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Cookie, agree. Susan and I didn't get to say goodbye but I have no doubt that she would have told me to try to enjoy the rest of my life. I think she would have said that all the love she gave me should sustain me, and she would be very annoyed with me if it did not. However, it's a lot easier to talk the talk than to walk the walk. I tell her she's not here, she left me, and she doesn't know how much it hurts.

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Mary Beth, your note is one that really worried me.  I wrote a long "word salad" to answer you, but then I deleted it, as I am prone to do often, because I have to ask myself "who do you think you are to try to help anyone when you have such an individually hard time helping  yourself" and so I deleted it.

Kay mentions the waves, and certainly that is a good analogy.  We have to ride the waves of this grief and as afraid of water as I am, I have to stay on top of that wave or I'm a goner.  There was a time I would not have cared to be taken under by the wave, and I guess that is the point of the whole thing.  We have to take a day, another day, a week, a month, a year, and from 2015, this is going into year three, a number of months away yet.  

Cookie, I was going to write to you next and Marty filled in the blanks before I got to it.  My knees do not hurt, I can still walk painlessly (for my knees) but my right hip gives me some problem.  My anatomy from belly button on down to the bottom of my hips has taken all the radiation they can give a person.  I (using my own medical knowledge) would imagine the bones in my hips probably are very weak and orthopedic doctors would tell me to just be careful and that is all they can do to help me.  So, they are encased in a very firm amount of fat, but probably too much for my knees (which can be worked on) to carry.  Of course I have the grief attitude of "what the hell" and do not do anything.  I have to change my attitude to help myself. It is not impossible but at this time feels so improbable.  

Reading Marty's many procedures and her brave attitude toward physical therapy and keeping on keeping on, Cookie, I think we have a challenge to face, both of us.  My cousin, who is my age, and slender, she has had many procedures to hips and knees.  I ask myself..........can I be that brave?  Like the stupid imbecile I feel myself to be most all the time, I have no answer. Sometimes I doubt putting that foot in front of the other.  But, I still have promises to keep................. 

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1 hour ago, MartyT said:

Yes, Cookie, for what it's worth, I have had arthroscopic surgery on my knee, and I can tell you that it took at least eight weeks of supervised (and what I considered to be quite intense) physical therapy three days a week plus at-home prescribed exercises before my knee felt any better. I've had a number of surgeries on my bones and joints over the years, and I've found that forcing myself to exercise and to keep walking as much as possible (first with crutches, then on a walker, then with a cane) was the best thing I could do to promote healing and get better. I know it's hard, and I know it hurts ~ and you're most certainly NOT a baby. Certainly "it could be worse" ~ but what difference does that make? This is YOUR body, your knee and your pain, and you've every right to feel whatever you are feeling.  

Oh, Marty...thanks so much for your words of comfort and support.  It helps. 

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1 hour ago, TomPB said:

Cookie, agree. Susan and I didn't get to say goodbye but I have no doubt that she would have told me to try to enjoy the rest of my life. I think she would have said that all the love she gave me should sustain me, and she would be very annoyed with me if it did not. However, it's a lot easier to talk the talk than to walk the walk. I tell her she's not here, she left me, and she doesn't know how much it hurts.

I really feel for you too......thanks for your kind words.

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@CookieI haven't had that procedure but after I fell May 31, 2017, I injured my knees and toes the worst, although I sustained other injuries as well, and my sister gave me the best advice (she's been through a lot of physical suffering): Keep walking, whatever you do.  And so I did.  Sometimes it was short slow walks.  It took me months of icing, compressing, elevating and although I still have pain, I don't notice it as much because I've grown more accustomed to it, but the main thing is I've retained functionality.  My pain was so great it would wake me up at 1 am and I couldn't get back to sleep.  I wasn't able to do yard work.  Kneeling was out.  But at least I can take my beloved walks!

Marty's answer said it all.  I'm sorry you're hurting.

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I keep seeing this topic and realize that the the largest question always on my mind.  One I will never find an answer to.  All other questions in life have answers but this.  No wonder it haunts us day and night.

