Bad News

[mfh]

Marty, I LOVE this definition....Thank you.

[Queeniemary]

Marty, thank you for sharing the words of Lou LaGrand, they are perfect and I am going to print them off, and put them on my fridge. Thank you, Thank you. and I also love the definition of fairies.

Harry, my heart hurts for you, with another loss in your life looming. I hope the words that Marty shared will help you a little. Remember we are all here for you (and all the others), in Ozark slang "we gots your back"!

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[kayc]

Marty, I LOVE that definition of fairies! I will have to pass that on to my daughter, she loves fairies.

Harry, you have been through too much suffering lately, and I agree with you about Buddha's statement, but he is right in that we do have a lot of suffering in life. I agree with YOU that we don't let it define us, but we are shaped and molded by it as well as by our determination and attitudes.

fae, It sounds like you are getting a lovely kitchen, you will have to post a picture when it is done!

[Wifflesnook]

Harry I am so very very sorry about your friend. Marty thank you for that quote from Louis. I have his book and I think I need to look at it again. I think that quote, harsh though it is about suffering, is helpful to me.

I had to write to yet another official person today and send off Pete's death certificate and will which forces me to confront his being dead which I still (still!) don't really beleive. But maybe that is because he is here despite everything. How weird do I sound sometimes?

[mfh]

Jan, you do not sound weird at all. You sound like someone who is struggling and fearful and very open and honest about where you are on this journey. I wonder what "really believe" would feel like or be like for you if you did "really believe"? What does that mean to you? I think it can have a lot of different meaning for different people. IF you choose to respond to my question and only IF. You mention it off and on and I know it is a struggle for you. So thought I would ask.

[HAP]

Dear friends,

Thank you all. Marty, I love the proverb. And sometimes they do seem to want to build a nest up there. I keep trying to chase them away, but their poop seems to be everywhere lately--and sometimes cleaning up that mess is worse than dealing with the nests. I am sometimes reminded of Alfred Hitchcock's film, The Birds. Annoying little bleeps.

I just have to keep moving forward--one second at a time, one step at a time. Every day has a challenge in it--but every day also has some hope in it. I'd like to understand the why of all of this but it ultimately doesn't matter. I'm doing what I'm doing until I'm done with doing it. That may be a long time from now or it may be tomorrow.

Marty's proverb reminds me of a teaching story: An old monk and a young monk were walking on a rainy day between two monasteries that were some distance apart. They came to a river where the ford was under water. A young and beautiful woman was sitting there weeping because the river had become to deep for her to cross--and she needed badly to get to the other side. The older monk hoisted her onto his back and carried her across the stream--much to the dismay of the younger monk who could not figure out why his master had broken their vow not to associate with women. As they walked, he troubled himself with trying to figure it out.

After an hour or two, he could no longer stand it. "Why did you pick that woman up and carry her? It violates our vows. I cannot figure this out," he blurted.

The older monk looked at the younger with great patience: "Compassion moved me to help her. I carried her across the water, set her down, and continued our journey unencumbered. You, on the other hand, are still carrying her."

I seem to be carrying a lot of dead people with me lately. I wish I could set them down as easily as the old monk did that woman. Jane and I always said our work was with the living. We could do nothing to change or help those who had died, but could do much to change the future of those who were yet alive. It is why we both believed I would recover from her death more quickly than I have--and why I feel guilty sometimes. The time I spend in the tsunamis is time taken from the living.

At this point, I know better, intellectually. But emotions are not logical. They play by a different set of rules. And the rules of grief are further complicated by the rules of love. As many of us have said, "The deeper the love, the deeper and more lasting the grief." I can do nothing for Jane. I can do little further for my friend Katherine. But there are living people I can--and should--be working to help.

There is a film that came out this week about some SEALs in Afghanistan. I have not seen it--and won't. But there is a line in the TV trailer that speaks to me: "I'm hit," one soldier says to another. "We all are, brother. Can you fight?" the other replies. "Yeah, I can fight."

