Margm

I know this is not encouraging, it is really not anything but an observation. I paid for the new death certificates to be ordered today. I believe, probably the founder of the funeral home waited on me. He was older than I am and shared that his wife had passed about two years ago. They were married over 66 years. He had a smile pasted on his face. Bless his heart. I paid for the certificates and went out to the truck. And, that is his job, to work with death all the time. After Billy passed away, I am having a hard time watching TV shows that have hospital scenes in them, and I worked at hospitals for 43 years. I am so sorry we all have to go through this grief, and truly misery does not love company. We just have to help each other through these different stages. Right now I have the impetus to run and just keep running somewhere, anywhere but here.

At my age, there are so many of my former classmates (who we have kept in touch with) that have lost their mates. In fact, more have lost them than the ones that are still married. I did not like to brag on any anniversary. My good friend had a fuss with her husband and then had to go out of state for their relatives surgery. He had a blood clot or aneurysm during the night and by the time she got home the coroner had taken her husband. Sixteen years later she has regrets. I had thought of an RV, because we had planned it. But, we had planned it together. I cannot bring his desk or all his fishing equipment in the RV. I will, if plans go right, go back to our home and live in an apartment. It was where we began. Seems a lot happier (right now) than where we ended. Our relatives, our roots are back in that place. My friend who I mentioned, told me to box all his things up and move them in plastic buckets. One of these days I might feel like going through the things. Not right now. Not next month. I don't even know if next year. Yesterday was horrible. Today I got some things done. Happiness will have to be a definition I am going to have to invent. One of my widow friends (we had got her husband and her together), she remarried again and he is very ill. Can we find enough happiness to go through this again? Oh Lordy, not again in my life. And, I am knocking on wood.

I have to change the beneficiary on my insurance too Kevin............something else to do. Oh, those extra death certificates make 10 in all. I only ordered five at first and the funeral home kept one. They will not come in for two weeks. Sounds about right. I'm not going anywhere right now. I think I want to go back home to Louisiana though. That is where our life began. The last 18 have been spent in Arkansas and I really don't want to be where our life ended. His roots are in Webster Parish, so are mine. They have been forever. My folks were some of the first settlers and his were too. It won't be the same, but I will feel desolate where ever I am and I can be desolate around my friends and relatives.

I have been trying to take care of one piece of business each week day. I know some of you understand this, but money, paying bills, food, just plain being hungry are things I was not worried about. Slowly, I am beginning to realize the world will not keep moving for me if I do not do these things. We both retired from the state of Louisiana. They were sent papers on the 26th of October and they should have received the official death certificate (certified) yesterday. I called this morning and got a snippy little fellow (oh, he could have been seven feet tall, but to me he was three feet tall.). I know you have had these people who answer the phone with their voice, read off what they are supposed to say, and then tell you "have a good day." So, I told him "no, I will not have a good day, just because of you." I did not curse (I wanted to call him names.) I know he just has a job to do, and bless his heart, he probably works for the state also. Anyhow, and this is an observation, I think the most heart friendly people are of the black race, and they always say they will pray for me. Not snippy people, but real human people. I took care of two things today. I ordered five death certificates, had no idea how many to order. Later someone said order 10. I think that should be closer to the amount to order, so I will go over to the next county and order them tomorrow. I am finding things out about myself. I am finding that I might not be able to drive an RV. Billy and I were going to do this together. I am sure he would not find fault with me if I went back "home" to our home parish in Louisiana. No plans yet. My widow friends tell me to pack all of his things in the plastic boxes, don't go through them yet. Move them with me and in a year or so, no definite time, I will be able to go through his things. Billy was a very obsessive person. He kept writings and figures of fly line width, weight, different methods, etc. Things I am not interested in, but he kept notebooks of these figures and for his photography too. I cannot throw them away, even if he is not coming back. And, I realize he is not. But I cannot throw them away either. All his fishing equipment, I will keep. Mama used to tell the story of the dog in the manger who would not let the other animals eat the straw, even though he could not eat the straw. Possibly, one of these days I will discover my senses. Right now they are covered up.

