How Long In The Fog?

[kayc]

This isn't uncommon given the trauma you've been through. The further I go since George died, the more surreal our relationship seems...sometimes I've gone and looked at his birth certificate, our marriage certificate, his death certificate, just to reassure me that yes, he really did live, I didn't dream it all up!

It's been nearly ten years for me and I still remember the sound of his voice, his smell (not his after shave but HIM), the feelings I felt when he held me. I don't think your memory loss is permanent, but maybe your body is trying to shield you until you are more able to handle it? I don't know, but I've heard this happen before.

[Froggie4635]

Tomorrow morning a friend from work is going to help me get my dogs to the vet for their annual visits. It was always something Mark and I did together. He was always so proud to be out with his furbabies. I cannot stay with them, as I need to get back to work and then pick them up later and take them home. Their vet is very good and will touch base with me. I didn't think I would feel this emotional about the whole thing.

Kay, thank you so much for your response. I try and understand that it is my mind trying to protect me. Right now the clearest image I have of Mark is of him laying on that table in the ER. Because he had a tube in, I couldn't even really kiss him goodbye. It is not the image I want to have, but it is the most real one I can recall. It is all still so fresh the whole event. All the other memories in my mind are still kind of fuzzy.

[kayc]

I hope all goes well with the trip to the vet. I am headed in there in a few minutes for Arlie's ear infection.

[Froggie4635]

This evening I went to run a couple errands with a friend. She is so very sweet, but her frequent comments that I am doing SO WELL, and that she heard the ole Maryann in my voice...I had to cut the visit short. I needed to pick up a sympathy card to send to the wife of a co-worker...we found out about his death earlier this week. Because of what I have been through, I know I can reach out and try to offer comfort and to let her know someone understands. Reading through the sympathy cards for husbands, took me right back to reading the ones that arrived at my doorstep. Is it awful to feel irritated by those who want to try and make things better? I know they just want to know I am going to be okay...somewhere inside I know I am going to be okay, but right now I don't always want to feel OKAY. I got all choked up as I was reading those cards, but I knew I had to keep it together. Coming to this forum, I get the greatest support, and not the "Everything is going to be okay"...I am told that what I am feeling and experiencing is just what needs to be going on. When I tried to explain to someone how it felt to let myself think just a little bit what a life without Mark was going to be like...and it hurt...she was just "you don't know you will always be alone. You met Mark, you could find someone down the road to love." Not what I am wanting to hear. Am I being too critical? Or am I just being afraid of moving forward? I was in a staff meeting for a little over an hour...15 minutes into it was as much attention as I could give it. I don't want to think any further than tomorrow. I have a friend coming over this Saturday with her puppy...she was my maid of honor and also lost her husband a long time before I met her. I look forward to the company because I know SHE UNDERSTANDS. This is the first time I have felt irritated (not quite angry).

[kayc]

It's okay to feel irritated, it takes quite a while before we can let go of the stupid comments that people say from ignorance. Eventually we are better able to handle their intent and not get hung up on the inappropriateness, but when it's still fresh...no can do.

[mittam99]

It's okay to feel irritated, it takes quite a while before we can let go of the stupid comments that people say from ignorance.

Like my female co-worker telling me it was "time to look for a girlfriend"? Not sure what she was smoking. People really are clueless.

[Froggie4635]

Made it to the vet this morning, dropped off the doggies. Then when I got into my friend's car, I cried. He said to feel my feelings, but to also feel good about doing it, that I dealt with the change. The hurt feels so much stronger than the accomplishment.

[kayc]

But all the same you have to allow yourself to feel some credit for having done what needed to be done, by yourself, which is out of your comfort zone. It is when we stretch ourselves out of our comfort zone that we learn and grow from it. Your friend gave you good advice.

Mitch, yes, exactly like that. Or my BIL telling me he understood how I felt (losing George) because he'd lost his parrot once for three days. Comparing losing my husband to losing his parrot when the *&^%*! parrot wasn't even lost but merely gone for three days?! Sometimes!

