Eagle-96

16 hours ago, TomPB said:

Mike Tyson was known to bite, too

YES. Grief fights dirty. Very dirty.

13 hours ago, iPraiseHim said:

Don't listen to the devil. All he tells is lies because he is the father of Lies.  Doubt the doubt.  Focus on 'how good we were to our wives" because we love them to the fullest.  The transition from "we" to "the changed I" is a tough one.  I still struggle at times but trust the grief process that you will move forward.  The life for us who are "left behind" is different, than we ever planned or expected. Yet it is our life as it is now.  I plan to embrace the now (today) and I chose to remember all of the great times we shared together as a full, loving, and exciting life expressed.

This grief journey is a continuing work in progress. 30 months ago, I could not have imagined existing (living) without my beloved. I was shock, devastated, and shattered.    Gradually, find this solace in the tempest storm of grief,  I found a refuge for other like-minded souls who are traversing this journey.  MartyT, and many others here listened, shared, and cared enough  to help me find a way through. My hope and prayer is that each of you will find your path through. - Shalom, George 

It's so hard to ignore the self doubt. I know in my heart how great our marriage was. I know what we meant to each other. I know the love we shared. But then that doubt sneaks in. It's a hard emotion for me to handle because while Lori was here, I wanted only the best for her in every aspect of life. It's that "Could have done more" mentality. I just have to work through it until I realize that I WAS enough. It's gonna take time.

55 minutes ago, mittam99 said:

I hear you Sean. My logical side tells me that I was a very good husband. Tammy would "brag" about me to all her friends, co-workers and relatives. People at work who know how devoted I was to Tammy tell me I was a wonderful husband. I once had a doctor tell me how much he "admired" me when he saw I stayed with Tammy 24/7 through an entire month long hospital stay. Yet, at times, I still feel like  I failed Tammy. I was her knight in shining armor, her protector, the man who cared about her and loved her more than life itself. But I'm here now and she isn't.

Ultimately, I realize the ravages of 25 years of severe Lupus took it's toll. Tammy's will to live was still strong but her body simply broke down. It's just that all these scenarios run through my mind these days. For example, Tammy loved to shop but after she lost her job our money was extremely tight. We lived paycheck to paycheck. On occasion, I'd get on her case about all of her spending. Hindsight says I'm sorry I did that but in real time I was just being practical. I did all the cooking and Tammy loved the food I made. She always said my secret ingredient was TLC. But, I wonder if I was making the wrong type of foods. I know I shouldn't beat myself up but it's hard not to wonder about the "what-ifs".

Tammy was all that mattered to me in the world. I would do anything for her. I just wanted her to get better. To have a life that was pain free and worry free. I wanted us to grow old together and share our amazingly love forever.

Life without her is life without purpose, it's life with very little meaning, a life without love. But mostly it's a life of longing for the past. Hoping to wake up, open my eyes and see Tammy sleeping comfortably, my arms wrapped around her. Hoping against hope that this is just some sort of cruel nightmare.

 

 

I think we both know how good we were to our wives. There's just too much evidence in our favor. Deep down we know, but that devil sitting on our shoulder whispers in our ear that we were not enough. That we didn't do everything we could have. It seems that my future is just an existence of living in the past and searching for the Sean she fell in love with. Searching for the realization that I loved Lori as hard and as much as I could and that I was enough. Maybe I'll find that Sean again but he's hiding right now and I'm not sure he wants to be found.

I wish I had the words right now but I don't. It is hard to wrap my head around so much grief for one person to absorb. Butch, I am heartbroken that she is gone and know that I mourn along side of you as you begin this journey.

4 hours ago, TomPB said:

Hear you Mitch. Susan was my sunshine and my oxygen, so even in my OK periods the world is darker and I have less energy. Lately I'm tortured with thoughts of not appreciating her enough. Don't get me wrong, I DID appreciate her, but I let things that don't matter bother me when I should have been bulletproof with her love. Grief counselor tells me I'm talking  about normal human behavior and this is self-hatred. Probably true.

That is where I am at right now. The thoughts race through my head that I should have told her I loved her more. I should have told her how beautiful she was more often. I could have been a better husband. I know I am just beating myself up for no reason but my heart just won't listen to my head. 

Thinking of you Mitch. I hope for nothing but the best for your brother-in-law.

