mittam99

My beloved Tammy would have been 47 years old tomorrow, June 10th. Honestly, I don't know how I've made it, alone, and without her, for over fifteen months. Tammy was my everything. It's not just some catch phrase I throw out there lightly. She truly was. First and foremost she was my beautiful wife. Oh how proud I was to be her one and only. I loved being her husband. We were best friends. Kids at heart. Two peas in a pod. Made for each other. She made every day I spent with her better. Tammy had an amazing way about her. She was funny, sweet and loving. She was a gentle soul. She was cute and cuddly. Tammy loved me like no other and I loved her more than life itself. She was never blessed with good health, even as a child. But, she never complained about it. After her numerous surgeries, she was proud of her "battle scars". She didn't want people to "feel sorry for her" because of her many illnesses and her systemic Lupus. She was courageous and vivacious. Tammy was, simply put, a unique and amazing woman. Truly one of a kind. How lucky was I that she chose me to be her husband!! Tomorrow will be a hard day for me. I should be taking my Tammy out to a restaurant of her choice and lavishing her with gifts... and kisses. And in Tammy's world, we always celebrated not just a birth "day" but you got an entire birth "week"! I love Tammy so much. I miss being with her... it still hurts... badly. I miss trying to be her knight in shining armor. I miss her laughing at my silliness. I miss those incredible hugs. You know, the kind where you just don't ever want to let go. I miss everything about Tammy. Every inch of her, from her soft red hair to her teeny little feet (and everything in between). I was so blessed. My sweet Tammy. My inspiration. My perfect and forever wife. Mitch

Thank you Kay for all you've done for the members of this community. Here's hoping you can find some moments of comfort on the 14th and the 19th. I know you loved your George, heart and soul.

Too sensitive? Nah. Maryann, you're a lovely human being who is trying to live a life without the person who made your life worth living. How can you not be sensitive to everything and anything? That's to be expected. As to de-activating your account, if that's what you feel was best at this moment, than you did the right thing. Don't dwell on it. When you're ready, you can re-activate it, right? ------------------------------------------ scba said: Ana, you absolutely did nothing wrong, in any way. Sadly, those of us in grief are often forgotten by family and friends, to an extent. It's not that people don't care. Often, they simply don't know what to say. I think they sometimes wait to hear from us, fearing they may say the wrong thing and upset us in some way. Hugs.

Fact 1: Life isn't easy in general and our lives after losing our beloved are often filled with a torturous, unyielding pain. Fact 2: My life with Tammy was filled with love and joy and laughter and kisses and hugs and snuggles and pleasure. Fact 3: My life after Tammy is filled with nothing I mentioned in Fact 2. Fact 4: My life these days is filled with emptiness, longing for the past and a lot of going through the motions. OK, there you have it. My life now basically sucks. I don't have anything that really fulfills me or gives my life meaning. I know you're puzzled. There are really no positives in anything written so far. Read on, it's coming... So here's the thing. I've always gotten a kick out of helping people. And as my grief journey progressed, I realized that maybe my experience and things I've learned along the way could help others. And so, for the past many months I've tried to not only share my journey with others, but have tried to make posts that might give others hope in theirs. Over the past few months, I've received messages from a number of people who have told me I've helped them. And it's a wonderful feeling to know that something I've said has helped someone. Today though, I received a message from a member that brought tears to my eyes... happy ones. I don't have much in this new life of mine and pleasure is a foreign word. But, what this person wrote gave me a positive feeling that did bring me a moment of happiness. I hope that person doesn't mind me posting a portion of what they wrote... When I read the part that said I've helped them feel "normal", I cried.That my words could help someone who is in such misery, overwhelmed me (in a good way). Not only did it make my day, it was one of the nicest things anyone has said to me in a long time.

Moving on will never be a phrase in my grief vocabulary. On the other hand, I did like the "Movin' On" show back in the 1970's...

Gin, so sorry to hear you need more testing. I know you have to be careful with Celebrex and NSAID's in general as they can cause bleeding. You are in my thoughts and I'm definitely joining in on that group hug Marty mentioned!

I wish I had the ability to visit my Tammy whenever I could. I spent 1/4 of my life with her and we were together virtually 24/7. Her family told me her wish was to be buried back in Illinois for her final resting place. It's so hard not being able to just go to her grave and sit with her and talk to her. Nothing about this life after Tammy is easy. It all hurts so bad.

