mittam99

Heather I am so sorry for your loss. The thing is, those people that "don't get" your loneliness have never lost a love like you just did. My wife Tammy died unexpectedly in March 2015. She was my whole world. I know how lost you feel in this new world without your Keith. Everything seems so surreal. It's like some horrible, alternate universe and you don't feel like you belong in it. It hurts.... so bad. And the only people that understand how you feel are those of us who have also lost their soul mate. Please continue to post and read here. It will help, I promise.

Life before felt like this... Now, trying to cope all alone... How do we ever possibly find happiness or joy again?

Tammy always said we didn't have sex, we made love. Looking into each others eyes, embracing and kissing is what made the experience pure bliss and heightened the pleasure. The thing is, over the last couple years of our marriage, we only made love from time to time. Her MRSA, the advancing Lupus, the pain and her increasing fragility made it very difficult. The hugs and touching and kisses and snuggles and massages never stopped though. Now alone, there is no intimacy. Those feelings reside in a corner of my brain along with all the other memories of the life of love I shared with Tammy. For now, buying stuff, going to work, watching tv, exercising, cleaning and posting here serve as my main distractions in an utterly empty world. Does crying count? Someday, maybe there will be more than this. Who knows.

Steve, maybe taboo wasn't the right word. It's just a topic I rarely hear mentioned here at the forum and certainly some of it may be the age factor. Tammy was just 30 when we got together and I was 44. We all talk about missing our beloved and all the aspects of our lives that are different now and loss of intimacy certainly is a big loss. Not just sexual, it's the kisses and the touches and the caresses. In the big picture though, it's just one of dozens of losses that we all are experiencing every day. Sometimes it's hard to fathom how we even are still standing.

Dawn Marie, welcome to the community that nobody really wanted to join. My heart goes out to you. I lost my darling wife Tammy unexpectedly back in March 2015. She was only 45 years old. Nothing prepares you for grieving the loss of a soul mate. It's an anguish-filled, one day at a time, painful learning experience. You need to live in the moment (don't try to think too far ahead) and just do what you can. At first you probably won't feel like doing much of anything and that's ok. Then it's just baby steps. Don't ever feel pressured by what others think you should or shouldn't do. It's your grief journey. A journey I know you never wanted to take. Maryann (Froggie) has given you excellent advice. The only thing I would add is to consider one on one grief counseling or if you're unable, maybe try to find a free grief support group. I'm so sorry for your loss of your husband James. And thank you for your post, I know that wasn't easy. ((((((Hugs))))))

Maryann said... I know sex is probably a somewhat taboo subject here but I think it's valid to talk about in this context. Tammy and I met in a chat room that I ran. Honestly, much of the initial chatting we did was of a sexual nature. When we met, Tammy and I enjoyed not only wonderful conversations and laughs, we shared a very active sex life, too. The intimacy it creates as we all know is wonderful. Great for releasing tension, too. It's that feeling of intimacy and sharing everything with someone you love that we've all lost. Gone. It's me, myself and I and all three of us are miserable. Of course, the only one I wanted was Tammy. So, it looks like it's "celibacy or bust" for me from here on out.

Kay, you definitely aren't an Office Space afficiando!

Milton... what a character. Btw Kay, did you get the memo on the TPS reports?

