Steven

I'm glad you're past the worst of it and are back to being yourself, Karen. This group provides a sort of tonic with the variety of contributions. No matter whether the posts are from talented writers like Dusky or those who state very simply their situation, pain, love, or feelings in the most stark, heartfelt manner, I really gain by coming here. This discussion in particular really has been an interesting one with compelling thoughts all around. It seems strange to me that each of us will deal with death, we know we'll deal with it, yet it remains so incredibly difficult. I have kept a journal since Tanya died, but writing publicly is different. My journal has transformed from random thoughts about our life together into a rambling, endless love letter to Tanya. I think both personal and private avenues are therapeutic in their own way, but hearing of other's difficulties and their great love for their partners, family members, and others somehow helps on a personal level. Reading about the incredible bond that love provides, unbroken even by death, is one of those rare experiences that can compel, at the same time, both tears and smiles. I thank you all too. - Steven

I don't know exactly what I expected when I decided to begin reading the posts in this group a short while ago, but it has been a surprisingly positive experience, and I think I've learned something every time I sit down to read here. Thanks John, for the gentle reminder that all loving pairs are not traditional in their makeup, and that what matters most is the love shared. I enjoyed reading your observations and the selection from your book. I hope you'll keep us updated as it takes shape. I live in the same neck of the woods as you--maybe I'll be able to come to your book signing! Your comment regarding the ability of some to nurture despite seemingly impossible conditions really struck a chord with me. Tanya was truly the brightest spot in the lives of many who knew her, and because of my wonderful sister's incredible generosity, I was able to spend all my time with my wife in her final months, truly immersing myself in her goodness. Just now, when describing this precious time together, I was tempted to say "taking care of my wife" and while this is true, it doesn't at all accurately or completely portray the experience. As you alluded to, it doesn't convey how much I was gaining in the process of attending to my loving companion's needs. One of the benefits of an especially loving and close relationship is the ability to communicate well without words. The twinkle in her eye, or the expression on her face when she was having difficulty speaking often spoke volumes. Tanya was, mercifully, able to speak well into her cancer, but less so in the month preceding her death. More often than not when she was able, her short sentences were loving in nature, and were restorative in their simplicity. I recall in the week just before she died, helping her to adjust to more comfortable positions, and helping her to balance as she tried to walk down the hall (she never stopped trying to walk). After one particularly trying voyage, we were sitting silently on the edge of the bed, me once again helping her to balance. She seemed to be lost in a painkiller haze, but still had a beautiful, beatific smile on her face. Truthfully, I was despairing that I was unable to do anything to effectively change the dire direction the love of my life's health was quickly taking. Again, I refer to the ability of some to nurture with the seemingly sparest gestures or words. Tanya hadn't spoken in quite some time at this stage, and I certainly wasn't expecting her to speak now. She turned to me, smiling with her beautiful brown eyes, reached out to hug me, and spoke the simple words "you're so good." In my darkest moments, when I'm thinking what I could have done differently, I think of Tanya speaking those words. It never fails to provide relief; never fails to bring tears. When I reflect on the seemingly endless depth of pain of losing Tanya, I must remind myself of how the pain pales in contrast to the beauty of experiencing and sharing life with her. Steve

When I was responding to William, it actually occurred to me that referring to studies that cited that men don't fare as well after the death of their spouse as women do might be misinterpreted, but I erred on the wrong side. I'll take the responses from KayC and Karen as a signal to be more thorough, or at least more sensitive when responding. I have to remember that what we are going through is a deeply personal experience, and that generalizations can easily be personalized. For the record, I think that comparing pain is a zero-sum activity--there is absolutely nothing of value to be gained in comparing pain. My comparison concerned differences in proficiency regarding dealing with emotions. In my response, I mentioned that, like William, I had read that men don't cope as well as women do emotionally following the death of a spouse. This is a general observation and not intended to diminish anyone else's experience or suffering. It has no reflection at all on anyone's individual experience. I have no wish to prove a point here, only that in my experience, in general, men do not cope as well emotionally as women do. That does not mean that is true in anyone else's experience. I recalled while typing that one of the incredible hospice people forewarned me about something called the "widower effect" and that one of the pamphlets left here actually described what we've discussed here, and that's one of the places I'd read about it. So, I hope I've covered my bases here. As far as men or women doing more, in my marriage it shifted back-and-forth through the years. But, among the folks I know, wives do more for their husbands and families on a day-to-day basis than their husbands do for them, and the three guys I asked today confirmed this without even pondering the idea. My observations/experiences are not everyone else's--I try my best not to impose or universalize them. I hope this clarifies my previous post, and that William, at least, gained something by my response. Hang in there, guy. Whew! - Steven

