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“The only thing constant is change.” – Heraclitus of Ephesus

Today is, for the most part a typical Sunday morning, the clouds are abundant and the streets damp with the rain that fell last night.  It’s early at 5:15 a.m. and I didn’t go to sleep until midnight.

What is this energy I feel that isn’t typical?  Ever-evolving I am.

The other day I was looking for something and ran across an ancient pedometer that I believe my husband had brought home from some golf outing he attended.  Like most things fitness, it either went into a corner, was given away or thrown into a drawer.  This is the most basic of pedometers that you can find.  It tracks your calories, kilometers and miles.  Not steps, but that is okay – any step forward is better than back.

I went to that pedometer which seriously has to be no less than eight years old and pulled the small piece of paper attached to it to see what type of battery it would take.  In doing so, I pushed a button and the display came on.  “Some battery” I thought to myself as I began pushing the buttons. 0000 meant I had an awful lot of work to do.  It’s a balmy 60 degrees Fahrenheit, a nice breeze.  I can do this.

Like my husband’s death, we planned for it.  We knew it was coming and it would change my life in ways I had only imagined.  But I could have never imagined how much it would change.  I’ve lifted the covers from my head to the point I can breathe a bit easier.  I no longer need that filter to embrace the daylight.

Last week I took the incredible challenge to change.  I began a weight loss program and this morning, I used that pedometer.  I promised myself when I moved last year that I was going to do this.  I need to get healthy again.  I did try but often met neighbors who walk their dogs and wanted to chat – once that happened, my walks never continued as I need to walk alone at a pace that is comfortable to me.  I need to do this, I want to do this.  I am 4 lbs. down … and today I logged 0.778 miles on that pedometer.  It is baby steps.  I have a long way to go but when I realize my grief began with my husband’s diagnosis, I’ve been living this heavy burden for six and a half years.  Indeed it is time for change – my habits, my health and my life are as important as the man I loved, cared and advocated for.  As I walked this morning, I imagined him telling me “honey, you can do this and I am with you every painful step of the way.”

I don’t care much for change, especially when it is out of my control, but hopefully, the tools of faith, hope and the desire for change, will bring me further into the light of joy.

On Friday evening, I was privileged to return to the site of the Beloved retreat that I attended in January.  This time I was able to carry the luggage of new retreat-ants and light their path in the darkness to knowing they are beloved.  As I came together in community with others I had met on my own retreat, others who had attended at different times and once again my daughter at my side, I was able to share with them just how much I grew from my own experience there and that I did in fact keep my promise to find joy.

We do not always know when we go about our own lives how we sometimes affect others.  Sometimes, out of the blue, you can be called upon and a split second decision to say yes or no can make or break a person or situation.  I used to be a constant yes.  Grief began to change that and that is not the person my husband fell in love with.  Yesterday I said yes again to someone, to help them sort their feelings, their fears and angst and talk them through a situation that otherwise may have ended differently.  We do not know when we will be called – either spiritually or literally, but if we open our hearts to the possibility that carrying the load for others when they are burdened with the weight of the world, we can become the change that another person is seeking.

A step outside of our own comfort zone does not need to be a heavy task.  I can say with a smile in my heart, I am beginning, truly beginning to find joy.

 

An Epiphany

A short but sweet blog entry today…

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This morning I had an epiphany of sorts.

To make an analogy of this grief, so maybe one can understand more clearly, as time passes, it becomes chronic.  I happen to have fibromyalgia and having a small flare right now.  It’s chronic.  It comes and it goes (the flare ups) but mostly the pain is always there and somehow you learn to live with it and work through it and you don’t focus on it like in the beginning.  I also recently had a bad flare up of Achilles tendonitis which required an injection … in the beginning of it; I couldn’t put any weight on my foot and was on crutches for 5 days.  It was all I could think about because the pain was so bad.  Time, rest, ice and the injection made it better but the pain is still there and I can deal with it.  You can see, once the initial pain calms down, it is no longer your primary focus.

I believe very strongly that this is how the loss of my husband will be, for the rest of my life.  There will be flare ups, but it will settle down and I can live like this.  After all, this is all temporary, isn’t it?

