Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by julie conway on May 2, 2010 at 4:08pm

Suzanne,
I know just what you are saying. It has been 4 weeks since my husband died. I have found the days that could be considered "good" is when I am not thinking about my George never coming home again. I pretend he is in the hospital and I will be able to see him. Then the reality sets in-he is gone. He is not answering my goofy comments or asking me for something. We got married when I was 20-next week would be our 35th anniversary.
We always planned to do so many things and were unable to do them. I can only plan trips to see my only child and my grand-daughter. That keeps me going. I have something to look forward to. I cry for no reason with no warning. Really, I had been with my husband since I was 17. He was my first and only love.
You are right-life is a black hole. I keep looking up trying to see light and hope.
I have started going to a grief support group. It allows me to vent and I know there are others going through what I am going through.
The other issue with you Suzanne is the moving and everything you are going through. That adds to your sorrow and even more life changes.
Please feel free to e-mail me at gconway924a@aol.com You are not alone. You are going to make it. I know if I can you can. I cared for my husband for so long; I just have to do it.
I started a journal the week after George died. I still talk to him. I will keep talking to him.
Take care Suzanne

julie conway

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Permalink Reply by Monica Pace on May 2, 2010 at 9:06pm

Suzanne, you said that you weren't sure you had explained your feelings very well, but I think you did a splendid job. I may not qualify to even be in the same discussion as you and Julie Conway because I only met my soulmate a short time ago, on New Years Eve, 2007. I wish to God I HAD known him since I was 17, but I also thank God that we met and had the time we had.

I do understand the sleep-walking through the days, the black hole you feel sucked into, the sense of "what is next?" and your fear. Your whole life was entwined with Dave's - you were one. Even I have that sense of emptiness and I had nowhere near the history with Damon that you two had. There will never be anyone to replace Dave - how could there be? - but you sound like a very strong, smart and capable woman and you WILL be a happy person again. Not the same as before, but a different happy person. Every single person who has lost a love that I have come across since Damon's death has given me the same promise (and they actually say "I PROMISE you"), and that is that we WILL find a way to be better and to feel good again. I have to believe them because otherwise I am so tempted to just curl up and die myself. And since these people I've spoken to have been down this road themselves, I have faith that they know what they are talking about and you and I will not be exceptions - you'll come out of that black hole. xo Monica

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne Ballard on May 3, 2010 at 9:58am

Yesterday was a particularly bad one for me. Seems I could only sit here at the computer looking at pictures of our life together and cry and cry. I pulled myself out long enough to make some comments and to post a little to just feel connected to other people, but mostly I just sat here in a funk. I am starting to have anxiety attacks, I can't sleep, I can't remember when or what I eat most days and I feel like I am sinking farther and farther down this rabbit hole.

I am being forced to move from our home by my mother in law and that is very hard. I was not ready to walk into Dave's closet, much less pack up his belongings. I feel like I am being pushed into doing things that I don't want to do or am just not emotionally equipped to handle right now. I am not usually a person who is confused, but I don't seem to know which end is up these days. Thanks for reponding to this post I left. It helps me to feel like I am not totally alone in all of this.

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Permalink Reply by Monica Pace on May 3, 2010 at 4:06pm

Hi Suzanne,
I really hope that today is a little bit better than yesterday for you. I'm glad that you were at least able to sit at the computer and post some comments (probably through tear-filled eyes). Have you looked into a support group in your town at all? I am having a very difficult time finding one that allows new people in once they start, but I found a group that meets tomorrow night and I have high hopes. Sitting in a room with others who understand your pain MIGHT be helpful. I am sure hoping so anyway.

I am SO sorry you have to move out of your home. I don't know the details, of course, but why in the world would your mother in law force that?? It is unimagineable that you have to go through Dave's clothing and stuff already. I don't even know what to say. I know you will find the strength to do what you have to do, but I am sure it is adding to your grief and emotional upheaval. I wish I could help you. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and you will make it. My doctor gave me a "Mourners Rights" leaflet that, among other things, says that we mourners are considered legally insane for one year in some countries, so what that tells me is that you should not feel that you should be in your right mind at this time. I have friends telling me they said this or that since Damon's death, and I don't have any memory of it at all. Don't have high expectations of yourself and try hard not to be pushed into things you don't feel ready for. Do you HAVE to move?

