Comment

Comment by Linda Engberg on January 13, 2020 at 5:17am

Joe, I have seven tattoos one for each year Julian has been gone. It is my way of honoring him  People make fun of me saying I am too old (71) to have them. Glad to hear I am not the only one still honoring their spouse after death.

Comment by Joe Kelly on January 12, 2020 at 9:00am

Thank you Linda.  It's beautiful for you to had done that.  I have tattoo of our names in a heart.  I wear two sets of our wedding bands on both pinkys and ring fingers.  We're still married and always will be forever.  

Comment by Linda Engberg on January 12, 2020 at 8:05am

Joe, What a beautiful post. I have a tattoo on my shoulder of both our hands on our wedding day. I added my own words.

God be with you.

Comment by Joe Kelly on January 11, 2020 at 9:09am

Reliving two years ago.  Ten days till She took Her last exhaling breath in my arms.  She went knowing that we will be together forever and it can't come soon enough for me.

Till then:

Comment by Linda Engberg on January 6, 2020 at 7:10am

Just another year closer to death I pray.

Comment by Linda Engberg on December 28, 2019 at 6:27am

Take Care Joe.

Comment by Joe Kelly on December 27, 2019 at 8:48am

Linda and Morgan,

I'm too paralyzed at the moment to post but I'm going to later as there are things in both of your posts that I constantly think about.

Comment by Linda Engberg on December 27, 2019 at 6:32am

OMG Morgan, The 7th year of grieving has me feeling exactly as you do. I relived his death this holiday season also. He didn't die in the short period of time your Husband did.

He developed cancer in 2007 when we lived in Nevada. After removing the tumor from his colon,we moved to Florida so he could get the best care from Mayo Clinic. For 6 years is was three operations, chemo sessions, pills galore, 911 calls and Mayo began part of everyday life.

On May 3. 2013, I found him on the floor of our bathroom he was in a coma and not responding to me. He was on Hospice the last six months and they told me he would live about 3 more days. He died in our home on May 5, 2013. 

To this day I remember every minute of those 3 long days. I will never adjust to fit in the real world again. All I can do is wait for death and go through my fake existance.

  

Comment by morgan on December 26, 2019 at 10:40pm

I'm making my way through the treacherous memories of Xmas eve day when I took him to the ER, to Xmas day when he laid uncomfortably waiting for doctors to celebrate with family and friends and then the day after when he was operated on and they diagnosed stage 4 cancer.  He lived another 27 days.

I  know I've related this story of his march towards death here on this website before but it bears repeating because I am still unable to process that he is gone.  The forever kind of gone.  Not to the store.  Not in his workshop gone.  No gone, never to hold him again.

And as hard as I push myself, no, I force myself to do all the things necessary to be active I would be more than happy to crawl into my bed on freshly laundered sheets and lay there until I too pass.  

Lately the overwhelming desire to not open my eyes when I sort of wake up has returned.  For awhile I didn't think about the whole eye opening thing.  I seemed ok for awhile to open my eyes and get up slowly but I've reverted back again to not wanting to even begin the slow process, the eye opening.  I put the t-shirt he wore that the EMT guys cut down the center to try to revive him over my forehead and eyes and forehead and just want to go away.  Far far away.  Myself, never to return.

How many ways and times will I ask the universe to please release me. Or put another way to come and get me.  Anything to hasten the process of having to live here.  Here, where he is not.  Here, where I have to get up and do things and pretend that a damn thing matters when I would be just as happy to crawl into that bed and die.  Yes, it really hasn't gotten any easier.  It just has taken a different form of adaptation.  A form where I simply hate what i have to do and it takes too much energy to explain to anyone that I am still not really any better.  Before they gave me some slack.  Now after seven years and enough pretending on my part they think I've adjusted.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  How can I go on like this?  For how long? How long before I am just unwilling to open my eyes?

Comment by Joe Kelly on December 25, 2019 at 12:28pm

Well said Lani and never let that go.  Our consciousness is immortal.  I know because I had an experience back in the eighties when my "spirit" or "consciousness" separated from my body after been hit by a truck.  My darling wife still exists.  She just doesn't have the body to communicate back to me.  I was like an invisible form of energy that could somehow see and move.  I talk to her all day, every day.  Never let that diminish in the least.  We have to wait the wait, suffer as we may, but the day when we go does exist.  We just don't know what that date is, but it is certain.  It can't come soon enough for me and most of us here.  Believe it or not, even my children, knowing the love we had for each other are rooting for me.  God Bless, Joe        

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