Margm

scba, I have not watched the movies all the way through. I will now though. Thank you. I wish I was religious, I wish I was a good Christian person, but my main wish is for the faith system I used to have, the "peace that passes all understanding." It is not for everyone, but I believe (and that is MY belief, not shoved on anyone else), that when I totally reach my faith again, then and only then will I have the peace I so desperately need. We all have our own paths to go down.

“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring About 49 years ago Billy and I bought new wedding rings. The original were big and sorta cumbersome. Small was lots better. He had given me his class ring as a melted down gold nugget necklace for a gift, an actual surprise, many years ago. But, this wedding ring he had melted into a nugget, and we have kept it all these years. He had a black cord as a holder. There is a fact about grief, it can bother your memory, sometimes make things completely gone from your memory. I could not remember where he put this nugget necklace. I was looking for the black cord. There are some things you don't pray for, some things that are so superficial, like as a kid praying for catching a fish. But, this was not superficial. Billy knew where that nugget was, but I didn't. I could not move on, I could throw nothing away, I could give nothing away, because it might be located in that "thing" I was getting rid of. So, leaving here, discarding things was impossible. I prayed to Jesus and Billy to help me find it so I could move on. Last night, before bed, I thought I would go through my jewelry box one more time. Not expecting anything at all, I had been through it at least 10 times since Billy's leaving. Last night, the first thing I saw was the gold nugget without the black cord. I had searched for the black cord and overlooked the nugget all these days. How many times in life do we search for the wrong thing, overlooking the special thing? I cried and cried with relief and also crying for my grief addled brain. This morning I can move on. I slept for about 8-1/2 hours last night, almost straight through. This is a Sunday morning story, prayers given, prayers answered. You know it was not the monetary value of the nugget, it was the value to me of memory. I could not leave that memory, lose it, or throw it away. Now, I am not free, only widowers and widows know they will never be free, but, I feel a release of something. I can get busy now. I will. This is not meant to be a religious story, I cannot place my belief system on anyone else, but I can tell you that some of my magical, mystical thoughts have come back to me. And, like the lost sheep, my magical mystical thoughts believe Billy helped me. This is MY second childhood, and now I can live it not fully without him, but feeling that he is somewhere close.

Beautiful picture. Yep, this is our own "Hotel California." Check out any time you want but you can never leave.

Debi, I have been worried not seeing you on here and tonight I was going to look for you again. I am sorry we all have to go through this hell, and that is what it has to be, hell. The first few days I would wake and think he was beside me, then matter of factly would think "no, he's gone." I have people around me and I am happy to have them. I thought I wanted to be by myself, maybe later, not right now. You have created a Rumi monster in me, I read him all the time. Cannot believe the century he is from. I have found that the week ends and holidays are the worse. Week ends because I cannot conduct any business that I should be doing but am not doing. Sunday because I cannot walk to the mailbox. We search for help to our pain, somehow there is no break through. I was talking to my daughter today about her Nanny (who was a character, cursed like a sailor), and was very colorful. Then I felt a heaviness like "you should not be talking about Billy's mother." She and I became the best of friends before she passed away, but that woman was something else. And, I just felt Billy telling me not to talk about his mama like that." Actually, I did not say anything he would not have said, but I felt guilty talking about her. Nothing my daughter did not already know. It was almost like I was talking against him. I explained this to our daughter. She and our son are both bipolar so tend to depression anyhow and are having a hard time, although our son has connected with one of Billy's oldest friends and is going to paint some pictures of the 1958-59 period of the "bridge sitters," small town, and that is what they did on the week end, hung around the bridge on the main highway. Will be almost Norman Rockwell-ish. I am sorry to hear you are having such a hard time. So many of us are. Have missed hearing from you though. Debi, I have copied so many of Rumi's quotations. The one I wanted was the flower breaking through the rock. I will find it eventually. I certainly don't want you to be silent, because we miss you and worry about you if you are not on.