[Dew's Girl]

Maryann,

I know that Mark is super proud of you. Sometimes I think about how our loved ones would feel, watching us. I know that it is now, when we are struggling so much, that they would want most to be with us. I sometimes think the best gift I can give Daniel is for him to see that I am going to be ok. Because I know that it would just tear him apart to think about me needing him and him not being able to be here. He was always my protector, just as Mark was yours. So, maybe think of this accomplishment as a present to Mark. That although you will never be really right without him, at least you made it through this.

-Amy

[Froggie4635]

I really hate these early morning awakenings...heartburn made me get out of bed. My normal routine with that is to go and sit in the recliner until it goes away. But I then have two wonderful dogs who want to keep me company by sitting with me in the recliner. I do what I always do when they are around; I pet and stroke them and talk quietly to them. Yesterday some staff went to a visitation for one of our co-workers; he died recently at 55. I reached out to his wife by sending her a sympathy card, adding some words of comfort and understanding. I, myself, couldn't go to the service...it just feels too soon. This early morning took me back to the service for Mark. I spoke at his rosary service. He would have been proud of me. I knew what to say because I knew him so very well. Amy pointed out in a post that Mark would have been proud of me the other day when I managed to handle the situation with taking the dogs to the vet. I know he would be proud of me...I know he wouldn't want me to hurt. He struggled with his self-esteem sometimes, and a small part of him would say he wasn't worth all this hurt. But that was where he would be wrong. I know there is a tendency to put our lost loved ones on a pedestal and see them as perfect. I know Mark wasn't perfect, and there were times when he frustrated me because he did things that were detrimental to his health...he was an alcoholic, something I tried to understand. He wasn't a bad drunk...he functioned; it was his crutch. I wanted to be his crutch. But I loved him despite it. He smoked, which was a factor in his death. I tried to help him lose that crutch, also...but he continued on. I remember the day he told me he was an alcoholic; early on in our relationship. He told me because he wanted to give me the chance to walk away. He didn't feel he was worthy of love because he had a flaw. But I saw in him the true Mark, beyond his flaws. He would rush to help anyone if they asked; he was a fixer and wanted to do what he did best. When he set his mind to something, he worked magic. I know the things he did were self-destructive; but they never made me love him any less.

We never held back how we felt about each other. I know Mark left this Earth knowing he was loved. And I know exactly how proud he was of me. He held me in awe sometimes. He always said how brave I was to leave a safe life back home in PA, to move to a place where I had no family to start a new life. He was thankful I was brave enough to do it, because then we would never have met. I can sit here and know exactly how Mark felt about me; how much he loved me. Of course he wouldn't want me to hurt; but he would understand that when you love this deeply, there is pain to bear. And there are times when it is beyond words. Sometimes it is almost suffocating. Mark made me feel safe and wanted and loved...even in those moments when he irritated me. He would never share with me how worried he would be about me, but I know he did. I saw it in his eyes the day he had to take me to the ER with kidney stones. I saw it in his eyes when I would tell him about a bad day. I saw it in his eyes the day he comforted me when my dog, Annie had to be put to sleep and I had to be the one strong enough to make that decision. I know he would have that same look in his eyes right now if he were to see the pain I have. But is because I loved him so very much that I have this pain to bear.

