mittam99

Robin, no one knows 100% what waits for us on the other side. The only way I personally can function in this new, bleak world without my beloved Tammy, is to have hope. The hope that we will be reunited someday on some level. The hope that maybe she can still see me... hear me. No one has ever proven it conclusively one way or the other, so that leaves the door open for hope. In my life after Tammy some things have happened that have been real eye openers. Imagine driving 70mph on the highway and falling asleep at the wheel. Then, waking up to the sight and sounds of your car hitting a concrete barrier wall and bouncing off. And not only surviving that with no injury but your car survived without a scratch. This happened to me driving from Maryland to Illinois to go to Tammy's funeral. In my mind there is only one way this could have conceivably happened... my angel Tammy. So, as you go through this hard journey of grief, be open to not only the possibility of life getting better, but the possibility your husband Kevin still exists on some level. I walk through life with Tammy "by my side".

So many basic truths about this difficult journey...

My heart goes out to all who have posted. Everything we deal with now, alone, has a different feel to it, doesn't it? Whether it's something out of the routine like health issues or just the mundane like grocery shopping, there's no one at home to reassure us "it will be OK". Even worse than dealing with things in the moment is thinking too far ahead, I try not to do that very often, but when I do, I fall to my knees in agony! Butch, I know what you mean. Sure it helps to be surrounded by loving and caring family. Yet at the same time, no matter how much they help, the sense of emptiness and loneliness of losing your Mary still overwhelms. They can't give you the same type of love your wife did. In my world, Tammy was absolutely all I had. The love we felt was intense. We were inseparable. Living alone is so terribly hard. I find myself just doing everyday things around the house (cleaning, watching TV, etc.) and out of the blue (or sometimes triggered by something) I'll start sobbing and crying out Tammy's name and telling her how much I miss her. These days, after my grief burst, I'm able to function in a short while (after my breathing and heart rate slow back down). A year ago, my day would have been "ruined" and I would have been a emotional wreck for quite some time. Our grief journey is both a painful endurance test and a challenging learning experience. It's the hardest thing any of us will ever do.

I misplaced my keys a few months ago. I was leaving to go to work and they were nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere including in the fridge, just like you Steve. I called work and explained the situation and called out that day. Then, it dawned on me. The afternoon before I brought groceries in the house. I was convinced I left the keys in the front door. And someone stole them. My car keys gone. House key gone. Mailbox key gone. All because of my grief laden, fog filled mind. So, I got out the Yellow Pages and sat down at the kitchen table to search for reputable locksmiths. I went to open the kitchen blinds to let some light in and something odd caught my eye. What was that behind the napkin holder? You guessed it. My keys! Pheww... It was a relief but at the same time I realized that deep grief and getting older is recipe for absent-mindedness. I need reminder notes to find my reminder notes!

Butch, Sorry to hear Gracie is back in the hospital. Sending prayers and good thoughts.

I think we all can agree that each of us has to live our life in our way and in a way that works for us. For me, it's not a question of starting over with someone or the fear of finding love and losing it again. For me, it's simple. Tammy was my one and only. She was my everything. Sure, I'm lonely, but in my world no one could ever replace Tammy in my heart. On the other hand, if others feel the need to be with someone else, it's not for me to judge. If it brings them happiness, then they are making the right choice, for them.

Brad, glad you're home and sound (mostly). Actually I'm not sure any of us are really "sound" these days.

Marg, each of our journeys is different, Just like our fingerprints, the "fingerprints" of our lives make us all unique. When I posted that I don't understand what you mean by "I don't feel Billy". That's exactly what I meant. I want to understand. Family cares about family and if you're a good family member, you want to understand others in your family, if possible. And I care about you, my sweet, wordy Southern friend. If my asking you about that upset you in some way, that certainly was never my intent. I try to never tell anyone how they should feel or how to go about life. I share my experience of losing Tammy who was my everything and now living in my world completely alone and without love. I post in hopes that others who see my story will look at their own situation and see that there is some hope for a future that's filled with less pain. I truly believe that all of us here is suffering the pain of not just losing a companion, a lover, a confidant, a best friend... we lost our soul mate... physically. But I also truly believe that all of us still have that person inside us. They walk inside us with each step we take. Their heart beats with each beat of ours. And they breath with every breath we take. This is how I feel. Others may not see it that way and I certainly understand that. I am a very empathetic person. I hurt when I see all the pain I'm surrounded with here at the forum. Sometimes posts are hard to read because the emotions stated are so raw and so deep. But, at this point in my journey, I'm here for one main reason. To try to help others and give them hope. For me, that's an important mission. It gives me a small sense of purpose. And I know for sure, Tammy would be so proud of me.

