Steven

Hi Shelley, My posts seem to be thread-killers, so I'll try to keep this short(er). Because I too find it difficult to accomplish certain things that I used to do with my wife--something as simple as watching a particular tv show, for instance, I've been reading your posts with interest. Fearing that I will sound preachy, I want to stress that I am moving along this recovery road at a snail's pace too, and this post is meant just as much for myself and is largely thinking out loud...except it's not out loud. If you make plans and they don't work out, feel too difficult, or simply can't be done, do you have an alternate plan? Maybe something simpler, or more accessible? Plans with an almost guaranteed successful outcome might help. Setting yourself up for guaranteed success for something might help change things up for you. You've mentioned that things can be difficult at home, but that you want to spend most of your time there. To me, this sounds as if you could be in a rut of sorts, something I identify with completely. If you're in a pattern or situation of repeating disappointments, there may be no one else who can successfully address your status, and it might ultimately be up to you to make changes, as difficult as that may be. Victor Frankl said, "Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." That sounds true to me, and I'm trying to take it to heart myself. If you see anything that speaks to you here, I hope you'll try it. Steve

Count me into the odd eating habits group. It comes and goes, but it's more appetite than type of food with me. Sometimes, I'll think I'm starving, take one bite and can hardly swallow it. It happens less often now, but I lost 30+ lbs. in the months following Tanya's death, which was about 10 lbs. too many for me. - Steve

My apologies if this has already been brought up. In another post, Kayc's words reminded me of my own feelings and the difficulties associated with my memories of Tanya, her life, our life together, the battle for her life against cancer, and her subsequent death. It had me thinking of the movie ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND. In the film, people have the option of trying out a new experimental psychiatric treatment to selectively remove memories. The movie focuses on a couple who have experienced a turbulent relationship and go their separate ways. The woman decides to remove the memories of her former partner to help ease the pain. I won't go into further detail, but I liked the movie and its provocative content. It had me wondering, given extremely painful memories, would I make use of such a procedure or technique? My wife was alive when the movie was showing (2004), and we saw it together. We agreed that in some circumstances it would benefit some people. Because we had experienced a great loss early in our marriage, the exercise of deciding what we would do if given the option of memory erasure was not just an intellectual one. We agreed that even though the memories of our daughter's death were overwhelmingly sad, they were part of a rich tapestry of all types of memories woven through our lives together. I went through this thinking process again after Tanya's death. Would I erase memories if given the option? If it would ease my pain, would it be worth it? Of course, I would no longer know that the erased memories were gone, so that is something to be considered. I came to the same conclusion; I would definitely not want to forget her pain, my pain, our ANGUISH--any of it. Have these memories been debilitating? Yes--and they remain so. I have to admit I'm derailed. Yet, I still think (hope) there is hidden value in difficult recollections. Without these painful memories, I would surely know that Tanya was full of love, grace, character and strength, as she exhibited them constantly throughout her life. But those final years so distilled those characteristics in her, that I would feel impoverished having gone through them with her and having no recollection of them. Witnessing them without remembering the price we paid, and how clearly it revealed her true, beautiful nature seems unthinkable to me now. I think a different circumstance might bring a different response. Anyone else? Beauty that dies the soonest has the longest life. Because it cannot keep itself for a day, we keep it forever. Because it can hove existence only in memory, we give it immortality there. ~Bertha Damon (A Sense of Humus)

Hi Kayc, You are really battling a tough one this month, as if it isn't difficult enough already. I wish you relief as you navigate this physically alone, though I'm sure you know that we are all standing side-by-side with you in spirit, sending you good wishes as well as prayers through this extremely challenging time for you. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ~Lao Tzu

