Kieron

I think this is a most gracious way of looking at a very complicated situation with very complicated people involved.

Mark would be 63 years old today. Soon it will be three years since he's even been at home, because he was hospitalized in late November 2016 and never came back. I got through this day with wistful thoughts and only a few tears at times, and other times with disgust and resentment at all the idiots in the world today, running around full of life, creating pain, harm, destruction and mayhem everywhere they go. Why do they get to be alive while others don't? This morning I looked through some of his clothing that I have saved for various reasons. One button-down collar short-sleeve shirt, sort of a sage-green plaid pattern, still smells like sunblock lotion, and it made me smile a little because he was applying it on a pontoon boat ride one summer day a decade ago. The bottle went "splooch" and squirted a *lot* of sunblock all over his shirt. The shirt was pretty well protected from the sun that day! 😄 Yesterday I stumbled across a local nonprofit that collects used clothing for persons homeless, indigent or otherwise disadvantaged, who are hospitalized for whatever reason. Often these folks are discharged again afterward with poorly fitting castoffs, because sometimes what they wore on admission had to be cut off to perform procedures etc. Plus-size clothing is needed the most. So it seemed fitting (heh) to donate all his XXL clothing that has sat folded for 2.5 years, to this worthy cause, and also apropos since he himself once experienced homelessness or at least instability, and would give you the shirt off his back. Doing this was a no-brainer. The nonprofit came to take the donations today, again with rather interesting timing. May these nice shirts and pants cover and dignify those who would otherwise go without! ❤️

No, there is nothing for it. It can only be lived. How ironic... life, after death.

I have no doubt he will. You seem very tuned in to him. ❤️

Medications *are* hard to adjust to-- you're right, maybe he should try taking something, and get back to you! Some people can't handle the side effects. Some side effects are socially embarrassing like excessive salivating/drooling, or else sleeping too much, severe weight gain, excessive appetite, dry mouth, blurred vision etc etc. Sheesh! If they work for someone, great. If not, that someone might try something else.

I tend to agree with you, Marg and Karen. I have worked in mental health for many years and I was told by someone in the know that medications are mainly tested on volunteer subjects who are white/European-descended, and many of the subjects are male. Many medications have different effects on different ethnic groups, and women's bodies often handle medication differently than men's bodies do. Everyone is different and what works for one, won't work or may even harm another. It's scary. I'm exceedingly cautious about what medications I will take after what this person told me.

Yep. All I can really do is 🙄. The shoe will be on the other foot in due time.

At my grief group yesterday, the facilitator shared this quote that he said a mentor gave him to share with others who need it. I thought it was remarkable, and indeed it made me choke up the first time I read through it. I don't know who to credit, unfortunately, but I'm sure someone here will know! 😊 "In time, but certainly not yet. the grief of his/her loss will fade and be replaced by the realization of what a miracle it was that s/he ever existed in the first place."

In my experience, my arms and shoulders ached like crazy for many months. My forearms, in particular, had this phantom pain that seemed to be bone-deep. When I decided to see a bodywork professional who did deep tissue massage, she told me that she believes grief is carried in the arms and shoulders and it manifests there quite often. In another way, I felt the grief and loss as a sensation of starving. I eventually realize that Mark's cooking was literally an act of love, and he put love into whatever he made, and when I was deprived of it, it felt like I was starving to death. I know I am not imagining this. After 2+ years, it's not as noticeable, so I guess one can get used to anything, but on occasion, on my way home from work, I long to come home to one of his stick-to-your-ribs meals. 😔

So sorry, Kay. 😔

There's another version of this somewhere but I can't locate it at the moment. When I do find it, I'll upload it.

Sometimes this is how I feel nowadays...

Welcome, and sorry to read about these losses. it's possible the new loss has re-opened whatever wound is lingering from the loss of your father. Not surprising. After I lost my partner, both my arms ached, from the shoulder down to my wrist, and when I went to a bodywork and massage specialist, she told me that she believed we hold grief in our arms. We also tend to store tension in the shoulders. The left shoulder, to my way of thinking, is closer to the heart. It kind of makes sense that your physical pain manifests as it does. Mine finally eased but only with conscious grief work, and seeing the specialist. Unfortunately she left the place she worked and I don't know if I will be able to locate her again. Maybe you could consider seeing someone similar in your area to work on the tension in the shoulder.

To Ana's great response, I would like to add something: for many men who are married to women, the wife becomes *the* primary person in their life, and when she goes, he's totally adrift. Not all, of course, but many. Very generally speaking, often guys have more casual friendships than close relationships with others--again a huge generalization, but since I work in adult mental health myself, I observe human interaction (or lack of it!) all day long. Also, 18 months is still pretty early in the scope of the loss, especially for someone with mental health issues already, and he's going to have to lean on his providers more heavily now than ever to avoid driving off what we call "natural supports" (in other words, friends and family).