ALONE 1. affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome. 2. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, support, etc.: 3. solitary; without company; companionless. 4. remote from places of human habitation; desolate; unfrequented; bleak: 5. standing apart; isolated: Before I met my sweet Tammy, I was a bachelor. I'd been living by myself pretty much my entire adult life. I kind of felt like I handled that pretty well. Always considered myself fairly self-sufficient and independent. Of course I had friends, co-workers, family and acquaintances. And the occasional girlfriend. I just never found the one that I'd want to share the rest of my life with... until the day Tammy came into my life and everything changed. Tammy and I were so in tune and comfortable with each other from day one. I remember one of the first nights we had one of our marathon late night chats on the phone (she lived in Illinois then, I was in Maryland), She started reading me one of little Katie's bedtime books called "Goodnight Moon". Well, by the time she was saying "And a little toy house and a young mouse"... I had fallen fast asleep holding the phone and snoring loudly in Tammy's ear. I loved every moment being with Tammy. It wasn't always easy once her health took a bad turn, but I was with the one person in my life I adored, cherished and loved like no other. From the time Tammy lost her job in '07 up until her death in 2015, we spent virtually every moment together. The only time we were apart for an extended period were the few occasions when Tammy would go back to Illinois for several weeks to be with her family. I'd stay a week or so but had to return to Maryland due to work obligations. Going home and being in our house alone was horrible. As a bachelor, being alone never really bothered me too much, but now it was torturous. I was miserable. I found myself sleeping with the lights on because all of the sudden I'd roll over to snuggle up to Tammy and she wasn't there. I felt uncomfortable in my own house. I counted the minutes until I'd pick her up at BWI airport and my life could return to normal! And then March 5. 2015 happened. And my life changed forever. I've been alone for over 14 months now. Sure I have co-workers and family and some friends but I still feel completely alone and lonely. The only person that would/could make me happy isn't able to. So I try my best to get through each day alone. Today would be a good example of my life. I went to work and it was super busy there. I interact with the public and everyone tells me what a nice guy I am. I try my best to put on a big smile and make others smile and make others happy. I do it fairly well as I am considered one of the best at what I do. After work, I get in my car and I pretty much just "collapse". It takes so much effort to be so "bubbly, happy and energetic". By the time I get home I am physically and emotionally drained. In the past, Tammy would be here and no matter how worn out I was, being with her brought me back to life after a hard day. Nowadays, I basically grab something to eat and then try to keep myself occupied until it's time to close my eyes. Recently it seems like I've been spending way too much money in an effort to give myself something to look forward to. Oh, how I love Amazon Prime and that two day free shipping. But once the item arrives I'm back to feeling unsatisfied, bored and alone. And here's the rub. As lonely as I am... as much as I hate this new life, I don't want to be with anyone unless her name is Tammy Jean. My Tammy Jean. So for now, the memories, the pictures, the feeling that she somehow is watching over me as my personal angel, is as close as I get to not feeling completely alone. What do you do to cope with the emptiness and loneliness of your life after loss?

One other phrase that just popped into my head regarding that clueless woman planning her "grief journey"... "Ignorance is bliss". She certainly exemplifies that. Actually, I hesitate to say her grief "journey", sounds more like she's planning a "grief pit stop".

Anne... Elizabeth Anne is an absolutely beautiful baby. So glad she's in your life and bringing you joy! ------------------------- Maryann, hugs to you! I've tried to creatively honor Tammy in many ways as well. I've created a photo collage, have a memorial website honoring her, planted trees in a National Forest in her memory, and of course I tell the world about her whenever I can. Another thing I did was to create a movie of sorts using music, text and photos. Here's the site I used to create it. It's free and works quite well. Of course, every time I view the movie I cry, but those are tears of love. https://studio.stupeflix.com/en/ ---------

Unless you've actually lost what we've lost you're clueless regarding the grieving process. And this woman truly hasn't a clue. They think they know. She apparently never heard the phrase "don't count your chickens before they're hatched". Or "don't assume because you'll make an ass out of you and me". She surely did an excellent job making an ass of herself!

Gin, so sorry to hear about the health issues. It is so different without our beloved by our side, isn't it? Let's face it, from the time we wake up 'til the time we go to sleep, every moment, every beat of our heart, every emotion, every action (or inaction) has changed due to our loss.

Kay, Office Space was a favorite comedy film of both Tammy and me. So many classic scenes in it. Opening scene (nsfw/language) "Airplane" is another funny movie with one gag after another.

Gwen, I don't feel Tammy's presence per say, either. It's more of a gut feeling that someone with such an incredible life force as Tammy's simply cannot just "cease to exist". Believing that she can somehow see or sense what I am doing, gives me some measure of comfort. She's in my heart forever and of course I have the memories of our life together, but, this added feeling that she still exists at some level helps me cope. I understand that you don't have the same feeling. We all experience this journey in a somewhat different way. Maybe you can say I've taken a leap of faith. Mitch and Tammy, forever and always.

You're right about the muffler, Kay. If it's simply "falling off" and not corroded or something, a couple of new hangers should do the trick for a couple bucks. George, even if you have a shop do that, it should be relatively cheap.