After working with the public for 45 years plus, you learn how to fake it in such a way you look sincere. It's a very useful, important skill. Then again, as much as I try not to, the occasional incredulous look sneaks out.

Not worth the effort, Kay. Too many facial muscles involved with making an incredulous look! A fake understanding look is easier.

Gin, I just want to touch on the issue of insensitive people that you mentioned earlier. The neighbor mentioning that you must get lonely "a little bit". Of course what she said is absurd, ludicrous even. And I totally get it made your blood boil. A year ago, if I heard that I would have been in a state of shock at the insensitivity of it. Somewhere along the way though, I've learned to just roll with it. Maybe it's the fact that I work with the public and have been hit hard over and over with similar "caring but stupid" remarks. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that unless someone had a loss like ours, nothing they say really matters. They simply blurt out what they think is "profound". That's the crazy thing, they actually think they're being helpful. So, you know what I do when I hear the ridiculous comments and cliches and remarks? I give them a fake "understanding" look and inside I think "they don't have a clue" or "you're an idiot" and I'm good to go. Our lives are too hard and too painful already. Let those insensitive remarks be their problem, not yours.

Marg, you often speak of not "feeling" Billy and I guess I don't understand what you mean. I've talked about incidents that have given me hope that Tammy's essence, her "life force", if you will, still exists. But it's not as if I somehow feel her presence in a physical sense. We're not talking seances and ghosts here. It just gives me a measure of comfort and hope that Tammy and I will reunite some day. I think it all goes back to love and becoming as one with your soul mate. Tammy is inside me, and I'm alive, therefore Tammy lives. I live my life doing things with Tammy always on my mind. So, in that sense, I "feel" Tammy. I think our definition of "feeling" our lost soul mate must differ.

I guess there are two sides to that though. I mean, I think it's more a question of feeling a vast emptiness inside. After all we do still feel. I get what you are saying though... it feels like a life you don't want to live. The whole "loneliness. emptiness, meaningless" syndrome. But we are alive. And, I for one, want to live. Yes, we are in a world of pain. Yes, we have no clue where this life will take us or if it will get better. And like all of us, I wish I could get my old life back with Tammy. But I'm living in a new, different world and I have to adapt. The hurt will always be there and I will miss being with Tammy forever. But truly, the one thing that even has me thinking at all hopefully, is that I did have my life with Tammy. I experienced the joy of being as one with someone. Unconditional love that was both given and received. Having a wife that serves as inspiration for what a courageous, selfless, loving and genuinely good human being is. Had I never experienced that (and I didn't before I met Tammy) my life would have always felt somewhat meaningless and empty. Empty, because I never experienced a joyful love like I did with my Tammy. Sure there are two side to that coin, too. That deep love means I grieve incredibly deeply. The tears come easily and there are my "step back" days when I wonder if I can go on, alone. But then, something else pops in my head. The realization that Tammy has made me a different person. I really do feel like a mixture of Tammy and Mitch. We did become as one. I do things in this new life through my eyes and Tammy's eyes. I think with my brain and hers intertwined. I'm trying to move forward in my life in a way that means Tammy and her one of a kind spirit will always live on. I can't live my life in a state of constant depression or anger or anguish. I don't know about all of you, but I simply can't function or survive like that. And I know Tammy would never want that to be my life. So, I go about my days doing the best I can and honoring Tammy the best I can. The sadness and the grief will be a part of this new life for as long as I live. The tears will always stream down my face. I will always yearn for Tammy and the hurt will always be there. But, the thing is, I was so blessed to have Tammy in my life. So proud to call her my wife. I know we had a love and a love story for the ages. And no one can ever take that away! I love my sweet Tammy forever and always. She is and always will be my inspiration.