There is an old Ray Stevens song with him calling up "Margaret" on the telephone. Okay, this is me, Margaret. The weather is dark and dreary, no sun out at all. Hettie, my sister widow next door, she says these kind of days make you sad. It has not been three weeks yet. I can usually get his death bed image out of my mind, but today it is haunting me so bad. Regret, guilt, depression, whatever the stages of grief that we have, they have all piled on me today. Sometimes I think "well, poor me" but there are a lot of us out there. I know I am not alone. Anyhow, this is Margaret, and I'm hanging up for now.

@kayc: Billy worked for Louisiana DOT. He was supervisor of the laboratory. I admired him because they told him he could tell the employees to go do stuff, but Billy would not tell anyone to do anything he would not do himself. His blood pressure went down to normal levels after he retired. He was never a type A person. I am. We always knew he would outlive all of us because he was laid back. He never got in a hurry, but he got it done. The only solace of his illness is that it did not drag out. That was not like him. How do we left behind survive? I guess we "just do."

Yes, unfortunately I understand. I wish we all could feel better.

Karen, I worked medical transcription for 43 years. My last supervisor said it was dying out. She was president of our state's group. I could not imagine voice recognition taking our place. It could, it did, it is a poor substitute.

Wow, you guys are definitely not from my deep south. We get snow occasionally in Arkansas but few and far between in Louisiana.

Please take care of yourselves. It is hard to do it on your own without your partner. I cried for my mama the first time I was sick after I got married, I was 18. The last time I did that. Now, I would cry for Billy. I still have the residuals of the colon rupture that he pulled me through. It's hard to live for other people, but sometimes we have to do that.

We did too Kevin. I had a new reel and rod just before he got sick. We were looking forward to trying it out. I don't want to even use it now. Maybe later. Billy was one to keep in shape, and that is ironic. In August he was riding the elliptical 30 minutes at a time. Then he was down, totally down for six weeks. Lots of regrets. We had no sign, other than backache he had had for years with slipped disks. But, they allowed him to ride a bicycle and elliptical with no pain. Walking long ways, that was always a pain. Because of the pinched nerve, 30 years ago his one leg would just give out. Because of the trauma of a hemorrhoid operation by a country doctor and the results thereafter when he was 24, he went for one colonoscopy before they started sedating. He would not go for another. There are so many if, if, if, if.............

I worked at a teaching hospital. When they brought in the doctors with English as a 2nd language (actually, some never learned it even as a 2nd), it really got hard. I began it in the days with belts, IBM Selectric, different colors of "white out" for each copy and invariably some doc that would tell me to go up and add another paragraph between first and second, which was impossible. One doctor from Iraq, (transplant surgeon) would dictate so terrible, three pages usually, I had to know anatomy to just know where he was operating so I could get some words right. Glad to be retired. Billy and I both retired on the same day. (I hated retirement and went back to work at a Catholic hospital and then a Presbyterian one. I got to work at home, so we were together those 18 years all the time. He had 18 years of retirement and lost many coworkers and friends during those 18 years. I wonder if they are all reminiscing now.

Good luck kayc. As a medical transcriptionist at a teaching hospital, I would drag my feet at each new computer program. I soon learned you can teach an old dog new tricks if they put it in 1, 2, 3 form. Like #1 was "turn computer on." They arranged the new teaching schedules just for me along with each new program. Then after 43 years they took away transcription and made me an editor. That meant I cleaned up the "crap" put out by voice recognition. One time when the doctor said "parenthesis" around a word the computer printed out "bull flatus." That was when this editor became retired from cleaning up this stuff for good. I don't miss editing, but I miss the good clean transcription.