Oh yes, grateful as always for the acknowledgement of pain –  it means I am alive and thriving!

My social media hiatus was a good one.  I found some joy.  I returned a few days ago and know how to take it is small doses.

Moments

What I wouldn’t give for another dream of him holding me.  Memories flood my mind constantly.  I think this is a good thing but then I wonder if they wash me like a torrential downpour because I am living again.

My heart has the enormous vacancy that only the memories of my dear Keith can fill, but I’m truly finding joy in special moments.  I mean yes, there are often hours of enjoyment, but the moments are the ones that I treasure.  I cry a lot these days.  These are not tears of sadness (all of the time) but tears because a moment, a story, a song – has moved me.  What I feel so deep in my soul is the ache of those around me.  It’s like I have this intense sense that I am connected more than ever to others, my mind searches for these connections.   Compassion can empower you to dig deeper into yourself to forge a relationship with these connections like you’ve never realized.  What I mean is, yes, most of us feel compassion that another person is going through something, but I am talking about taking time out of your day to think about, talk with, smile at, lend a hand, and pray for them.  What added meaning to my life this is when I hone in on those connections that I just “feel”.  I cannot change what happened to my husband or change what others are going through but I can love others – and I do.

Transformations are obvious to everyone who has their eyes open.  I’m still in that process and with eyes fixated on the mountain that I’m climbing, I still have the ability to feel.  The pain of losing my husband is as deep as some of these cliffs and I often free-fall knowing that, by faith, I will be lifted right back up.  It is not easy to describe faith, but if you feel it, if you trust it, if you grasp it with all that you have, free-falls are not as painful as they might be.  What brings me to this mountain?  Self-discovery is limitless because as the clock rounds the day, tomorrow feelings may be different.  They often say to “sleep” on a decision.  Feelings often change or the intensity of them changes over time.

IMG_0521For those who have experienced this grief so heavy before me, I’ve heard it said that time heals all wounds.  I’m not sure my heart will ever heal, but I can say with certainty that the pain is different than it was 28 months ago when he died.  I don’t cry every day for him, but every day I miss him more.  I don’t feel the need to kiss his photo every night, but some nights I still do.  I don’t sit for hours and wonder if he is watching my every move, but I feel his presence at times.  I don’t feel that I’ve been given a life unbearable to live, but there are those free-fall moments that take my breath away.  I don’t look at his photos and cry anymore, but I look at them often and smile because he was such a gorgeous man (inside especially) and out.  With each rotten thing that happens like expensive plumbing repairs, I don’t break down like I did, but I do get reminded with memories of how he took care of everything.

It is now springtime, and the rain is in great supply reminding me of the new growth I see in the neighborhood.  The trees are budding and day-lilies and daffodils already in bloom – life is renewed.  My life, my love, and my hope for the future are renewed too.  Keith gave me that gift before he left this earth.  I was the very last person he said “I love you” to.  In life and death, it doesn’t get much better than that.  This was his gift to me for sure.

Twenty-Three Years Ago

That old-time feeling comes around again.  It could be the time of year.  We were introduced in March of 1994 at physical therapy.  We fell head over heels at an informal gathering of patients on April 8th a mere two or three weeks later.

I get that prickly sensation and my heart skips a beat when I think of our first evening.  We played darts and imbibed on seemingly endless bottles of beer.  The music blared and he whispered in my ear a few times. The more crowded it became, the closer he had to move toward me – there was electricity in the air.

After a failed attempt at a second marriage and going it alone for the two previous years, a relationship was the last thing on my mind.  What was it about this guy?  What a smile! What a laugh!  What a touch!  It may have been the gentleness of his voice.  It may have been that he asked questions about me, about my life and willingly shared his story.  Reciprocal respect with an eagerness to listen – what a novel approach toward never-ending love!  Above all, he was the kindest person I have ever met.

He was newly divorced with children and a grandchild on the way.  I was struggling to get the funds together for my own court proceedings.  My children were gone for the weekend and this was a Friday night.  It must have been about midnight and I did not want the night to end.  Our PT friends had all gone home and I knew that I needed to leave as well.  I had not felt like this in a long time.  Was he my knight in shining armor come to rescue the woman who only wanted someone to love and to be loved back with the same intensity?  We were married seventy-six days later in the most unceremonious of events at a court-house with our 5 children in tow.