Life wounds all of us, but we cannot let those wounds stop us from fighting for the things that matter.

So we wrap a bandage around our wounds, smile at our challenges, and keep working to make the world a better place than we found it.

Peace,

Harry

[enna]

"Life wounds all of us, but we cannot let those wounds stop us from fighting for the things that matter." from Harry

We all matter, so we continue to fight.

Anne

[Queeniemary]

Thank you Harry, I liked the teaching story. We all carry dead people, so many. And yes, Anne, in regards to what you said about Harry's comment on the trailer, we do all matter, so we continue to fight. Not easy, but we do it. With a little help from our friends.

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[HAP]

Dear friends,

My friend Katherine died about 2:50 p.m. in a hospital in Virginia. Her son and and one of her sisters were with her.

I had not heard from her since she was supposed to go up to NIH last Tuesday. Because of the snow, she never got there. She was admitted to the hospital down there on Thursday of last week when her legs completely failed her that morning.

Her sister called tonight while I was out setting up for the ACS dinner tomorrow night. She left me a message that she had some news about Katherine and asked me to call her. I called her when i got in and she told me what had happened.

They will do a celebration of her life in the spring in Rhode Island, which is what Katherine wanted.

Have I said recently how much I hate cancer?

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, I am so sorry. It just keeps happening in your life. I think we all hate cancer and I bet there is not a person who has not lost someone to it. But you keep losing way too many and I am so sorry.

Mary

[feralfae]

Oh, Harry,

I am so sorry.

We joined with you in holding on to hope, and I know the disappointment and loss are settling into a new wave of grief for you right now.

I hope you have some friends around to hold you and comfort you these days as you go through this very sad and difficult time. I am praying for a respite from loss that you will have time to take some slow breaths and heal from the sadness. You are going through so very much.

I am just so sorry.

Peace to you.

fae

[kayc]

Oh Harry, I am so sorry! Will you be able to make it to Rhode Island? It seems like this was very quick. You have just had too much, I pray things start turning around for you.

[MartyT]

I'm so sorry to learn this very sad news, Harry. We are with you in your pain as we hold you in our hearts. I pray that on another plane your friend Katherine is now walking with Jane . . . ♥

[enna]

Harry, this is sad news for you and for those of us who love you. I am sorry to hear about your friend, Katherine's death. Please accept my deepest sympathy. I just know you will continue your work with those living as you once again mourn a friend who is no longer with you. Anne

[Queeniemary]

Harry, so very sorry to hear of your friend Katherine's death. No words really help, just know you are being held warmly in our hearts, and hope you feel some comfort in that. Heart hurts for you. I hate cancer also, it did not take Mike, but it took my Mom and Dad and oldest sister....... {hugs}

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas

[HAP]

Dear friends,

What follows is a post I have made to several other places this morning:

Yesterday afternoon I lost a very old and dear friend I went to high school with. We had not seen or heard from each other in over 40 years when she wrote me a note last February.

In March, she was diagnosed with a recurrence of triple negative breast cancer--a form of the cancer for which we have no reliable treatments. She did not tell me about that until late last summer. We tried several times to get together but the weather and her health constantly intervened.

High school was a very dark time in my life. I had few friends and was bullied relentlessly. I was also working through the implications of Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech and the writings of Thoreau and Gandhi and what those things meant in the context of my own life. Katherine was one of a small group who did not laugh at me or think I was completely strange. They saved my life. I might have committed suicide or become a murderer but for their benign influence.

Katherine saved me again on New Year's Eve in 1970. I had had the worst two weeks of my life to that point--and I had plenty of bad weeks to compare them to. I went into my room that night with a bottle of brandy, a handful of records, and my notebook, intending to drink myself into a stupor and write tons of bad poetry. It was the night I might well have turned into an alcoholic.

I'd had a half a shot of brandy when the phone rang. Katherine was on the other end of the line--did I want to go out for some coffee?

We sat in the parking lot of a fast food joint until sometime after midnight, drinking coffee and talking in her parents old Volvo. We didn't kiss or even hold hands. We were just two friends sitting in an empty parking lot.