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Good Gosh, my sister just suggested that I get my clinician to request home health come out and put me through exercises.  Don't even say this is a good idea at all..  I can call myself old, but mentioning assisted living or nursing home to me, the me that is Billy, comes out.  Watch Grace and Frankie.  Not yet.

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Mary Beth, I'm so sorry that you're feeling this way. Can you say more about what is going on with you? Are you still in touch with your grief counselor? Is there anyone else you know and trust whom you can call? Someone who can sit with you in your pain and listen without judgment to where you are right now? Are you still writing? Can you share with us what's going on in your life right now that's leading you to doubt that you can make it through? You're not alone, you know. Let it out, Mary Beth, and let us in. We're all here for you, holding space for you, caring about you, walking beside you, willing to listen to whatever you need to say . . . 

I read this just now and thought of you, Mary Beth. I invite you to read it now, in hopes that it will speak to your hurting heart: An Open Letter to Bereaved Parents and Others by Dr. Joanne Cacciatore

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Mary Beth, you are definitely not alone in feeling this.  I don’t marvel that I make it thru another day, but I have that 'why bother' feeling chained to my ankle all day long.  I guess I am.still tethered to the edge as I continue to clean, take showers, drag mysef out of bed.  But it takes everrytng I have.and energy and motivation is dwindling.  I do find it helpful to share here as the world.has no patience for it.  Like Marty suggested, maybe if you tried (and I know it’s an effort, to write more we could get a better feel beyond that oh so normal reaction.  It’s totally up to you, but you might get some more helpful feedback to make it thru even another hour if you vented here.  Or needed a pity party as we all have.  

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I went to bed last night with you two on my mind.  Gwen, Mary Beth.  I will do the same tonight.  And Butch.  And those we have not heard from in awhile.  

Mary Beth, I did not want to read what Marty posted.  I quit going to the grief group because it was mostly people who had lost children.  I was sadder when I left the meeting than when I came to it. We have those on our forum who have lost children.  So, I was not going to read it, but I did.  It scares me and my grown children have been dependent on us all their life.  They have had to learn to fly on their own now, except for what I can do ever so often.  My sister too.  My granddaughter.  If Billy was here he would fuss about my worrying.  I wish I could hear him fuss some more.

"We will not cease to exist if we grieve our truth.  We will cease to exist if we do not."

Right at the end, it meant the most to me.  If you take us, one by one and read when we "grieve our truth" you will find many that are/were standing right where you are standing now.  I don't think there is a "happy ever after" to any of our fairy tales.  And, as bad as this stuff hurts, I think there will be times as long as we live when we think we cannot go on anymore.   In between sometimes there will be snippets of distraction.  Happiness?  I am not sure some of us will ever realize what that means anymore.  Maybe.  Until then, we will wait.  And we will go on because "we will cease to exist if we do not."   

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Thanks for the article Marty and thanks for the comments everyone. Cacciatore's article made sense. "Our entire existence has shifted. Even the image in the mirror is unfamiliar. Our own sensory experiences of the world change- sound, taste, touch, sight, proprioception feel altered - time has a completely different and irrelevant quality." 

That is what is happening. My foundation is so shaken. Like everyone else, I am broken. I am in counseling. I reach out to people. I start healing touch tomorrow at Hospice. I am so tired all the time. I do not want to be here. 

I write. I draw. I work endless hours at a full time job then I teach a class one night per week at a part time job. I care for John's dad 3 out of 4 weekends. I go to church. I pray. I go to therapy every week. I know I am running away. I try to be positive and I can't. I can't. I do not want to be here. The love I have for my son is the reason i even exist.

Worn. Out. 

I have lost my self-confidence, my independent attitude. I do not know who I am. I feel unrecognizable to myself. 

I cannot make simple decisions. It is weird because I made the decision to start Divinty School at Wake Forest next fall (an old calling from decades ago), a big decision... One I am confident in being the right one... Yet.... I cannot decide what to fix for dinner or when I go to the deli and stand there 10 minutes because I cannot decide which turkey to buy. What the heck?!? It is turkey...