I am getting better at not having so many emotional times at work. It doesn't mean that I don't miss him every single minute. I am getting better at holding it in until I can get to a place where I feel more comfortable to let it out. I still have some bad days, and I work through them. I love my job, and it is a great distraction some times. I can feel like I accomplish something, and can still be available to help other staff if needed. My job isn't a stressor in my life, and for that I am truly thankful. Some days I call "swiss cheese days" when my focus is not the best, but I push through. I am still dealing with the fact that I am never going to be the same as I was. Just as I am still dealing with the lifting of the "fog"...a wee little bit at a time. I get a glimpse of reality, that I will not physically have Mark in my life anymore, and that is hard because in many aspects I was dependent on him. I still find myself asking the question, "what am I going to do with the rest of my life without him?" Right now that question is completely rhetorical, because I don't know what the next day holds, but I understand it is going to be a day without Mark. And I try and make the best out of that day, and the next day, and so on. It feels empty and lonely, but when it is over I can say I made it through...on to the next day. There are occasions when I can laugh, or try and make someone else laugh. I try to share the little bits of me that are unbroken. It is all I can ask of myself right now, and I have to be happy with that. I have made it this far, and know that some day I will be better, and then some day I will really be okay. But I won't ever be the same. This experience will some how teach me more about myself, and I will grow from it...but not right now. And that has to be okay.

[MartyT]

♥

[kayc]

Maryann, It is okay. Everything you are feeling is okay. And they weren't perfect, just perfect for us. ♥

[Deeana]

Wow, Maryann, you are a really good writer! You express yourself really well. I am so sorry for your loss.

And yes, you are a young widow. And it sucks.

I wanted to share something with you that helped me. And I think it was right along about where you are now. I don't know why this helped me, but it did. At the local Dollar Store they have these tall, cylindrical glass containers with a candle inside it. For a dollar. Some of them have religious imagery on them, others are plain. Since my husband Jack and I were not religious, I chose a plain one.

That evening when I was feeling lonely and vulnerable I sat the candle on my coffee table in front of me and lit it. When it was time to go up to bed, I blew out the candle and said "Night, Jack." And somehow I felt comforted in a small way. I know, too crazy. But somehow that made me feel better. And from then on for about a year, burning the Jack candle become my comforting ritual. That burning flame comforted me in a way I cannot explain. (It was not the same candle the entire time. They burn down. But they're only a dollar and they are not scented.)

I still burn a Jack candle on occasions. His birthday. Our anniversary. Christmas. Valentine's Day. It still comforts me.

At about 6-8 months out my own dear daughter expressed to me that she was becoming concerned at the amount of grief that I was still displaying at that time. Not totally breaking down in public any more, but quick to have tears in my eyes. I still could not talk about him without tearing up. I explained to her that I was where I thought I should be and that I was visiting an online support group so I was able to monitor my feelings against those of quite a few other widows. That seemed to reassure her.

Perhaps it would be helpful for you to come up with some "standard answer" to those who may suggest it is time for you to "move on" or "get over it". Somehow these people, in their misguided wisdom, think they are being helpful. Sometimes it really can get on your nerves. Depending on where I was on a certain day, I vacillated between being understanding of their ignorance, saying nothing snarling at them!

It was after the fog started to lift that I went through the anger phase - which in me manifested itself in me becoming short-tempered and easily irritated. Not anger particularly AT anyone. Just angry. At the fates I guess. I mean, Charles Manson is still alive, and my wonderful husband is dead! How can that be? How can that BE?

At that point I discussed my grief with my doctor and she suggested I temporarily up the dose of the antidepressant I was already taking. That helped me a bit also. (I had long been diagnosed with clinical depression and was on a maintenance dose of Zoloft for years prior to my husband's death.)

I finally got to the point where I would have a day, or maybe at the beginning only a part of a day, where I don't feel so absolutely awful. Eventually I even might have two days in a row like that. Then I would plunge back down into the pits, feeling all sad and hopeless again.

I had terrible, terrible problems with insomnia throughout this period. Since I was no longer working, and I could sleep during the day if needed, I made the decision not to take any kind of sleeping pill. (I know that some people need them) Once in a very great while, I would take an antianxiety medication that my doctor prescribed called Ativan. It was a low dose and I took it at bedtime only. That would relax me enough to get to sleep.

It surely is a journey we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy, would we? (Not that I even have an enemy, nor do you, I suspect.)

Take care and best wishes from.................Pennsylvania!