DawnMarie said: "I have now realized that tho i don't know everyone's or anyone's story of why of how their loved ones passed, I think maybe mine is quite a different story. Which makes it seem worse to me." Yes Dawn, all of our lives and the circumstances of our spouse's deaths were different. The thing is though, (and the longer you're on your journey the more you will see this truth) most people in our real lives simply don't understand anything about what we are dealing with or what our life alone is like. Here at the forum, and specifically in the "Loss of Spouse" forum, people do get the trauma of your loss. They are dealing with many if not all of the same emotions. When I first joined here last March I was devastated. Less than two days after my lovely 45 year old wife Tammy came home from rehab (after a prolonged hospital stay), she died shockingly and suddenly at home. I have many issues with the poor medical treatment Tammy received over the years. Over the years Tammy and I had been through so much trauma and spent years dealing with incompetent and uncaring medical people. I could write a book, trust me. People here helped me in many ways. My will to live was very low. Being surrounded by people who care and understand on this forum made a big difference in my life. I know you are consumed by your own loss and all the issues surrounding it. But, I honestly believe, reading other people's stories and reading about their grief journeys may help you as well. And of course, please tell us your story. Honestly, my first post ever at the forum was telling my story (that's kind of what everybody does).

When I was twelve, my grandfather committed suicide. And the way it happened was traumatic (especially for my sister). He was a cabbie and used to pick up my older sister and he'd drive her to college in the morning. And on this morning his cab was parked outside as it always was. The only thing was, he didn't come in for his usual cup of coffee while he was waiting for my sister to get ready. So, my sister walks outside to go to his cab and to her horror, sees him slumped over the wheel, gun by his side, dead, with a bullet in his head. I'll never understand why this happened. Why did he park in front of our house like that? He left a note behind at my grandmother's house that said he couldn't take it anymore and he felt like he had ruined his family's life (he was a gambler and had huge debts). He was very beloved by me, I never imagined he would take his own life. He just didn't seem to be that type of person. My mother and grandmother were of course, a mess. Which is why I am so affected by those who have lost someone by suicide. Losing a beloved soul mate is devastating but the added anguish of a suicide is hard to imagine.

Gin, how did the doctor visit and testing go? Hope all is well.

Marita, I just wanted to say that your post was amazingly well written. It's not always easy to put our painful emotions into words. I particularly found your t-shirt idea to be rather intriquing. You also talked about your "simple" life with your husband and I wanted to touch on that. Tammy and I didn't have an extravagant lifestyle. We didn't travel the world or drive fancy cars. But we were far richer than most other couples because we had each other and a love for the ages. Whether we were watching TV, eating a meal, playing a video game or simply talking, it was a joyful thing. Because of Tammy's health problems, something as basic as taking a drive in the car together was rare and so very special to both of us. Sitting at a table in a restaurant with my sweet wife made me feel so loved and so blessed. It felt good being there (surrounded by other couples and families) and being with the one person that completed you. You felt like you "fit in". Now it feels so different being alone and not really having a clear picture of your identity. And the hardest thing is... going from a couple to a single. We've all lost our anchor and we've set sail on a frightening journey into the unknown. How do we navigate these rough waters and somehow steer our journey to a happy place? It's kind of hard to see where you're going when tears are constantly blurring your vision! I guess the only thing we can do is get up in the morning and take each day as it comes. Some days will be ok, but many will be filled with utter sadness and much pain. Some days we will question why we even bothered getting out of bed. But somehow, we must go on. And the best way I've found to do that is to live my life with Tammy and her love in my heart. By doing that, she stills lives on and walks beside me with every step I take.

Dawn, getting a death certificate is traumatic, no doubt. I feel your anguish and your anger. May, I suggest something? And it's just a thought. I know you have issues with your county that run deep and it's totally understandable. But in this moment, try not to think about the county or that hospital. Think about the love you and your husband shared. The kind of man he was. Don't let your anger toward the county and hospital completely consume you in your journey, ok? Leave that for another day if you can. You need to try to rest and take care of you and your emotional well being right now. Hugs.

I hear you, Gwen. We do things, we accomplish tasks, we try to keep our mind in a "good" place. Unfortunately, the reality is, when all is said and done, we are alone and living in a world we never wanted. And the life we really want, we can't get back.

