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Comment by Linda Martin Warner on June 2, 2015 at 7:00pm

John, it sounds like you might be dealing with caregiver burnout along with the grief.  My daughter says that I am just done taking care of anything after raising five children and then caring for Paul the past ten years.  Your sister does need specialized care at this time.  Keeping a person with Parkinson's safe from falls is difficult for a facility.  A single family member cannot do it 24/7 when the person with Parkinson's reaches the later stages and no longer has the cognitive ability to make safe choices.  Even in an assisted living facility, my husband managed to fall over and over.

Comment by George H on June 2, 2015 at 12:41pm

Mary's been gone 14 weeks today it's really shame when you realize you're not worth a shit without your other half I'm just so damn tired of living like this I miss her so much I can't stand it

Comment by Tildyc on June 2, 2015 at 2:23am

Trina- I pretty much think about dying everyday- several times a day. I suppose if most other folk knew this, they would become extremely concerned. They would want to medicate me...hospitalize me.... Pray for me... Be afraid for me and...of me.

It's difficult to explain. Before Mark died- I was terrified of dying. Now- I am very much at peace with the concept. I've changed my view, death no longer seems so absolute. If anything- it's become my one small hope of the possibility of finally being free again.

Before- it was instinct that told me to be afraid of death. By all means - survive- stay alive. Now- I don't concern myself with this anymore. I am thoroughly prepared to leave this pain behind.

There are only 2 reasons I do not take my own life. 1- I feel there is a very strong possibility that in doing so, it would cause Mark and I not be able to be together EVER again. While not being with him for the remainder of my life is an unbearable pain and grief beyond any description. Not being with him ever again...for eternity..... Fucking Inconceivable. Not an option.

2- I could never intentionally be the cause of such life altering pain to the ones who love me. No one deserves to be forced into this dark and painful dimension in which I (we) are drowning in.

I'm realize I'm repeating a few concepts many of us have shared on here before. I'm not entirely sure why I felt the need to share all this tonight. Perhaps it's just a way for me to try and convince myself that someday- I will be free. That eventually, all this sadness and weariness will no longer define who I've become. And I will be free.

Comment by Trina Mamoon on June 1, 2015 at 11:20pm

I know it's strange to think of it in those terms, John T, but often I, too, think that this is the longest that Joseph and I have been apart. Had we been apart this long when he was alive, it would have been agonizingly painful and we would have been sick with longing and loneliness, exactly what I am feeling now. Only now the separation is not temporary, the kind that people on active duty or in the foreign service, or those incarcerated face. For us the bereaved it is for the rest of our lives. When the thought strikes me, I just feel like ending my own life. But that's something I can't do, so I must endure this life-long separation without parole, without reprieve, for as long as I live. The thought is so overwhelming!

For me the only way to face this reality is to take one day at a time. When my grief therapist and others told me to take one day at a time, I was very annoyed at them and wanted to yell at them, but now I see the wisdom of this simple strategy. One day at a time is all that I can manage everyday. Even as lonely and hopeless as it gets, it's not as overwhelming. To keep our sanity we have to do what works for each of us. There is no moral or ethical rule that we are breaking in trying to find ways to cope with this extraordinarily difficult situation. We each find our own way to survive, to keep our head above the water, to keep our sanity in the face of the inhuman sentence that we have been handed, undeserved.

Richard G, I can see that I have turned a corner. It will be 10 months on June 4th that I lost the love of my life, the reason for my existence, to lung cancer. Now I don't feel like taking my life at every waking moment. The thought of death is ever present, but more as a prayer, and not as an active desire to end it all. So in my case, my agony and despondency have eased some after all these months. I have reached a plateau where there is pain and longing, but it is not blinding and excruciating as before.

Peace and healing to all of us.

Comment by Richard G on June 1, 2015 at 12:17pm

I too live in the pit of despair. Everyday is such a struggle. I just don't see an end to the pain. Having been here before when I lost my first wife. I know that it can get better. However this time I'm just not sure that I will every feel joy again. It seems everywhere I look are reminders of how alone I am. It helps when people post of the pain actually easing, at least it gives me some hope of living with less pain. I truly hope that I don't live a long time. I was blessed with two wonderful wives both taken far too early by cancer. I pray that they are in a much better place. 

Comment by George H on June 1, 2015 at 6:53am

haven't had much to post about lately thought I was seeing a little grey and all the darkness was that sure didn't last long like most of you I'm back in the pit it doesn't matter what I try the mental loneliness is staggering will having so much trouble fighting through it Mary will be gone 14 weeks Tuesday and I miss her so bad I don't know what to do just wanted to post I see how y'all were doing this is the only place I can go with it let loose anything I feel and I appreciate you all for just letting me do it listening

Comment by morgan on June 1, 2015 at 1:48am

I dont know what to write anymore.  I keep coming here in the hopes of better managing my sorrow.  I keep doing things in the hopes of providing myself a way of retraining my brain.  I have quit trying to explain this to almost everyone because no matter how may times I repeat it it hasn't diminished the need to keep explaining how I feel.  The best I can do is pass the time doing what I can do and seclude myself from much of the world.  Today another breakdown at Menards.  The guy at the pro desk was talking about going to his grandmothers funeral.  That's pretty much all it took.  I left finally after him compassionately listening to me exhausted and barely talking or walking.  I have no idea how long a body can take this kind of abuse but at 28 months I can tell you I am still waking up and walking and feeding myself.  The rest of what I do is just a pretty pitiful excuse for living alone.  

I just don't understand the purpose (if there is one) of this kind of existence (loosely termed life) if there is one.  Why are we here now?  What possibility needing to collapse into a subjective experience  is deemed necessary for our continued survival that we must remain for current torment.  Seriously, why in this world are we here to live through all that we have and now continue to have to live through this demeaning painful portion of our lives?  What the hell did I do to deserve this?  

BTW, for those who are earlier on in this journey there is a time of less shock and pain.  Yes, no matter how you shake it out you can regard it as a lessening in the overall torture.  It's all relative though.  On a scale of 1-10 if you start at 100 you would do anything just to get down to 50.  

Comment by Tildyc on June 1, 2015 at 12:35am

I don't want to face this future. Why should I have to hang around? There is only years and years ahead of loneliness. Joyless and painful. And I have a pretty strong feeling that where ever Mark went... It's a much happier place than where I'm at now. And That- is where Iong to be. With Mark and free.

Comment by Nancy on May 31, 2015 at 10:43pm

I have a good friend who is "living it up" in Vegas right now, and I realized that opulent lifestyle just turns me off right now. It always has, to a degree. I'm not one for fancy jewelry, or a big expensive car. Just the simple things keep me happy-ish. But to see all her posts now about the rich food and the fancy buildings just appalls me. After losing my husband, I realize how shallow all that is. God, I miss that man. I just MISS him. His presence, his voice.

Comment by Linda Martin Warner on May 31, 2015 at 6:36pm

Here is a link to a good article I came across:

http://thecaregiverspace.org/mr-grief-enemy-friend/

Sadly, I found the caregiver space website in Paul's last few weeks of life.  I have found the information there to be right on target.

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