Deeana

[Froggie4635]

Deeana,

I loved your post. Thank you for your compliment. I have tried to sit down and write a letter to Mark, but I freeze. The thoughts just don't seem to flow. I was always able to tell him exactly how I felt, and the times I knew he needed to hear it the most, the words would come so easily. I know I don't give myself enough quiet time...there is always some sort of noise in the background, either tv or music on the stereo. When I go outside with the dogs and sit on the swing, my wonderful Pongo wants my attention. He is the dog Mark and I had the longest; we picked him out together and he is an old soul. On Saturday mornings when Mark would be leaving for work, and would come over to try and kiss me goodbye, Pongo would block him. He would stretch across my body and when Mark leaned down to kiss me, Pongo would kiss me and Mark would joke with him, telling Pongo that he was here first and to get his paws off his wife. So now when Pongo does that, I ask him is daddy here trying to kiss mommy? It is a wonderful memory, but even typing it brings tears to my eyes. **** shaking head *** How can he be gone?

[kayc]

I have a file on my computer "letters to George", I started it after he died, and keep adding to it whenever I feel the need. Just talking to him about what's going on in my life, expressing my feelings to him. Since him and I started our relationship by writing, it feels only natural.

I couldn't watch t.v. the first year after George died, and it was five years before I signed back up for t.v. (It's still hard to get into reading, although I used to read all the time.) It's funny how things hit people differently in grief.

I like Deeana's idea of a "standard answer", hers was reassuring and simple. When people are thinking we may be crazy anyway, it adds the backing of a whole host of widows behind us, so they'd have to invalidate us all and Marty too, to disregard all of our opinion!

[MartyT]

Kay, I think that is one of the greatest benefits of a site like ours. For anyone seeking to learn what normal grief looks like and feels like, there is no better source than what can be found in these forums, all of it lived through and written by the bereaved themselves. ♥

[Deeana]

Maryann,

I never really wrote any letters to Jack after he died. Like you, I tried to, but it just wasn't happening, so I let it go. I think what may be very comforting for one person isn't going to necessarily work for another person. So, you just try something and if it helps great, but if not, so be it.

And, for what it's worth, I STILL think it's a terrible, unfair thing in life that our wonderful husbands were taken from us and there are still rotten, nasty people who are alive. That's just the way I feel and I don't think that's going to change. I have accepted that this is just the way life is, but that doesn't mean I like it.

Take care..................hot in Pennsylvania today. Upper 80's.

Deeana

[kayc]

Maryann, I like your story about Pongo trying to come between you and Mark. That is precious.

[Froggie4635]

Dogs (and all animals) are wonderful creatures. Mark and I were big animal advocates. We even talked about leaving everything we owned to The Houston Humane Society. Mark talked about the early years, and his hopes of one day being a dad. He would have been a really good dad. Our hearts were broken when we went to look at dogs that day in March, when Pongo found us. My dog Annie was very ill, and in a lot of pain that day in March. We had taken her to the hospital that Friday, and I knew when we were taking her that she wasn't coming home. Well, that next day, Saturday March 30 was my birthday. We stopped at the hospital to see Annie, and we both held her. Before I gave her back, I sent Mark to find the tech. When he left the room, I told Annie she didn't have to hold on any more, that she could go. I know he wouldn't have been able to hear me say those words. When we were leaving, I told him that I didn't want to spend the day being sad...after all it was my birthday. I said, "let's go to the Humane Society". That was where I got Annie so many years earlier. Well, the place had changed so much...it was beautiful. We went in the adoption entrance, in in there was the place they kept the puppies. No cages, just beautiful individual units with big windows and beautiful brick. Mark walked over to the closest window and looked down and then I saw that smile. I walked over and looked down and saw little Pongo looking up at us. Mark's first words were, "oh, he has trouble written all over his face". We went inside to where the door was and Mark got down on his knees and slid his fingers under the door and Pongo came alive. We went back and visited each and every cabana full of wonderful dogs. It felt good to be able to talk to and pet so many needy dogs. We spoke with some folks there and told them what we were going through...a good place to get comfort. Well, that night I got a call from the vet saying they were having a hard time keeping Annie hydrated and that she was not breathing good. I took the news and talked with Mark. His only question was "is she in pain?" I called back the vet and asked her if she thought Annie was suffering. She confirmed that even with all the pain meds she was on, she was probably suffering. Mark said, "then we have to end that now." Since it was kind of far to go that time of night, I gave consent over the phone (the ONE thing I truly regret). The tech I spoke to was very sweet and said that they would make sure to hold her and be with her. Mark was SO STRONG for me, even though I know he was hurting as much as me. The next day was Easter Sunday...and we stayed home and didn't go to the usual Easter get together.