Kevin, I'm searching. If Billy's little quip about the lost sheep could bring my faith back to me years ago when I had cancer, and he cannot help me now, I look for inspiration from my friends who have lost their husbands. This first book was written by the widow of a Methodist minister who had been married the same length of time we had been. Also, in his younger years, Billy had a scholarship to a college studying to be a Methodist minister. Things turned upside down for him, but I wanted to read this woman's perspective. "Grace for the Widow, A Journey Through the Fog of Loss" by Joyce Rogers. "Life After Grief" by Rebecca Hayford Bauer. Also a book of daily meditations "Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love" by Raymond R. Mitsch and Lynn Brookside. I read at night after I go to bed. I have made this into something I do each night too, to read from Billy's favorite author C.J. Box, all the Joe Pickett novels of his and just anything he writes. Billy and I used to say "I am you and you are me" so, if I can enjoy the books, maybe Billy can too. I do most things topsy turvey anyhow, like saving all his clothes and throwing away everything but the basic necessities of my own. I kinda figure this, whatever I do right now does not have to make any sense to anyone but me. And, I definitely am looking for that path, somewhere. And, I am a frequent visitor to Amazon. I just bought the 10.1 inch Kindle Fire and keyboard and am learning it. I was on the search for a new laptop, but decided this was the way I wanted to go. I also bought an expensive cover for the Kindle (this is our 5th Kindle), but the keyboard closed provides a cover.

KayC, you said: One thing I do love about my church is they are accepting and non-judgmental. Sure, they have their beliefs, but they don't try to push them on someone else. That is what we should all look for in a church, if we look to go to church. I don't want to push anything on anyone else. The main reason is I don't know what to push. Right now I just want to pull in, not push. You sound like you are going to the ideal church. There are all kinds, and we know that, but handling snakes, foot washing Baptists, missionary Baptists, Southern Baptists, all kinds of just Baptists. And, I don't even know what that means. (I guess I was not listening when those fire and brimstone preachers were preaching.) We just have to do what feels good for us, and like always, I am looking for something that "feels good." The sun is out, the sky is blue, there is not a cloud to spoil the view...............I don't think I like week ends any better than holidays.

I cannot fault my church or my parents. I cannot remember the exact sayings, but as the twig is bent, so shall it grow. So, all the teachings of the church, though like a mule, I pulled against them, they are still with me, and for those of faith, I am looking for solace for the day. That is all we all want, peace for this hell we are living in. However we find it, whether it is faith in God, or just peace in our heart, it is what we are all looking for. I was angry at first at God, why take him now, after 54 years. Oh, what a selfish person I am, but I wanted him 54 more. I do know how lucky I was to be with him for so long when others lost their mate, their partner for a lesser number of years. Does not matter how long, or how short, we are all suffering through this loss. And, my selfishness makes me wonder how those families cope that had their family members taken away in shootings, airplane, automobile accidents. I bought a book last night at the Christian bookstore in Hot Springs. A book on grief. The salesclerk asked me if I minded her asking who I had lost. I told her and with tears in her eyes she told me about losing her child 13 years ago. I told her we both needed to go in back and just cry. She said to not be afraid to cry. Fear of crying is not one of my fears. I have that thing down to perfection.

I have written before my dad was a Baptist deacon. My life was the church, a small one with only three deacons and the deacon's children were held up to be a little better than the others. Not me, my dream was to dance in those cages on the Bossier strip wearing tassels and white boots with just enough covered to hide things. That was back in the early 60's. My dad would have died of a heart attack, but I wanted to have "fun" rather than going to brotherhood (cooked for it), cleaning the church, running off the Sunday bulletin, girls auxiliary, Wednesday night prayer meeting, Sunday morning, Sunday night and once a month mid day service at another missionary Baptist church within driving distance. We had fire and brimstone preachers that made me scared to go outside the church after services. Now, honestly I do think you can go overboard with anything. I had to go to church even sick. But, I did develop a faith in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit, (Trinity). Okay, if you asked me to explain all this, now all these years later, I could not explain it. But there was faith in there somewhere and when I had cancer, Billy led me back to that faith with the story of the shepherd leaving his 99 sheep to hunt for that one lost sheep. Right now I feel like one of those lost sheep, and I do want my faith back. I want that "peace that passes all understanding." I found and felt closer to that faith with Billy walking in the forest, on the rivers, and in nature. Now, I am on a mission to find my faith again because I don't have Billy to point me toward it. My faith, my belief might not be everyone else's, or anyone else's. I don't know who is right or who is wrong, I just have to find myself somewhere in this world of grief. I cannot say how, but I am going to try.

Thank you so much Marty. I have to go to the "big city" today to pick up my new glasses. When I am there I am going to look for a big wooden cross. I am going to put it on the wall at the foot of my bed. I am doing everything I can think of to get my faith back, but having faith to get out of bed each day, I never linger in bed. I wake up and hit the floor, maybe not running, but not supine for long. Sleeping does not come easy, but if it is daylight, I have to be upright. And what you said, it makes a lot of sense. I will be strong for my grown children and grandchildren. In my grandmother's "book" she wrote for her grandchildren and ancestors, she says that 18 years later she misses my grandfather as much as the day he left. Yet, she survived almost 30 years after his death. I do come from strong women, how can I let them down?