Ricky, in my life, alone means being afraid. It has only been two weeks. I dread night coming and when I fitfully sleep I look forward to daylight. I have panic attacks, only I call t hem terror attacks. I had had them once before 33 years ago when I had cancer, but they were few and far between. Now they are nearly every day. We were getting ready to leave this house when Billy passed away over a six week period. We were going RVing, then all of a sudden he was gone. In those two weeks my mind has lived here, there, everywhere and every place seems more frightening, yet I don't want to stay here. My lawyer told me that I really needed to wait a year before deciding. I don't buy green bananas, what does that mean, wait a year? I am 73-years-old. I was supposed to go first and he was going to take my ashes along with him. I felt somewhat comforted. Now I have his ashes and I will not be making long trips, but I think I do see myself living in a small Class C, maybe, and his ashes will be with me. I think the only thing we all know we are going to do is grieve the person we loved for so long, the person we lost. Unfortunately, now we have to find ourselves. That is a long journey, and again, I don't buy those green bananas. I hope you find the solace you need on this forum. There are some wonderful people that are going through all the stages of grief. We are here for you too.

Kay, my Billy liked to give the kids nicknames. He called Scott by the name of the little boy in The Yearling, something like Faderwing. So, that was his artist name for years. I think he had more paintings stolen than he sold, but they do not call them starving artists for nothing. He got into some "trouble" and was shot in the leg when he was grown, and Faderwing had a bad leg in "The Yearling." Billy called our daughter "Darling Jill" from Gods Little Acre. I won't even try to explain that. He showed his paintings a lot of places and then he has had artist's block for a number of years. It goes along with bipolar, but so does artistic abilities. He is really good. Of course, I am bragging. He used to have a site to go to, but I think it has been taken down when he went into his blue funk a few years ago. I might blanch something and freeze it , but you have a lot more knowledge than I do. I was afraid I would kill us all if I canned. Mama never did though. I admire you for that. Mama kept 3 meals on the table a day. Might be leftovers for supper, but that was okay. She would cover the table from dinner with a table cloth. We never got sick. Only one breakdown today. Guess I will make up for it tomorrow. (i think sometimes I give too much information, I'm sorry).

Thanks Kevin. I only have words. My son has the steady hand of an artist. My hands shake with a congenital tremor and I sure have had trouble signing my name to all these things we have to fill out. My grandmother wrote a book for her grandkids and my friends appreciate me writing about the "old days" on Facebook. I do not know how to take pictures for the computer, that was Billy's joy. He had just bought a new camera and a 300 lens. My daughter took it. He never really got to use it. But to Billy, the joy was in the shopping and he stayed on Amazon and everywhere picking out just the right one. He loved for that old brown truck to bring him presents. I just found his 1956-57 school picture and rather than hurt me, it made me smile. Maybe there is hope for all of us.......at least for moments at a time. @Karen: Your husband would have wanted you taken care of. We have enough guilt, regrets, all part of this grieving process. I have to shut my mind off seeing Billy that last time.. I should have been holding him, but he knew how much he was loved, and I know Ron felt the same for you. I have to feel all our other halves have to want the best for us. I just know it.

Thank you Kevin. Billy was a man's man. I cannot tell you how many times we watched Gunsmoke. I guess it was his favorite because it was his dad's favorite. My son is an artist. Billy grew up in the small town of Sibley, Louisiana. Eight in his graduating class. Back in a time when they all lived in relative poverty, but none of us knew we had poverty. I lived at the northern part of that Webster Parish. My mom had her Victory Gardens. She grew up in a time where you canned everything so we all never went hungry. Neither did Billy's family. We may not have had steak, but after we were first married we had many a meal of pinto beans and cornbread and tea. Cannot beat that. The kids had no where to go so they would sit on the bridge over the RR track. One time before TV, and I doubt if Billy's family read the newspaper much, unless it was a school lesson and other than KWKH, our country radio station, he was cut off from lots of things. No means of transportation. Country store in the little town. The boys would get together on Saturday and Friday and sit on the bridge across the RR track, all congregate together. The main road through Louisiana passed through the town, before interstate highways. They still missed Sibley even then. One day a blimp came down the RR track, flying just above it. A big gray one. To an 8-9 year old boy it was a bomb and they were all dead. I loved that story. I loved the simple life we all came from. I made small plans to go back where we first began. My son wants to paint the group of boys in their 1956 clothes, hair, cigarettes, Converse shoes, jeans rolled up one time. He also will paint Billy and his best friend hitchhiking to the town where they played American Legion baseball. Baseball was always part of his life and in later years he was a wonderful coach for football and baseball/softball for our kids for the YMCA. He let all the kids play and they won over and over. The parents loved him. So did/do I. I look forward to my son painting the pictures. He is a good artist and will do the late 1950s justice.