Welcome, Wade. Words are often inadequate for such times and I am sorry for what you went through and are still going through. Arrogant (un)professionalism is something that helped lead to the death of my partner, as well, so I do understand a little of what you are saying. Closure was something I wanted and needed, and got some of that by pursuing a complaint against the worst offender with the state Board of Nursing. The only thing they could really do was include the complaint in the nurse's professional files and if he screws up again, the new complaint and mine will be reviewed together and disciplinary action will then occur. Should have occurred as a result of my complaint, in my opinion, but what do I know? I only knew Mark for 18 years whereas this jerk knew him for 18 minutes. Often times here all some of us can really do is click the little blue heart button to show our support. I know others here will chime in soon.

Yeah, I can relate... my partner developed a pulmonary blood clot, among other things, and after he passed away, I blamed myself for months for not calling 911 myself (even though he was in a "rehab" facility at the time), or pushing the nurses harder to identify what was wrong, etc. it's incredibly easy to beat oneself up over these things. I will also say that men, in particular, do what yours did in getting annoyed or defensive when loved ones push them to take action or seek help. It's just a guy thing and while it's stupid, it is what it is. I hope you will, in time, be able to put the self-blame into better perspective, although I will say it can linger for a long time.

Oh Kay, I don't even know what to say. 😥

Second week of July coming up, a time when we would go to a place by the Canadian border, on a lake. It was never a long enough time, given we had to leave in 4 days for him to be on time for dialysis back in the hometown. Today, I was driving in a location with a higher elevation and saw a beautiful partly-cloudy horizon, just a perfect summer sky, stretching out forever, and it looked just like the view over that big lake the first time he brought me there in 2006. And I thought then that I'd stepped out into a spot of heaven, at the time. Now the memory, no matter how beautiful today's scenery that evokes that memory, just makes me sad all over again.

Gwen, it's by a comic artist who writes about parenthood, depression and anxiety, and other deep topics. http://www.lunarbaboon.com/ https://www.patreon.com/user?u=82761

I don't know how copyright laws affect comics, so I am unsure if I can post the actual image, but this 6-panel "comic" covers so very much about loss, in just a few words and images. Edit: went ahead and posted it here. Artist is Lunarbaboon. Here's his Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=82761 http://www.lunarbaboon.com/comics/grieving.html

All of them! ❤️ Glad you shared!

As a writer and poet as well, I can assure you there is nothing pestilent about sharing your poems. 😄

I hear you, Mitch. Since you talk of movement and moving, I thought I would share a bit of my experience. A year ago, last June and July, I think was the lowest point for me at 18 months into this journey. I went to work with a mask on, and came home, took off the mask and did nothing but sit and stare at the unmaintained yard (I forced myself to mow the grass, take out the trash etc, but did minimal housework. I figured no one would care since no one comes over except for two friends who got me through the memorial service and I owe them more than I can ever repay), or else spent way too much time online, took too many naps/slept too much, or listened to sad music and wandered around aimlessly inside this place, like what the Buddhists call "a hungry ghost." But like you I sensed I was on a bad path, and steered myself away from it. Last September, I started taking taijiquan (better known as T'ai chi chuan) offered by a local group of teachers that have been at it for 40+ years. By now I am 1/3 of the way through the sequence of movements, and it has truly become a near-daily routine. And I don't even have to do the entire series of movements. I can work on a section where I know I am weak or where I developed a bad habit with an incorrect movement. Above all, it reminds me to relax the shoulders, relax the arms, notice my breath, notice where tension is stored, notice whether I am moving fluidly, slowly, gracefully, etc. Two weeks ago, the instructor (who is in her 70's) recognized me in the group as having reached intermediate level about 2 weeks ago, and one of the class members who is about 75 (I think), pointed out she noticed how my posture and movement have smoothed out over time, become more graceful and relaxed, so I must be doing something right. My point is, I chose to move, and intentionally moving creates movement, which is crucial or else we stagnate. And then coincidentally (ha!) I found a book in a free library, "The Theft of the Spirit" by Carl Hammerschlag, MD. In it, there's the story about the secret to life: sneakers. He encountered an old woman at the NYC Metropolitan Museum of Art, dressed in her Sunday best, but strangely, wearing sneakers. She tells him they are the secret to life. Puzzled, he asked her why sneakers are the secret to life. She replied, "You can't wear them without moving. They're just not comfortable if you're standing still." In other words, you have to keep moving to stay comfortable. I think I am finding this out first hand. I am not a quitter either, although it takes me a while to get going but once I do, I keep at it. 😊

This makes me smile. Describes Mark to a T.

jimswife, I'm glad you started a thread. And how fresh this experience is for you at 15 days. I'm sorry you joined the club no one wants to join. All this is complicated by the daughter's behavior, and I'm sorry to say there's one like this in just about every family; the story is as old as time. Meanwhile, for the loss itself, you deal with it any way you can, perhaps by working. Sometimes routines like jobs insulate us a little with the sense of normality in a zone of un-reality that we know we must sometime face. The shock is real, and so is the sinking feeling of loss, the pit in your gut, the litany of "if-only-this, if only that" also known as woulda-coulda-shoulda. Been there, done that. 😖 Others have given you good advice for self-care. That is vital. I hope you'll check in with us often.