Thirty, forty, fifty years... There are times when I think those sound like such long expanses, but then I think back to my close to twenty years with the love of my life, Tanya. Those years just flew by, and I bet another thirty or forty would have seemed like moments as well. I know in the year-plus since Tanya died, time has been practically standing still for me. How can it be that twenty years felt like a moment, and moments feel like an eternity now? When you're in love and fit each other well, I don't think the marriage can ever last long enough. Eventually, life is going to take the best from one of you. Walt, I get what you're talking about when you mention being uncertain as to why you are writing and posting your words here. I often get the urge to do the same thing and don't quite understand it. Sometimes I think it is because Tanya and I often spoke of our love of each other, and there is just no satisfying way to release these feelings any longer. Writing about it provides at least something of a relief valve. I remember when Tanya's cancer returned, and we were forced to think in completely different terms; we had to adjust from the plan to spend our lives together, to spending what time she had left. Of course, we had hoped for a treatment breakthrough, and it was a real possibility, but we were given a window of roughly five years for her life if treatments did not progress. Five years to pack our lifetime together into. Mining good out of bad is sometimes very difficult. If anything good came of the death of our baby daughter Chelsea early in our marriage it was the realizations that the only certainty in life was uncertainty, and the most--absolutely most important thing in life is taking the time to care for and love each other, as well as the other special people in our lives. Until you've been through what we all have been through here, words like that can sound trite, can't they? We nursed each other through that terrible loss, and somehow survived. T was much better at recovery and nursing me than I was for her, but life's relentless progression wasn't through with us, and the lessons I learned through that trial paid dividends when it became time to care for Tanya through her chemo, surgery, and ultimately, her dying. I say it all the time--loving Tanya through the years, and taking care of her through all of her difficulties were the two highest honors of my life. After Chelsea's death, we were more than aware how life changes in a moment, and we took almost every available opportunity to express in words and actions our love for each other. I feel incredibly fortunate in that way, as I can only try to imagine the difficulty of dealing with the death of a loved one in which there was a contentious relationship. If I can add something to Walt's perfect advice to let people know that you care for them while you can, it is to spend more time with these people; play more, work less, give more, take less, and don't argue about insignificant events. - Steve Love vanquishes time. To lovers, a moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock. ~Mary Parrish

Teny, Reading your words about how Yiani greeted you each morning brought a wave of memories back to me. I recall watching Tanya as she slept and feeling overwhelming love--adoration, and I'm sure that's what Yiani was feeling when he spoke with you each morning. There's really nothing like seeing the love of your life wake from sleep and instantly smile on seeing your face, pucker up for a kiss, and immediately reach for hugs. It's especially hard to move from thinking about that enormous void of loss when someone like this dies, to thinking how lucky we've been. So few breathe the rarified air we shared so deep and true a love in. Many of us have felt that all consuming pain of losing what feels like everything important in one moment. I think I'm less competent than most at recovery (I'm moving much, much, much slower than others I know) from the loss of my wife, but I think I am coming along. It's been over a year for me, and I'm still a little girl as far as my emotions go--crying every day for someone who didn't think anything could make them cry is quite a change. Please give yourself time, Teny--you already know how painful this is. In time, what you once thought impossible to recover from, will move from absolute pain to bittersweet memories, from there who knows? I'm hoping it will lead to pure sweet memories of rare love. We can hope, but in the meantime--we navigate one moment at a time. Steve

Hi Chrissy, You're approaching the one-year anniversary of Jason's death, so it hasn't been a terribly long time for you to recover, and possibly the most consequential date in your young life is around the corner. It is no surprise that you would have issues with dating after your husband's death, and with these two components occurring simultaneously, I would think it practically impossible to avoid having any number of thoughts that might upset you. You've mentioned that you were trying to forget, then further along in your post you mention the possibility that you're not ready to date again, then, not that you are doing ok, but instead "I would like to say I am doing ok." I might be parsing your words too carefully, but I'm tempted to think that you have answered your own question in your posting. In my far from expert opinion, you sound as if you may need to give yourself a bit more time to heal and to deal with the death of your Jason. I have no experience dating following the death of my wife, and truthfully have not entertained the thought at all, so you might easily take my writing with a grain of salt. Here's what it looks like from my unenlightened view: You are very young to have experienced the death of your spouse. You may have many friends of similar age who are living their lives, going out, getting families started, and doing all the things people at the start of their adult lives do. With all this activity surrounding, it may be tough to not jump into situations you may be intellectually ready for, but not perhaps not emotionally prepared for at all. Be sure to pay attention to both heart and mind at this critical time for you. If there's a Young Widows and Widowers grief support group in your area, maybe that would help you deal, or if you've already attended it might help to go again. If you discuss this with friends and family, I wouldn't be surprised at all if you have a chorus of people telling you that you haven't waited long enough. It seems from your writing that you already have the idea percolating that you need more time, but in my opinion you are the one best able to decide such a thing. Sorry I couldn't be of more help, Chrissy, but I wanted to let you know that we're out here and care how things go for you. Steve

