mittam99

George, thank you very much for the book suggestion. Sounds like a must read for those of us trying to find our way in this new life.

This is a lovely little poem for us.

Gwen, that is a near perfect description. Grief is like falling in a deep dark hole. A hole so deep it almost seems bottomless. Building that ladder from the bottom of that hole, in the pitch dark, (while we are in tears) is a slow and arduous task. No wonder we often get stuck building it. Sometimes the challenge seems virtually impossible. Along the way, we need to take many breaks during the construction and we must rest our weary body and minds often. But slowly, rung by rung, we do our best to complete that ladder so we can find our place in this new life.

Here's something that I find rather remarkable. And that's people's impatience with virtually everything. I've been working with the public on and off since the early 1970's. Back then I believe we had (as a society) much more of a tolerance for delays and waiting. Today, if someone needs to wait longer than what they deem is necessary, they're ready to explode. You can literally see the veins popping out of their heads. If there's a glitch with computers or some other problem arises, people seem ready to pull their hair out in frustration. The phrase "stop and smell the roses" doesn't exist anymore. Even more interesting and surprising is that it isn't just the younger generation as you might suspect. Often the most impatient people are the elderly.

Another day and so many grief bursts. I just realized how often I tear up and cry in pain daily. And it's not just those triggers I see or hear. A good portion of these bursts just come from random thoughts in my head. I can be watching tv or eating or doing a chore and I think about Tammy and just lose it. How much I miss her, how undeserving she was of so many things, events of March 6th etc... Yesterday, I found a notebook where Tammy had written thoughts/stories about her late dad. One of those notes mentioned our wedding day and of course I lost it when I read that. I also found some get well cards folks had sent her during her last hospital stay. It was so hard reading those knowing she never did get better. The difference between those bursts of today and say, six months ago is the longevity. I seem to be able to bounce back quicker. I'll be eating and have a burst of anguish and tears, then two minutes later I'm back eating and have regained my composure. I guess you cay say I have a better handle on my grief? Or do we simply get used to the grief bursts and those waves and ride them more smoothly?

Gwen, on the one hand, people do care and they don't like seeing us hurting. Yet on the other hand, the same people feel we need to "get over it" because they simply don't know how to deal with our prolonged grief. That, and the fact our society, in general, is all about the "quick fix".

Here's a quote we need to show to friends, family and acquaintances who feel we should have "moved on" by now.

It probably is all those things but more importantly, you were there for him. That's what really matters. You made those 10 years better for him. And that was a blessing for both of you.

Marg, you definitely can do this, you're already proving that. Courage is a requirement in grief. We've gone from a comfortable life, full of love and happiness to what amounts to taking a blind leap into a giant black hole. The unknown is a very scary thing. In our lives with our soul mate everything was familiar and when a problem would arise, you always had each other. Now, we live in a world that isn't the world we wanted (our worst nightmare actually) and we're on our own. Yet somehow, we have to reinvent ourselves so we can not only cope, but somehow accomplish positive, meaningful things. A tough, challenging task. Courage and fortitude are definitely needed. In my life with Tammy I was blessed to see first hand a woman with more courage than anyone I've known in my life. She was inspirational to say the least. When I'm in a difficult situation now, I draw strength from Tammy's courage in the face of life threatening medical ordeals. She truly is a guiding light for me in my grief journey.

I don't know if what I'm about to say will help others (I hope it does) but it's helped me get through so many difficult moments. Having Tammy in my life changed me and made me a better person. Tammy showed me courage in the face of almost impossible odds. She showed me an unconditional love that I had never experienced. She made me feel like I was capable of achieving anything if I put my mind to it. Tammy set the bar for being an exceptional human being. She was amazing. Tammy loved to laugh. Her one of a kind laugh was contagious and I made her laugh often. Tammy was a joyful person; she was loved by all who met her. She loved kids and the elderly, she loved you whether you were black, white or green. So I think about all of this, all the time. How I was so lucky to call her my wife. How we were a force to be reckoned with together (in a good way). How we fought those medical battles together. How are hearts beat as one. And when I have one of those moments where I wonder if I can go on in this new life I never wanted, I think about Tammy. Who she was and what we were together. She wanted happiness for us. She'd never want to see me in misery. And I draw strength and comfort from that and I use that. I push forward through the pain to a place where light shines through the darkness. And I know she's proud of me. And I can hear her voice saying, "You got this, Mitch". My Tammy will forever be a positive influence on who I am and will guide me through my journey. I hope that you too will be able to use your memories and your love to get you through the many nearly unbearable moments in your journey ahead.

In the same way Marg, I believe that fighting through the challenges that present themselves in our grief journey make us stronger and allows us to progress.

