Fading Away

[rain]

I always loved that descriptive phrase from Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, that the man was possessed of a “heightened sensitivity to the promises of life”. It struck my 16 year-old mind as poetically descriptive, moonstruck even; words that hinted of innocence and wisdom, hope and pragmatism intertwined.

I find myself now at the opposite end of Fitzgerald’s pier, burdened by a heightened awareness of the certainty of loss and the literature of death. Everything I read of bereavement I respond to resoundingly, emotionally. Like that 16 year old girl, I believe that these are the first and best words ever written, and that they were written especially for me.

Today, in the review section of the Times I read the words that have been banging around my head for months. Three months. Three months, six days and counting, I guess. Describing a character in his novel “The Finkler Question,” author Howard Jacobson writes of the widower Julian Libor:

“But Libor — dapper, intellectual and artistic — is losing his energy for argument, fading away after the death of his wife. By all accounts, the relationship was ideal, and he’s heartbroken.

‘How do you go on living knowing that you will never again — not ever, ever, ever — see the person you have loved?” Julian wonders. “How do you survive a single hour, a single minute, a single second of that knowledge?‘”

That, for me, is the definitive question; how do you go on with the loss of half your being, knowing it is gone forever? My husband and I both believed that life is fragile and death is final. We cherished the time we had together, mindful of its transience, and we never let a day go by without letting the other know how much they were loved. Now, like Libor's, my heart is broken.

So the query remains. How does one survive with the knowledge that one's heart is no longer in this world? How does one live a day, an hour, a minute?

I'm not sure I can. Or want to. In search of an answer, I just fade away.

[melina]

When you put it that way, it does sound very depressing and hopeless, and it's really hard for me to read your post and not sob. My heart is broken too and I too feel faded, but I don't want to think we will never see each other again. I was not raised in a religious home, but I do think that there is so much we don't know about life, death and the universe, that we can't possibly know what's to come after death. I choose to hope.

We also knew that life was fragile, and yet we did not tell each other every single day how much we loved each other, or hold hands over the dinner table, or whatever. When you live with someone for nearly 30 years and have four kids to raise, life is hectic. We don't always remember or get a chance to say or do what we should. We had some bad times in our marriage too where it looked like we might not make it. Was our marriage ideal? Probably not. Normal? Maybe - who's to say what's normal.

Without hope in the world, there is no point in living. I hope that I'll see my husband again. I hope he knows how much I loved him, despite the rough patches. I hope he forgives me for things I should not have said, or should have said and didn't. I wish I had been perfect, but I wasn't and never will be. I hope there is a reason why we're here in this world at all. I hope one day I'll get some answers.

Melina

[kayc]

What you wrote is very poignant and heartwrenching...and it's how I feel too. I've tried to create purpose for myself, tried to rebuild my life, tried to go on, and I find myself back to square one, not having accomplished a thing except that now I am perhaps a little more numb. The only thing I find good in my life is my dog and I will someday outlive him...then what? Is that all there is to life is loss and more loss? There has to be something outward which we can pin our purpose on, something not of ourselves, perhaps not even of our making. But what? That is the question...

[rain]

Someone very wise once said, Embrace the questions. Beware the answers.

Thank you both for being so understanding. (( )) It's been a simply awful day. It's nice being able to vent just a little. Your taking the time to share is much appreciated.

[MZM]

How do you go on living knowing that you will never again — not ever, ever, ever — see the person you have loved?” Julian wonders. “How do you survive a single hour, a single minute, a single second of that knowledge?‘”

Thats exactly how I feel. And to be honest, I may be alive/surviving, but Im not living....

[rain]

Exactly.

[abergsma]

I may be alive/surviving, but Im not living....

Amen to that statement.

[sunstreet]

I am sorry for your loss and pain. I remember thinking the same way as you are now in the early stages of my loss. How do I go on without half of me? It will be 7 years for me soon and getting from "existing" to "living" again can happen I believe. I am not totally there yet, but I am further to there than I was yesterday, last week, last month. One thing that I have really learned in my journey that has helped me tremendously is to "exist or live" in the moment, not to worry about yesterday or tomorrow, just today, now this moment, then for me the journey seems tolerable.

Here is a quote from one of my fridge magnets:

I have always

know that at

last I would

take this road----

but I did not

know yesterday

that it would

be today.

... K. Rexroth ...

Courage and Blessings, Carol Ann

[wmjsca]

Wow, Melina. Your post really touched a nerve! I have been going crazy wondering if I was kind enough during his last days. I had really been stessed and frustrated with him, sometimes aggravated with his dependence on me. I feel so guilty now because I didn't know he was on borrowed time. I didn't know he was dying all the while. All the doctors' reports said there was nothing physically wrong, so I thought he was just being stubborn and refusing to get help for depression. I go over and over it in my mind... I remember rushing to his bedside once I learned of the 'biopsy'...I knew then it was something serious. I apologized to him for being unkind at any time. I asked him to forgive me because I only lost my temper because I loved him and just wanted him well. That was the last day we ever talked.

You're right. Life is chaotic and stressful. We don't always say the right things nor voice our love for each other as we should. But, he and I cared for each other and treated each other respectfully, whether we agreed or disagreed. There were times we thought it would end, as well, but we always found a way.

Your statement that you wish you'd been perfect gives me peace, because I know I wasn't. I was merely human and loved him. I miss him so.

[Sharon3]

Melina you really touched a chord with me as well. I know that the love my husband and I had was so deep when we met over 40 years ago but I thought it had weakened over the years...Not until after his sudden death did I realize that it was always there, but life's ups and downs got in the way of recognizing it and acknowledging it to one another. My hope is that somehow he knows how much I loved him, how much I wish I had done more and said more and made our life more. I miss him every day and my life and my heart will never be the same and I have not accepted that, it just is. Thank you for your post.