Hi Sean, When my wife died, I knew it was coming and still I felt absolutely, totally, completely unprepared for her death. Nothing I can think of would make the death of a spouse easier, but waking up in the way you did is heartbreaking to read about in the extreme. The shock you felt makes my stomach flip every time I think of it. I'm so sorry to read about your pain and loss. It seems that people of faith may have another dimension to deal with when already there's too much to face. I have a very good friend--a lifetime Catholic who discusses his changed thinking about faith and God after the death of his wife from multiple-types of cancer. He actually feels a sort of relief post-faith. This terrible event in your life may strengthen your faith as it has for others who post on this site, or it may usher in a new way of thinking and coping for you. Surely, most of the kind people on this board will cast their vote for these terrible losses of loved ones being part of God's mysterious plan, but if that kind of thinking no longer works for you, please know that faith is not a requirement for all who are forced to deal with this sort of terrible event. Navigating through the pain of catastrophic loss is on the razor edge of manageable no matter if you are religious or not. I'm doing it (moment by moment) without faith, I have friends who have done it with faith. Neither is easy; both are possible. Know that we're here to help you (and each other), no matter your path. I hope you'll continue to post here, seek the support of those experiencing the same types of pain through a bereavement support group as Maury suggests, and continue the "one foot in front of the other" method of survival navigation. Sean, I'm sure you'll hear over-and-over again that you must be strong for your daughter, but I think it possible--make that very likely, that you will draw strength from her. She is a natural miracle--the result of yours and your wife's love, and will forever represent that beautiful part of your life. We're with you. Steve

Terri, You are very welcome--it was nice thinking about how happy Tanya and her grandma were spending time together. I used to wonder if they could have been closer if they were of similar age. I really don't think so; the two were always on the same page despite having almost 60 years difference between them. I can never say enough about Tanya--she was the most amazing person I've ever known, and she in many ways modeled her life on her grandmother's, so I really appreciate your comment about them. I agree with you wholeheartedly as you describe how hard it is to explain the feelings we're all having; words fail for the most part when depicting what we're all going through. I find myself repeating the same things to friends and family: I'm not really lonely, I am missing the company of one person. The person who was the witness to my adult life, the person who knew what I was thinking, who understood by simply looking at me, the one person who completely got me. I think it is impossible to wholly impart these types of feelings, the kind that are precious and few, the kind that Tanya had with me, with her grandma, the kind you had with your grandmother, and the kind that so many who post here had with their loved one. The one place people can at least understand this thinking seems to be here. Thank you for taking the time to respond, and for your kind words about Tanya and Grandma. I'm sorry for what brought you here, but glad you arrived. Steve

It sounds as if your father has some issues of his own that he is taking out (brutally) on you. I sure hope his response reflects an inability to deal with a terrible loss rather than being indicative of how he treats you in general. Reading messages on the board lately, it's quite clear that a number of us have had bad experiences with people we would normally trust for support, and hearing harmful, untrue words like that is the last thing anyone dealing with the death of someone they love needs. Sometimes, people are just reactive and don't think before they speak--their words reflect their own pain rather than their true feelings about an event. I recently had someone say something rotten like that to me. Instead of reacting in kind (like I used to before Tanya civilized me), I repeated in question form what she had just said. Using your experience; "Do I understand you clearly about my sister's cancer? You think I'M responsible for the death of my sister?" It shocks someone who isn't thinking about the damage or hurt they could be inflicting, and forces them to face the insensitivity of their own words. Of course, this technique is useless when dealing with insensitive, confrontational types. You mentioned that your father accused you, then wrote, "I thought I could talk to my parents but they seem to blame me." Is this because your mother didn't defend you, because dad dominates her, or some other reason? Is it possible that your mother is still good to talk with, but away from the negativity and anger your father is displaying? I hope so, magic fan, but if not you can always come here for some lousy advice from me, or good input from the others.