 

April 1994

April 1994 – meeting my parents for the first time

As the goosebumps arrive at the memories of the beginning of our relationship, I smile.  Yes, it was the best time of my life and it continued to be the best love to the end.  Sometimes throwing caution to the wind can reap the most amazing of benefits.  In this case, it was the love of a lifetime.  My life is not over, but his ended too soon by a horrible disease called appendix cancer/pseudomyxoma peritonei.

When I think about the twist of fate, I am forever grateful that he chose to go out that night and that I threw caution to the wind and would not change a thing in our relationship.   Neither of us was perfect but there never a more perfect match for each other!

I am blessed and I will love him forever.

Valentine’s Day & My Promise

The promise was to me, to deactivate my social media (Facebook) account and to find joy.  This chronicles my first few days.

It’s  11:30 pm on February 9, 2017.  I just hit the deactivate button on my Facebook account.  I felt like a kid that wanted to grab another cookie while mom had her back turned.  Reach for it and then pull back – reach for it.  I made sure to download a copy of my Facebook (did you know you can do that?) so as to preserve private messages, friends lists and photos.

So now what?  I am going to bed.  I feel good.  I feel free.

February 10th – It’s amazing how my mind only went to wondering how things are going on social media once or twice an hour!

February 11th – Retail therapy instead of social media?  I’m finding the art of window shopping; something I was never able to do before but find that I actually can enjoy that!

February 12th – A day of remembrance in church and breaking bread with my son in-law and his family in honor of his dad.

February 13th – I’m learning the importance of organization and finding time to enjoy and be thankful for my blessings.  This organization thing may take some time.  I think my hiatus from social media is going to change a lot of things for me, in a very good way!

I promise not to chronicle my entire life in future posts with a daily record but I want those who are following to know that I am okay.  I am loved and beloved.  My peace within is growing exponentially.

Today is Valentine’s Day.  My beloved used to really put thought into the cards he purchased for me until he found the one that said exactly what he could not put into words himself – at least until he knew that he could no longer buy anymore – it was then that he became verbose.  He never was a man of many words, but “I love you” and “always and forever” and “I love you more” were the words that he spoke but followed with action.  Because after all words are only words.  There was never a moment in our married life that I did not feel loved and honored.  He made being his wife a privilege.  I feel confident today that somehow, somewhere, his spirit is surrounding me with that gift of his love.  It was a gift because I know that there are many people who don’t have love in their lives or the kind of love that transcends all time.  My heart is full of joy today for what was and what will always be, mine.

My Valentine was the cupid who pierced my heart with his kindness, his laughter, his strength and most assuredly his love.  Some of my greatest memories are those when we would gaze into each other’s eyes and just stay there – finding each other’s soul.  What a gift that was and one that I get to cherish for always and forever.

I end this with one of our Instant Message exchanges and how we dealt with our deep love for each other and the sorrow of what was to come … this is true love:

surgesT@: Can’t wait for another huge hug.

surgesK@: Me toooooooooooooooooo!!!!!

surgesK@: Love You

surgesT@: I looooovvvvveeee youuuuuuuuu

surgesK@ t: HUBA HUBA

surgesT@: :o)

surgesK: :((

surgesK@: you are beautiful!

surgesT@: Don’t cry – it will be ok … I hope I’m beautiful when I see you again for the first time.

surgesK@: I don’t have to hope I know you will be!!!

surgesT@: awwwww.

surgesK@: You are the most beautiful Woman in the world!  And you are all mine My Love

surgesT@: I will always be yours.

surgesK@: thank You That is one thing to be true!!!

surgesT@: you know it!

I hope each of you find your own Valentine; wherever he or she may be.

The Weeping Widow Willow

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Be still … let the tears fall.  A reminder of the years gone by brings sadness, but lots of good memories too.

Sometimes it is difficult to look into the past and not just remember the most recent holidays that we shared, because those seemed to have the most meaning for us.  We knew that time was limited.  We knew we had to savor every morsel of love, time and space that we possibly could.  And we did.  Even his last Christmas in 2013 where we were in the hospital when our family celebrated at our house without us there, we laughed and enjoyed the hospital atmosphere.  It seems that Keith could spread joy or Christmas cheer no matter where he was.  He did that year round.

