friend bubble" moved in and helped for a while. I was still numb. Now, a month out, the newness of the situation has worn off and I feel people are starting to get annoyed about my crying jags and introverted demeanor. The realization that he's gone is really starting to hit me and the fear is starting to settle in. I find myself during nights and weekends just sitting and remembering the blur of the past 3 months and I'm reduced to a sobbing mess. How am I supposed to get up and stand strong when I can hardly breathe? What's the first step? So many thoughts are running through my head that I'm in a stupor. Your comments are reflective of what I have thought over the past month. I don't want this new normal. I want him back. I want my old life back. Being forced into this new life isn't fair. Finding myself alone at this point was not part of the plan.