8 minutes ago, TomPB said:

My question to everyone who is helping me is "Am I going to be sad for the rest of my life?" Deepak Chopra says the memories must become happy memories instead of bringing up the pain of loss for grief to "release". Not there.

I'm not sure grief ever really releases. It never really leaves us. My cousin is approaching three years since she lost her husband to suicide. She said that she still thinks about him every day and still grieves the loss but she also feels that she can have something that at least approaches joy in her life. That's what we have to shoot for. Some joy. Some happiness. Some smiles. Some laughter. There will be sadness and tears mixed in to be sure but hopefully the mix will swing in our favor with time. We will never go back to the person we were before we lost our soulmates. We are changed forever, and that's ok, but we CAN find something that approaches joy.

Grief is like living with Mike Tyson. He sits in the room over in the corner. Most of the time he's silent but every now and again he whispers "Lori". When he's really angry with me he he jumps up and starts punching me. Sometimes just a couple of blows to make sure I know he's there. Sometimes he pounds on me mercilessly. Blow after blow. He doesn't care what I'm doing or where I'm at. He's always there and always ready to pummel me day or night. 

7 minutes ago, Marg M said:

But Sean, unless they die first, one day they will remember.  It happened to me.  I said something wrong to a friend.  She never called me on it.  Still my friend, has helped me so very much.  We do not wish it on our friends but we know this secret...................one day...........unfortunately.

It makes me reflect on how I acted when I heard of co-workers, friend's relatives, or acquaintance passing away. Did I say the right things. Was I compassionate. Did I use platitudes. It's strange to think that people have a 50/50 chance of ending up in our shoes one day and they don't even see it coming.

1 hour ago, MartyT said:

Even if we posted the right-hand picture to describe what grief is like to those who have not gone through it they would still see it as the left-hand picture. Everyone on the outside desperately wants grief to be linear. They want so badly for us to have a set time-frame with pre-determined steps so that we can get back to being "ourselves". The truth they don't want to hear is that we will never be ourselves again.

26 minutes ago, Marg M said:

Sean, I am so selfish.

That doesn't make you selfish. It makes you human. 

22 hours ago, TomPB said:

OMG I envy people who go that close. Just in 2017 husband of a good friend went 2 weeks after her, and my cousin Kate about 6 ms after her husband. Meanwhile I continue in apparent good health despite broken heart. 

In every loving couple one has to go first and the other stay behind. I always tried to protect Susan. In grief meditation I told her that by staying behind and living this nightmare of grief I was sparing her from having to do it. I guess that's some small comfort, to think I'm still protecting her. 

I envy them as well. To know that there grief, while intense, only lasted a few weeks makes me both jealous and happy for them. I am so glad that Lori isn't here. That she doesn't have to experience the despair that I do. I prayed many times during our marriage that If someone had to go first then I wanted God to take Lori so that I could take the pain instead of her. And now that I know the intensity, I am glad she doesn't grieve for me.

3 hours ago, scba said:

3 years later, I understood that I am alive, but "me then" is gone too. The "me" then is gone to follow him. It could not have been different. We belonged together and they are together now, and this "me now" will be reunited with them one day, in a way God only knows. People told me so many times that I was still alive. It is true, but that portion of soul-life-existence that was part of something greater than my own self, what is called true love, that "being" left this world to follow him.

Alive? Here maybe, but not really alive. Not living like we used to be anyway. It's kind of like hearing the roll being called in school. We hear our name and answer "present". Being here or being present is the best we can hope for most days. 

17 hours ago, TomPB said:

EXACTLY. Makes perfect grief sense.

It's like we, who have lost our soulmate, are speaking a language that we each understand and speak fluently. Sadly nobody outside of this terrible club has a clue what we are saying and they can't learn our language until they are on this side of the fence.

I still go to our favorite Tex/Mex restaurant because we had so many great times there. I do not, however, go to our favorite sushi restaurant because we had so may great times there. There just doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. 

So sorry you are going through all of this Marie. You are in my prayers.

I have come to the conclusion that I have to stop being surprised by the actions and reactions of people surrounding our grief. Every time I think that I have heard it all I hear something new and appalling. I had a one-on-one meeting with my boss yesterday and he asked me how I was doing outside of work. I told him how hard things were and his response was, "What part of it is hard? Probate? Getting things in order?". I wanted to scream, "I miss my wife terribly and I am a broken man. What do you think is so hard?". It really shed light on the fact that people just don't know how hard this is.