I will talk to you soon. Take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other......
xo Monica

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Permalink Reply by kari vorbeck on May 5, 2010 at 7:18pm

Hi Suzanne
You have hit the nail on the head. I am 47 and my husband died 4 months ago. I find it hard to see any positives in my future. I was married for 25 years. Our anniversary is coming in June I am dreading this day. I know that i will survive as well yet will there ever be joy in my life. There are days that I think I am doing well and others I am still devistated with my loss. I am missing the little things such as coming home and talking to him about the troubles at work or frustrations with the kids. My son is moving into an apartment in a couple weeks, Vern my husband and I were looking forward to reconnecting our relationship without the kids, now i am facing this loneliness alone.

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Permalink Reply by julie conway on May 5, 2010 at 7:36pm

Hi Kari,

I think you described my days to a tee. It is now 4 weeks since my husband died. I don't think there has been one day that I have not cried. My daughter is married and lives out of town. She is our only child.
OMG-coming into the house after work is horrible. I miss his asking me how the day went. The quiet is deafening. Our anniversary is May 9th Mothers Day. I want to hide-I don't want to speak to anyone.
The year of "firsts" is going to be heart breaking.

I really don't know if or when I will ever feel 'Happy". I don't think happiness is possible. I was the care giver. I have no one to care for now. I guess I should be somewhat relieved. It is not working that way. I miss my best friend.
I never wanted to be alone in life. My nightmare is now a reality. I am alone and I hate it.

You take care
Julie Conway

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Permalink Reply by kari vorbeck on May 5, 2010 at 8:04pm

I cared for my husband during his illness for the last six years. I think back on how at times I hated what are lives had become doctors, tests and hospital stays. Today I would take all the difficult days back if only Vern was still here. Recently I had to go out of town for work, while in my hotel I realized that there was no one waiting for a phone call from me, this was a devistating realization. There are times when my phone will ring at work and for a split second my thought is that Vern is calling, this is an awful feeling. My life seems to be an endless day of nothingness. It has been 4 months since Verns death and people have moved on, but I have not, yet I try to put on a mask of being normal.

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Permalink Reply by julie conway on May 5, 2010 at 9:20pm

Oh Kari, I know what you mean. I would call the house everyday at the same time to make sure he took his medicine, ate etc. etc. I have to stop myself from picking up the phone. I have a "Good" day when I forget my George is gone. George was ill for many years, but the real hard times were the last 5 years. He had increased breathing issues as a result of chemo. He got pulmonary fibrosis, he had horrible back pain from numerous surgeries, open heart surgery etc etc. I feel so very sad that I chose to ignore how much he had declined. I just assumed he would pop back. He spent his last Christmas in the hospital and we missed our new grand-daughters first Christmas. We told each other, "Well, there is always next year." There is no next year. There is no re-dos and I am angry. I am angry a man who suffered so very much spent his last special days-including his birthday-in a hospital.
I am angry I did not show more empathy, I did not want to face his decline in health. God, I wish I had even a weekend with him. I would have taken him out of the house and just drive him around for a change of scenery. I cry every day, I have the cloths he wore on his last doc visit hanging in the closet. I have the cloths he wore to the hospital for his last admission. I want to hear him so very much. I want to call him. No one will ever feel this kind of pain until they lose someone they love. I have never felt this kind of pain before.
Now that I have vented, I am determined to get through this. I find comfort reading the posts from you and Suzanne B. I know the 3 of us can not be going crazy at the same time.
It is the grief and it really sucks.