In the late 90’s, early 2000’s wooden reindeer and wooden outdoor decorations were really big in our town.  We spent a lot of time and money purchasing the tools and supplies necessary to make our own and even shared some as gifts.  We started in the summer time, working in the garage alongside each other as was our favorite thing to do.  We couldn’t wait to share our talents come December.  Those were the days!  We always split the holidays.  Christmas was with Keith’s family.  A few years after we were married, I offered to take over Christmas for his mom … she was thrilled!  At that time, our house was small, but so filled with love and excitement, wall to wall presents and people and lots of food and cheer!  These are great memories.  I can reach back into the memory bank of my childhood and realize that, those too, are memories and my traditions changed once I left home.  New traditions begin this year.

This has been a year of incredible change in my life.  It is the first time ever that I have lived alone.  It’s not so bad, really – I just have to remember that with this change, I have to not hold on so tightly to the pain that brought me here.  I don’t know why things happened in my life the way that they have, but I have much to be thankful for.  It’s not always easy, but I do prefer to count my blessings rather than dwell on the things that are out of my control.  We are often victim to circumstance, not choice.  But the choices we make will forever frame the picture of our life.  I have a pretty amazing collage of memories to choose from on those days that make me weep.

I titled this post as the “Weeping Widow Willow” because that is what I have been.  I do have weeping days but find that I can bend with the wind just as a mighty willow.  I can spread my roots deeper into the crevice of grief but I know as I do that, I lose branches that are meant to stay close to the surface of my heart.   When I stand firm in the belief that pain is the only way to feel, I lose the ability to sway in the breeze to allow the sun to shine under the small leafs that make up my entire self.  A willow tree is monumental.  My family has a history of them, starting with one my dad planted as a small child.  Many of us in the family swung from that tree, which, as change would have it, was removed when my grandma passed away and her land sold.  So as I weep as a widow, I am ready to keep those roots toward the surface.  I will allow the rain to strengthen me and help me continue to grow.  I am ready to embrace the sunshine more and willing to start enjoying new traditions.

2017 may be the year to take care of me. I have taken care of others since I began babysitting at 12 years old.   I think I will plant a tree.

Stepping Stones

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There’s a lot of personal information in today’s writing.  It’s a process by which I decompress and share because I know there are others who are experiencing the same feelings.

Ugh.  That pain.  What is that pain in my stomach?  What is that pounding in my chest?  What is this feeling of impending doom?  What have I done?  What will I do?  When will this stop?

How did I get here again?  It’s been nearly 22 months since Keith died.  Why now?  Why is it all hitting me now?  Where have I been?

Over and over and over again, I am experiencing that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I felt when they closed the funeral chapel doors and closed his casket.  I held it together up until that point.  I felt then like someone had punched me in the stomach.  It took my breath away.  It is taking my breath away again.

How do we get from a safe crevice in this mountainous climb to the rocky ledge that I find myself standing on?  Where does it come from?  It hurts so badly.

I witnessed God in our home, in our lives, in our hearts.  He promised Keith and me that things would be okay.  I promised Keith that I would be okay.  I feel like a failure in that right now.  I am not okay.  No, I do not need counseling.  No I don’t need to give it to God, He already has it.  I need to find a way to feel less like I’m moving backward and more like I am choosing the right next-step and not teetering on the edge when I really am making sound decisions.

Who knew that leaving my old surroundings would invoke such emotional strife?

I am struggling with everything.  I have so many friends who are fighting for their lives with the disease that took my husband.  I have lost too many friends to the disease and it consumes me.  I can’t find my balance anymore and this ledge is a scary place to be.

I’ve never experienced panic attacks before where they came out of nowhere.  Sure, I’ve had anxiety throughout my life (who doesn’t?) but not like this.  You think you’ve got it all together and then BOOM.

I MISS him.  Keith always, always knew what to say when something needed to be said.  He grounded me like nobody else ever could.  He showed me how to live in the moment.  The problem is that right now, every moment feels like an eternity.