George, grief is such a moment to moment roller coaster. I think that's why it's so hard to realistically gauge our own progress. Today was a good example. Work went very well and (knock on wood) the abdominal pain I've been experiencing has been very tolerable. I found myself laughing at some of the stuff I was watching on TV. Really felt like the day was going rather well. Then, something very minor that was said on TV set me off on a gut wrenching burst of tears and anguish. In that moment, it felt like it was a year ago and I was in the early stages of my grief journey. The difference is, I've come to learn that these grief bursts aren't really setbacks; it's just the ebb and flow of my life without Tammy. I recover from them much more quickly than I did. Still, when they happen, you do wonder if you're going backwards but I really don't think that's the case. It's all part of the learning aspect of grief. It's an education none of us voluntarily enrolled in.

I hate that "moving on" phrase. You never "move on" after you lose your beloved soul mate. That's simply impossible. That implies that you somehow are leaving all that they meant to you behind. Discarding your old life. Saying goodbye to all the love that made each day better. Frankly, I call BS on that whole concept as it applies to those of us in this forum. On the other hand, the term "moving forward" makes perfect sense as a goal we are trying to reach. Moving forward in our new life. Moving forward and trying to define our new role. Moving forward with all the love we shared with our soul mate always in our heart. Moving forward and finding some meaning in our life. That makes sense. Moving on? Not so much.

Marg, on the subject of hemorrhoids... And yes, this is a bit off topic but hey, you mentioned them. As I've mentioned I work with the public, right? Well, as you know, many people walk around with their cellphones pretty much glued to their ear and they often forget they're in a public place. One day, in front of a bunch of people, a woman loudly started blabbering on the phone... "Yeah", she says in a voice that could be heard a block away. "They've gotten huge!", she continued. "I can hardly sit down. My ass is killing me.They itch like hell and the Tucks aren't helping so I'm going to schedule surgery to have those damn things cut out". All I can say is a lot of us that were in earshot decided to skip lunch after listening to that nauseating conversation. Only reality could be this bizarre. You can't even dream this stuff up. I should write a book.

Acceptance can be a confusing concept. I mean, in the one sense, the logical side of me understands that Tammy has died and isn't coming back yet my emotional side hopes and dreams that somehow this was all just some sort of nightmare. And if "mystical and magical" things have happened in my life that give me hope that Tammy's essence is still out there helping me, does that mean I haven't truly accepted her death?

Gwen, I use the "hanging in" answer in a business setting. Saying "not worth a damn" over and over to customers would be problematic to say the least. Good answer when talking to friends though. I really like this definition of "hanging in there" from the Urban Dictionary, of all things: "To hold on and not give up. To say I'm hanging in there could mean that you're just all right or it could imply something deeper. For example, the person may be going through some rough times, but they're still holding on and living." Hanging in = holding on.

On the subject of people not knowing what to say (or saying something that is meant to soothe, but doesn't)... This really resonated with me and I have the feeling it will resonate with every member here:

Terri, sadly, so many people just don't comprehend how horrible and how difficult our new lives are. Often, those people happen to be family. The fact your brother in law said "Terri who?" boggles my mind. And now for some real irony. I text Tammy's sisters in Illinois from time to time. Her younger sister (her name ironically happens to be Terri) once told me (after I told her my life was empty and meaningless) that my work and hobbies could give meaning back to my life. As if.

7lbs. 14oz.?? ... now that is something to smile about!!! She's a beautiful little girl and I'm glad to hear you're taking it easy, Butch. My personal recommendation is for as much R&G (Rest and Gracie) as you can handle over the next few weeks.

When people ask how I'm doing I just answer, "hanging in". No way I'm going to say I'm "fine" when clearly I'm anything but fine. I'm just not a good liar.

You are so very lucky in that way, Marg. That's a wonderful thing. I can only dream of having someone in my life these days that loves me and gives me a good reason to actually get out of bed. It's sort of me, myself and I fighting this dreadful feeling of emptiness I deal with everyday. I rarely even have anyone call me on the phone unless telemarkers count. Tammy was my only real, true friend in the whole world. The only one that really cared if I was alive. The only one who made me feel loved unconditionally and she was all that mattered to me. Those of you who have people in your grief journey who love you and support you and help you are incredibly blessed. It has to make this difficult life just a bit more tolerable.

Maryann, I could have written the above virtually word for word. I think a lot of us are in that same holding pattern. It's as if we are all asking the question "what now?"... Even though our lives before may not have been "exciting", watching TV or just eating a meal together was a joyful event. Alone, it's meaningless drudgery. Somehow, we need to find pleasure in the everyday things we do and I'm not sure how we accomplish that. It was easy when Mark and Tammy were by our side.