I'm still wrapping my head around this quote from author Norman Cousins.

I agree. Ana writes English wonderfully! If I was writing Spanish, "buenos dias" is about as far as I'd get. And that's after taking it for five years in school. -------- On another note... Marg, you truly are the most articulate "redneck" to ever walk this earth! Heck, most true rednecks couldn't spell addendum let alone use it in context. You sure you didn't really go to Harvard? Hope you find this as funny as I did...

First of all Maryann, you certainly aren't a "whiner". From all I know, you are a wonderful, caring and loving person. You're just going through a rough patch in a journey you didn't want to take. Totally understandable. Knowing you like I do, the feeling of being "scatterbrained" and not feeling like you've got a handle on things, has to overwhelm. And with your type of job, you do need that sense of confidence. If it was me, I'd think about taking a bit of time off. Do you have any vacation time available? That might be preferable to trying to explain things to your supervisor. You certainly don't want to get in a situation where someone might feel you're having a breakdown of sorts. No matter what, try to be gentle with yourself, OK?

"Happy" belated birthday, George. I know it wasn't easy or truly a happy day. I'm so sorry all of us have to go through our lives without the one person that brought us happiness. I hope you find some measure of comfort and even some sense of happiness on your next birthday (although as we all know, it will never be the same).

I remember a long time ago relating this new existence to the movie Groundhog's Day. Same $hit, different day. Deja vu all over again. What makes it so tiring and gut wrenching is that we are reliving not something pleasant but the worst event in our entire life. Living in a world of pain. A world without intimacy. A world without the one person that completed us. The grief journey... Lather, rinse, repeat. The "rinsing and repeating" is "easy". Just go about your day not really accomplishing anything. Cry often. Be sad and miserable. Of course, it's understandable we feel this way. Our lives are now so different and we're so emotionally fragile. We're here, but we wonder why we're still here and for what purpose. Now the hard part. Changing the rinse repeat cycle we're stuck in. So how do we change that and somehow go from sad existence to happy life? I honestly don't have a clue. Some of us aren't even ready do that. And that's ok. This grief thing is new to us. We didn't learn how to cope with this when we were in school. Nothing prepares you for this. The only thing that has me standing on my two feet and trying to take baby steps in a forward direction is my love of Tammy. I do things in my life with the thought that she can somehow see me. I want to always do her proud. She's there with me gently prodding me to do things and she smiles when I accomplish something positive. That's the only way I can function in this awful new place we now live in.

Gwen, I'd say it's more like a state of suspended animation. I mean, we're still breathing, our hearts are beating (albeit like a broken clock). we see, we hear, we think... but each 24/7 is spent in a new world of nothingness. Like we're stuck in the mud. Nothing feels like it once did. Nothing gives us the pleasure it once did. Nothing is done with any sense of true enthusiasm. The clock ticks by and you wonder if this slow torture will ever somehow lessen. We're in a world of pain, in a world of emptiness, in a world without meaning. And there's no one who believes in us or comforts us like our one true love did. Yes we're alive, but sometimes we wonder why. Grief is the hardest journey. Grieving a soul mate that loved you like no other, and somehow trying to "pick up the pieces". and "move forward", is a near impossible task. Yet, we are supposed to live this life that we never wanted and find a sense of happiness. It often feels like an insurmountable challenge. Like trying to climb Mt. Everest and using two wooden toothpicks to do it. Every time it feels like we're making progress, those waves hit and you're pounded over and over and knocked back... sometimes all the way back to day one. We're still here, feeling alone, in misery. But, what choice do we have? Like I've mentioned before we actually have two. Try our best to make a life for ourselves or give up. I've chosen choice #1. And honestly, I'm not doing a really good job of it... yet. Sure, I work, I feed myself, I bathe, I watch TV, I exercise, I chat here and there on the phone, I let the world know how special Tammy was, I shop, I do chores, etc. So, I guess you can say, I function. But let's face it, that's a pretty basic, unfulfilling, doing "what I need to", existence. Yes, I think that's the word for it... existence... not life. For a while I thought I was "doing better". The past few weeks though, more and more, I realize I haven't progressed at all. My real life happened before March 6th, 2015. All the days since have been some surreal, crappy, made for TV horror show. And the show would be canceled cause nobody would watch it... just too depressing. Every time the sun seems to starts peaking through, the clouds and thunder and lightning take over again. Every time I feel like I've started to climb out of this dark hole, I fall off the top rung of the grief ladder. And it freakin' hurts! Having said all that, I still try to maintain a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be a better day than today. That's all any of us can really do.

