Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by John Lanza on July 28, 2014 at 10:50pm

Hey Justin. I'm so sorry to here about your loss. I lost my husband Christopher of a seizure too. We were together since 2004. I just hit the one year mark last week on July 17th and I can't say the pain has gone away but it does get easier. I'm not exactly sure there is a timeline when it comes to this but what I can tell you is you need to find the strength and support (friend and family) to get through this. That is the only way to do it. Please private inbox me if you would like to talk more. Since we are close in age and our losses were similar maybe I can help you out a little. I truly am sorry for your loss.

Permalink Reply by Michael Reikowsky on July 28, 2014 at 11:16pm

I tried replying and the site deleted it saying I used offensive language, I've never used offensive language in my life.

Sorry for your loss, Justin. I'll try posting again later....

Permalink Reply by Michael Reikowsky on July 28, 2014 at 11:22pm

Justin... I'm so sorry for your loss. I wish I could tell you that the pain and emptiness will end. But I won't lie to you. October will be two years since I lost my Danny and not a day goes by that I don't think of him and miss him with every fiber of my being. But.... I can promise you that over time, the pain will subside and be replaced with more and more happy memories of the times you had together.

Lots of things will trigger memories.. A song, a smell, a meal, a place, etc. let those memories remind you of the love you shared, knowing that so many people out there will not have that in their lives. And be happy knowing you had found each other and that you were able to be there during his illness. You made a difference in his life, you brought love to his life.

It took me a year and a half to come out of the dark place I had gone to... Let my own health go, etc.... I finally woke up to the reality that I was still here... For some unknown purpose and I had to start living again... So that when it was my time to go, I needed to have some pretty fabulous stories to tell my Danny or he would be right upset with me and for eternity I would hear about it.

So now I live (or try to at least) as he would want me to, I'm not hiding myself from the world, I'm working to restore health and vitality to my worn out body and soul. I'm looking for new friendships and trying to reconnect with old ones.

I know I will never have another love like Danny, but that doesn't mean I have to wander through life alone and miserable. Lots of dinners, movies, and other adventures to have and build new memories to share at some future time...

So be strong, rely on friends that you can trust (& lose the ones you can't)

Michael

Permalink Reply by Justin Orman on July 29, 2014 at 7:57am

John & Michael-

Thank you so much for the kind words. It feels good to know that I'm not alone in how I feel. I am sorry for both of your losses. This was the first time I sought out grief support, this past weekend has been the worst.

I have my family to fall back on for support and they are amazing. The greatest part of Billy passing was the fact my father finally found out about my lifestyle and it has brought us closer. As for friends I have actually lost a lot of them since BIlly passed if that seems wired, my friends said I was "too much" for them.

In January I went into a black out status where I was very self destructive. I actually don't remember much of January as I drank a lot and very heavily. I was able to pull myself out and as result I am back on medication and I have entered school again to finish my degree. The hardest part of my days are when I'm alone at the end of it. I always want to talk to BIlly tell him how my day is sometimes I even get the urge to call him (I haven't deleted his number from my phone) when the reality hits that is honestly the worst part.
I have though adopted a selfish way of living. I am trying to do the things I never got to do. All in all I think of him all the time. I hope he's happy not being in pain anymore.

Thank you again both of you. :)

Permalink Reply by Rebecca Rude on July 29, 2014 at 8:10am

Justin,

I know it seems hard to believe, but you will find, over time, the pain eases and you will feel better. The first year after the passing of our loved one is the most difficult, obviously. My partner and I shared 16 wonderful years together, plus one less pleasant year during her unsuccessful treatment for small cell cancer. She passed in 2007 and I still feel the emptiness in my life, but it is less devastating today than during the first year after her death. Life does go on. I would suggest you do as much as possible to communicate with others, perhaps become involved in support groups for others who struggle with their grief. Reach out and try to involve yourself in aiding others. You will find you have a lot to share. Giving is a great healer.

Permalink Reply by Richard Turner on July 29, 2014 at 9:13am

Hi, Justin.

This site helps.  A friend of mine, who's a therapist, commented that "grief needs a witness" and this site can be that for you.

Everyone who's responded to you has had the same indescribable situation - until you go through it, nobody can understand.  After the funerals and memorials your friends drift back into their lives yet there you are, still stuck in the moment.  When I lost my spouse nearly a year ago, the first few months were a void.   Then Christmas was coming and I determined myself to have a memorable one - probably a good thing.

I realized then that what Drew had loved in me hadn't changed - I was the same person, had those same qualities.  The problem was that I couldn't imagine life without him, even though I was going through the motions.  Every day, every thing, reminded me in some way.  Yes, I can still remember his touch, his smell, his favorite things - inescapable.   And each memory brought back the melancholy.

But then - and it happens on a day, and you know what it means - you remember something, him, a memory shared, and you don't feel the melancholy - you just appreciate the memory.  This is the point where you are allowing him to be a memory, your past, because that is what he now is.

And then - gosh, I wish there were a timetable, but I've lost both my parents so this is the third time and darned if it isn't the same except no specific time - you have a day where you simply don't think about him and the past - and you don't feel guilty.