1 hour ago, TomPB said:

If I get up there’s nobody to save my seat. 

First off, I really got a sense of T & S with your story. The teamwork. The well oiled machine. The two parts coming together as one. Thank you for that. It brought tears to my eyes as I read it.

I also look at those ten words that bring so much reality and sadness to our situations. Such a simple phrase yet such a stark reminder of what we lost. Nobody to hold our place in line. Nobody to share a dessert at a restaurant with. Nobody to talk about our favorite show with. 

13 minutes ago, Froggie4635 said:

Thanks everyone for your thoughts and prayers. I am safe and dry, although rain has begun again and a little more windy. So many of my colleagues are having hard times and evacuating, I feel so much for them. I know Mark would be proud that I am keeping my cool and being strong. My fur babes are my priority, and they are keeping close. Just have to hunker down a couple more days.

You got this! Mark is right there by your side helping you through this.

21 hours ago, TomPB said:

Susan was the holiday cookie maker, for family, friends, work, and us. Now when I get out a pan and see her cookie making stuff and think "never again"...

Ahh, holiday cookies. What was once probably a wonderful treasured memory for you has been reduced to a sad memory much like so many other things in our lives. Holidays are gonna be really tough for me. Lori always decorated the house for fall, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. She liked the decorations but one day told me that she really went all out because she knew I liked it. We always bought ornaments from vacations and an ornament with the year on it every year. Putting decorations up was really something we looked forward to. This Friday would have been the day for our ceramic pumpkins and fall decorations to go out. I'm getting the lump in my throat just typing this. I just don't think I have it in me to decorate this year. I probably won't put a tree up at Christmas. It's just too hard. 

11 minutes ago, TomPB said:

Good thoughts and true.

For me, what was best now causes most pain. Sunday was our best day, so now it's the worst. Yesterday was painful.

People have told me that being able to enjoy happy memories of Susan is what will allow me to have some peace, and it makes sense to me. However my problem is that it seems impossible. When I think of some loving, cute, playful etc thing she did my throat involuntarily - not a choice! - constricts and I either cry or struggle to not cry, with the pain of the loss. To make it worse, it seems every day I remember another loving thng she did. It is hard to imagine that can change, but yeah, a day, or a second, at a time.  

Easier said than done is an understatement. I got a pan out yesterday to make a pizza and saw a cooling rack we had bought together and BAM, there were the waterworks. No rhyme or reason to when I cry or what will bring it on. I never, in a million years, thought I would one day be able to say a cooling rack brought me to tears. Such is our new lives.

I keep a lock of Lori's hair in a envelope on our dresser. When I asked for it at the visitation I thought people would think it was weird. I am blessed to have very understanding friends that loved Lori very much. I'm sorry you lost that Cookie. It must have felt like losing another piece of him. As if we need any more pain in our lives. 

Mitch,

I keep Lori's side of the bathroom, closet and bed the same as the day she left. Everything is there. Her brushes and combs with her hair. Her hand mirror with her fingerprints on it. Pillows with her smell. I even run her hair dryer from time to time just to bring back the sound of her. You keep Tammy's things the way they were until you are ready. There is NO timeframe. 

Glad you're ok as there are so many that are in harm's way. Sending love from Fort Worth.

37 minutes ago, KarenK said:

Not many dreams left in me anymore.

Such a poignant statement that reflects on what, I suspect, most of us feel. Before we lost our soulmates, our lives were filled with dreams and hopes for the future. The sun shone brighter. The smiles were wider. The possibilities were endless. Now it just seems as if we are stumbling through an existence we never wanted or asked for. I guess the only dream I have left is of the day I will be with Lori again.

15 hours ago, Marg M said:

I think the quote is from Gwen actually, but when they left us they took part of us with them.  On my part, it is hard for me to feel love.  I feel worry, so maybe that is akin to love.  When you say "I am you and you are me" enough, the "am" becomes "was" and the "are" becomes "were."  Something/someone gets lost in its translation.

The "us" turning into "I". The "we" becoming "me". It's odd how just a change in pronouns can alter our perception of everything. I still catch myself often when referring to "our" house or what "we" like. It's a stark reminder of my new reality. A slap in the face to jolt me back to the present. I'm going to a friends birthday dinner tomorrow and, yep you guessed it, there will be an odd seating number. It will be four couples and me. Strange how an odd number spoken to a hostess can make you feel so lonely.