If you want to imagine horrendous memories, imagine this horror... The paramedics arrive and the hope was they were taking Tammy to the hospital for treatment... to get better. Remember, she had just come home from the rehab place. She was having terrible difficulties breathing and right before they put an oxygen mask on her, she desperately said "help me!, help me!". I frantically grabbed my keys to follow the ambulance to the hospital. But... the ambulance wasn't moving. I asked the guys outside the truck what was going on and they said they were just "doing what they do". In the next few moments, panic starts to eat me alive. I needed to know what's going on in that ambulance. Why the hell isn't it hightailing to the hospital??!!! I get up on my tippy-toes and peer into the ambulance... There is the woman I love more that life itself. My wonderful bride. The person that has made my world a much better place and shown me love like I've never seen. And I see the man in the truck raise his arm overhead and come down with a violent fist pounding on Tammy's chest. And what I saw will forever hurt. Tammy just bounced up and down like a ragdoll... seemingly lifeless. Why was this man doing something so primitive? Why didn't this ambulance have paddles on board??? I realize Tammy went into cardiac arrest but WHY WHY WHY did this man have to do that? Why did he have to hurt my sweet babydoll? That's what it looked like... he was hurting her! I got to the hospital hoping against hope. I frantically asked a doctor if they could give me any info on Tammy's condition. I told them about meds she was allergic to. They had me wait in an open, noisy construction area where people were walking by laughing and happy. Then a nurse and doctor came over to me and told me Tammy arrived unresponsive and they could not revive her. My world ended at that moment. I stayed with Tammy in the hospital's "trauma room" for hours. She still had a tube in her mouth. I couldn't leave her. I just couldn't. I talked to her and talked to her and kissed her. I wanted to go to heaven with her. And then I had to go home. Coming back home I had a feeling that I can't even describe. Just earlier that day, everything started with such hope and now I came home to a house and a world that felt like I didn't belong in anymore. Just a few days later, I had to make the 800 mile drive to Illinois (where Tammy's family lives), to give a eulogy and bury my wife. You may recall that I fell asleep at the wheel on the highway and me and my car survived somehow (that HAD to be my angel Tammy!). I was in Illinois for about 5 days and I was pretty much a zombie the whole time, I was so incredibly numb. I do think I did Tammy proud delivering my eulogy. That wasn't an easy thing to do but I did it with her by my side. I remember putting the pillow over my face in my room at Tammy's sisters house so no one would hear my pain and crying. Then it was another 800 mile drive home to an empty house of pain that used to be filled with laughter and silliness and kisses and massages and lots and lots of love. And so ended my first week without my perfect Tammy by my side.

Marg, you mentioned that you feel sorry for yourself and out of all the emotions I now feel, that's not one of them. I feel sad and my life feels empty. I feel so much pain thinking how unfair life was for Tammy in so many ways. It hurts knowing the future we wanted will not happen. What happened to Tammy was the most horrible thing that ever happened in my life and I miss Tammy with all my heart. I fantasize that this was a dream and she will be back. But, Tammy didn't leave because she wanted to. I mean, if she divorced me or something and decided she wanted to be with someone else, then yes, maybe I'd feel sorry for myself. I'm also not jealous (and don't feel sorry for myself) when I see happily married couples. Sure, it's a reminder of my life that's gone but I feel lucky that I had a wonderful wife that loved me like Tammy did.

Grief changes everything, as we all know. Things that meant one thing before now have a different meaning. Things you used to enjoy no longer hold much interest. In the past time seemed to fly by, nowadays the clock often seems stuck. One example is music. Those songs we and our soul mates loved now bring tears. Tammy and I really liked a lot of the songs by Jack Johnson. I played one in particular all the time because it's sentiment fit Tammy and me to a tee. "Better Together". The song is a teary reminder of what I no longer have. It's a very good song, but it brings out different emotions now.