Back in 2005 I had encephalitis and meningitis from West Nile (mosquito borne illness) and had a lot of issues post illness.  I was put on Cymbalta (an anti-depressant) to deal with the effects of what it did to my brain.  The dose was increased in 2007 when I had a stroke-like episode which left me in a wheel chair for months … eventually, thank God, with intensive therapy I did heal, but the medication was affecting my liver along with all the other meds I was taking so I went off of it.  Then Keith was diagnosed.  I poured all of my energy into helping him and making sure his every need was taken care of.  I didn’t have time to feel anything but intense love for this man I was taking care of.

Grief is messy.  It’s something nobody can experience through another person.   I am nobody’s hero – I am not an inspiration.  I am a woman who was blessed to be loved by the best.  If I could have traded places with him, I would have, in a heartbeat.   I didn’t ask to be left behind, but I was so I have to figure out a way to keep hanging on, even though some days, it is by my fingertips.

Over the past few weeks, since my move, I’ve experienced more stress than any person should have to have.  I finally took the initiative to see my doctor.  I don’t want to take medication every day to “cope” – but I did agree to take it (Cymbalta) for 3 months.  I was given another medication for the panic attacks and actually slept very well last night.  But, I want to be in control so those will only be used if I can’t find myself able to handle the pounding in my chest.

I depress myself these days and that’s not a good place to stay.  I have been taking breaks from my support group because I’m not much good to anyone if I can’t be good for me. But that doesn’t mean that I am not thinking about them all constantly.  It’s a seesaw life.

I am not the only one struggling and I recognize that.  As much as Keith’s cancer was his journey, being left behind is mine.  Doing it without him is the single hardest thing I have ever had to do.  I made him a promise, yes, I will be okay… and I will be.  I am impatient and I want to know when.

 

Choices, Consequences and Life

 

trust and faithI have started to blog several times because I have a lot to say (surprised, aren’t you?) and then have ended up deleting because it all sounded so whiny.

Choices – as a reasonably responsible adult I knew I would have to make a choice about my living situation.  It was becoming apparent that I was sinking deeper and deeper into a situation financially that was not going to have a good outcome.  Here I was, for the first time in my life, living alone in a big house in which I generally occupy 3 rooms – the kitchen, family room and my bedroom.  The rest of the house was taking up space in my pocketbook and in my head.  I had to move so I made the choice to call a realtor to get “an idea” of what I might sell the house for.  Things moved swiftly with the help of a few wonderful people and the house was put on the market in two weeks from first meeting and then subsequently sold 14-days later.  Okay – now what?  The new buyer wanted to close in a month and I had no clue where I was going to live!  To say that I became a crazed insomniac would be putting it mildly.  Day and night I was searching for the perfect home … somewhere close to where I used to live, about 40 minutes north of where I am now.   I would be closer to the grandkids.  I could find nothing in my price range that didn’t have 15 or more stairs (hey I’m “oldish” now).  For what I could find, my car wouldn’t even fit in the garage.  To know me is to know that my vehicle should always be protected from the environment … to make matters worse; it would cost me what I am currently paying.

Yeah, not all things in life work out the way we want them to work out, but they do work perhaps as they are intended.  In the meantime I needed to get a pre-approval for a new mortgage and submit the necessary documentation.  I have learned that I keep way too much “stuff” but I am organized in most of it.  That financial process, for the most part was easy and approval came two days later.  What I wasn’t expecting was an IRS issue.  Stress … when you open your mailbox and receive a letter from the IRS.  It happened to come on the day of our annual TEAM KEITH fund raising event.  That was a Saturday and I had to wait until Monday to contact both the new loan company and the IRS.  I needed to submit 3-years’ worth of tax returns.  I did that.  But as a normal course of business, the lenders will generally have you sign a document requesting IRS transcripts.  It’s sort of a double check that what you provided is actually what was filed.  This is a public service announcement: If you apply for a loan and you have previous filed a joint return with your spouse and request records and he/she was the primary on said taxes, the file will be flagged.  Dead people should not be applying for mortgages – period.  I learned that in fact, people will try to do that in an identity theft scenario so the IRS began doing this “flagging” upon final tax returns for the deceased.  All is well that ends well, and I was able to have the IRS fax me the 33 pages necessary after giving my crazed, manic-even, sob-story to the agent on the end of the phone line!