Billy's dad drove the tractors that cut the grass alongside interstate highways. In the south we let the red, white and blue clover flowers grow and they are beautiful. Billy's dad would see some old rusty tool that had been sitting there for years, pick it up, bring it home and store it on the back porch. When he passed away in his 60's, Billy took all those rusty tools. Scott was looking last night for something, does it even matter? I have forgotten, I don't search as it was only two weeks yesterday morning. Billy, like his dad, had put a lot of papers, just sacks like sandwich bags into a bigger sack and that was put under lock and key. Scott went through it and said "Mom, this is just nothing but trash." I told him not to throw it away, I am not ready to even get rid of his trash yet. Cannot even go through it. It is like I have reached some shaky plateau that I know he is gone, but I cannot even get rid of the trash yet. Maybe the time will come. Not now.

Billy waited for the Longmier (sp?) episodes to come to Netflix. His favorite show. He loved Chicago PD and Chicago Fire. While he was sick, he slept. He slept the whole six weeks he was ill, mostly always without anything to make him sleep. They had found an aneurysm on the back of his brain, but felt it had been there for awhile. He got to where he could not walk in those fast six weeks. I got angry because I thought he was not fighting. How I wish I had not got angry. I was so frustrated. He had pulled me through a long drawn out cancer fight when I was 39 and 40 and then last year a colon rupture with overall body sepsis. He pulled me through them. I wanted another miracle. I wanted to save him but nothing I could do helped. He could not/would not eat or drink. We took him for saline boluses twice, actually in the hospital for the third when he gave up, or his body gave up on him. I wanted to fight this. I couldn't. I am having the regrets stage of grief, not anger at him. I wish my last emotion toward him had not been frustration. He knew how much I loved him. I watch Longmier now, without him. It is an empty show. But, I don't shake my head "no" often anymore. I miss him so much. In the end, I know I have to help myself. My friends want me to come out and have dinner with them. I am frozen though. My sister wants me to come for Thanksgiving. How can I leave the house. I know I have to though. I know we all go through this. I will collect myself. I will hit those stages of grief, all except anger. All I can be angry at is cancer, and that is something no one can really help. Strides have been made. Good night.

My friend Hettie's worse time is around the 5:00 p.m. time. Right now my worse time is anytime I am awake, and sleep is so fitful. Someone said this grief is exhausting. It is. Why can't we be so exhausted we sleep? So, I guess trying to sleep is my worse time. I don't want to think about him gone, and even though my granddaughter gave me a big, tall stuffed dog, and I put Billy's shorts and sleepers on him, I of course know Billy is not there. We were never away from each other for 54 years. My despair is no worse than anyone else. My doc gave me papers that probably everyone already has, or Marty has posted. "A long period of depression (not clinical depression), isolation, and loneliness happen late in the grief process, months after the tragedy strikes. It actually is normal and expected for you to be very depressed and sad eight months later." My mom never seemed to go through this. She seemed "free" and was able to get rid of my dad's things easily. She fixed up all the time, actually took up with a boyfriend from before she met my dad, but finished that because he put her up on a "pretzel". My mom had a way with words. Anger is an emotion also. She acted like he had left her on purpose. Another friend of mine did the same. Another acquaintance started dating almost immediately. I think my mother-in-law took up with the funeral director. These are life's exceptions, some of them funny, some of them you just plain wonder about. I guess it was their way of dealing with grief. Maybe.

Billy told me he believed the one who survived should live. I told him over and over I could not live without him. The joke was on me. I have to learn to live without him. We have to learn to live for those that are left behind, just like we are left behind. We cannot fail them by willing ourselves to die. If we could, I think there would be no forum because we would have joined our loved one. I have to believe that. I must be here for a reason. My son said "Mama, we don't want to lose you too." Our children hurt also.