I am tired, weary, and hurt. I have PTSD from the awful nature of his death and it exacerbates old trauma. Too. Much.

I need a cave to crawl into.

Mary Beth

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Oh, Mary Beth,

If you find that cave and you move into it know that you will not be there alone.  I’ll be waiting at the entrance, as I’m sure many others will be also just to let you know that you are not alone. We sit with you for as long as you need us to.  Dr. Joanne Cacciatore is a favorite of mine. Are you familiar with her book Bearing the Unbearable?  It’s about all of US who are grieving. 

Anne

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20 minutes ago, mbbh said:

I need a cave to crawl into.

You answered your own needs right there.  You (and I am not practicing what I preach), we need just some alone time.  But, I don't want to be alone to "think."  Thinking too much really gets me in trouble.  My idea of a place to rest would be one of those cheap motels where the wind blows hard in west Texas off the beaten path.  Maybe Clarenden or even Bowie, but just some cheap motel that has a big nice TV, nice curtains.  I would bring my own sleeping bag, no bed bugs either.  One of the cheap seedy clean motels and no one to know where I am.  Pay in cash, change my name.  Just a few days.  I think you need that too (maybe not the tumble weed covered motel, but that would be more comfortable than a cave.  

We are told we need to have time for our grief.  I have plenty of time for it.  I was washing my usual five dishes for the day (that keeps the number of unwashed dishes down), and all of a sudden Billy and I were on Brushy Creek back in Arkansas.  Nothing to make me think of it, it just popped into my head. If I don't take my Xanax, I dream of him.  It has been awhile since I reached for him in bed.  We all get hit at various times, seeing all the pictures of his sweet high cheekbones and beard just about put me back a couple of years.  I think that must be one of those Waves Kay talks about.  But, you have a lot on your plate, just like I do.  It is the end of the month and everyone has run out of money and after I get through, so will I have run out.  I ruined my credit, I guess, and it was good.  The RV we bought before Billy passed (his idea), I cannot pull it, neither kid wants to live in it so I pay high insurance on it and the notes each month.  I am not used to "letting something go back" but dammit, no one can use it and I cannot have it pulled and stored.  I don't know what to do now.  They did not give me any directions on what to do..  I feel like a criminal.  I'm still paying for it and the insurance and will have to pay what price is left after it is auctioned.  That RV was mine and Billy's future and I was supposed to go first.  I didn't know what else to do.  It was on Kelli's partner's land 175 miles away.  Repossession.  And the girls in the collections department were very rude to me.  I feel terrible about it, did not know what else to do.  I called and talked to them, told them the situation and asked their opinion.  So, this is what they told me to do.  

Your a woman with a plan.  You are going to be okay.  

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16 hours ago, MartyT said:

Good articles.  I had a pastor that lost his wife and two baby girls when he was young...it didn't help that he was driving.  He went through the same questioning, and the only answer he found was "why NOT me?"  Why anyone?  I've never found an answer, so I quit asking.  Kushner is right...I often felt I did my kids a great disservice by being so fair to them.  Life isn't fair.  How did I prepare them for life when I carefully divided their chocolate bar in half, very equal portions.  They had to learn life's lessons in school where life wasn't always fair.  I remember Melissa got her coat torn on the school bus by a girl that was jealous of her new coat.  They both got reprimanded and Melissa's only part was being a victim.  How is that fair?  My son got passed by for a promotion he well deserved and earned in the Air Force, so a woman who was sleeping her way to the top could get it instead.  How is that fair?  We go overboard as parents teaching our kids fairness and the good guy wins, only to not have life turn out that way for them.  I don't think fairness has much to do with life.  If we get any at all we're lucky.

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10 hours ago, mbbh said:

Thanks for the article Marty and thanks for the comments everyone. Cacciatore's article made sense. "Our entire existence has shifted. Even the image in the mirror is unfamiliar. Our own sensory experiences of the world change- sound, taste, touch, sight, proprioception feel altered - time has a completely different and irrelevant quality." 

