mittam99

Joyce, I have the feeling that further in our grief journey those memories will still give us a mix of smiles and tears. I can't see it being any other way. It's all a matter of dealing with the ebb and flow of our grief and somehow "adapting" to it. Our new life is all about enduring and evolving. Not the life we wanted, but it's all we have now.

Brad, it's all part of the two steps forward - one step back - dance of grief. On the positive side...

2015 was a bad year for a lot of us. So many days are just so hard. Our anniversary is Christmas Eve. My birthday is May 10th and always falls near Mother's Day. Tammy's birthday is exactly a month later on June 10th. Truth is, everyday in this new unwelcomed world is tough. How can it be almost 14 months since the terrible nightmare day when my world changed forever? My days now seem to be a combination of tears for Tammy and the ability to draw inspiration from her amazing spirit, courage and the love we shared.

Cookie (and I know this may be of little comfort) please don't take that personally even though it feels so personal. Just remember, everyone grieves in their own way. If that woman can't handle talking about grief, it's her choice and it isn't because she doesn't like you. Grieving a soulmate is the toughest thing any of us will experience. I'm so sorry you feel like you've taken some steps back in your journey. Just be gentle with yourself. Know that all of us have those "moments" where we don't know how we're even surviving this terrible new existence. Like we all do though, it's one moment at a time. Try to do what feels right for you. You mentioned the word "hope" and for me, that is a word that needs to be a part of our vocabulary. Without it, it's hard to feel the motivation to climb out of this hole of darkness we're in. Hugs, Mitch

Maryann, whether the tears are your first response or not, they will always be there. And that's not always a bad thing. It's a testament to the life and the depth of love we shared with our partners. How lucky are we, to have had those moments that created those tears. Yes, it will always hurt but we will always have the joy in our heart that they brought us. - Mitch

Ah, Cracker Barrel. We made many road trips out to Ohio and CB was always part of it. Not only is the food pretty good for the money but Tammy loved checking out all the goodies in the shop before and after we ate. Lots of nostalgia there.

Polly, my heart goes out to you and your daughter. Those milestone dates (like 6 months) are difficult. And it's sadly another day without the love of your life in it. Another reminder of why you hurt everyday (not that you need reminding). It's all going to take time to find your place and find your way in this new existence. Keep posting and venting here and we will help and comfort you the best we can.

Joyce, thanks for saying that about Tammy. She was so sweet and spunky! The thing is, I don't wake up and go "I'm going to try to make this a good day", of course. I just take them as they come like we all do. And honestly, I can't say I have many "really good days", more like "I was able to function pretty well" days. It's just that when I have a "moment" I'm able to pull out of the darkness when many months ago the darkness kept pulling me down all day. My "progress" is kind of hard to explain. I mean, I miss Tammy every bit as much as I ever have, maybe even more so. I still don't understand why this all happened. But, I'm able to feel like I can keep Tammy "alive" by posting about her, by keeping her in my heart and by incorporating her essence into my everyday actions. Now that last part sounds weird after writing it. What I mean is, I'm doing things in a way that Tammy might have done them or at least approved of. It's very hard to explain, but by doing this I feel somehow less alone. I've also had some almost magical things happen that make it feel like Tammy is still here somehow, helping me in this new life. That's probably helped give me more of a sense of comfort than I would otherwise have.

Gwen you're right of course, but we're kind of between a rock and a hard place at this point. It may not seem like much of a life (it isn't) but it's the only one we have, right? What choice do we have? I mean, we can be resigned to the feeling that our life will be (day in day out) misery or we can try to find some glimmer of hope no matter how small a sliver. Nothing about this is easy. Fun no longer exists in our vocabulary. We're living in a world where emptiness has replaced love. Where torture has replaced happiness and comfort. It sucks, to be blunt it sucks ass. The only way it will ever get better (it seems to me) is to adapt and sort of retool our thinking a bit. Now look, we all know that sounds good on paper but good luck trying to work it all out. And that's what makes this journey feel so nearly impossible at times. I don't have the perfect solution to make everyone's grief journey easier. If I did I'd write a book, become famous and make millions. Truth is, no one has created a step by step guide to make this easy. All we can do is roll out of bed in the morning and try our best to make it a "good day" (good being a relative term). But, then, we have to deal with those triggers that pop out of nowhere and try to ride those waves and hold on for dear life. Having said all that, it still boils down to one simple fact. It's one day at a time. Glad we have each other here at the forum. Hugs to all.