Kay, there's nothing so strong and sweet as a tribute that so obviously comes from the heart. Reading about a true love really brightens the day, and though it's late night here, my day is brighter reading words reflecting yours. Clearly, you were lucky to have found one another. Thanks for glance into yours and George's mountain Shangri-la, and sharing your progress. - Steve

I don't think there's anyone posting here who questions for a moment why you're frustrated, angry, hurt, bewildered, or experiencing any of the other feelings associated with great loss. (Especially when compounded by the crass behavior of family!) For what it's worth, I think you are well within good taste and your rights to tell them, as you said, that when you're ready, you'll let them know what you are going to do with the things that Larry left to you. If you can make it clear that you won't be pressured to act before you are emotionally ready to, and that your decisions will be made in a way that honors Larry and befits his memory, it may help set the ground rules while allowing you to relax at least a little bit. Since you already had something in mind for the jacket, and because the Make-A-Wish Foundation is such a great cause, your brother-in-law would have to be a real piece of...work to object to a donation granting a wish to a child. I hope your in-laws are just hopelessly clueless and not as heartless as they seem to be, but calling to tell you that they just had a party is just incredibly insensitive. You surely don't need that kind of treatment, and not knowing you I don't know what (or if) you are comfortable saying or doing something to let the people around you know what is acceptable to you. Also, not knowing the people you're dealing with makes it difficult to know what to offer you in the way of constructive help. I surely wouldn't want to suggest something that would cause you to feel even more isolated. I've been able to tell someone close to me that, while I appreciate his efforts, telling me that it's "time to get on with life" is counterproductive, and since his strong suit isn't emotional support, I'd appreciate less of it than more. I've indicated to him that it's time for him to leave the house on several occasions. This seems to work for a while, then I have to be firm once again, and restate that I will be progressing on my own time line, not his or anyone else's. I've experienced jaw-dropping insensitivity after my wife's death, but not from family. Remember, I don't know the people we're discussing, but if it's part of your makeup, you are able, and it will be effective and good for you, tell them what is and isn't acceptable to you regarding these sensitive areas. If the in-laws are clueless rather than cruel, maybe letting them know that leaving you out of family get-togethers, calling to tell you about it, followed by asking you to divvy up personal items Larry left behind, is beyond insensitive and you don't want to have to point out what should be obvious to them again. I hope this at least gives you something to think about, Deborah, and I'm really sorry that you have to deal with this sort of thing on top of dealing with the loss of Larry. Steve

Hi Terri, My wife was very, very close to her grandmother also. I had long hair and a beard when grandma and I met, and I don't think she was thrilled with me on first sight, but we became very close in a very short time. I didn't even grow up with this fantastic lady in my life, and it was a terrible loss to me, so Tanya's loss must have been practically unbearable. Often, I would sit at a distance and watch them interact with each other. The beauty of seeing this singularly wonderful, sweet young woman and the person she held in highest esteem because of the way she lived her life (volunteering, helping anyone who seemed to need it, hoisting a cocktail and telling a very slightly off-color joke now and again), was nothing short of inspiring. It seems our culture wants to impose recovery deadlines, and if you don't meet them, tough luck. You will be able to recover despite the time limits imposed by your workplace, and being pushed back to work too soon may just be one of those hidden blessings, because it forced you to think about counseling. Does hospice sponsor any grief support groups you can attend in the meantime? If not, there may be other avenues you can take advantage of between now and June 4th if you feel like it. Your grandmother sounds very much like Tanya's, so the intensity of your feelings of loss, with the added difficulty of knowing that she suffered in her final year and a half makes it almost certain that an empathetic person who loved her would react strongly. You mention that your brain/heart reaction isn't simpatico, and I for one, totally understand your difficulty. I know that my friends consider me to be a very rational person. I am a very rational person...except where rationality (as perceived from those outside my situation) comes into play concerning the death of my wife. I mention this because I am fully aware that, at least to observers, I am behaving irrationally. The seeming incongruity between heart and mind we are experiencing may be our way of reconciling the unacceptable--this doesn't happen quickly for most. How can we accept something that is completely unacceptable? You are not losing your mind. In my view, you are experiencing this loss in a way that will ensure your mind will regain/retain balance and health. You aren't bottling up your emotions, nor should you have to. Recover at your own speed. Remember that the mind thinks, but the heart knows. Steve