William, It has been over a year since cancer took my sweet wife, and I frequently feel the same sort of despondence you are experiencing. I note this only to let you know that you are not alone in your feelings of despair. You mentioned previous words to the effect that you had heard somewhere that men don't fare as well after the death of a spouse as women do. I recall reading something similar, also that men feel more secondary losses (my terminology may be off here), because realistically, men often don't do as much for their wives as wives do for them. There are also the types of friendships that women have relative to those men cultivate. Women are more supportive in general in their relationships with each other, and especially so emotionally. Where does that leave us guys? Well, one of the things I was learning from my wife is to be more like a woman! It seems you are doing the right thing--you've met a supportive group of people here, and are sharing your own worries and adding your own words of encouragement to those who might need it. You are among people in a city that aren't providing, at least on the surface, the sort of support you need, and you mentioned that you might be taking steps to join a group that will assist you; I'm certain we all encourage you to do so. I'm sure you know that the feelings you have are normal, and that a support group will understand this. William, I've gone from working as a bouncer many, many years ago and thinking that I was too tough to cry, to experiencing the death of my two best friends, baby daughter and my wife, and coming to the realization that life is tougher than I will ever be, or want, to be. Embrace your tears, they are evidence of your pain and love. They are not an indication of weakness, rather that you have not become hardened to your overwhelming, sad experience. In so many cases, words of comfort are of little help, but I'm sure your wife did not break any promises to you--she did her best fighting cancer just as mine did, and while the loss will never go away, your love of her will remain in your heart as will she, just as she promised. Steve

Kayc, Thank you for the kind words, and for the message of inclusion despite my beliefs. I am new to this sort of community, and haven't looked elsewhere, but you seem to be on target with your description of the caring individuals offering and seeking support. I'm glad you took the time to respond--it had occurred to me that no response to my comments, specifically regarding religious belief, would in itself send a clear message. Now, it looks as if I must read the messages I respond to more carefully--above, I saw a crisis of faith in someone who has a great deal of faith... Steve

William, I'm sure you're not being literal when you say "fill the void" but it's worth mentioning that trying to replace the irreplaceable positions us in a very difficult condition. Many years ago, I worked on art projects, and following the recent death of my wife, I started purchasing all sorts of art-related tools, equipment, media, books--you name it. I have yet to use any of it. Anyone need 12 ostrich eggs? In my case, this approach seems to be of the band-aid variety. I'm trying to address pain with stuff. I'm probably on the right track, but rather than collecting stuff related to expression, I should be expressing--sketching, writing, painting--anything that might help release, or at least address the pain. What do you think?

