Grief support groups, condolence advice, funeral etiquette and more
A continutaion of the "When a Spouse or Partner Dies" thread.
Latest Conversations: 12 hours ago
This might be a rough time for many of you. Do what you feel you need to do to get through it. Remember, someone is here almost all the time to talk to you.
Started by Andrew Berenyi Jr.. Last reply by Steve Jul 14.
Started by Chris Sky. Last reply by Mary. Jane Jul 1.
Started by Sandfly. Last reply by Marsha H Jun 6.
Mark's illness was a neurological disorder very similar Parkinson's and so his doctors treated him with the same and similar meds, all of which were very strong and powerful pain killers and a mix of other drugs to try and control his seizures. His disorder was genetic and no cure, most of the males from his mother's side of the family didn't survive beyond 50 or 60. He and I would talk and he stated often that he doubted he would live beyond 50. Most in his family contracted this horrid disease in their late 40's, Mark displayed symptoms soon after his birth. He was treated until he was about nine then the symptoms left, leaving him with a few side effects. It wasn't until 2004 that he started displaying symptoms again. We were living in south Florida and we went to the Mayo clinic in Miami. The doctors were convinced he was suffering from the beginning stages of Parkinson's and so began his decline. It was painful enough seeing his health decline and his dependency on his medication increase, along with his seizures. To this day I still second guess everything I did or didn't do, the day he died still replays in my mind without warning. Knowing and watching someone die still does not prepare or alleviate the grief of it all. There were days I really did not think I could or even want to continue my life. So many emotions, so many memories, I still wonder what I am doing some days. Each day does get easier and each day brings it's own challenges...and to borrow a cliché, life does go on.
Nice Letter to Larry, you said what a lot of feels but have a hard time putting into words. Diane knew the way to look through my different faces for different situations and see the real me also. My Sister is a going through a Divorce, she had a simple medical procedure done and I went to the Hospital for her. She told me not to worry she would be there for me too. Hang in there my Friend. You help all of us a lot.
I just read your post on the 2nd anniversary of Larry's passing, and I can't stop the tears from flowing. Your letter to Larry voices so many of the things that I would tell Joseph if I were writing to him--how much I miss him and how I will never stop loving him for as long as I live.
You show courage when you say some of the more difficult things personal things about your life together with Larry. But your courage and frankness are a tribute to Larry's memory. Larry knows how much you love him and what you did or didn't do was out of your deep love for him.
On this day of remembrance and introspection, I send you much love. Please know that I am holding you close and sending you prayers for healing and peace.
With love and deep empathy, Trina
Chuck......thinking of you on this sad anniversary. That was a beautifully written letter to Larry. I wish I could take the pain away. Know I'm giving you a cyber hug.
Apologies if this posts twice. I was also afraid for my two kitties, that I wouldn't be able to take care of them after Bill died. After all, I couldn't save him, so what made me think I could take care of the cats? Of course, they are fine and now that I removed Bill's clothes and shoes from where they could smell them, I think they are doing better. I know they still wonder where he is as they go into his office like they used to and it's like they are waiting for him. Thank goodness that I have them as there are days that they are the only reason I get up in the morning.
I haven't been here in a while but I still think of all of you. I'm coming up on 8 months since Bill died and all of your comments ring true. I was very scared in the beginning of being alone at night. That has gone away and I set my "stay" alarm at night. The rest of the fears and concerns are the same. I still talk to Bill every day, several times a day and ask him to look out after me and to help me make good decisions. I still cannot believe that this is my life and that he was taken from me. Charles, your piece below was beautiful. We just try to keep breathing and put one foot in front of the other and do the best that we can. I finished reading Healing After Loss and have started it from the beginning again. I have a girlfriend that I have become very close to as she lost her husband 3 months before Bill died. We went on a trip to St. Martin together and are going to Maui in a month. It's good to get out of the area to see that there's life going on outside of our bubbles. It's helpful to have someone who has been thru it to talk to and do things with. But mainly they understand when you are having a hard day or week or month. It doesn't get any easier, we just learn how to adapt. I pray for all of you what I want for myself. Peace. I had it with Bill and I hope to one day have it again.
I’m here more than I am not…
Tomorrow it will be two years since you disappeared. Two years ago I too disappeared. I don’t know to this day exactly where we both went, only that we didn’t go to the same place. I was frightened being alone without you. You were always the one who knew how to calm me down, and how to talk me down when I got too close to the edge. You saw me…me – not the face I wore for the world, or even sometimes for you. You recognized the me beneath it all, and for reasons I’ll never truly know, you loved me.
I loved you too. Did you know that? Do you know it now? I‘ve been away for what seems an eternity, and during that time I have been missing you more than I imagined a person could miss another. The silence has pounded in my ears until I thought I’d go mad. The emptiness of the house reflects the emptiness inside me. Every now and then I thought I caught a glimpse of you – in the birds, in the trees…in the sunsets I watched alone from the porch sitting next to your empty chair.
Then I began to catch glimpses of myself – in the music playing on the stereo, in the daylilies growing by the garage – in the reflection seen in the glass over the sink in the kitchen, vague and transparent, but there. I started to hear myself sometimes, to feel my body moving, and to realize that I was starting to think again. Sometimes anyway. Mostly I still wasn’t here, just like you weren’t here.
I talk to you, and more and more I tell you things I’ve been afraid to say. Today I want to say them…
I don’t know why I’m still here – why I lived and you did not. I’m sorry for that – it should have been the other way around.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you at the end – I should have been, but I thought it would make it worse for everyone else. I don’t talk to your children, because I don’t know what to say anymore. I don’t talk to your sister for the same reason. I see your friends, and I try to let them know how much you loved them, but in their faces I see how much they miss you still. You were more loved than you knew. I hope you know now.
I’m sorry I didn’t do more to make you see the doctor when it all started – I’m sorry I wasn’t more there. I was frightened right from the first day you asked me to look at the sore on your ear, as if I knew it was already killing you. I wish I had fought harder.
Mostly, I’m sorry I said no when you wanted us to have a wedding – I was afraid you would be too weak, and the treatments would make you sick, so I said not now…later. I wish there was a later. I started disappearing even then.
Now there are times I seem more like my old self my friends say – but those closest to me know it is only when I’m here. I am not always here. I don’t know where I go still, but it doesn’t frighten me anymore like it did at first. I know I’ll be back, and my friends will be here waiting. My life will be waiting. I stopped asking why of everything. Mostly anyway. I don’t fear the future like I did, because whatever it brings can’t be worse than two years ago. I survived…and that still leaves me quietly wondering if there is a reason.
I will never stop loving you. I will never stop missing you. I will never stop wishing it was all a bad dream. But I guess there is this on the positive side:
These days, I’m here more than I am not…
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