She found her first serious boyfriend that spring and we saw less and less of each other. In the fall, I moved to Boston, went to school, and fell in love. She moved to Amherst and did likewise.

We met one more time before losing track of each other entirely. I was in my first semester at UMass-Boston. She was spending a semester there. We were in the cafeteria for lunch. She was with her boyfriend. We said, "Hi," and went off to sit with our individual friends. I never saw her again.

There is nothing more I can do for my old friend. We spent hours on the phone this fall trading memories of our youth and what we have done since. In one of our last conversations she said those conversations had taken her away from her pain--both physical and mental. Truth be told, they drew some of my pain as well. Living without Jane remains the most difficult journey of my life. It is a challenge and a hurt I cannot begin to describe--and one I know will not end until my own life does.

Their work is over. Mine is not. And that work--though it be informed by their lives--is with the living. So I say to each of you, put down your hatred and your anger and love one another. Together, we can kill cancer. Together, we can slay heart disease. Together, bound by our love for each other, we can do anything.

Be well. All of you.

Peace,
Harry Proudfoot

[HAP]

Dear friends,

Thanks to each of you for your kind words this morning. Marty, the image of the two of them walking together brings me to tears--and terrifies me at the same time. They know too much about me.

Tonight is the Relay Kick-off dinner. Many friends will be there. It is always an emotional night--and will be made more emotional by this and the knowledge that a number of folks will not be there because of family members who are in crisis as I write this: a husband who has had two stomach operations since New Year's and faces a third in two weeks; another husband who was operated on this morning for growths on his vocal chords; and a brother-in-law who just had a liver transplant because his cancer had eaten his own.

Shortly, I will have some lunch, meditate, and maybe take a nap before going out for tonight's activity. Life will go on. As Anne says, unprompted, above, my work is with the living.

Peace,

Harry

[kayc]

You had a true friend in her. I have lost track of many dear friends over the years, people that once were an integral part of my life, but they stay in your heart and someday we'll meet again when we're no longer bound by time or place.

[feralfae]

Dear Harry,

What a wonderful and inspiring letter, thank you.

I am so sorry for your loss, because it is not merely the loss of an old friend, which would be enough, but also the loss of a link to your own life history and the forming of your present identity. I think sometimes I mourn the loss of the Me who was Doug's wife and partner almost as much as I miss the Us who were partners, playmates, and life celebrants together, and as I miss Doug's living presence in my life.

How do we separate these losses? There does not seem to be any gentle or clear-cut way to compartmentalize the losses: they blend together into one enormous emptiness that seems to go on forever.

I think that on some days we must learn to navigate the bits of life that are left, stepping from island to island of life and purpose, meaning and love, while acknowledging the empty chasms as now being a part of our existence. This forum is an island to help me to learn how to manage the losses and survive. Some days I am sure we are all going to make it, and some days not so sure.

Yet, we go on, and you inspire me as do so many here. Thank you for your presence and your persistence. You are a hero, Harry.

I hope the event this evening brings some solace and more inspiration for you. Your spirit is remarkable.

Peace to you, and

*<twinkles>*

fae

[Wifflesnook]

Dear Harry, I am so very sorry for the loss of your friend. It would have been so good for you both to have more time together. And Fae, I love the way you expressed that about how we have to navigate around. It feels like that to me. I'm busy at the moment writing a article and doing some research. Pete would be (is?) pleased that I have something to keep me interested in the world. But when I stop working I have to look up and confront my situation, alone, though with my Pete somehow inside me.