We made it through Sunday. Well, Monday we went to settle things at the vet, and decided to go and see if Pongo was still there. Because he chose us, and was going to be OUR first "child", of course he was still there. We filled out papers, got to play with him (Mark became a little boy in front of my eyes) and adopted him. We had to wait until Thursday to pick him up, but from that day on, Mark and Pongo were BEST BUDS. I have a couple pics of Mark sleeping on the couch with little Pongo on his chest. He LOVED that pup. I get the idea that Pongo still senses Mark around the house. I ask him all the time if he "sees Daddy". So when Pongo crawls up into my lap and "claims me" like Mark called it...I think of him and some days I cry, some days I just put my arms around him. He will ALWAYS be our first baby.

I sit here at my desk at work, with tears in my eyes, partly from sadness and partly from love. Sometimes the absence of him is so very overwhelming.

[MartyT]

Such a heartwarming story, Maryann ~ thank you for sharing it with all of us! And no wonder you love Pongo so much! ♥

[kayc]

Your Pongo is very special, he was a gift to you when you needed him most. A puppy has a way of brightening our hearts even in the midst of grief.;..they burrow their way right through the sadness and into our hearts.

[Froggie4635]

I love all my furbabies, and if I was able would have so many more.

Sometimes I wish there was a way for me to scream from the highest place how wonderful Mark was, and that the world is missing such a great soul. I can feel the fog lifting some, because I am becoming more aware of the permanent absence in my life. When I feel it, I want to close all the shutters and wrap myself in bubble wrap and not deal with the absence. I know it is part of the healing of my soul, something that has to happen, but it scares me a little the idea of him NEVER again being with me. I try and stand up to the awakening of this reality, but I still have to close my eyes when it gets to feeling too much. I'm not ready to deal with the idea of living without Mark.

[KarenK]

That is perhaps the harshest reality of all, Maryann. That we will never see our loved ones again. For me, there seems like so many things were left unsaid, to both my daughter and husband. Because she did not live close by, we did not see each other often, only talked on the phone each week. I will never forget during my last visit when she apologized to me for "deserting" me all those years ago when she left to live with her dad. She had fallen madly in love(at age 15) and didn't want to return home. For 35 years she had lived with that guilt and never expressed it to me. I was glad she finally told me and I assured her that although I was sad when she left, I did not feel that she deserted me. It was a comfort to her to know how I felt.

Pongo sounds like a very special little guy and I'm glad he found you and Mark. My last dog, a Black Lab lived to be 14 and was a "found" dog. My son found him in the park, a tiny, very ill puppy that we nursed back to health. He was one of the best dogs ever.

Karen

[Froggie4635]

Karen,

Tears fill my eyes right now at the reality of NEVER seeing Mark again. The one thing that gives me comfort is knowing that Mark did not leave this Earth wondering about how I felt about him. I made sure he knew I LOVED him every day. I missed a chance to tell him one more time that morning he had his heart attack. I tried to do what I could to keep him with me. I didn't think the last words I would have with him was asking him if I should call 911. That was the last thing he said..."Yes". When I shook him to see if he was still with me, was the last time I touched him when he was alive. I will never get over that.

[kayc]

I am glad I rest in my faith that I will be with George again...I don't allow myself to contemplate anything else but our being reunited. It is hard enough doing without him in the meantime.