KathyG

Shelley, Do you have a friend who lives near you who might be willing to have Chelsea live with him or her? That would allow you to see Chelsea more often. When I lost my husband, I worried that my little dog Josie would have to go to a shelter or might be put to sleep if something happens to me, because the only family I have in this town is my sister-in-law. (She doesn't like dogs.) But I have a good friend who has promised that if Josie ever needs a home, she will adopt her.

Both the ABC show and Dr. Pausch's lecture have hit me hard and given me hope. Suzanne, I felt the same emotions as I watched. But I think I got something more from it. Ever since losing Bill I've been searching for meaning and a new purpose to guide my life. I've prayed every day for help in finding them. When Dr. Pausch talked about his dream of helping other people achieve their dreams, it came to me: that's why I'm still here. I'm meant to do that too. It just feels right.

Maybe your therapist thinks you're enabling your brother's problems by visiting him, or is concerned that you'll get involved with his problems at your own expense. But neither of those things makes sense. Being there for someone who is battling depression and addictions is NOT "babying" them in any way. It took courage for your brother to admit his problems and seek help. But it's hard to stay brave if you get no support, so he needs you. If he were constantly calling you and acting needy, then you'd maybe need to set boundaries for your support of him. But telling you not to go visit him? That's just way off base.

Mariah, I'm so sorry you lost your father, but I'm glad you've found this site. People here are wonderful, and it helps so much to be able to share what you're going through with others who understand because they too have loved and lost - and learn from others' experience what this dark road called grief is all about. Since I lost my husband to a sudden heart attack almost five months ago, I've experienced all the behaviors and situations you listed. Even though each person moves through bereavement in his or her own way, we all seem to run into the same obstacles. So I'll be glad to share with you how I'm dealing with some of these things.

I still think of myself as married, though on tax and insurance forms I list myself as single now. And I still wear my wedding ring. Though I've learned you should never say never, I can't imagine myself in, or even wanting, another relationship. Bill was my second husband - my first marriage was hell. I'd never want to risk getting involved with another guy like my first husband. And I can't imagine finding anyone more right for me than Bill. What we had, I'll never find again. And anything else wouldn't measure up.

I've never had a bad dream about my husband since he died. I wake up the next morning feeling great, but sometimes the realization that he is still gone sends me crashing down. I've learned that if I think of these dreams as visits from him, they're mroe comforting than disturbing.

Fred, Not wanting to communicate when you're deep in despair is definitely not for men only, and I think it may be common to a lot of us who are grieving. I'm not chatty in the best of times, but in those moments when I feel I can't bear to live another second without my Bill - I don't want anyone around and won't talk to anyone who is there. I just shut down. Strangely enough, though, in the past few weeks whenever I've hit bottom, that's when my sister or a friend has phoned me. Sometimes that has lifted my spirits a little. But even when it hasn't and I couldn't help pouring out my misery, God bless my friends and family, because they were kind enough to listen and support me and stay on the line with me until I'm done venting. Is it a coincidence that they just happened to call when I was at my lowest? Maybe, but who knows? Like everyone here, I'm trying to cope by staying active, taking care of myself and going forward one day at a time. But also like everyone else, I feel that nothing has meaning anymore. Years ago there was a hit song, "Is That All There Is?" I ask myself that question often these days. The best I can seem to do (and it does help a little) is to really savor the tiny, brief moments that make me happy. For instance, before when my dog wanted to play, I'd give her a quick pet, maybe play with her for a few minutes and then go back to my chores. Now, I drop what I was doing, play till we're both tired, and hold and talk to her for as long as she wants.

Tori, I'm sorry for your losses, and I think it's wonderful that you've reached out to your brother-in-law. But I have another opinion on "you're doing better than I expected." Not everyone who tells us that means it in the sense that "you exceeded what I thought you were capable of doing." Some people may mean it that way, true, and we can't and shouldn't try to live up to what anyone else expects. But I think that sometimes, the person who makes the comment is really complimenting us. We don't always see ourselves as others see us. So though we don't think we're managing very well - maybe we're really progressing but just can't see the gains we've made because our grief skews our perception. I'm encouraged when people tell me I'm handling my loss well, even when I don't feel that way myself. I know that right now, my view of the world and myself has changed and I don't see things as clearly as I could before my husband died. At least, when I hear that I'm "holding up well," I ask myself, "Am I, really?" And sometimes, I see signs of healing I missed before.