Yesterday I went to a meeting attended by a person who in September was diagnosed in his early 40s with motor neurone disease. He was there in a state of the art wheel chair, determined to carry on being an important contributor to this meeting (he is a very high powered person in an important organisation). I felt very moved by his attitude, and counted myself lucky to have had so many years of good health with my Pete the same. We just have to, as you say Harry, be with the living. Do what we can. Our loved ones who are no longer here bodily would want that I know. Hell it isn't easy though. Like all of you I find the loneliness so hard. No one to really share with. But the forum is wonderful. Jan

[mfh]

Dear fae, I think that we tend to lose site of the loss of our identity as a spouse, wife, partner. It is good for you to bring it up here as I am sure others here also ponder that loss among so many losses created by the death of our spouse/partner. Being "half of a whole" couple and losing that partnership/role is huge. Sort of like walking around with half of us missing and I know that we talk about that but we seem to focus on the person who died (spouse/partner) and not as much on the role/identity we lost when that person died.

Perhaps others have input on this.

Mary

[enna]

The words in the song “If I Could Be Where You Are” by Enya just popped into my head when Mary mentioned being “half of a whole” now that we are without our spouses, partners, or significant others. We are looking and longing to find out who we are without our spouses. If only we could be where they are. . .is what seems to be the most natural thought.

It is difficult to think that we have every right to be gentle with ourselves during our grieving but that is what we have to do. We are left to find a new wholeness while at the same time fusing that love we have for our significant others into making us who we are going to be.

I struggle with who I would have been if Jim were still with me. How different my life would be. I know that is not the reality though so I focus on what I can do without him. Not something I want to do rather something I have to do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOo2QxJJKvs

[mfh]

Yes, Anne...it does feel like being half of a whole but, of course, it was two wholes merged. The bottom line is we lost a role, an identity in a sense, though I still think of myself as Bill's wife and still married. That is just how I feel. So it is a matter of figuring how new passions, new focus. Yes, I hear you...how different your life would be if Jim were alive. It is indeed hard to imagine. Yesterday on Bill's birthday, I wondered how he would have aged (83 yesterday) if Alzheimer's had not attacked. We both, we all, like to think our lives would have continued without any pain but we know at some point that pain free life would have ended. also. So the thoughts and feelings roam around in our minds and hearts with no answers in terms of what might have been but eventually some direction and answers in terms of what next. And i think those answers come at different times and in different ways for each person.

And yes, gentle with ourselves we must be...as Tara says...hands over heart: "I love you sweetheart".

[kayc]

All of my life I have tended to feel more valued/valuable as a wife than as a single person. Of course I know that to be false...I have been married and not valued except with George. I know my value lies in ME, not in my marital status, but still, it took me a few years to shed that feeling, even though I knew it to be inaccurate. Part of it is because of how SOCIETY treats/views women in their singleness as opposed to those who are married. Perhaps they think if someone CHOSE to marry this person, they must be valuable? I don't know. It's faulty because here we are, widowed, and someone DID choose to marry us and still we are single, and still we face slights by society. Thankfully, not EVERYONE in society subscribes to this view or acts the part, but enough that I have felt it.

I've had to work hard at reestablishing my identity. I used to be known as "Melissa and Paul's Mom", and as "George's Wife". Now I'm just me. I've had to learn that's okay. If no one else values me, I will value myself.

[Queeniemary]

Harry, beautiful post about your friend. How fortunate you were to have found her again, even if only for a brief time. So sad you had to lose her so soon.

Kay, I am not sure I have ever felt devalued as a single person, either before I was married to Mike, or after his death. Maybe living in my small hometown most of my life makes a difference, I don't know. I know so many people, and grew up here. Yes, we do have to learn how to function as a whole without the person with whom we expected to finish out our lives. I think in some ways I have been very fortunate, being involved in the theatre group. We both were very involved, most of our spare time was devoted to this group, so after Mike's death, I just continued on, and that has been very good for me. We all miss Mike and he is mentioned often....such as Mike Bishop would have loved this, or remember when he played......(any number of roles). Many of you do not have people willing or anxious to talk about your lost loved ones, and that, to me, is very important....the memories of Mike.

I know my life is still quite different than it would have been if Mike were here. We would both have retired by now, and some of the traveling we had planned would have started. I still go a few places with friends, but we had planned month long trips to different parts of the US, and I am not likely to go alone. Miss him always.

Mary (Queeniemary) in Arkansas