Bereaved Spouses

A continutaion of the "When a Spouse or Partner Dies" thread.

Members: 1316
Latest Conversations: 2 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.


Discussion Forum

Struggling with reality

Started by Corey. Last reply by Diamond 23 hours ago. 5 Replies

Nine days and a whirlwind of emotions.

Started by Tiffany Phillips. Last reply by Sara Murphy Jan 27. 12 Replies

My love.

Started by brenda may. Last reply by Marsha H Jan 12. 10 Replies

Comment Wall


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Comment by Marsha H 12 hours ago

Mary Jane ...  What a true and beautiful poem your husband wrote and I'm sure you'll treasure it.  He was a very talented man and you are so lucky to have his artwork and poems.  I do know finding things like that may make you sad, but later you will feel so blessed to have those memories.

Thank you for sharing. 


Comment by Harold McKinstry 23 hours ago

Hi All

Just got back yesterday, had a great time. Felt weird going on a vacation without Diane, felt a little guilt but  I know she wouldn't want me sitting around giving up on life. I wouldn't want that for her either if roles were reversed. I have decided that I was going to push myself this year to do more and try to find some kind of life for me. will try things and see what feels right.


Comment by Mary. Jane 23 hours ago
BACK INTO THE UNKNOWN. is the last line.
Comment by Mary. Jane 23 hours ago
My husband was a truck driver by trade, but also an amazing artist. The walls are filled with his paintings, and there r dozens of framed paintings stored in an upstairs room. When we moved 12 yrs ago, I put all the unframed artwork into a large flat box under the bed. Last May my daughter and I went through the box. We DIDN,t know there were also poems he'd written in the box. I'd like to share one with you...I don,t know when he wrote it...but here it is:


by unknown.
Comment by Mary. Jane 23 hours ago
This is a test post..
Comment by Sara Murphy yesterday

Steve.....I like that poem you copied from your friend's facebook page.  I think I'm going to copy it and post on mine.  How true it is!

Comment by Sara Murphy yesterday

Hi everyone......I haven't been able to read the posts since last week so I'm a little behind.  I'll catch up slowly. 

Marsha.....I just read your post about helping the homeless woman by giving her some money.  That was a very nice thing to do and I don't think you threw your money away.   You'll never know but maybe you had some positive chain effect for this person.

Comment by Diane C on Tuesday

Well said Chuck!! Beautiful writing as always! Thank you..  And Thank you for the mention of Six Feet Under, I will have to look that series up and try to watch it.


Comment by Gail Brooks on Sunday

I have always loved Calling All Angels. Thanks for the link and the reminder Chuck. Ken died suddenly July 1- 2015 and each day is an experiment in how to live without him. Its tiring and sometime discouraging but I am believing I will find my way. Steve, its good to hear you are looking forward to your tomorrows. That is where I would like to be. I can't honestly say I am there. I wish I were. Its better than it used to be but still so many tears and fears. After 35 years I guess that's to be expected.

Comment by Charles E. Nelson on Sunday

           This writing I offer to my family as we all support each other in our daily struggles with our grief...especially to the newer members for whom your loss is so fresh and your pain  at times so overwhelming.

        Your attention is drawn to the window by a barely audible sound – outside on a branch sits a tiny Goldfinch, seemingly watching you while being buffeted by cold wind gusts. The calendar says it is spring, but the deep snow on the ground and frigid blowing winds beg to differ. Her melody of sweet notes is nearly drowned out by the howling through the branches, as she maintains her tenuous grasp to the whipping twig she clutches.

            You find it hard to fathom how such a fragile creature, clinging to such a small perch, manages to withstand such cruel blows without falling. From where comes such strength – such resolve – to hold tight even against such an overwhelming and relentless attempt to dislodge her?

            As quickly as it came, the wind dies, leaving her calmly sitting there peering at you, as if demonstrating…what? That she’s strong despite her size? That sometimes just holding on is all we can do, keeping faith that the blows will subside and we will once more feel safe? That living is surviving even when we are sure we won’t survive this blow that threatens to knock us down for the count? 

She looses one more brief song of good bye, then flits from view – a bright speck of glorious color against the gray background of a dying winter that , for just a moment, gave you hope that the cold winds will leave and someday soon there will be warmth, and sun, and growing things of color and beauty.

 All you need to do is…hold on.  


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