In the end, you have to choose death or life.  I'm thinking you're struggling to choose life - it is the better choice.  Will you find another Billy?  Probably not.  Will you have another great love in your life?  Probably yes, as you clearly have the compassion and the strength to love - it's all too clear in that you have the strength to grieve (we can't know love unless we know pain).  Will he be different - likely, yes.   My dear partner in the UK (which was my first real "partnership"  and ended decades ago), who has also since passed, was as much unlike my spouse as they shared some of the same qualities.

Life goes on and we are all temporary passengers.  Life can be very wonderful - the world is an amazing place.  You have wonderful memories of a bright light which will never go out - or grow old, or suffer more, or drift apart from you.  Yes, lousy that you had such a short time, and he died so young - but worse if you'd never loved at all.  Now that you have, you know how wonderful it can all be.

I hope I don't sound trite - this has been awful for me, a true annus horribilus, yet when I started dating again I realized there were reasons, values, qualities other guys saw in me, that were probably the same things that Drew saw.  I am not changed - wiser, perhaps a bit blunted - and in many ways so much more aware than they of life and love and how temporal it is. 

You have a lot to give - and so many who need that, who want it, who may never have that same happiness.  Billy is yours now - he is your past, part of your fiber, and he will be there forever - but no longer part of your life.  The human heart is an amazing vessel:  it can fill to the brim, it can break, yet it can also heal and hold yet another love.  I hope you do find the light and path again:  after all, it is nobody else's journey but yours, though the company who walk along with you on that journey do make all the difference.

Stay strong.   Rich

Permalink Reply by Justin Orman on July 29, 2014 at 2:33pm

Rich-

Thank you so much your words are inspiring.

Permalink Reply by Richard Turner on July 29, 2014 at 3:27pm

Justin, I'm glad it helped.  Just hang in there, it does get easier, especially because you want it to get easier.  Do you watch Downton Abbey?  There is this one scene in Season 3, where Lady Mary is still grieving over Matthew and Grannie Grantham (aka Violet, i.e. the Maggie Smith character), tells her that she needs to choose:  she needs to choose death, or she needs to choose life, and that frankly the latter choice is the better one.

You're there, too, and I think you've chosen life - it's you just don't see how that's possible yet.  It is.  You need to let go, as hard as it may be.  Even the little things - you need to think about Justin, it needs to be the Year of You.  Here's an example:  in my guest room (we had a pretty nice life, a place in Boston and a place in the suburbs, which is where I now live), we had a set of pictures - enlargements of neat old postcards from travel destinations.  We had three in a row (among both of us, we'd been to all three) and then the Paris picture over to the side since it was our favorite city.  Now that he's gone, I have rearranged them:  the three cities that I've been to, and the one (Venice) which he had visited but I haven't.  Little change?  Yes.  Kind-of dumb?  No - the future isn't about us, it's about me.

Good luck, and stay in touch.   I think you'll have a great life, and probably meet another great guy.   So sorry any of us have to go through this, but it's nobody's fault (not even God).

Take care  rich

Permalink Reply by Rebecca Rude on July 29, 2014 at 4:45pm

I've appreciated reading all the replies to your post, Justin. Everyone who loses a loved one goes through the dark period, and during that time, it feels like life just isn't worth living without our loved one. Fortunately, I had a hospice support group I met with once a week for a year, and while we shed a lot of tears together, we also shared laughter and formed friendships that I still cherish to this very day. I am also involved in a 12 step program (A.A.), and my interactions there during that first year were very helpful to me, not only to keep me sober, but to help me form friendships and to interact with life. I still miss my partner greatly, but I have a life beyond my time with her now. It gets easier and you will one day share laughter and memories with others. Be patient with yourself. Reach out when you need to talk. Make the small steps to move forward.

Permalink Reply by Karen Scheltema on August 1, 2014 at 6:36am

Well, I lost everything I typed, so Justin, I will try again.  First off, I'm sorry for your loss.  I lost my partner of 20 years a little over 2 1/2 years ago.  It was from an accidental pain meds overdose.  She had suffered from chronic pain and was physically addicted to Oxycontin.  When she died, it was truly an awful memory.  So many sirens and then they ripped off her nightgown and put the defibrillator on her.  I vividly remember her breasts violently rising and falling.  To me, it felt like an assault on her body.  Afterwards, I had to move out of our house just to get away from the memories.  In addition, I use a cane and I had already fallen down the stairs once and gotten a concussion, so I had to move into a single story place.  I rented an apartment in a sage neighborhood.  My big mistake was that it was next to a hospital and I could always hear sirens which would trigger bad memories and crying jags.  After a couple of years of slowly feeling better, the apartments where I was living were going to raise my rent by $100/month so I found a new place which was cheaper and nowhere near a hospital.  It has helped tremendously.  I still cry sometimes, but it's not very often now and it doesn't last long.  So, my message to you is that it gets better slowly.  There's a classic book by Therese Rando "How To Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies."  It's not specifically geared to LGBT, but it's a wonderful book and I found it to be very helpful.  The link for it at Amazon is http://www.amazon.com/Living-When-Someone-Love-Dies/dp/0553352695 I hope this hekps.