People often don't know what to say at all to those who've lost their spouse (or another loved one), so you'll get comments that are meant to comfort but do the opposite, comments like the ones you're receiving about handling things well that don't take into account inner turmoil, delayed response, or numbness, and you might hear a few totally inappropriate remarks that will leave you dumbfounded. Many people want to help but really don't know what to say or do. Everyone has to find their own way down this path of grief, but I doubt that you'll have to try to grieve, especially if you're able to get some counseling. You've found the HOV forum--I don't know whether it was because you used hospice services, or because you searched for it, but you may be able to join a hospice sponsored grief support group if there is one near you. After experiencing the death of our baby long ago, I was numb, and didn't really deal with our loss directly for years. People thought that I had dealt with things very well, but this wasn't the case at all. Thank goodness my wife had enough sense for the two of us, and was finally successful in her attempts at getting me into counseling. It helped a great deal, but I think it would have been much better if I had agreed to go sooner. Your experience and reactions (the way you're handling things) may mirror mine, or you may have an entirely different way of dealing with trauma that doesn't reflect my experience in the slightest. I think you've found a place full of people who can relate, at least in some way, with your terribly difficult situation and emotional trauma. I hope you continue to visit and post here knowing that we are all pulling for you. - S

Karen, Wow--that's just plain mean. After you contacted them, they ignored you. I can't imagine what can make someone lose their ability to empathize and commiserate, especially over a shared loved one. From your posts, I can see that you're correct--it was their loss for sure. I'm glad you found a place to share your compassion.

William, Is it possible that when you go shopping and find something that pushes your 'buy' button, to wait to make your buying decision a day later? Instead of making impulse decisions, you'll probably find that quite often you're not interested enough to return to buy these items. The same idea will probably work even if you're an online shopper. If you feel Myrna is nudging you, and you promised to make wise decisions, this extra step might help. I agree with both you and Karen--job one is getting your meds. In the future, is it possible to order them online from a co. that will email a reminder, or from a pharmacy that will remind you that you need a new script? Money seems to creep into everything--it's just inescapable these days, and dealing with money issues on top of coping with the loss of a spouse or other loved one makes a difficult situation even more difficult. Are the proceeds your mother-in-law is supposed to receive written in legal form, or are the funds dispersed at his whim? If it is a legal writ, maybe you can direct her a little? Karen, it's really strange that the three children haven't contacted you, especially when you thought you were well-liked by them. I'm curious--is it possible that they are thinking similarly to you? They thought you liked them, and they haven't heard from you? It sounds from your description of Jack's review of them, unlikely, but the thought did pop into my tiny brain. I recall when Tanya's grandmother died. There was some bickering about who would get what, the oldest brother changed the locks on T's grandmother's doors; there were hard words said by almost everyone. Tanya remained quiet throughout the ugliness. At one point, during their battle, her uncle's wife, after claiming all she wanted, asked her "isn't there something you want, dear?" Tanya said "no, everything I wanted or needed from grandma died with her." It was sort of poetic moment. If it was even possible to shame them, it occurred in that moment. Sometimes, the young are much wiser than their elders.

It doesn't look like what I plan to do has been brought up yet, so... I intend on having some of my wife's ashes made into a diamond or three ( http://www.lifegem.com/ ). While neither of us was religious, I will be making a pilgrimage to a place that will honor her incredibly generous and loving nature and spread ashes there. It's still in the planning stages, but I hope to make this into something that she would be proud to be a part of. Lifegems are expensive, prohibitively so for many, but it is something that will be worth it for me. Also, some of her ashes will go to her parents, some to my sister (Tanya loved her dearly, as do I), and some to her own sister. I will also bring some to her grandmother's grave site. They were incredibly close, and loved to spend time together chatting animatedly and happily for hours at a time. Finally, I will spread some in the river we brought our baby daughter's ashes to. Steve

Deborah, Patti, and all others in this boat, I know today was as tough as other days have been, and maybe even tougher. I hope you were able to steel yourselves at this milestone, and are able to look forward with hope. Those in our position will always know: “Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.” - Unknown My thoughts are with you. - Steve