HH, my faith has not returned like it should. I have anger also. I think that is something we all have. Driving the truck down to the larger town (we are talking going from 1000 people town to 2200 people town), here in Arkansas was about a 21 mile drive. I prayed and I cried and I talked to Jesus and I talked to Billy and if either one of them were listening, then they would have just looked at each other and shook their head. I prayed for peace. Some of that hardened wax around my heart has melted, but I am afraid the wax around my brain is just as hard. People tell me God understands our anger. I hope so. I understand it and I don't like it. I want my faith back. I put a cross on the wall at the foot of my bed. When I was so sick in the Catholic hospital, that cross brought me peace. So did the nun who came and prayed over me, and I am not Catholic. But then again, the only label I liked was being Billy's wife.

How could I wish away 54 years, that is more than half a lifetime. At least we had gotten to the point that we would look at each other and be happy for the time we shared, so many years, so many things happened, but still, it was just a twinkle of the eye. Seems like yesterday. He went so fast, I wonder if I have time to get out of here and back to my old home. He would not have stayed here. We came here to help get our son off drugs. He managed to do that himself while shutting himself up in his bedroom, so that task was accomplished. Then along came the granddaughter that Billy was her first caretaker while her mama worked. Then she lived with us for 15 years, so that task was accomplished. So, we lived for our family, we gave up many things to do that, and we lived for each other, and now I am afraid to try to live period, because it is for myself, and probably for a very short time, but I cannot leave this mess of unfinished business for my kids............well, I guess I could, Billy did, but not because he wanted to. I don't want to either, but sometimes I do want to leave. Fighting this battle is hard. They say I am strong. I don't feel strong sometimes.

Brad, I had Billy for 54 years and unrealistically, I wanted him 54 more. I am a selfish woman. Enjoy your family. Mine have helped me so much. I hate driving in west Texas. I hope you sleep good tonight. Sleep is still a problem for me.

I told you I was "certifiable" and maybe grief is not a mental illness, but I guess those of us who are prone to it anyhow, maybe it is in a way. Because of some things I did that went against my Christian upbringing, because of survivor's guilt, because I was curious because of my family's history, and just because, period, I went to a psychiatrist for 15 years. When I get back to Louisiana I will visit her again. She knows me. After that length of time my only diagnosis was chronic depression. I already knew that, had had it since childhood. No, I do not want to get rid of anything of Billy's, but I will never wear the shirt I had on when he died. In fact, instead of giving away his clothes, like I should, I am giving away all of mine. Maybe it is a form of those women who pull their hair out and throw themselves on their husband's funeral cremation ceremony in other countries, other times. I cannot leave in the RV, as he would have done, but he would have left this house, this place. Knowing it is not the house, the place's fault, it still makes sense to this foggy brain. Now, I will put his picture, but I might not come back and reread it. This is one of the hats I talk to.

Well, this house was built in 1965. I know it need new plumbing. I am ready to give it away to anyone who will take it on. One time my daughter moved a heavy RV on the side of the house the plumbing is on and broke an underground pipe. This crazy hilly land absorbed over $500 worth of water before we knew a pipe was busted. (Found out when we got the bill.) It leaked down into the ground rather than up on top of the ground. This happened twice, fixed twice, now I am ready to leave permanently. I just don't want to ever come home to this empty house again. I will go to a motel until someone comes home.

Kay, I hope I can sell this house before something else breaks. I never want to own a home or RV again. (Well, I still have both, but my son is going to take the RV). My thoughts are with you and I hope you find some help with those pipes. I think you must live up where the weather is very cold. It is even 32 here in central Arkansas right now. Not too much difference in here and Louisiana except we get more snow up here. Not as many rocks back in Louisiana and I want to rent an apartment that will serve as a cocoon for awhile. I hope you can find such a place too, or someone to fix those pipes.

