"Hoping to connect with other gay/lesbian members who have recently lost a spouse."
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Hi Jason..
I know they jsut seem like empty words right now. It will take time and to be honest we'll always have a hole in our hearts, but just remember to lean on the ones who love you and you love too. It's hard to think we have to go on, but we do as this is what our parents would have wanted.. This is why we have our life so that we can always carry a bit of theirs on.. You just do what you have to and for however long it will take..
If you ever want to chat, you know where to find me..
Rita
I wrote an inspirational blog to my mom. She died Feb 13, 2009. My heart is so heavy. www.maria-mixon.blogspot.com
Karen and Dani and all,
I wish I had some great line to start with, but I don't. My dad died last month and I miss him terribly. I had no idea that anyone could hurt this much. Dani, I know what you mean when you said ''God takes the special ones early" - my mom died 26 years ago, when she was just 43, of a rare and terminal disease. She was amazing. Still to this day one of my favorite people I've ever met, besides the fact that she was my mom. Dad never remarried. She was the love of his life. His character, love for her, presence as our dad, was the gauge that I saw the world though. I was 14 when she died, and after that, lost 4 uncles, 3 aunts, a grandma, friends, cousins, co-workers. I got through every one of those painful losses, because I could call or visit him and he'd just let me be. He never told me not to do something, or feel a certain way, or anything, he was just there. It was the best comfort in the world, and now he's not there.
I'm 40 years old and I truly feel like an orphan. I know that this pain will lessen and the days will start to be days again. I know this, but for now I feel so lost. No anchor. No 'dad's house'. My life has literally changed into something it's never been, and I hate it. I don't want to be without them. I know this is completely unreasonable and unrealistic, but I'm sure you all know what I mean. I catch my thoughts and shake my head at myself, and be ok for a bit. Then out of nowhere, I'll think of something I want to tell him or ask him and reach for the phone, only to have a flood of reality hit me all over again.
Oh dear people, as I am struggling with my loss, and I read your stories, I feel for you too. Before I go to bed tonight, I'll pray for you instead of me. Thank you for sharing, for listening and letting me cry. -Jill
Two years ago, I said goodnight and goodbye to my mother. I was 23 at the time, and she was 62. She was having horrible pain in her abdomen, and had been hospitalized the week before in an attempt to get all her doctors to collaborate with each other and figure out what was going on. She was released because they couldn't find anything wrong. I was scheduled to move away from Miami, FL to Washington DC for Grad School in 10 days. Two days after she was released, I had to readmit her through the ER as she was unable to keep any food down and was in tremendous pain. Still, they couldn't find anything wrong.
I was very close with my mother. For years, it was just the two of us. We leaned on each other, not a day went by we didn't talk several times over the span of the day (even if I was abroad). The doctors pretty much gave up on any diagnosis of substance, and deemed it to be a psych issue. 12 hours before she died, she'd had a psych evaluation. The Psych team talked to me that afternoon and said that this was clearly not in her head. I'll spare the details that traumatized me horrifically, but they ended up going forth with an exploratory surgery because they couldn't figure out what had happened. My once strong, stubborn and full of vim & vigor mother had become a frail, wailing and helpless patient in a checkered hospital gown.
The doctors missed a biggie. Clots had been thrown from her heart and suffocated all of her major organ systems. Most of her organs were necrotic and beyond repair. Her body had become septic, and officially she passed away due to a heart attack, major organ failure, sepsis and 2 other things I can't remember off hand were listed on her death certificate. Still, I was in shock and disbelief that my mother was not going to wake up. That I had heard her say she loved me for the last time before they intubated her. I was in utter shock. Luckily, I had my pillars of strength with me (my boyfriend at the time, my best friend and my godmother) who were all there when I had to tell them to just let my Mom go to sleep instead of them trying to piece her organs back together. I knew what she wanted, as we'd spoken about it in the past.
My Mom who was a fighter to the end, held on until my sister arrived at her bedside from California, almost 12 hours later. The doctors had told me she may last a couple more hours, but probably not even an extra day. I said my goodbye at 4am on Tuesday, August 15, 2006. I told her I loved her, and that I kept my promise - that I'd speak for her when she couldn't, and say the words she wanted said.
Recounting it still brings tears to my eyes, and I know it always will. But, the days do get easier, and the pain lessens over time. One of the biggest advances I've had is that it's okay to be mad at her. It doesn't diminish how much I love or respect her, but it takes into account my feelings and emotions. And I know she's always with me, anyway.
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