Starkiss, what an interesting topic you've brought up. I'm sure most people experience this. Tanya and I met each other indirectly through similar tastes in music, so there are dozens of songs that trigger my memories due to shared experience, but there are other songs/lyrics that are evocative owed to the mood of the music or the subject of the lyrics. Music sure can transport you, can't it? Songs that bring me back to a particular time and place with Tanya elicit a mixed, bittersweet reaction in me rather than pure sadness--that tears through smiles experience I've become so familiar with. I have always liked the song lyrics below (Alan Parsons Project: Time), but their meaning surely increased for me following Tanya's death. There aren't many songs that reflect uncertainty this poignantly. Time, flowing like a riverTime, beckoning me Who knows when we shall meet again If ever But time Keeps flowing like a river To the sea Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me Who knows when we shall meet again If ever But time Keeps flowing like a river (on and on) To the sea, to the sea Till it's gone forever Gone forever Gone forevermore Goodbye my friends, Maybe forever Goodbye my friends, The stars wait for me Who knows where we shall meet again If ever But time Keeps flowing like a river (on and on) To the sea, to the sea Till it's gone forever Gone forever Gone forevermore

It is ludicrous, and it really underscores the absolute inability to place yourself in the position we're in without having experienced it. Even very empathetic people have difficulty dealing with the situation, and at times, even people who have experienced the death of their partner are not equipped. My father stopped by the other day with another caring (truly), but clumsy attempt at fixing things for me. I love him dearly, but on a scale of one to ten, his ability to comfort ranks a one or two at the most. His cure for my sadness this time involved "putting away reminders of her." His wife died suddenly and unexpectedly several years ago, and he never dealt with it emotionally--hiding it out of sight is how he, and many others deal with sad, life-changing events. I explained to him, and I think he actually understood this time, that I don't require reminders to think of Tanya--at all. I think of her constantly without any need for memory triggers of any type. I think back to the death of my very good friend across the country in Florida, and how I treated his wife after his death, and honestly, I think I could have done a much better job. I sent cards frequently, called her and emailed, but I think after about six months; I slowed way down in my contact with her. She always thanks me for my support during those rough times, but in retrospect, I could have been there for her longer and more effectively. This is a learning process, and I think I made some of the same mistakes people are making with me now. I'm glad you found happiness again and remarried, KayC

Shelley, I'm sorry to hear you're having such a difficult time. How are your sister and brother-in-law making it so awful? Are they cruel? Do they perceive you as doing something to incite them? Have they decided it is time for you to "be over it," "to move on," "get on with life" etc, and you just are not ready for someone to pronounce your recovery deadline? If you can't live in the house anymore, then the die has been caste--you have to leave, right? If the children are witnessing unkindness regularly from their parents, it can't be a good thing. If you are running interference on their parents being cruel to them, you're placed in a very difficult spot. Can you be clearer on what makes it so awful, so that suggestions on how to make it better address your problem directly? Steve

Wow... It is amazing how difficult it is for some friends and family to help those of us who could really use some tenderheartedness. I'm sure we've all encountered some real lack of sensitivity, and clearly Deborah, William, Karen B, and others have. Here's my entry in that category. My experience with friends and family has been a very mixed bag to say the least. One of my most recent exchanges with a "friend" practically had me stupefied at her insensitivity (despite similar previous experiences with her and reports that described her in less than complementary terms). I called her (a former coworker of Tanya's) and began by talking about a small group of us meeting for dinner. Eventually, the talk came around to a recent recurring cancer fundraising event (my wife Tanya and I had organized the first one several years ago) and I mentioned that I was disappointed that more of her friends from work hadn't been involved. I noted that I was also disappointed in myself and my lack of input, but I recently had fallen so low in spirit that suicide had been, peripherally, in my thoughts. I mentioned that it didn't seem to be part of my makeup to do something like this or I most likely would have done it. For some reason (guilt?), this triggered her into defense mode and an irrational attack. Never mind that the timing was almost inconceivably bad (You were pondering suicide? Well, let me see if I can make things worse for you...), but she went on the attack. Prior to the philosophical example set by my Tanya, I would have chewed her head off, but instead I listened as she slowly buried herself. When finished, I calmly reviewed what I had said to her, and contrasted it with her reaction. If you can believe it, I could sense her anger INCREASING, but she said she had to go, and hung up. She called back about an hour later, presumably to apologize, but more likely to make herself feel better. Some people are absolutely nuts. I should mention that she's had this type of blowout with many of her coworkers, so it really wasn't a total shock in retrospect. One of the (many) great features of Tanya's personality that stood out, and seemed to work well for her was her generosity of spirit, so, I try to apply that kind of thinking in my own life. So, using a Tanya-like metric, I'll say that this person should not be defined by her worse attributes, and that she does do a lot to help the community in spite of her personality...deficit. Being difficult is not a sin, and being hard to like doesn't make one a bad person. I believe this is true, and her actions were those of an angry, troubled woman. In her mind, venting her own emotions superseded the needs and feelings of someone mourning the death of a loved one. This has to be a very unhappy person.