That is what is happening. My foundation is so shaken. Like everyone else, I am broken. I am in counseling. I reach out to people. I start healing touch tomorrow at Hospice. I am so tired all the time. I do not want to be here. 

I write. I draw. I work endless hours at a full time job then I teach a class one night per week at a part time job. I care for John's dad 3 out of 4 weekends. I go to church. I pray. I go to therapy every week. I know I am running away. I try to be positive and I can't. I can't. I do not want to be here. The love I have for my son is the reason i even exist.

Worn. Out. 

I have lost my self-confidence, my independent attitude. I do not know who I am. I feel unrecognizable to myself. 

I cannot make simple decisions. It is weird because I made the decision to start Divinty School at Wake Forest next fall (an old calling from decades ago), a big decision... One I am confident in being the right one... Yet.... I cannot decide what to fix for dinner or when I go to the deli and stand there 10 minutes because I cannot decide which turkey to buy. What the heck?!? It is turkey...

I am tired, weary, and hurt. I have PTSD from the awful nature of his death and it exacerbates old trauma. Too. Much.

I need a cave to crawl into.

Mary Beth

Mary Beth,

No wonder you're exhausted.  Grief by itself is exhausting and you're doing all this other stuff on top of it!  This at a time when you need time to just sit with your grief.  When George died, I worked full time, was still on the Praise Team (been on it more years than I can count), and taught a Sunday School Class to women on prayer.  But taking care of your FIL three weekends out of four, I don't see how you can do it, AND you still have a son at home!  Can you get someone else to step up to the plate and take on more of that?  You need at least every other weekend at home just to clean house and cook!  You need some time to yourself and I'm afraid you're not getting it.  Is there a Home Health that can come help him?  Yes, you do need a cave to crawl into.

I promise you this, Mary Beth, it won't always stay like this.  You will continue to mourn him because the missing him doesn't go away, but the intensity of the pain you feel won't stay at this level.  Eventually the tears dry up and you get more used to life as it is for you now, and on down the road you'll build a life for yourself that you can live.  But you're not there yet, right now your whole world has been turned upsidedown and uprooted.  Yes, you can do this, the same way all of us have and are, one day at a time, but try to free up some time for yourself.  Even if it means (horrendous thought!) skipping church one Sunday and staying home under the covers.  

I don't know what your job is like, if you love it, great.  If you don't, maybe take one that suits you better.  I lost my dream job a few months after George died and it wasn't fun looking when I was out of work, it was stressful, and then I ended up in a job I didn't like, during the recession.  Thankfully the recession is over and there are jobs to be had, so maybe there might be one that you enjoy?  My pastor's wife just quit her job with the state, working for Children's Services because it was so stressful and the employees weren't treated well.  She got a new job working for a cruise place and she loves it, it has full  benefits and she'll soon be making what she was before, maybe more, with her commissions.  She actually ENJOYS it and it was the best decision she could have made.

Maybe your job is great and it's just everything else piling up on top of you.  What can you do away with?  (Not the therapist if you have PTSD).  Hire a housekeeper?  See if your son can do the dishes?  You need some help, you need some time for you!

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17 hours ago, mbbh said:

Y'all. I don't think I can make it thru this. 

Mary Beth:  I have said those exact same words many times....I do get it....it's 2 and 1/2 years since I lost John, my love.  I'm still here and I still have moments when I say those exact words and feel that way....my heart goes out to you.  You are not alone....it does hurt so much; I'm so sorry.....

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On ‎01‎/‎22‎/‎2018 at 8:20 AM, kayc said:

@CookieI haven't had that procedure but after I fell May 31, 2017, I injured my knees and toes the worst, although I sustained other injuries as well, and my sister gave me the best advice (she's been through a lot of physical suffering): Keep walking, whatever you do.  And so I did.  Sometimes it was short slow walks.  It took me months of icing, compressing, elevating and although I still have pain, I don't notice it as much because I've grown more accustomed to it, but the main thing is I've retained functionality.  My pain was so great it would wake me up at 1 am and I couldn't get back to sleep.  I wasn't able to do yard work.  Kneeling was out.  But at least I can take my beloved walks!