LarrysGirl, Unless I'm misunderstanding your message, your actions regarding your life, especially whether you are willing to end it, are weighted on your religious beliefs, and what might happen if you were to take your own life. Maybe, the thoughts of a nontheist will help you in some way. I do hope so. I'd feel like I wasn't trying to help you if I didn't suggest that if you aren't already doing so, you should very seriously consider seeking counseling to help you sort your thoughts out. I am on the verge of doing this again myself. I apologize in advance for the length of my response, but my thinking hasn't been particularly clear since the death of my wife, so what might normally take a sentence, takes me fifty. I hope I haven't missed the point of your message; it seems that women often understand better, and commiserate in these situations, while guys try to provide a list of solutions. I should say, that, because of the many references to God on this forum, and my lack of belief in a benevolent deity (or any at all), I'd been mulling over the idea of finding an alternative to this group in helping me with my own coping, as my beliefs will likely be less than popular. Your message caught my attention, and reeled me back in for the moment. I am no longer confused about my beliefs. I share no belief in divine providence. LG, many, many years ago, my search for God led me in a direction I did not expect, and I won't go into the details of my exploration, but in my case, lack of faith has been largely positive. It has allowed me to believe that many people are inherently good--not because God ordains it or that they fear punishment. That being said, I feel quite certain that each of us who have survived the loss of a loved one, and are participating in this forum, completely understand the painful place you are struggling in despite our varying degrees of religious belief/disbelief. I have no way of knowing whether all of those who have lost a spouse (or another important loved one) have actually considered ending their own life, but I feel quite certain that thoughts of no longer living/existing have passed through many a surviving spouse's mind. (Most definitely through mine.) Those who have faith--in an afterlife, in deity, in other supernatural forces, may have the advantage of feeling that they are dealing with a temporary separation from their love. Those of us who don't share faith in these unseen forces may feel that we are dealing with a permanent one. You seem to be in an in-between state, which adds another level of uncertainty. Theists have certainty in these areas where I find none, so those with faith, please bear with me. LG, in my view, all we can be relatively certain of, is that which can be explained without invoking mysticism, supernatural, etc. It seems that THOUGHTS of ending one's life, or more accurately, ending one's suffering with the tool of death, is natural. The actual ACT of killing oneself is, unless under exceptional conditions (in my view), not. The temptation is to universalize one's experience, so I will just share my own without saying I think it should be correct for you too. Another temptation is to all but deify the memory of our loved one, but I hope you'll trust that my description of my feelings toward my wife are as they were during her life. Believe it or not--I DO have a point here! My wife Tanya was the finest person I have ever known. After knowing her and being friends with her, I had never felt actual awe at a person's goodness. Thank the stars she had a weakness; poor judgment in men, and I won the love lottery. I feel complete certainty that anyone who knew Tanya and I well would agree that they had never seen a marriage nearly as happy as ours. In twenty years, I never witnessed her say an unkind thing, purposefully hurt anyone for any reason, or do anything but her best to make life better for herself, those around her, and those she would never meet--that's the unvarnished, absolute truth. My love, feelings and respect for her will shape how I live the rest of my life. I'm not nearly as loving, kind, gentle or giving as Tanya was, but I knew her better than anyone else did, and am the one who can best carry on for her. She died of causes related to breast cancer, and because I feel that my happiest days are over, I need to find a way to honor her life, while making mine useful. I am trying to reframe the remainder of my life to make it worthwhile, because my feelings often echo yours relative to wanting to ride this out without my partner. I really don't want to, but I do want to honor Tanya's life. Honoring her life does not require a belief in a deity. In my case, I'm trying to become more active in fighting the disease that caused her death. Do you think that approaching Larry's death in a way that doesn't necessarily reflect a religious belief, but does reflect your love for him would help you as you travel through this next phase of your life? - Steven

Before you've experienced the death of someone you love deeply, thoughts of how you might deal with such a thing are so obscure. When my Tanya and I found out that her cancer had metastasized, I mistakenly and stupidly thought (at least in my case) that I could 'prepare' for the worst. I thought that while we were hoping that clinical trials and new discoveries might extend her life long enough to realize a treatment that would transform her death sentence into a chronic condition, or even better, a cure, I could approach death philosophically. I don't think I've ever been more wrong about anything in my life, and believe me, I'm wrong often! Each person's experience is different, and I don't pretend that my experience is universal, but for me, preparation for the death of my wife was a fruitless venture. I am a little over a year out from my Sweetie's death, and I don't feel that I've recovered much, if at all. Prior to my persuasive wife's influence, I was not into any kind of therapy, help, or treatment of any sort. We made use of a therapist and I encourage you to do the same if you're open to the idea. It most definitely helped us. Our marriage was always good, but if the possibility for improvement exists, why not take advantage of it? Time may provide the only comfort for your pain, but you will never know if consultation/therapy might help smooth the bumps along the road for you if you don't give it a try. It seems that you already have good insight into the feelings your daughter is experiencing, but a professional might also provide answers or understanding not available to one so close to the situation. Our love survives long after the death of our loved one. This is surely a bittersweet part of being human, though I don't think I would change this part of life, death, and love.

Hi Stallyn, I really feel for you; this is a tough, tough road we're walking, and reading of other's experiences while recovering from the death of a loved one provides, at least, insight, and potentially a light at the end of the tunnel. My beautiful wife (she was my best friend too) died in February of 06' and I have yet to experience the seemingly common occurrence you describe of waking with thoughts that a spouse who has died is still alive. I've never felt that she was going to walk through the door at any minute or any of the other similar sensations that are often described. I don't know whether this is a result of personal makeup, or whether the nature of her death plays a role. Dealing with the death of a spouse is such a solitary experience even when there are others to speak or exchange thoughts with. I do have intermittent dreams with my wife and I living life as we did--happy, laughing often, and always enjoying each other's company. When I wake up, I'm immediately, and painfully aware that I was dreaming. I suppose this is similar to what you just experienced. It feels as though I'm ripping open a barely healing wound each time. If you woke speaking with your wife, it seems you were dreaming of her, and if your dreams are like mine, your wife is alive and well--and very, very real. The waking realization that the person loved most is not alive, but seemed to be moments ago is, of course, painful. I truly wish I had some words of wisdom for you in dealing with this, but I'm muddling through myself. You are not alone though. I for one, have had similar unhappy experiences.