You take care. We will get through this. We have to.
Julie Conway

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne Ballard on May 5, 2010 at 9:30pm

Hi, Julie. I am right with you on that change of scenery. Dave was the strongest, most naturally atheletic person I have ever known and he ended up spending the last 5 months of his life, basically laying on the sofa, in bed or in his chair staring out the window. Sometimes I would see a lone tear trickle down his cheek and it just about broke my heart for him. To have the dead, sweet man have to suffer right before me and not be able to do to much of anything to ease his pain...and it was incredibly intense pain, too, haunts me still. My rational mind knows that I couldn't have done much more than I did but my emotions get hold of me sometimes and I just go all soppy thinking about how he must have felt all that time. I occasionally would be impatient with him for not doing something quick enough but it would only last a second and I'd remember how hard everything had become for him. But now I feel guilty for even feeling those emotions for those brief seconds.
If someone told me I could have him back for just an hour, I'd almost sell my soul for to have that hour. And yes, Julie, we will get thru this. I only hope I come out on the other side undamaged. Dave would be so disappointed in me if I didn't and I just can't let him down.

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne Ballard on May 5, 2010 at 9:54pm

I am finding that this grief is such a paradox. While it makes me feel horrible, I also think of all these emotions as a reminder that I loved someone so very, very much that it has affected me like this. Not everybody gets that in their life and I know I am one of the luckiest people in the world for having not only loved someone like this, but that he loved me the same way.
I'd like nothing more than to have Dave here but if I had to see all that pain cloud his beautiful blue eyes again, I don't think I could survive it.

Our life was very much like what you describe...doctors, hospital, radiation, drugs, pain. I think it is true for most people with terminal cancer. When he said "enough" and we just came home to spend his remaining time together, it was the best decision we could have made. We spent nearly every waking moment together. Because the cancer was so widespread in his bones, I couldn't sleep beside him....just rolling over in bed broke his ribs...and I couldn't hug him anymore, but I held his hand as much as I could and sat right beside his bed. We spent an entire day just telling each other how much we loved each other and how wonderful our life had been. Now I have the memories of that day and of him saying to me that he loved me more than he had ever loved anything or anyone in his whole life and that it would always be "you and me, together, forever". That is what I try to remember now when the sadness threatens to well up and it really eases my mind.

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne Ballard on May 5, 2010 at 8:14pm

I haven't been on this forum for a couple of days. My mom had to be in the hospital for tests and I have been there with her a good bit. She is fine, just a medication adjustment to fix things...but she is 78 and dad is 81, so it is hard on them both if they are not together. My dad is going in for test tomorrow because they think he might have the same cancer that my sweet Dave had. I guess maybe my being an expert on Renal Cell Carcinoma might come in handy now.

Even though we all are experiencing this trauma in a different way, I think we are all feeling the exact same things. The hurt, the memories, the loneliness...it is almost more than I can bear. I spent the whole day in the house on Sunday, only going out to walk my dogs a couple of times other than that I just sat here and cried. Sometimes I feel like I am feeling sorry for myself but then I think if I don't have the right to feel sorry for myself, then who does?

I can't listen to the radio without hearing a song that makes me cry. Can't watch television shows or movies that might conjur memories. I am self employed and work at home, so I don't even have a place to go everyday, so I make up errands I really don't need to run just so I don't have to be here. Dave and I lived an exciting, fulfilling, happy, loving, wonderful life and now it is all just gone....no more. I am not sure I can do this for the next 30 days, much less 30 years. I am wearing down like an old watch.

I wish we could all meet or something. I think we need each other right now. It seems like we are strangers, but we all have more in common that I have with some of my closest friends...

(Just an FYI...I have a facebook page listed under Suzanne Ballard. If anyone else is on fb, we could set a specific time of the evening to chat. Facebook can be a good place to connect because you have to add friends to have them access your information, if you set the account up right. And the chat feature is really easy and reliable. You just have to click on somebody's name to chat with them, nothing to download. You just have to be friends with the person to use the chat. Anybody else have a facebook page? )

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Permalink Reply by Suzanne Ballard on May 5, 2010 at 8:15pm

And by the way, I am going to answer the sweet emails I got soon as I can. Just been too busy and too tired at night.
Suzanne

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