Teny, I also feel like I don't know who I am since my husband died. My grief counselor tells me this is common among widows and widowers. She says that it can take months or even years to rediscover yourself and rebuild your life. And she tells me that when our hearts are broken, no one should expect us to become our old selves again because we can never return to being the people we were before. We can reach a point where we will feel strong and whole again - we will just be different than we used to be. It's hard, I know, to stop reliving the nightmare-like events that happened when our husbands died. I had to watch my Bill die twice - once at home and then again at the hospital after the doctors had revived him. But because I love Bill so much, I don't want my strongest memories of him to be related to how he died. So I try to think about the times when he and I were the happiest, and I try to be grateful because some people never get to know that kind of happiness. You have made it through 16 months since losing your husband, and that by itself is a big accomplishment. You haven't given up in spite of your sadness, and you say that things are easier sometimes - that shows you have grown stronger since losing your husband. You will get through this; may God continue to hold your hand during this journey.

I saw the other thread talking about how so many people expect us to "get over" our losses and "move on." But something happened today that ticked me off. My employer's health care plan includes a health savings account for each associate, and they add extra money to the fund for each person who completes an online health questionnaire - they call it an assessment. (The information is kept confidential; it's supposed to help you identify health-related concerns you should work on.) Anyway, I completed the questionnaire so I'd qualify for the extra money. I expected to get a fairly high score because over the last year, I lost a lot of weight, started exercising and dropped my cholesterol way down. Instead, my score was less than last year's by almost half. Never mind that I've made all these health improvements - I scored badly because many of the questions asked about my emotional state - like whether I feel depressed, how often I feel sad, etc. Even though one of the questions asked if a loved one had died during the past year, the comments at the end of the survey told me that I'm in "serious jeopardy" due to "emotional chaos" and "I should really work harder at relaxing." Work harder at relaxing?! Hello! I just lost the love of my life and they're telling me to relax? And I'm not suicidal, so where's this jeopardy supposed to be coming from? Under the circumstances, I think "emotional chaos" is pretty normal! Yes, it was just a questionnaire. But it was so typical of the way society expects us to rebound from life-shattering grief like nothing happened.

About 18 months before he died, my husband Bill developed dementia, which took away almost all of his short-term memory. He would call me at work 2, 3, 4 times a day (or more) just to touch base or ask me questions (often the same qustions over and over again). His calls didn't always come at opportune times, so they sometimes got on my nerves - though I never let him know that. He couldn't always remember he had called me earlier in the day, but when he did remember he'd say, "It's me again, your pest" and I'd laugh and answer, "Hello there, Mr. Pest." What I wouldn't give for just one more phone call from him. He also would tell me several times each day how much he loved me, and he'd ask, "Are you tired of me saying 'I love you'?" I told him no, I'd never get enough of it. And I never will for sure, now that he's gone.

Lily, Reading your last post was a little spooky, because it describes to a T how I feel. I have the same inability to read or feel happy for more than a brief moment here and there. I'm also trying to get my house and my affairs in order so things will be easy for whoever is left behind when I go. The first things I did right after making my husband's funeral arrangements were: I had a will drawn up, and I gave my niece and nephew the key to my house in case I don't answer someday when they try to contact me. I see the progress I'm making toward fixing up the house, and it brings me a little satisfaction. But I still often feel like I'm just going through the motions. I wouldn't say I'm suicidal, but if I had a potentially-fatal illness, I don't know if I would seek treatment. I'm still standing - but living without my husband doesn't feel like much of a life. If I'm still on this earth because there's some mission I have yet to fulfill, I don't know what that mission is, though I have prayed and prayed for guidance.

Thanks, everybody, for contributing to this thread. I thought I was doing so well, but all this week I've been on a continuous crying jag, missing Bill more than ever. The pain feels very fresh again. It really helps to know that I'm not the only one struggling like this, and to read your encouraging words. I'm a cause and effect kind of person, so it's hard for me to understand why these spells of deep grief so often come without any warnings or apparent triggers. I'm trying to accept that these spells are unpredictable and come when they will, and that I just need to roll with them when they happen. I wonder, though, if I'm dwelling too much on the pain caused by losing Bill and not focusing enough on the love and joy we shared during the years we had together. I do have many happy memories, and I believe that Bill is still with me, though on the other side of the veil between the worlds. But it hurts so much not to be able to hear his voice or put my arms around him. And I feel so alone.