Chinup, I think you'll find the group of us that regularly post in the "spouse" forum are a bit different than many others who have lost their spouses. We truly married (or were in relationships with) our soul mate. It's a love and a connection like no other. Personally, I can't even fathom being in a relationship with anyone else. My wife Tammy was my once in a lifetime gift from God.

Robin, I know how hard it is to lose your hopes and your dreams. I know how things swirl in your mind these days because unfortunately, there is no "do-over" in life. I'm living the same nightmare you are living. I met Tammy back in 1999 when she moved from her town in Illinois to live with me in Maryland. Her then 3 year old daughter Katie was part of the deal. I went from being a bachelor to living with the woman I loved and all of the sudden I had a daughter to raise. I was 44, Tammy was 30. When Katie moved back to Illinois at age 18, I thought it was going to be a good thing. Finally, it was me and Tammy... free to do what we wanted, when we wanted. No more dealing with Katie's severe ADHD and school problems. Finally some privacy at home. It was going to be great. Tammy and me against the world! But... all those dreams never happened. Tammy's health just wasn't good. Nine months later, Tammy died and I was left with absolutely nothing in my life that mattered. I know what it's like to live with shattered dreams and to wonder what could have and should have been. Tammy was truly my whole world and I thought our life together was just beginning again. Now, 15 1/2 months later, it still hurts. I cry almost daily. But, the pain is different. It still hurts and the waves still hit hard but I've learned how to ride them better. That's not to say my life is good or I have any happiness. It's not and I don't. But I will tell you this... you do learn to cope and there are times you may even have a sense of hope. A hope that the future could be better. Mitch

rdownes... (If it's not asking too much what is your first name? We all try to be on a first name basis here)... Marg has given you a wonderful reply filled with some very sage advice. I just wanted to added a couple thoughts. As Marg said, time does not heal all wounds, especially a wound that is this deep and this "infected" so to speak. But a key point here, for you personally, is to understand that you are only around five weeks into your loss. I understand how the pain feels so overwhelming that you can't imagine living the rest of your life feeling this way. It's at this point, it's so important to try to surround yourself with supportive, understanding people. Joining here, and opening up about your loss is a good start. I also think one on one grief counseling is something to strongly consider. I know you feel like it "won't work" for you but it doesn't hurt to try. I saw my counselor for a few months and even though we parted ways, she definitely helped. The combination of this forum and seeing her allowed me to endure the pain of my early grief. Please consider "re-considering" your thoughts on counseling. I'm telling you this because I do care. Marg also mentioned that in time you'll learn "new tricks", and she is correct. You see, grief isn't just misery and pain. It also becomes a learning experience. You learn personal strategies for coping with the pain. You learn not to look too far ahead and just live in the moment. You also learn, unfortunately, that most people in your life, simply won't understand what you're feeling and why. Your early grief journey is about taking baby steps and savoring those small moments of less pain. You'll try to figure out what helps and what to avoid. Often times you need the support of understanding people (like members here and/or a counselor) to steer you in a better direction. That's the great thing about this place. Grieving a soul mate is so misunderstood by most and having a place live this (filled with people who are also living this new life without their beloved) is valuable beyond measure.

It just means we all handle our grief in our own way. And hey, you don't look a thing like Bert Lahr.

It's interesting how all of us who have lost our soul mate have many similarities but are so different in other ways. I've never felt anger towards Tammy for "leaving me behind". I understand what you're saying Gwen. In some ways you feel it would have been better to have gone together and not had to live this new, terrible existence. But, how could I ever feel anger toward Tammy, a woman who loved life and never wanted to leave me. I know you probably cringe a bit when others (like me) talk of having the love they feel inside carry them through. The thing is, I don't think anyone is saying it's "fulfilling" but it does serve as a motivation to push ahead in this life alone. If I didn't have the love inside and the inspiration of Tammy inside, I'd probably just crawl in a ball and say, "f**k it". She taught me how to be courageous and courage is a commodity you need to survive this journey.