Absolutely true, George. Today, like you, I had that wave that overwhelmed me so much it felt like I was back in March 2015. I could hardly breathe and I cried out for my Tammy over and over. It truly hurt so bad. The difference is that a year ago a moment like that had me questioning whether I could even go on with this life. Now, a year further into my grief journey, I'm able to put it more in perspective. Yes, the waves of sadness and pain hurt every bit as much as a year ago, but, I've learned to handle them better. Not having Tammy here with me will always hurt. That's a given. But I'm also able to see that what I had with Tammy will never die. That love, that relationship, that special bond...that will be with me forever! I draw strength from that. The love Tammy and I shared was incredibly powerful. With it, we could move mountains. Even though Tammy is no longer physically here with me, the power of our intense love is what has propelled me forward in my grief journey. Tammy was my whole life and she will always be my inspiration.

Today's trigger... Sonny and Cher. I was minding my own business watching an episode of Mad Men on Netflix... Then, the song "I Got You Babe" started playing and I cried like a baby. After all, that "I got you babe" feeling was something Tammy and I always had. Perfect for each other. Made for each other. Better together. "I got you to hold my hand I got you to understand I got you to walk with me I got you to talk with me I got you to kiss goodnight I got you to hold me tight I got you, I won't let go I got you to love me so I got you babe I got you babe I got you babe I got you babe" The realization that I don't have Tammy here with me hits so deep and so painfully. It's like a prize fighter just landed a direct hit to my stomach. My heart literally aches. That I got you babe feeling was supposed to last forever. Our love story for the ages was meant to have so many more chapters added to it. The story was never supposed to end with me alone in misery. I live my life with Tammy in my heart for always. But, at times, it just isn't enough. It's not the same; it will never be the same. I need her in my arms. I need her back! I know this wave will pass, until the next one arrives and knocks me down. This journey is gut wrenchingly hard. I'm trying so hard in this new world yet it often feels like I'm just treading water until I can truly find my purpose.

You are so right. That love cannot be taken away by anyone or anything ever. And even though you're living a life of pain now try not to give in to the notion that suffering is your life's destiny. Take that love inside you and be sure to love yourself a little too. Hugs.

I agree with Kay on this. It is kind of awkward when private messages become a part of a public discussion. As a member here (hopefully in good standing), I certainly would hope that my PM's stayed private. Is that a valid point? ------------------------------------ George, you're very welcome on the photo. My pleasure. As you stated, we are all fragile/broken creatures and sometimes things get misunderstood. For the record, Gwen is a friend and I know she was in no way suggesting Laura should leave. Just a misunderstanding. Sometimes the written word is in the "eye of the beholder".

George, that's a great new profile pic of your beloved Rose Anne.

Thanks for your kind words Brad. I think it's so important to try to help others here that are in deep pain. I certainly can speak from experience as you know.

Patty said: "Mitch and Kay, you all are so much stronger than I am, so tenacious in your fight to survive in the middle of this heartbreak. I am none of those things anymore." Patty, it may feel like that right now but you have shown me plenty of tenacity, strength and courage. You're at the point in your journey where it's easy to feel overwhelmed and that you "just can't do this". To feel like you "don't have it in you anymore". That you've lost your passion for everything. Grief is like that. Tomorrow you may wake up and things may feel just a bit better. Grief isn't a sprint. It's a challenge tougher than a marathon, decathalon, high hurdles and a climb up Mt. Everest combined. Even though it seems like an impossible task, you can do this! One day at a time, ok?

First of all Marg, for your information, we're all now living on the planet, "Griefia", located in the center of the "Bad Hurt" solar system. Just wanted to clear that up. As far as your analogy to the little birds testing their wings, that's pretty close. We have to try to get out of our comfort zone from time to time just to see what we are or aren't capable of. Lots of trial and error is needed during this grief journey. And a lot of times our little wings can't keep us in the air. Down we go to the pavement... - Mitch

I want to go back to your original post where you mentioned how amazed you were at how much courage this grief journey takes. You're absolutely right! Facing what we face does take courage... a lot of it. We're living in a world that is the complete opposite of what we were used to. Where we had companionship before, we're now alone. Where we felt and gave intense love, we have only memories of it. We're living in our own worst nightmare in many ways. The fact that we can function, even in some basic ways, is amazing. That we don't just crawl up in a ball and give up is amazing if you think about it. All of us need to try to be fair to ourselves. We're not going to have the energy we'd like to have all the time. We're not always going to feel creative. We all do the best we can at any given moment. And that, in itself, is courageous considering the circumstance we live in.