I held Billy through his throwing up his insides in the ER and at one time told them he was comatose. We got to the ER and it was daylight. They got him to a room between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m., and he was gone by 9:00 a.m. I will be writing the hospital (I retired from) and will take the letter in to the administrator hand held for him to read while I am in front of him. Billy did not have a chance anyhow, but something has to be done about these ER's at hospitals. This is a Catholic hospital, but that does not matter what kind it is, my 94-year-old mom waited 5 hours in the wee hours of the morning and never even saw a doctor. This same ER kept my son waiting over 5 hours when his gallbladder had grown into his liver. By the time the ER emptied they told us "I'm sorry, we lost your papers." By that time the pain had eased and he went on to the VA for surgery. We hear terrible stories about the VA, but in this case they were better than a private hospital. Nothing I say can bring Billy back. In all probability the aneurysm in his brain burst, but the death certificate said "ca colon". We only knew about it 5 weeks, only two chemo treatments. He just could not eat or drink. Yes, we had private insurance, not Obamacare, yes we had Medicare, but no matter what we had, no matter what we did or they did, he is still gone as are so many with inept care. I say this, and that same hospital saved my life. But, I came by ambulance and possibly that is the only way to be seen. So, if you have a loved one to take to the ER, take them by ambulance or you will wait till you die. And, please don't think I do not know about hospitals. I worked for three different ones for 43 years and retired from two of them.

I wish that for all of us. It is harder work than the job I held for 43 years though.

I understand. I get so many "you are a strong woman" from so many people. I am not strong. I am only surviving the best way I know. I just remember going through a terrible illness and reading Billy all the romantic tragedies of couples who passed away within minutes, hours, days of each other. One older couple, at his funeral, the wife had a heart attack and so there was another funeral. I read these to Billy and he said "the one that is left should stay." So, I am staying as long as I can. That was his wishes, not mine. He would have taken the RV and headed for the deep woods. I will just find a very, very small place that I am not afraid to stay alone. This house is too big. And, most times I sure don't feel like a strong woman.

Could not stand to have memories because the memories of that last night in the hospital kept interfering and I would have to shake my head and say "no, no, no" to get it away from my memory. You know my story. But this morning, thinking about our first Christmas tree in the RV, it was a Rosemary tree from a nursery in Harrison, AR. I am going to look for one in the "big city" today. I think Rosemary is for memory, according to Shakespeare's Hamlet. Billy had one of his first wedding rings melted into a nugget to wear around his neck. Try as I may, he won't give me any hints as to where he put it. He was a pack rat fixing and refixing fishing rod "blanks." It was a hobby to him, and tying flies. I have so many he tied, I will not use. I am going to make a shadow box for the kids, cork back, and hang one of each fly that he tied. It was a hobby. One of the in-laws mentioned he was so good at it they wanted to put them on Ebay and price them. After that he "shut down" tying them. If someone was going to make a job out of it, he wanted no part of it. Later on, he took up the hobby again. He wrapped me a purple and gold rod with my name on it that I lost in Lake Bistineau when I turned over the pirogue by running into low lying cypress trees. He was on the dock (our house was just above the dock) watching me. I came up sputtering and he and my son were laughing so hard. I was so angry at him for not jumping in to save me. Then my feet found the bottom and it came up to my waist. Still, I thought he ought to have jumped in. For me, this is a breakthrough, a bitter-sweet breakthrough. I would not let myself think of memories, they hurt. They still do, but I will go on honoring him with these memories. Kevin's poem that he has on his refrigerator broke some of the wax around my heart. I still hurt, it has not been two months, and when I am by myself, when memories of that last night intrude and I say my "no, no, no," I will cry. That is a bad memory I want to erase though and let the good memories in. And, I know people think I am a crazy woman, but I don't care. I talk to him all the time when I am by myself. Sometimes I feel so alone, but I have felt his presence sometimes and a "peace that passes all understanding."

Billy passed on October 17th. It went so fast. I had anger also. Now I have sleeping problems. Nothing helps. This just started. I think some new something starts all the time. And some other stuff just stays and stays. I have had some peace..........some. Keep coming back. Keep reading. We all suffer. Misery does not love company. I do not believe that, but someone may tell you something that causes a moment of peace. Marty has a lot of good reading material. Check on other threads and you will find her words to go read. I think hearing that grief is not a mental illness helped me, even though I could swear I was certifiable at any moment.

Kevin, that was beautiful. It is 1:43 a.m. here in the south, kinda cool, rain for days, flooded creeks and all waterways. We might have some sun tomorrow they said. I sure wait to see that sun come out. Hettie, my neighbor widow, and I both have had the doldrums this holiday. This is my first holiday without Billy, this is about her 2nd without Loyal, her husband. They were a couple of years older than Billy and myself. But, we had all been married about the same length of time. For some reason, I just cannot sleep, even with sleep aids. I copied the writing above and will print it out in beautiful dark print and go back and read it often. Thanks again.