Marty's answer said it all.  I'm sorry you're hurting.

Kayc:  Thanks for the support.  I am trying to keep walking....two 10-minute walks a day right now and hoping to be able to up that before too long.  The worst part of this is my brain.  It's set on the "move" mode for mental health.  John died at 4:30 in the morning and by 9:00 a.m. I had hit the mountain behind my house and hiked for 3 hours, bushwacking through rhododendron, poison ivy, etc., fell several times but I couldn't stop.  I remember feeling like a zombie.  I think it was the only way I could cope initially.  It's really what has gotten me through this far, so I am struggling mightily with having to pull back.  I do a lot of one-legged pushups, arms swings, yoga upper body stretches.....

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15 hours ago, mbbh said:

Thanks for the article Marty and thanks for the comments everyone. Cacciatore's article made sense. "Our entire existence has shifted. Even the image in the mirror is unfamiliar. Our own sensory experiences of the world change- sound, taste, touch, sight, proprioception feel altered - time has a completely different and irrelevant quality." 

That is what is happening. My foundation is so shaken. Like everyone else, I am broken. I am in counseling. I reach out to people. I start healing touch tomorrow at Hospice. I am so tired all the time. I do not want to be here. 

I write. I draw. I work endless hours at a full time job then I teach a class one night per week at a part time job. I care for John's dad 3 out of 4 weekends. I go to church. I pray. I go to therapy every week. I know I am running away. I try to be positive and I can't. I can't. I do not want to be here. The love I have for my son is the reason i even exist.

Worn. Out. 

I have lost my self-confidence, my independent attitude. I do not know who I am. I feel unrecognizable to myself. 

I cannot make simple decisions. It is weird because I made the decision to start Divinty School at Wake Forest next fall (an old calling from decades ago), a big decision... One I am confident in being the right one... Yet.... I cannot decide what to fix for dinner or when I go to the deli and stand there 10 minutes because I cannot decide which turkey to buy. What the heck?!? It is turkey...

I am tired, weary, and hurt. I have PTSD from the awful nature of his death and it exacerbates old trauma. Too. Much.

I need a cave to crawl into.

Mary Beth

Ditto.  I relate to everything you have shared.  Each of us goes through our grief journey in our own unique way and yet the feelings, thoughts, and emotions are similar in many ways. Next month will be three years since my beloved wife, Rose Anne, died suddenly.  I have been writing and sharing here with our friends because it seems these are the people who understand.  

In the beginning, I couldn't imagine living just one day, one moment without my beloved.  Life was flipped, unsettled and nothing was ever like it was before.  I found a place here where I could share all the swirling thoughts in my head screaming to get out... to make sense of this tragedy.  There is no sense to it.  By dealing with all of this grief, each of us learn to cope, share, love and grow together. 

You have so much on your plate and you need some time to decompress even if for just a few minutes each day. The 1st to second year of grief was worse for me and I didn't think it could get worse.  The reality of life begins to settle in.   Many times I feel like I'm not gonna make it.  I have discovered that not all FEELINGS are FACTS but they will eventually point me towards the truth.  

Mary Beth, Just do what you can.  Some days for me breathing is a challenge.  The intensity of the grieve, and pain will lessen over time but that is different for everyone. I chose to live in the NOW as best as I can.  And when the waves of grief come, I realize eventually they will lessen as well..  My heart and prayers are with you daily.  We all care about you and want to fix it for you but we can't even fix ourselves.  It helps to know that you are never truly alone.  We are here for you... We understand.  <<< HUGS >>> - Shalom 

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On 1/22/2018 at 5:06 PM, Gwenivere said:

All other questions in life have answers but this.