Patty, I'm so sorry you're in such pain and life feels so nearly impossible right now. You should see many of my posts from my earlier days of grief, when I was ready to give up. If it wasn't for many of the kind members here and a few friends that allowed me talk to things out on the phone, I don't know if I would have made it. Please don't ever feel as though you can't post here if you're in despair. We all want to help in any way we can. Losing Ron and now possibly your restaurant has to be overwhelming, understandably. I know how you can wake up and your world looks so bleak and so impossible. I've had many of those moments since Tammy died. I have lost everything in this world that mattered to me, that I loved. I've lost the future that I thought Tammy and I were destined for. Believe me, I know how hard this all is and how hopeless it feels. But, I can also say that this life that now feels so awful can get better, it will get better. Just try not to overwhelm yourself by thinking too far into the future. I just wish I knew the right words to give you some sense of comfort. My prayers and my heart goes out to you. Last but not least, please post that poem you wrote about your beloved Ron. I'd love to read it (as we all would).

"Don't Mess With Seniors" Two seniors went to breakfast at a restaurant where the ‘Senior Special' was two eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast for $2.99. "Sounds good," said one woman, "but I don't want the eggs." "Then I'll have to charge you $3.49 because you're ordering a la carte," the waitress warned her. "You mean I'd have to pay more for not taking the eggs?" the woman asked incredulously. "Yes," said the waitress. "I'll take the special, then," replied the woman. "How do you want your eggs?" the waitress asked. "Raw and in the shell," the woman replied. She took the two eggs home and baked a cake. Don't mess with Seniors!

Butch, no need to apologize for being "selfish" for not posting here recently. Selfish, you certainly are not. You were dealing with little Gracie's struggles and being a loving grandpa. Here's hoping you find much comfort throughout your journey ahead.

Hey Marg, there are some guys posting here, too. Let's face it, none of us is quite the same person anymore. I mean, basically we still are who we are, but, we've lost our main source of comfort and happiness. We woke up every morning and the person that we adored was right there beside us. We had someone to share everything with and we had someone who could finish our sentences. Someone who loved us unconditionally. Now we're here and our world has been turned upside down. Even though we still feel married, we are alone and trying to figure out who we are and how to fill the emptiness. It's a new chapter in our life story that we never thought we'd have to write. I'm so glad we have each other here at the forum. It's a place where we can feel like we "fit in". We can help each other find our way. In this horrible journey, we need all the love and understanding we can get. Final thought... everyone please be gentle and patient with yourself. This life is hard enough; no need to add to the misery by being too hard on yourself.

"Sometimes grief feels a lot like laziness. It is only 9:45 am, but it feels like it should be noon already. What is wrong with me?" Maryann, nothing is wrong with you. Ok, truth be told, there actually is something terribly wrong with you. Horribly wrong... Your wonderful Mark died 16 months ago! Of course your emotions are all over the place. Some days you'll have energy and some days you'll have none. There will be days you are proud of yourself and days you feel like a lazy bum, accomplishing nothing. This is all part of this difficult journey. The journey no one ever wanted to take. In my opinion, you are a remarkable person. As I often say, just getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment. You, on the other hand, have pushed through on countless occasions when you could have easily fallen back into the darkness. I proudly consider you a friend. Hugs.

Mother's Day will always be difficult for me. I've lost my beloved mom and of course my beautiful, sweet Tammy was a mom. Everything is made more sorrowful and difficult by the fact my birthday is May 10th and is so close to (or sometimes falls on) Mother's Day.

Brad, I agree with you 100% on your thoughts regarding this forum. To be able to interact with others who have lost their soul mate is so incredibly helpful. This feels like a family that genuinely cares about one another. Sometimes, it doesn't feel like we have a place in the "real world". Here, we realize that we are not alone and in that sense, it is very comforting. My heart goes out to you on the nine months without your beloved Deedo. I still can't fathom that it's been nearly 14 months without my sweet Tammy. Last year at this time I wasn't too sure if I'd even make it a few weeks more. The devastation and desolation was that overwhelming. These days, of course, the hurt is still there (and always will be) and the waves still push me back, but I'm slowly evolving and learning to find my place in this life.