If it wasn't for the Grief Healing Discussion Groups, I'm not sure I could have progressed the way I have on my grief journey. This is an astoundingly good resource for those of us in deep grief. When I first joined here, I was utterly devastated. My world felt as though it had ended when my darling wife Tammy died just a few weeks earlier. No one I talked to in my "real life" understood the devastation, no one seemed able to comprehend the depth of my sorrow. All I heard were cliches like "She's not in pain anymore"or "She's in a better place" ... Here at GHDG, I can talk to others who understand the angst of this life of grief. The members here are full of compassion, understanding and real empathy. It genuinely feels like people care. There are things we can talk about here that friends and family wouldn't "get". All we'd get from them is a deer in the headlights look and maybe some considerate nods of their heads. I want to thank Marty for creating this wonderful place and for everyone helping me along the way. Mitch

Marg, that kind of brings this quote to mind...

Kay and I talk on the phone regularly and I can tell you, without doubt, Kay's time with George is (by far) her most precious memory. They had quite a love story.

I know at times Tammy kind of felt she was dependent on me for too much (once she became disabled). That wasn't the case at all, of course. How could I not do all I did for the woman of my dreams? After all, she gave me the ultimate gift daily ... unconditional love. We truly were better together and perfect for one another.

Awesome news, Butch. Praying those 17 ounces come quickly for your precious Gracie.

Wonderful post, Maryann. I wanted to touch on the two thoughts I quoted you on above. I think they are both quite important. Regarding point one about all couples wanting new shared memories and times together... Sadly, I don't think that's the case. So many couples are only together for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it's "because of the kids". Some stay together because their partner earns a lot of money and they love the lifestyle. Some have just been married so long they're "used to" what they have and fear the unknown. There are even many loveless unions. It's hard for us at the forum to fathom this because we found our cherished soul mate. We were incredibly lucky and amazingly blessed. To hammer that point home.. I work with the public and had this conversation with a newly widowed man. "How are you doing Mitch? I'm so sorry to hear about your wife". I replied (tears welling up), "Thanks. It's hard, I'm just taking things a day at a time". He replied "You know what you need Mitch? Another woman". Honestly, I felt like punching him in the nose but I was so taken aback I just blurted out "No, no I don't. I just need my Tammy back". Most people don't have anything resembling the relationships we shared. Point number two... I am so glad you are using all that love you and Mark shared to motivate you! You worded it perfectly when you said "hold on to that sweet feeling". That's it exactly. Sure, many of the memories I have of Tammy bring me to tears because of our deep love and soulful connection. But, it's that same deep love and that sweet feeling of being with my special girl that I have to hold onto in this new life moving forward. I'm using that life I loved and the woman of my dreams to propel me. In a sense, Tammy will be moving forward right by my side where she belongs.

Gin... Marg... Kay... Cookie... Gwen... Patty... Brad... Polly... George... Maryann... Ana... Stephen... and everyone who is dealing with grief... Sometimes you just need this ... My arms aren't long enough to reach all of you so this picture will have to do.

You know what Kay? It really is Tammy that's giving me the strength I need. We need courage to live in this world of grief. It's easy to feel like giving up. Giving in to the hopelessness of it. Tammy NEVER gave up even when the odds were stacked against her. She was a fighter. If you look up courage in the dictionary, Tammy's picture should be there. I'm going to honor her by trying my best and pushing myself even during those times I could give in to the hardships of this grief journey. And I know she'll be here in spirit encouraging me and sending me love. It will always be Mitch and Tammy.

This will be hard to put into words but I will try... What I'm now trying to do in my life is take the amazing life and incredible love Tammy and I had and "harness" it in a way that will keep it alive forever. I think about us and what a perfect team we were. How we were so much better together. I keep Tammy's essence inside of me. Her endless courage, her spirit, her smile, her everything. She's with me every moment, giving me the strength I need to live in this new life that I never wanted. I don't know if that makes sense to others. If I wasn't able to do this I don't think I would be progressing at all in my journey.

Gin, if I was a betting man (I'm not) and had $1,000,000 to bet (I don't), I'd guess that the vast majority of couples are not soul mates. We were very blessed. And of course that's why we ache so deeply and profoundly.

Gin and Marg... Few understand what this new life is like for us. We all know that someone who hasn't experienced the death of a spouse won't truly "get" us. That's a given. But I'll let you in on a "secret". The majority of women and men who have lost their spouse don't really "get" us, either. The reason? The people posting in this forum were living with or married to their soul mate. We loved and were loved unconditionally. That person made us complete and without them we feel like we're missing a huge part of ourselves. The truth is most people never experience a relationship like that. They simply can't relate. So, the next time someone says something that makes you cringe... Just remember that you had a love in your life that they can't even imagine!

Much easier to do than tap dancing, salsa or the tango.

That's all you can do. Get up each day, face things the best you can and (hopefully) have more moments without pain than with. As you progress and the pain lessens, I think you're able to achieve things that you didn't think you could early on. Like I always say though, it's easier said then done. You'll find yourself doing the one step forward, two step back grief dance often.

No doubt it's hard, Joyce. Painfully hard, I certainly have a long way to go. But, I think I'm making slow progress. This isn't a race, it's a lifelong "evolution".