Back to the story, I was out with my Realtor looking for a home and becoming very discouraged.  On a whim, I had asked to see a home or homes within a 55 plus community – the opposite direction of where I wanted to go and about 10 minutes south of where I am now, but quite close (maybe too close for him) to my son.  I was not thrilled, but did not rule it out either.  On the last day of looking for a few hours, I sat in my Realtors car, put my hands over my face and cried “what have I done”?  I was second guessing myself … maybe I could have stretched the pennies a bit more and just stayed … now the house has a pending contract, a cash deal and I’m closing in 29 days … I have nowhere to go.  At that moment, the realtor’s phone rang and it was her office assistant.  The seller of the home I had not ruled out just lowered the sales price.  I asked my brother in-law to come and see it with me … and the next morning, he and my sister in law came and gave their blessing.  It’s got “good bones” he told me.  The kitchen though … it needs a major overhaul.  My brother in law said he would do the remodel … As my Realtor and they stood in the kitchen talking, I walked into the main living space which I will call my great room and I swear, I don’t know, out of nowhere, I heard my husband’s voice … “make it our home honey”.  I looked at my brother in law and gave him a dollar figure and said “tell me what you can do” … so things moved quickly – I made an offer and it was accepted.  My daughter and friends came and helped me pack one day I am almost completely done.  I will move on the 9th of September, and fortunately, was able to negotiate with the buyers of my current home a rent-back for these 9 days.  The new home will be painted on the interior this coming weekend.  Yes, I am a woman blessed.

The new home is not the home of my dreams; I am leaving that one behind.  My dreams were fulfilled in this home and it is a bittersweet move.  In reality, Keith and I knew that someday we would downsize and oh how I wish we were doing this move together, but I feel his love and presence every step of the way.  I had the pleasure of meeting the new owners on their final walk through last night and they have two small children.  This home needs life again, and I know they are the perfect buyer.  I told them that I hope they love the home as much as my husband and I did and they were so excited in saying, “we do”.  I am happy for them and I am happy to leave them with a home in pristine condition – a reflection of the best parts of Keith and me together.

Consequences – Everything we do in life provides a consequence, sometimes good and sometimes bad.  I truly believed in my heart I needed to be where Keith and I began further north; after all he is buried there.  There is 15 minutes added to my commute to get there (minus rush hour traffic) … I am not readily available on short notice for the grandkids being further away, but as it turns out, they don’t need me like they used to.  My daughter is happily married to the man of her dreams and they have their family dynamics worked out perfectly.  Being closer to my son is just an added bonus and he need not worry about me “dropping in” because that’s not my style.  The consequences of this move are positive ones so far … it was a very wise financial decision and my insomnia should lessen over this issue once settled in.  I am looking forward to living on one level, with two spare rooms for those grandma sleepovers and my essential office equipment.

Life – It continues to happen whether we want it to or not, so I have decided to be present in it.  I am looking forward to a big conference in Washington, DC in November with the ACPMP Research Foundation and I will be starting some volunteer work at my local hospital in the spiritual care department as well.  I hope to meet new people and engage with others again and not sit at my computer 24/7 like I have the past few years.  I want to be healthy of mind and body and the only way to do that is to make positive changes.  I think I just made my first step.  I am choosing life.  I am grateful for my faith to see me through.

“But It’s Painful,” I Cried.

Are they baby steps or are they giant leaps?  I am such a bag of mixed emotions.  There are huge changes happening around me and here I am, almost paralyzed again.  I miss my life.  I miss my best friend.  I miss being loved.  I miss being “in love”.

I have to make critical decisions about my future and doing it without the guidance of my husband is brutal.  Don’t get me wrong, I am quite capable of making decisions but I second guess myself at every turn.  I’ve talked to some family and a few friends, and everything makes sense, but I can’t seem to move in the direction that I need to.

