mittam99

Gwen, Kay, Patty and Ana. You know my heart goes out to all of you. I personally have to walk this grief journey with Tammy by my side and in my heart. I don't think I'd be where I am if I didn't live this way. I have to think that somehow Tammy sees my pain and shares in any triumph in my life. If I was to think 100% that death meant absolute non-existence and nothingness... I'm not sure I could function. None of us knows for sure what lies beyond death just like none of us truly know how the universe began. I choose to believe that my Tammy still exists on some level. That's not to say I don't cry in pain everyday. I want to see her and touch her and share with her and kiss her and caress her and laugh with her and look into her eyes...on and on. I want my my old life with my sweetheart back. My life does suck without her. Neither of us wanted what happened on March 6, 2015. The only way I can live in this miserable new life without being miserable is to live with the essence of Tammy in my world. I don't know if this makes sense to others but it's how I've survived.

These are not my words and I'm not trying to imply that anyone should take them as gospel. Just some interesting food for thought. Here's another one that had me thinking... Another quote to ponder...

Marg, you are very early in your journey. It changes us so much and early on we're so numb and everything just feels so raw and awful. You will find your magic again. Of that, I have no doubt. That's who you are. I also want to tell you how much I appreciated you saying that members here have helped you along the way. That is very kind and great to hear. You too mean a lot to many members here at the forum. What you write is always from the heart and always has a few witty gems that puts a smile on our collective faces. Mitch

Ana, we all are here for each other.

I thought these words were so true...

I'm down with that, Brad. All members here are welcome to pitch in. Too bad H.G. Wells isn't around to help us as well. Just sayin'.

Marg, we will never be "over it", you know that. Too much love for that to ever happen. And don't hold back on those tears, they are a sign of your deep, everlasting love of your boy, Billy. Setback? Nah, it's the ebb and flow of grief. You are a special person.

Today's grief journey report. Day 406. Woke up late. I haven't been getting enough sleep and I was shocked when I saw the clock said 10:30. Didn't have to work so no biggie. Ate something. Thought about Tammy. Washed clothes. Vacuumed. Thought about Tammy. Teared up. Opened up some of Tammy's dresser drawers. Completely lost it! Seeing her socks and undergarments instantly caused me to cry to the heavens in agony. Tammy should still be here! When you think you're functioning and everything is more or less ok, truth is, it's really not. This life is living but living with very little happiness. I still want to invent that time machine that can take me back in time. Tammy would be here and I'd find the cure for Lupus.

The pictures are all great but that first one is amazing. Those bright flowers contrasting the dark skies overhead. Kind of a metaphor for the grief journeys we are all on.

Anne, that picture of the dog is great, comic relief!

You're not alone, Marg. I've never been one who likes changes. I still have a 10 year old pair of tennis shoes I wear from time to time. CHANGE to make different in some particular : alter to make radically different : transform to give a different position, course, or direction to to replace with another to undergo a modification of Let's face it. We are all here because of the biggest and most unwanted change in our life... living without our soul mate. No one really likes change and that change is so unimaginably horrible. Now we are left to live our life in a completely different way. From here on out our whole life is based on change. We've been changed forever. Day by day we are experiencing all the many (unwanted) changes of this new life. It is overwhelming. But somehow we slowly adapt and evolve. It takes time.and it takes a new way of thinking at times. Change is a big part of the grieving process, so I guess we need to learn to embrace it. Easier said than done, though.

Steve hit a bull's-eye right there! Is it so true. It does often feel like we're falling off a cliff. Or skydiving without a parachute. Or swimming with killer sharks without a cage and no oxygen in our tank. This new life is so incredibly hard and at times, downright frightening! Sometimes it's amazing we got through another day. And we do that exactly as Steve said. Anything, no matter how trivial, that puts you in a better place for even a moment is a good thing. Allowing yourself to laugh is good and often therapeutic. Patting yourself on the back for even a small accomplishment is a good thing. A memory that takes your mind to a happier place can be a good thing. Sure it can also bring tears but how lucky we are to have such memories. One of my go to "remedies" to get my mind and body to a better place is exercise. These days I actually feel guilty when I miss a workout and that's a healthy guilt! This new life we didn't chose is dreadful at times, but, it's the only life we have left. And the truth is, even though it doesn't always feel this way... life is a blessing.