My experience may not address your request directly because I haven't expended any efforts at all toward finding any kind of comfort with religion for over thirty years. Also, not knowing why you're struggling with disbelief after being an atheist for your entire life--strong family indoctrination, cultural pressure, desire for a belief in something, et. al., might make this response a little generic. My evolution from belief to agnosticism/practical atheism had quite the opposite effect on me for the most part. I felt relief. Of course, that was long before I had experienced the death of anyone I was close to or loved. Following the death of our baby eighteen years ago, relief fell to desire--desire to believe as those who could accept these entities that were absolute fiction to me did. I thought that it must be a comfort to hold those beliefs. You mention that your lack of belief in an afterlife is what is making this particular time so difficult, and not having experienced loss from a believer's standpoint, I can only agree with you, and speculate that a belief that one will eventually be reunited with those who have died does bring relief; I believe it would for me. You no doubt know that this kind of loss is terribly difficult no matter your religious affiliation or belief. (There is an interesting and related thread exploring the ways in which women and men cope with the deaths of loved ones, elsewhere on this forum). Interestingly, your fear of death contrasts with my beliefs related to agnosticism. I recall reading Epicurus' thoughts on the subject to my wife: “Why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which cannot exist when I do?” We talked about it and concluded that we agreed wholeheartedly. I remember Tanya saying that she felt our lives could be represented by the flame of a candle. Once the flame had died, it was no more. She said that she didn't fear death, and fortunately that turned out to be the truth. I've always read that atheists did not fear death, but I remember telling her that i did fear death--hers. As it happens, my fears were founded. I hope I'm not overstepping here, but you mentioned that you found comfort in the thought that your sister lives on in the effects she had on others, but that doesn't provide any comfort for you when it comes to your own mortality. I feel much the same way regarding finding comfort in Tanya's effect on other's. However, I don't know whether you don't find comfort because you haven't had the same sort of effect on those you encounter in your life, or there is some other reason. Maybe if you feel like it, you can let us know? Finally, I get to the crux of your request--how to deal with loss without religion. For me, as I probably mention ad nauseam on this forum, I try to live more like my wife Tanya did. She had a positive, life-changing effect on quite a number of people who were fortunate enough to know and love her. I am trying to carry on as she did, help others as she did--in short, be the kind of person people say things like "she lives on in the effects she had on others" about. Steve

Thanks for the happy news!

Hi Anne, I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. You've found a group of people here who comprehend great loss, and seem to have a quite varied set of experiences to offer feedback, help, or just understanding attention. I hope you find a reason to spend time here. Despite a religious upbringing and religious schooling, I am not a believer in heaven and haven't been since I was a teenager. However, I do feel the presence of my wife in ways that although different from that you refer to, may still help you if your belief system is in flux or your heart/mind eventually lead you to alternatives to a heaven. Because I trusted my wife Tanya to always do the right thing, I make a conscious choice each day to consult her, the figurative angel on my shoulder, and in my heart, throughout the day--her presence compels itself because of my need and desire for it, as well as the conscious decision to make it so. I don't think heaven is the same for all who believe in it. Religious faith requires belief in the supernatural, and that is something that works in some minds and not in others. This resolved itself internally in my case, and it will probably work similarly for you. When it comes to dreams, it is very likely that you do dream of those you've lost and don't remember it, and if you're interested in working at it a bit, dream recall can be trained/improved. If this is something important to you, there are books available, and undoubtedly articles online that might help you. I don't recall dreams of my wife nearly as often as I would like to, but I do have dreams of her and occasionally wake smiling or laughing as a result. These are bittersweet mornings of course, as I realize instantly upon waking that I was only dreaming, but I do love those dreams despite the rude awakening. Steve