William, Hold your head up and know that Myrna and God walk alongside of you. In her honor, here are the words to a beautiful, powerful song, "To Where You Are" by Josh Groban. We included the song in my Bill's memorial service, and I fall apart every time I hear it. But I love its message. TO WHERE YOU ARE Who can say for certain / Maybe you're still here I feel you all around me / Your memory's so clear Deep in the stillness / I can hear you speak You're still an inspiration / Can it be (?) That you are mine…Forever love And you are watching over me from up above Fly me up to where you are / Beyond the distant star I wish upon tonight / To see you smile If only for awhile to know you're there A breath away's not far / To where you are Are you gently sleeping / Here inside my dream And isn't faith believing / All power can't be seen As my heart holds you / Just one beat away I cherish all you gave me everyday 'Cause you are my…Forever love Watching me from up above And I believe / That angels breathe And that love will live on and never leave Fly me up / To where you are Beyond the distant star / I wish upon tonight To see you smile / If only for awhile To know you're there A breath away's not far To where you are I know you're there A breath away's not far To where you are Listen here

Wendy, my sympathy and prayers go out to you and your family. Knowing that someone's time is near doesn't do much to ease the pain of losing them. I hope that in time, your joyous memories of her will last longer than this pain you feel now.

Hi Rosemary, I'm very sorry you've had to join the ranks of us who have been left behind. My husband also died of a heart attack, right before Thanksgiving, and as with your husband, Bill's cardiologist had given him a clean bill of health. I can't add much to what others here have so eloquently said about grieving. But you mentioned that you "just do things for today," so I wanted to tell you, keep going forward that way. It helps. You may even find at times that you have to take things one hour at a time, or even minute by minute, in order to cope. That's perfectly OK; you need to be easy on yourself right now. Don't even try to think about what your purpose is or should be now. You'll discover it gradually, and it will probably take some time before you can look ahead to the future. It's now three months since my husband passed, and I'm only starting to be able to think ahead as far as next week. It's hard to say which is more painful for us: having a loved one taken away suddenly or watching them suffer for months before dying. In the latter case, when death comes, although we hurt it's comforting to know that our dear one's long time of pain is over. But if they die suddenly, at least we know their suffering was brief.

Though I know forgetfulness is a normal symptom of grief, I'm feeling frustrated and angry about it. I get upset when I forget important things like tasks at work or, at home, I don't remember to put the trash out on the proper day or I forget the due date for a bill. My memory was sharp before Bill died, I rarely forgot anything, and I don't like myself being such an airhead now. Not at all. I thought lack of sleep might be contributing to my bad memory. But now I've found a cure for my insomnia and am getting plenty of rest - yet I'm still forgetful. I constantly make to-do lists, but don't always remember all the items I need to add to them. I'm a little scared, and wonder how long these memory problems will last. They're more than an inconvenience. I'd like to not worry about this and tell myself, "It's OK. It's just the grief doing this, you're not senile." But I worry because my forgetfulness hurts my performance on the job, and sending a bill payment in late doesn't do wonders for my credit rating. Any suggestions, o wise ones? When does it get better? What has worked for you?

Karen, I'm so happy for you! What beautiful and wonderful proof that love lives on forever! Your Jack must have been a dear, sweet, thoughtful man. He still loves you as much as ever and wanted to remind you he's there and call on your memories of past Valentine's Days. My Bill has sent me several such gifts since he died, so I know how thrilling and astonishing it feels when you find them. Yesterday I stayed home so a local charity could pick up some furniture I donated to them. After the movers left, I had planned to read some documents I brought home from work. But suddenly I felt sleepy and for the next four hours, had dreams of Bill. I didn't fall asleep because I was tired - I'd had plenty of rest the night before. So I'm thinking Bill brought on the fatigue in order to pay me a Valentine visit.