Ana, my heart goes out to you. I know you're scared, understandably. I wish I had the words to dry your tears. Like you said, a moment at a time. As much as you're dreading all this we never know where this journey will go. Maybe just maybe, Tuesday will bring good things and good feelings. Best of luck to you... you deserve only the best of life with some happiness, too. Hugs, Mitch

You know what though, Marg? Sometimes those terrible tax numbers, while hair-pullingly frustrating take our mind and emotions to a different place for a time. In grief, sometimes that's actually a good thing. I'm here at home alone 24/7 other than my time at work. If it wasn't for all these mini home projects I'm doing, I have the feeling my mind would be in a different place... constantly replaying the trauma of Tammy's death over and over. On the one hand a part of me says that I should be crying and thinking about Tammy 24/7. After all, she was my whole world. But I now realize that in my earlier days of grief (when I was doing that) I couldn't really function or even think about a future. I guess the real bottom line here is that our grief journeys are our own. We do the things that work for us to help us cope. And what works one day may not work the next day. For me at this point, it's about living my life, honoring Tammy and taking it one day at a time with the knowledge that I was the luckiest man in the world to have Tammy as my wife.

Marg, we only have one viable option in this new life we didn't want and that's to try. We won't always succeed and we won't often get it right the first time. There's a lot of trial and error and tons of tears and pain to go with it. It really is a learning experience, albeit a painful one. Somewhere along the line those dark clouds will (hopefully) part for a little while and let some sunshine in. No matter how fleeting, it's a welcome sight.

Marg, I think you pretty much summed up the life we're now "stuck in". All we can do is try to live in the moment and make that moment bearable, if possible.

Gwen, I think this was a live performance on the BBC back in '73. The same year I graduated high school. I too was a big Eagles fan.

Dedicated to our resident witch, Marg...

Kat... please don't feel guilty for not feeling upbeat or posting something cheerful today. We all know how amazingly difficult and emotionally draining this grief life is. I know that Disneyland anniversary trigger had to have set off an intense wave of emotions. Sending you a big virtual HUG! And just for good measure here's another (((((((((((((hug)))))))))))))))). You can never have enough hugs.

I actually woke up today with this song on my brain and I just can't get it out of my head. I guess it's appropriate for me. The only way I'm "sort of" making it in this new life is having Tammy in my heart and in my soul. She's truly with me with every step I take.

These are wise words and so absolutely true, Maryann. When we are in the early stages of grief, just getting through an hour sometimes feels virtually impossible. The idea of a future, even thinking a week down the road, is overwhelming. Sometimes we just feel like we don't even want a future. The pain is just too much to bear. For me, personally, the intense pain has subsided, although that pain is always just a thought or a trigger away. Each of us it seems, has to find our way in this new life in a manner that best suits us. What works for one person may not work for someone else. Yes, we've all lost our soul mate but we are different people who have lived different lives. As has been said, one size surely does not fit all in grief. No one knows what the future holds for us all, but hopefully it includes some peace and some measure of happiness.

Actually, I encourage you to continue to post your grief journey here. It's too hard to go it alone. I hope your pain eases over time, truly.