You know, all our days are hard... some just seem harder than others. Everyday we're alive is another day of not living the life that made us happy. It's another 24 hours tacked on to the other thousands of hours since our lives were changed forever. Holidays and the "milestone" days just reinforce how much we've lost and how little our new lives resemble the one we had with our soul mate by our side. One of the hardest times for me without Tammy is Christmas. She loved the whole holiday season and as you may know we were married on Christmas eve. Such a wonderful time of year has been turned into a much more solemn event in my world. In the last month my birthday, Mother's Day, and Tammy's birthday had me in a deep "funk". Today is Father's Day, but in my world it's now just another day to go to work and come home to loneliness. But, this is my life and life does go on. It's certainly not the life I wanted. It's not a life of happiness. This life is downright painful. And the only way I can function and even have a modicum of hope is knowing that Tammy's love is a part of me for as long as I can take a breath.

Gwen and Joyce, I use this phrase quite often and I'll try to explain what it means, to me, anyway.. "Be gentle with yourself" has nothing to do with taking care of your physical well being, at least in the context I use it. Basics like that go without saying (although sometimes we tend to forget, don't we?). No, this phrase has to do with the emotional side of things. This journey is gut wrenching and miserable as we all know. We've lost the life we loved and the person that gave us love and made our life worth living. It's so easy and "normal" to look to "blame" the loss on something or somebody. And the person that often gets the worst treatment, is unfortunately, ourselves. The constant playing over in our minds and wondering if we could have done more or done something differently. The guilt we put on ourselves that only exacerbates the pain. Sometimes we get frustrated when we think we are "better" and making progress and the next moment a wave hits and we are back in misery. We tend to be very hard on ourselves. For that reason when I see a newer member in intense pain, I feel it's important to remind them to "be gentle" with themselves. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy.

I've talked to Kay on the phone quite a bit and her love for George has no boundaries. Their time together, although nowhere near as long as they wished, was magical for both of them Kay, you are in my thoughts, and I wish you a sense of peace as you remember George and that awful day 11 years ago.

I've learned that unless you've lost a soul mate yourself, you simply can't fathom the depth of the loss. Family and friends do care, they just don't really understand. It's that simple. Not that my saying that will make you feel better, it's simply the truth. At the beginning of my grief journey, I was shocked and frustrated that people didn't understand the depth of my pain. After a while I learned to take it in stride a bit better. This is a very personal journey and it can feel very lonely at times. Even though you do feel broken now and life feels meaningless and you don't see any hope for the future, it does get "better". Better being a relative term. It's a hard journey and it will take time and a lot of work. You can do this. As I've said before, posting here will help. I know you're against counseling but if nothing improves with time, please consider at least giving it a chance. Do you have any local grief groups of widows/widowers that meet? I wish I could ease your suffering with a wave of a magic wand, but I can't. Grief is anything but simple or easy. For now try to savor those less painful moments you have and ride those intense waves of grief the best you can. And as always, try to take care of yourself physically, as well.

Butch, thanks so much for the overload of little Gracie pics. She's so precious. I've been having an extremely hard time the past month. Going through my birthday, Mother's Day and Tammy's birthday (all in a one month period) has me feeling so alone and in so much pain. And that's why I look forward to reading something positive about Gracie's health or seeing a photo of her smiling face. I know how hard it is for you to be without your precious Mary. But, you are very blessed to have such a wonderful family surrounding you.

Kay that's not the case around here. I've eaten many "guest trays" during Tammy's numerous hospital stays and have to say the food was pretty bad to awful. I don't think our hospitals locally are getting any Michelin stars. ------------- Marg, I'm always amazed by how much you have on your plate and how well you handle everything thrown your way. I know you're hurting emotionally though. You are an inspiration to many here with the way you go about your life. No doubt Billy's giving you two thumbs up from heaven.

Brad, you are in my thoughts and prayers. Hope you get home soon. Muggs, I'm so sorry things are so painful. It is a very difficult journey and I hope you start to see some light in the darkness that is grief.