I think the hardest thing for me (other than living without him) is taking his name off everything. I went this morning to get the license plates for the truck. I felt like I was doing something illegal.. It was addressed to him, but my name is on it too. I paid my money and instead of just stickers we got new plates. Again, I thought "uh-oh, I'm caught." I know I have to take his name off lots of things, but every time I do it is like closing another door. I will eventually get them all closed. Just not today. Brad, I just read your post. Saturday, coming home to the empty house was the hardest thing I have done by myself yet. I have the support of my children, but because of weather, I braved the roads alone. This house was so empty. I was afraid that night. I don't know what I was afraid of, just emptiness I guess. I knew my fellow widow Hettie would have her family (who all live here in town) over, so I was not going to bother her. One thing she has mentioned to me was the part about being ignored by their former friends. Friends that are still couples. At our age though, there are so many widows and widowers that there must be a network of "people needing people." I am afraid I have not reached that point yet, other than the emptiness of this house, all my friends are there for me if I need them. I should have gone over to Hettie's. She was alone too and feeling the emptiness. I wonder if people get to feeling they will impose on our emptiness or if they just don't want to be reminded of what is coming for them too? My son had repeated what I had said years ago "we need to leave, because I hear the footsteps behind me." I meant we needed to RV while we could, before the unimaginable happened, like the footsteps caught up to us. He said he had never understood it until now and he hears them behind him now. That boy defeated drugs, defeated hep-C, got shot in a major artery in his leg and coded on the operating table and he is just now hearing those footsteps? Wow.

I think coming into this empty house alone was the hardest thing I have done yet. I got angry, cried, and told him "you always protected me, if there is any way you can just help me, please help me now." This afternoon, I felt peace as if someone was with me that was safe. Just as if my son had been in his room (he wasn't) but I just felt safe for the first time since I got home. I had so much anxiety that even the Xanax did not help. This afternoon though, no Xanax, Patriots playing, and I was at peace. I said I used to believe in "signs", mystical, magical stuff. Billy used to laugh at me. But maybe this was the "peace that passes all understanding" that my mama used to quote to me. I felt safe with Billy.

Brad, the only recent memory, or any memory I can handle is when my son got Billy some marijuana. He had never smoked it and by this time he was using a walker. He went down in five weeks what would normally take months or years. Anyhow, they were sitting out in front of the RV, he had a pipe smoking it. I came out the garage door and he jumped up and ran bowlegged to hug me. Both grown kids were up ready to grab him because he could not walk good, much less run. It was so comical, his legs were so bowlegged and he was happy. I sure wish they would make that stuff legal for people with illness. I cannot even smoke regular cigarettes, but it made him feel so good for such a short time, I know it could help others. He went from riding the elliptical 30 minutes in August to wheelchair by October. We did not find out he was ill until the day after labor day. Then found out he had an aneurysm on the back of his brain, and I think that might have been what took him so fast, but the death certificate said "ca colon". Questioning things is really too late now. He would still be just as gone. I am not at the point I can look at his pictures yet. It is like sticking a knife into me. I hope with time I can look at things. And, I don't want anyone touching his things, and hopefully I will let go of that obsession. He liked New England Patriots and I almost could see him sitting in his chair. Then I cried, but I have held it together pretty good till then. (I probably have told this story before), but this just reminded me. And, my son said "Daddy did not like tables crowded" but I had made a shrine of his things around his urn. A beautiful, heavy wooden urn with a tree of life engraved on top and engraved words below. Okay, I will quit now.

Thanks Kevin. I think you live in Canada (am I correct?), BC to be exact. I'll bet that sunshine is beautiful. We have gray dripping skies in west central Arkansas. The little dry stream bed at the bottom of our hill is a raging river.. When I got my first job I was so full of myself. I was at Mama and Daddy's and Billy told me something to calm me down. I told him what he could do with his advice on "my" job and he told me "you know, if you mess with me you will quit that job tomorrow." My daddy, who never could stand up to my mama, ever, he laughed and applauded him for "wearing the pants." Now, that was back in 1970. Over the next 43 years from 1970, Billy "allowed" me to keep my job and advance, but we were partners. Now I have our retirement, and he made sure I was taken care of, along with my own retirement. Right now, I would be happy to allow him to "wear the pants." Sometimes wearing them is problematic. But, that is one thing we women have to do (and men too), we have to try to be strong just to show our children and grandchildren (and ourselves) that we can. Terrifying sometimes isn't it?