I read a lot of blogs, many of my friends write them and I generally shake my head and think, yes, thank you for articulating what my heart feels.  Most of them write from the same depth of sorrow as me.  I started this almost 18 months ago as a place of self-healing.  Boy was I wrong.  There is no healing from this.  What I mean to say is that it is survivable, but healing is for illness.  I’m not ill, but I guess you could say I’m heart-sick.  I get so frustrated with myself.  Deep wounds such as the one my husband had from his surgery that became infected, needed to heal from the inside out.  I’m afraid I’ve covered my wound with a Band-Aid and it never healed from the inside first.  Society reminds us that grief is a stage, not a place to stay.  I’d most like to say to society right now, F-CK YOU.  This hurts.  Layer by layer my soul is being eaten away by this grief.

No, I have absolutely NOT lost my faith.  I can’t wait to get to heaven – but I have to.  People move on with their lives and here I am.  What a miserable place to be.  My doctor asked me recently if I thought I was depressed.  I should have said, probably.  I don’t believe I am clinically depressed but my life without him is depressing.  It’s very difficult to look for a future when there really isn’t one that I can envision.  I’m tired.  I am tired of feeling like I am chained to a broken heart.  I’m tired of thinking about what am I going to do?  It’s exhausting.  Right after my husband died, I slept very well.  I surprised myself, even.  But the last year or so have been awful for a full night sleep.

I hope my decisions for the future are ones that he will agree with.  Because already, one of our future plans for me has changed but it’s like his death, out of my control.   I know for sure, I am beyond sad.  Many widowed bloggers talk about the second year being the most difficult.  Today I know what they mean.

I have to say that I have always felt that writing my feelings down on paper was cleansing and since starting my husband’s CaringBridge® and sharing his illness and our thoughts and fears with people, I have continued to do that.  I like reading blogs where there is hope and a realization that everything is going to be okay.  I loved writing those types of updates – they were real, honest, raw feelings filled with hope.  I don’t seem to be there at the moment though.

I want to move at a quicker pace and not stay stuck in these feelings.  Despite our conversations, I know he would want me to be happy – I just don’t know what that looks like right now.  I took a step in letting go.  I deactivated his Facebook.  It’s not like he could respond to anybody.  It hurt.  It was painful and I cried.

This is my grief.

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There is nobody to share it with because nobody else understands my grief.   Many can empathize because they are going through their own grief.   But your grief is your grief to deal with and while we can all commiserate with each other, you know your grief and I know my grief.

I might be perceived as a grieving widow.  The assumption is she’s fine and is doing well. Nobody understands my grief.

I get up every day (thank you, God) and (mostly) do the things that need to get done but it is a struggle – every single day.  Nobody understands my grief.

Don’t feel sorry for me because this is my grief.  This is my pain and I will gladly suffer grief because I have seen what physical and emotional pain does to a person.  I watched it for 4 years with my sick husband.  Oh how strong and courageous he was … You don’t know courage; so much can be said for what we choose to show the world.  He was never a dramatic person so why bring drama into the mix?  Nobody wants to talk or hear about the downside of cancer.  It’s not death people – death is a welcome end to the misery.

My grief isn’t just the loss of my husband – it is all those 1,506 days from the very first phone call that there was a problem with his health. The tests kept us busy and then the diagnosis – we both died a little that day and the grief began.

Grief is about who was there and who wasn’t there and figuring out in your mind how to forgive those that weren’t.

When you have taken care of someone for so long, and watching the horrors of what the mind and body goes through in a slow, methodical death, you don’t ever get to forget that and over time, it becomes more prominent in your mind than when you were going through it. I am not just talking about physical pain.

I would not expect anyone to understand my grief,  it would be impossible because there was not a single person who lived with that man and intimately saw what I saw. So much was not for public consumption.  Nobody understands my grief.

Have I lost all of my marbles? It’s possible that during those 1,506 days I lost many things. It is now, nearly 14 months post death that I am starting to understand my grief. It is not just the death it is the hours, moments and days in between diagnosis and death compounded by the insurmountable sadness felt at being alone.

I know I have a support system. I have people who care and so many people who are going through something so similar, but completely different.

This is a process, I know.  The many stages of grief described have not been applicable in my case. One could not possibly understand my grief because there was no greater love than the love that we shared together, in sickness and in health. This is my grief.