Kayc, that makes sense. Grieving is hard work. That is why we are so exhausted at the end of the day. Sometimes we "work so hard" sleep will not come. Sometimes the exhaustion lets us sleep for a few hours but it is so annoying to wake up and look at the clock, still dark, "Oh no, I have to think, I don't want to think." Good memories make me cry right now, because I cannot experience them again. I look forward to the day I can remember the good times without crying. Don't make plans for a year seems to want to drown me, but plans drown me faster. Hettie, my neighbor, two years in a widow, tells me she cries ever so often, but not every day. We take comfort in such different things. She takes comfort in her big house. I don't. I want to leave, but thinking about where I will leave to is depressing also. So we tread water.

Debi, I know it is disrespectful to speak ill of your parents. My mom had a few distinct peculiarities, some were good, some were fearsome. For one thing, she had a memory that could quote all the things she learned in school. She and I both are "back of the book" readers. If I don't like how the book turns out, I won't read anymore. If it is good, I read the whole book. (I have not figured out how to do that on Kindle, so I suffer through the whole thing). That is one thing I want back, my concentration so I can read. We belong to the Amazon "read all you want" club because Billy read 3-4 books a month. But one thing my mama was/is, is a Christian who knew her Bible. She had a tongue that could cut anyone's throat, and used it. She and her brother picked up "shorts" on the church yard, so she smoked from before grade school. She is 94 now, and still smokes. She has Alzheimer's, and cannot use her legs, which is good, because she would walk somewhere and get lost. My dad was a deacon. Mama thought some of the women of our church, who came without their husbands, but were faithful Christians, she thought they should be deacon's also. Daddy said women could not be deacons. Mama found it in the Bible where they could. Daddy could never win an argument so he put his hands in his pockets and would walk off whistling. I cannot go and talk to Mama now. Really, never could. But, Mama has left me with lots of verses and passages in the Bible to live by. My parents never were close like Billy and I were. Neither were Billy's parents. His parents never said "I love you." Not even to the kids. The grandkids, they did. Times were so different for "The Greatest Generation." Billy said "I love you" all the time. That is something we all need to say, because especially right now, we all need the love we have lost. So, I love you, all of you, and my heart is with you all. I found out I did not need to go to a shrink. Our grief is a normal thing that is not a mental condition, though it sure feels like it. I need help sleeping and I need help with accepting what I have to accept. I do not look forward to this life without Billy, but I will have to accept it. Not sure how to do that. I am very fearful, prone to anxiety, but I have my son here, I have my friends, and I have my kindred spirits on this forum who belong to a club none of us wanted to join. Another thing Mama quoted "Be still." Hard to do. And Debi, I think my "be still" is what your mother taught you too.

Tejas, my Billy passed on the 17th of this month. We had had 54 years together and when you lose your partner, you lose half your life. It is like losing a part of yourself. I don't mean to sound like I have things under control, I am still so far from it and don't know if I ever will. Everyone on here has lost their partner and we all have holes in our heart and we all share grief. I am still so new to this. I had a flu shot today and accidentally went to sleep for a moment while watching TV. All of a sudden he was back on the couch. Then, he was not there and I cried and cried. There are lots of tears. Lots of people on here to help too. And, lots of us have regrets. I think that is part of the grieving process. Our hearts are with you.

Okay, picked up the cremains. Talked to him all the way home. My son brought it out to the truck. I fixed a place in the entrance hall for Billy and his brother Lonnie. It was not so bad. I have to remember, when we talked about this I was really expecting I would be the first to go, and I felt comfort about still being with him. I will take that comfort now for him. Some people would not do it this way. My girlfriend takes her husband's urn with her to all the family gatherings. Made perfect sense. She talks to him still and it has been 17 years. We go with what feels best for us. I am okay now. No, that is a lie, I will never be okay, but I sure am going to try to live because that is what Billy said, the one left should live. Had a flu shot today, so I guess I have the 24 hour flu, very tired, going to bed. Stuff to do tomorrow before the post office closes. They stay open till 11:00 a.m. Very small town. I remember what my mama always said "peace that passes all understanding." That is all we can hope for.