Gwen, reading all of you  younger ones, even those married over 40 years, I look at my 54 years and at first all I could think of was I wanted 54 more.  Then, and this is my biggest "why."  Why him?  Possibly that is where "only the good die young" comes in.  He knew the #70 for his family was either impossible to reach or was the end.  Oh, I said we were gonna get to  the 80's for him.  So when it happened it was not so much "why" but "why him" and why not me.  I   After a few years I understood him, and he understood me, and I forgave him and he did something I thought he never would do, he forgave me and never mentioned it again.  Oh, I did catch him looking at me sometimes, and I knew the anger look, but he overcame it.  He was such a good person, so why him.  I was not good, I was sick and should have gone first at least twice, so why not me?  It was supposed to be me.  That is my only why now.  Even with my  illness, I will probably live to be 110 cause only the good die young.  Mama was 95.  Proof.

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19 hours ago, Cookie said:

Kayc:  Thanks for the support.  I am trying to keep walking....two 10-minute walks a day right now and hoping to be able to up that before too long.  The worst part of this is my brain.  It's set on the "move" mode for mental health.  John died at 4:30 in the morning and by 9:00 a.m. I had hit the mountain behind my house and hiked for 3 hours, bushwacking through rhododendron, poison ivy, etc., fell several times but I couldn't stop.  I remember feeling like a zombie.  I think it was the only way I could cope initially.  It's really what has gotten me through this far, so I am struggling mightily with having to pull back.  I do a lot of one-legged pushups, arms swings, yoga upper body stretches.....

Good for you, Cookie!  It's hard when our way of coping or the thing that restores us is taken from us or knocked down to such a limited amount.  Two ten minute walks a day (slowly) is good right now.  Up it only by what you feel doesn't cause you further harm.  There's a time to push yourself but not necessarily when you're healing, finding that right balance is essential.  I do remember doing rotational exercises that "pushed" me, just a little at a time, it helped but I was careful not to do further harm.

It's also hard to feel like we've lost control.  I'm someone who relishes being independent.  Not being able to do everything I used to is hard for me to digest!

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Mary Beth,

I fully understand the pain that overwhelms you. The feeling that there is nothing left in this life. The feeling of not knowing who you are anymore. The feeling of having no place or purpose. The feeling of desolation and isolation. The feeling of "stop the world I want to get off of it".

I lost my Tammy nearly three years ago in a way that shattered me. There I was chatting with my lovely 45 year old wife who I loved more than life itself. We were home watching TV after she had just come home from another long hospital and rehab stay. It was suppossed to be a good day. Our life was going to get better. We were going to be those two peas in a pod forever and ever. Six hours later, I was sitting with her in the trauma room at the hospital but she didn't respond ... because she had just gone to heaven.

At that moment my world went dark and colors turned to gray. Happiness was in the rear view mirror. I was a stranger in a strange land. Lost. Confused. Traumatized. Devastated.

I too didn't think I could make it. How could I possibly live in a world without my beautiful, amazing perfect for me wife? How could I carry on? How could I live without her by my side?

Somewhere along the way I found a way. No, this isn't the life I wanted. It's not a life filled with the touch of Tammy or her scent or her smile. But I learned that she is forever in my heart. She is forever a part of me. I'm not just walking in this life as Mitch. I'm Mitch with a lot of Tammy magic sprinkled in. She helps me get through those dark days and motivates me to hang in there.

Life is just too precious to give up. It is a gift. I miss Tammy's love and giving her mine with every fiber of my being. But, if I give up, I'm also giving up on the chance that my life will somehow get better. That I will find meaning or purpose some day. 

The fact is, Tammy never gave up. She faced medical ordeals that could have easily had her giving up. Surgery after surgery, massive life and death infections, sepsis, cardiac arrest. The list goes on. She is and always will be the best part of my life. She is my inspiration.

This life without our beloved does feel impossible at times. I have days where I almost feel like everything is pointless. Useless. Empty. But I've learned to give it another 24 hours and I'm often in a bit better place emotionally. There are no giant leaps in grief. It's a two steps back, one step forward kind of life. Someday, you might just take an unexpected couple of steps forward.

We're here for you and we care.

Mitch

 

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