Mitch here. I just want to talk a little about last night's events and I hope what I write makes sense. I didn't get much sleep (a combination of my reaction emotionally to things I read here last night and an electrical issue at my house). Please bear with me and I hope everyone reads my words with objectivity and an open mind. My Tammy was my world, truly. She was the sweetest and most amazing woman I've ever known and she made me feel like I was the most special man in the world. The health issues we went through together would stagger most people's minds. The cardiac arrest, the multiple sepsis events, the life threatening kidney infections, the lung infection that almost killed her, the MRSA, the cellulitis, her battles with Lupus, Raynaud's and Sjogren's, And much more. I devoted my life to Tammy. Nothing meant more to me than having her in my life. And then we fought our last battle. A battle we both thought she had won after that last month and a half in the hospital and rehab place. She came home with a new outlook and with new hope for the future. Two days later my precious wife died at home. And my life was gone too. Those of you who "met" me back then saw a devastated man who wasn't sure he could live in a world without the love of his wife. Who wasn't sure he could survive the agony and the pain. Who didn't understand a God that would take away the most wonderful woman the world has known. A woman who in the face of unimaginable medical trauma stood strong and fought the battle with grace and courage and humor. Me by her side always. I came here and you let me tell my story. Talk of my pain. I posted the eulogy I delivered at Tammy's funeral. I just wanted the world to know about this wonderful woman and our amazing love story. Many times I'd literally post and burst into tears while posting but I needed to write the words down. And members here showed me support and a kind of understanding and love that made me think of this place as family. I was so grateful to have a place like this to come to. And honestly, I personally have gotten more positives from this experience than my time in grief counseling. Over the past few months I've seen some light in the dark world of my grief. The tone of my posts has gone from a place of utter misery to something more hopeful. It's actually interesting that a couple members here pointed out the difference in my tone even before I even noticed the change. That's not to say that somehow my grief is "gone". This grief will last a lifetime. It's just that I do have some days that I'm not just coping, but actually functioning fairly well. And then I have days that bring me back to March 6th and that pain, that angst bubbles to the surface again. This grief journey is hard. Hard for all of us. When I post my "words of hope" as I have in recent times, it's only meant to convey (to those who are still in unbearable pain) that there is some light and some measure of happiness to come for all of us. I fully understand that some aren't yet ready for that message but I am only speaking from my own experience. There is no rule book, no timetable. We all work through our grief in our own way and with methods that work best for us. I was having a pretty good day yesterday, I got some little projects done around the house. Then I sat down at the computer last night to check out the forum. And I was completely shocked that the gentle words of hope I posted were thought of as misguided and inappropriate. I understand that iheartm is in a very difficult place emotionally and was viewing the words from a different point of view. Still, I was so taken aback and shocked. I try not to post anything in a preachy way and I edit and re-edit my posts so that (hopefully) my words won't be misconstrued or offend. I just want to say that after last night I felt a new sort of grief. It felt like people on the board who I considered family, weren't seeing what I saw. Weren't seeing gentle words that I had written being stated differently than intended. Didn't see me under a sort of personal attack. I felt like I was on an island all alone and no one would lend a hand to rescue me. And that hurt. I haven't posted today because I am still confused and saddened by what went down. I'm now afraid to post a message of hope because it may be taken in a different way than intended. I don't want to anger anyone, ever. I am still shaken by all of this. I do want to thank Kay and Marg for words of encouragement they gave me privately. Last but not least, I simply want to say that none of us has things easy. I certainly don't, iheartm doesn't either. We're all living a life that we didn't want. We all are missing the person in our life that made our life complete. But, we are all part of the same family and I hope, moving forward we all can continue to help each other the best we can.

I believe you are not seeing the whole picture. Is it misguided to give people a sense that their misery may change in the future? I call that hope. And it is truly not the case that the majority of the posters in this forum are new grievers. I'm not here to argue but I do feel I need to defend myself when called out. I also believe you haven't seen the majority of my posts. If you have a chance read them to find out what an amazing wife I had and how she has become my inspiration in this difficult new life.

Iheartm, I have lost my spouse and my journey has taken me from the depths of hell to now a more hopeful place. Happy.. no. This is the appropriate forum to tell my story. I still have a long way to go though and I still have many difficult days. I think I've asked you before to read my "dealing with those moments" topic to read where I was at early in my journey. I also don't believe that this forum was only intended for those in the earliest stages of grief. Many who post here are over 10 years into their loss. I am only 13 months in. I understand my current message may not resonate with you right now. But, is it fair to make me feel like I am doing the wrong thing somehow when I am honestly trying just to help? And I don't just post messages of hope. I welcome new members and try to give advice based on my experiences. This is all so overwhelming and I've never felt like I was being attacked before. Feeling the need to defend myself when I pour blood sweat and tears into my posts. This is not the reason I come here.