When family members fight over the money and possessions left behind after someone passes, greed usually is involved. But I think that often, there's more going on. It's not just about the money; it also has a lot to do with family dynamics. If a son or daughter thinks or feels like their parents loved their siblings more, gave them more gifts and financial help, etc. - when the parents die, the child who feels slighted equates the estate with the parents' love, and wants more of it to compensate for what they didn't get from the parents in life. They things they'll go after won't always be the most expensive items; they may be the items most dear to the departed parents. For example, suppose that a mother's most cherished possession was a collection of china dogs. Even if the dogs aren't financialy valuable, they're valuable to the woman's daughters because of what they meant to their mother. So they may both try to claim the deceased's favorite items to "prove" they're superior. I don't think this is true in every case. But I've seen "Mom loved you best" scenarios ignite greed more than once.

Is it an after-life gift from your spouse when you suddenly find pictures and images of him/her you didn't know existed, or thought were lost? I'd like to think so. I've been cleaning out a spare bedroom I'm converting into an office, so I expected to find forgotten items I didn't know I had. But several weeks ago when I was putting together a photo board for Bill's memorial service, and in the weeks since, I was upset because there were so few pictures of us together. Neither of us liked to be photographed, so I thought I had only our wedding pictures. Now, in the past two days, I've found a dozen pictures of Bill and me from several different occasions, ones I didn't know about. And then as I was going through some old VHS tapes, I found a cassette labeled "Phoenix Fire Department Rescue Services." Couldn't imagine what it was, then I remembered - in 1999, Bill had had a heart arrhythymia episode but was saved by two of his students and the paramedics. Afterward, the Fire Department filmed an interview with Bill to help publicize their rescue services. I'll need to have the tape converted to a DVD - but now I'll be able to see him and hear his voice again each time I watch. It's going to be difficult to view the first few times (I know I'll go to pieces). But what a wonderful treasure to find. Thanks, honeybee! I love you always.

Art, To answer your question about why your wife hasn't contacted you, here's what Allison Dubois says on her web site (she said basically the same thing at the seminar on Saturday): "If the deceased doesn't contact you ... does that mean that they don't love you? "No, people who are grieving are often blocked by pain and the deceased has to find another way to contact them, through a friend etc. Sometimes it's just a matter of time. As I describe in my book 'Don't Kiss Them Good-Bye' when I lost my own dad even being a medium didn't allow me to see him. It took me two years before I could hear him. "Don't force it and be sure to tell the deceased what you need from them, not as a challenge but from your heart. It also has to be within their power, like if you requested a “visit” from them in a dream. This is in their power, every night go to sleep and let them know that your heart is open to them and that you'll patiently await their appearance. If you ask them to come back to life then that wouldn't be in their power. So take it at your own pace and you'll find that many prayers are answered." A few more lessons from yesterday: - Those we loved are always around us, whether we perceive them or not. They want to maintain their relationships with us as much as we want it. - Allison says that often people ask her, "Why is he (or she) gone but I'm still here?" Her response is, you are still alive because your purpose on earth is not yet fulfilled, and you have more to accomplish before your time on earth is done. - Pets do cross over and are reunited with their human "parents". - Allison confirms what Suzanne said: sometimes the dead speak to us in subtle ways, so we have to look for the signs they send. She cautioned us that things we may try to explain away as coincidences are not - they are usually communication attempts by our loved ones. Art and Suzanne, I'm glad I've helped by passing along what Allison told us. You might also want to check out www.allisondubois.com, because she offers more information and resources there. Her next seminar will be March 3 in Atlanta. But you can also find out more about her from reading her books; her web site will tell you more.

That research is fascinating. Developing that 40% of happiness you can control can be compared to gold mining: -- Some days, you find nothing but solid rock. So you accept that day and place as unproductive and move on. -- Most days, you find at least a little vein of gold buried in the rock. You dig further to bring forth as much of the gold as you can, and sometimes in the process you stumble on a bonanza. -- Other days, when everything seems to go right, you hit the mother lode.