[Korina]

I too, choose to believe I will see him again. That said, there are days when I look at his picture, and it is simply beyond reason that I will never see him again, at least in this life. It almost seems like he is just away on a trip. It is such a weird feeling, and it makes me wonder if I have truly accepted his death.

Korina

[Deb625]

Hi Korina, I feel like you. I don't know if it's real and I have no idea when or if I will ever believe it to be true. I just know I miss Michael all the time and feel like I'm living life still faking it, until I make it...

Does the reality one day just hit us like a tidal wave or will it come when we're busy? I just don't have a clue what "acceptance" might look like or what it might be wearing when/if it ever comes... I guess we just have to continue to just keep putting one foot in front of the other... Take care, Deb

[abergsma]

Wow, it is like Deb and Korina are ready my mind!!!

Hugs to all

Allana

[Queeniemary]

It is said that you sometimes don't know how much you love someone until they are gone. I think that is true. I knew I loved Michael, but "life" does get in the way, and you never say it enough. But I know that I loved him very much, my heart still hurts thinking about him being gone, and not being able to be with him. I really do believe that I will see him again someday, maybe I chose to believe that, because I cannot stand the thought of any other scenario. We did not have a perfect life together, but we were happy, and enjoyed life. I still cannot believe he is gone at age 62. We had so many plans for the future. Now retirement will be a lonesome journey instead of what we had planned. Korina, I do the same thing, I look at Michael's picture and it is just beyond my comprehension sometimes that he is gone.

Wish none of us had to be on this lonesome road.

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[Dimcl]

I can't help thinking that I am facing a world of hurt for the rest of my life. Knowing that some of you are still hurting so badly after years is very scary, indeed. Glenn has only been gone for a week and a half and I already feel like I'm a shadow. I wander around the house aimlessly, no ambition to do housework, see people, involve myself in anything. Now I find out that this could go on for the rest of my life and I'm only 56...

[wmjsca]

I can't help thinking that I am facing a world of hurt for the rest of my life. Knowing that some of you are still hurting so badly after years is very scary, indeed. Glenn has only been gone for a week and a half and I already feel like I'm a shadow. I wander around the house aimlessly, no ambition to do housework, see people, involve myself in anything. Now I find out that this could go on for the rest of my life and I'm only 56...

Dimcl:

Ditto, at 52....Clint's been gone three weeks today........

[rain]

Here is a quote from one of my fridge magnets:

I have always

know that at

last I would

take this road----

but I did not

know yesterday

that it would

be today.

... K. Rexroth ...

Courage and Blessings, Carol Ann

Thank you for that,Carol Ann. The poem speaks volumes for many beside myself, I am sure. Your fridge magnet is indeed wise.

[Queeniemary]

Dimcl, I have to tell you that it does get easier, with time. You will never forget, and the sadness will always be there. I lost Michael 10 months ago yesterday. Those first few months I thought that I could not make it, there were days of complete fog, and not wanting to go on. That has changed. I am finding that I can enjoy life again. There are still times of severe grief, but the happenings are less often, and I deal with them better. You are so new in this journey, just give yourself over to the grief, and I do believe that we have to grieve. You will get better, you will never be the same person that you were, but you will go forward. My friend Dana (who lost her husband at age 48 about 20 months ago) and I were talking about this very thing last night. We are different people than we were before losing our husbands, and that is the new normal. I don't want you to think that this raw shock and grief is what you will live with forever. I don't believe that is true. You will always grieve, but it will change over time.

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[melina]

How long did it take you, Mary, to feel you could go on? It's been about three and a half months now, and I'm still riding an emotional roller coaster. I no longer want to die - I do want to be happy and enjoy life, but some days are really tough. Now and then I still find it hard to believe he's not here.

Melina

[Queeniemary]

Melina, I don't know if I can give you an exact timeline. It just seemed to happen, and I think the timeline is different for everyone. I believe that at 3 and 1/2 months I was pretty much where you are now. I am going to say that the last two months have been the turning point for me. I was functioning pretty well (at least it looked like it to others) for a while, but I am now finding that I can find joy in life, and can even look forward to things. Don't misunderstand, I still have bad days, but they are just further apart, and not as severe as they were early on. Will I ever forget him, or stop missing him, that is not possible, but my life is here now, and he is not here. Only the memories, which I will never lose are here. Last night was a birthday party for a friend. Another musician friend (a close friends of Michaels) was playing guitar and singing, several of the songs brought memories to me, and filled my eyes with tears. I think that sort of thing will happen the rest of my life. Did I still enjoy the party, yes I did, and the friends, some of which knew Michael, and some who did not. There are always going to be things and events that trigger the grief, but every day makes us stronger.

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[mlg]

It's been 2 years and 9 months and although I don't cry all day every day there isn't a day that I don't get a tear in my eye, a knot in my stomach, a hollowness or some other emotion that reminds me that Tom will NEVER be back. I can still not look to the future. I just take one day at a time and when I make it through I thank God.

A friend of mine and I were talking the other day and it will be 37 years since she lost her first husband. ( I think she's been remarried almost 30 years) She said there are still days that she wonders if there wasn't something she could have done to prevent his death. She still has the coulda, woulda, shoulda syndrome at times. So I don't know if some of us will ever be able to live a totally "normal" life.

My counselor says all he sees is sadness in my eyes. I would love to have that ornery twinkle back, but part of that twinkle was because of Tom.

We each just have to walk this path and its many tributaries in our own way and hope that we finally make it. Best of luck in this journey and keep coming here for help.