Today, I had the good fortune to be in the audience for the first session of a lecture tour by psychic medium Allison Dubois (for those who don't know, she's the inspiration for the TV show "Medium"). I almost didn't go because I was afraid it would turn into a hokey fishing expedition where she'd c alling out, "I sense that someone in the audience has lost a loved one whose name begins with a J..." But it wasn't that way at all. Allison talked freely about life after death and what it's like to receive and pass on messages from people who have passed on. She did this in a very credible, sensible, straightforward way - no hype or baloney. The lessons she shared with us seem to validate the life after death communication experiences that the members of this site have shared with each other. If she's right, love does live on after life and those times when we feel we've been contacted - we really have been. Some of what Allison said, I've heard before from other sources or thought to myself "maybe that's how it is." But she puts these concepts together better than anyone I've heard before. I took notes, and below are some key messages Allison gave (not in any particular order). Some of them applied directly to what I've been through with Bill, and this impressed me and made me feel I was meant to be there to hear them. Allison says her experiences with the dead have taught her that: - People in a coma are aware that we're with them and hear what we say to them. She said that during many of the readings she has done, the deceased have referred to things their wives, sons, etc. told them while they were comatose. - People who have cognitive disorders (Alzheimer's, dementia) live simultaneously in both this world and the next. When a dementia patient claims to have seen her mother who died years ago, we tend to think she's hallucinating. But Allison says these encounters are real; we just can't perceive them as the patients do. She added that because of this, when they die cognitive disorder sufferers have an easier transition than the rest of us. - We aren't at fault if someone dies in spite of our attempts to save them. Allison states that our time of death is a fixed part of our individual life path that anyone else's efforts can't change. - The departed send us messages when they want us to do something for them. She said a husband who died without completing an important task might send his wife signs that he wants her to finish it. On the other hand, if we need something from a loved one who passed, they will hear us if we ask. - The departed don't want us to forget them, and they love it when we talk about them or do small things to pay tribute (like supporting a cause that was important to them, or thinking of them while eating their favorite food, or wearing jewelry that was theirs). - Many of us believe that when we die, our physical suffering ends and our spiritual bodies are restored to full health. Allison confirms this, but adds that when a person who has passed reveals himself to her, they often look they way they did when they were happiest on Earth. For example, a man who died in his 90s might appear as a little boy, or a woman who loved motherhood might appear pregnant. There was much more to the lecture that I won't describe. But I feel a little more at peace because it addressed questions that have been troubling me.

Has anyone else found that sometimes the same things that make you smile also bring on the tears? Lately I feel like I've been split into two people. One's hopeful, trying to find her way and figure out how to rebuild her life, but the other, bitter side thinks nothing matters and wants only to be reunited with her husband. I alternate between these two personas, sometimes within minutes -- which scares me. Can't say either "side" is winning, because at this point both sides seem to be evenly matched. For example: today I was gathering up Bill's old lesson plans and teaching notes, and out of one binder fell some beautiful photos of us together, taken not very long ago. I felt like they were a gift from Bill that he meant for me to find, and was happy. But in almost the same second I broke down and had a long, hard cry. I guess the mood swings are normal. But wow, are they exhausting!

Drew, I wish I could predict how long it will take before you feel better but the fact is, everyone works through grief at a different pace and no one can foretell its length. Constantly being asked how you are begins to feel old, I know. In about another month or so, don't be surprised if people stop asking you and start expecting you to return to "normal," and "get on with your life" as though nothing ever happened. The extra attention you receive when you're newly bereaved fades away quickly, and when it does you may feel even more dejected and lonely than you do now. I tell you this not to make you feel worse, but to let you know ahead of time (based on my experience and others') what the next few weeks may bring. I can relate to your disenchantment with your faith. It sounds a lot like what happened to me during my first marriage. My then husband had me and everyone else convinced that he was a devout Catholic. I became one too, but when my spouse turned out to be an abuser and womanizer (yet still claiming to be religious), his hypocrisy sickened me so much that I stopped going to church and for a long time, couldn't even pray. But after we divorced and then other things in my life changed, my spirituality returned - although in a different way. You're right, you can't go back to being the person you were before, nor can your relationship with God be as it was. Loss changes a person forever. But this period of trial you're going through now may actually end up making both you and your faith stronger, after you're able to get past the hurt and sorrow you're feeling now. Right now, grief is managing you and me, and the only way we can stop that is by somehow learning to manage grief. I don't quite know what it takes to do that; I'm still learning about grief myself. But I know it can be done. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. If you can find scattered moments of happiness here and there in these dark days, enjoy and appreciate them without feeling guilty. They will help you to survive and remember that (to quote George Harrison) "It's not always gonna feel this gray/All things must pass/None of life's strings can last/And I must be on my way/And face another day." Don't give up! *gives virtual hug*