mittam99

I don't know I got here... It's been one year since my perfect and wonderful wife Tammy passed away, suddenly. It doesn't seem possible that it's been a year. Everything that happened that day is so vividly etched on my brain it feels like it just happened. Three hundred sixty five (well 366 due to leap year) days and I'm still here. Not that I don't want to be here... I just am amazed how fast that time passed. I realize that this is probably how life will be from here out. Taking it one day at a time, doing the best I can and wishing my Tammy was still here. Hurting when I think about how she suffered in life and how of all people she only deserved the best. This "new" life without my bride is basically horrible. It's meaningless day to day drudgery. It's tears flowing and pain. It's memories and dreams of what once was and what I wish it still was. I have no really close friends, no relatives that offer emotional support. I'm on my own and trying to cope with a life without Tammy's kisses and hugs. I honestly think I've gotten more comfort from this forum than virtually anything else. Definitely an improvement over my grief counselor (she just wasn't all that helpful). Marty and the members here have been extremely kind and understanding and I am grateful a place like this exists for those of us overwhelmed with complicated grief. It was tough, but I actually worked today. In some ways it was better than sitting at home in agony. Mitch

One year ago today, Tammy was as home. It was her first full day there after leaving the rehab facility. She was tired but nothing really unusual about that. What was unusual was the 10" of snow we were getting. But, we had a good, quiet day. The next day, March 6th wound up being the worst day of my life. I've had other awful days when I lost my grandparents and my dad and my mom, of course. But losing your one true love and your soul mate is a devastating, mind-numbing loss that is unimaginable. It changes EVERYTHING in your life. When I first chatted with Tammy online, I knew she was special. When we started to talk on the phone, we both began to realize we may have something really special. Still, it wasn't until I met her at the airport that I knew she was the one for me. I held her hand and told her I really loved her. Leaving the airport showed another side of Tammy. She was a "fun-loving" woman. I'm not going to say exactly what she did when we were in the car leaving the airport but it caused me to nearly swerve into another car. Yep, Tammy was something! In the 5 days Tammy was in Baltimore we went downtown to the harbor, took a trip to the casinos in Atlantic City and spent some quality time at my house. Dropping her off at the airport was tough... she really didn't want to leave and I knew I wanted her in my life for always. About half a year later, Tammy and little Katie came to Baltimore and we started our life together. I know it wasn't easy at first for Katie. She didn't know me and she was a long way away from her relatives in Illinois. It took some time but I have to say that Katie and I definitely warmed up to each other. It always made me smile when she referred to me as "sweet daddy sunshine". At heart, Katie was a good girl and pretty silly. Tammy loved seeing me and Katie having fun ... she said we were "so cute" together. Tammy loved living in Maryland. She found a job she absolutely loved working in medical billing. And she was a very hard worker. She was their 2006 Billing Associate of the Year. I was so proud of her! Sadly in 2007, Tammy's health took a turn for the worse. There were very long hospital and nursing home stays and a 6+ hour surgery. The recovery was long and difficult but as always I was by Tammy's side giving her all the love and support I could. She lost the job she loved which to be honest was a travesty! Tammy was great at that job but they said they didn't want her back. Of course they never said why but I think we all can read between the lines. Tammy was devastated. Over the years Tammy faced medical challenges that a lesser person wouldn't have survived. Tammy was a fighter and I was always there trying to lift her up and give her all the love I had inside me. Sepsis, multiple infections, kidney stones, lung surgery, a cardiac arrest, emergency exploratory abdominal surgery, MRSA, unexplained fainting spells (we went for tests and they never did know what was causing them)... the list goes on. She was diagnosed with Raynaud's syndrome and Sjogren's syndrome in addition to her severe systemic lupus. This doesn't include all of terrible, terrible medical ordeals she had when she was living in Illinois. At one point there she had an infection so bad the doctors considered amputation. Tammy strength and her will to live was amazing. She was proud of her surgical scars. They were a badge of honor and courage to her. She had so much blood work done over the years it took a special technician to even find a suitable vein. They'd stab her over and over and every time the nurse would say "sorry", Tammy would just smile and tell them "it's ok". Tammy's emotional health took a huge hit when her beloved dad passed away after a battle with brain cancer. Tammy was the most beautiful person inside and out that I have ever known. And I know she loved me with all her heart. She loved me unconditionally. I waited my whole for her. And I was so proud that she was in my life and I called her my wife. Life without Tammy is so hard. I miss her smile. Her laugh. I miss the way she would "oooh and ahh" when you massaged her. Oh boy, did she love her massages! I miss her hugs. Her kisses. Her soft skin (she has the softest hands it the world). I miss her lovely voice. I miss everything about my Tammy. On March 6th, 2015 the world lost a one of a kind, sweet, loving, funny, amazing, smart, caring and beautiful woman. She deserved a much easier life. A life of good health. She deserved a much longer time on this earth. Sadly, God took her to heaven 3 months and four days shy of her 46th birthday. I will never understand why. My life will never be the same. I was blessed having those 15 years with Tammy. We truly were soul mates. We were both kids at heart. Two peas in a pod. We loved each other all the way to the moon and back... times infinity. Tammy Jean made me the happiest man in the world.

Here's the thing. Sure we may be strangers in the sense we haven't met in person. But the reality is we all have lost the love of our life. We now have this new life we're trying to come to grips with. Being here in this forum, in this community we have a bond. Unlike the folks who have never experienced grief like this we can share our thoughts and experience and feel a sense of comfort knowing that others reading our words are nodding in agreement. Many married people lose their spouse. But not all of them were soul mates, like all of us were. People in loveless or average marriages aren't here in this forum. I can say almost without question that everyone here was madly in love with the one who passed away. So in that sense we share a lot in common.

One thing we all have to do is eat. And that means we all need to grocery shop. I personally haven't come to grips with buying for one yet. I tend to buy way too much out of habit, I guess. As far as eating out alone, I just can't do it and I certainly can't go to places Tammy and I loved to go to. Tammy loved drinking an ice cold beer every now and then but due to the pain meds she was on she had to settle for O'Douls. There's still two of them in the fridge. I don't drink the stuff but I can't force myself to throw them out. I guess a part of me is still hoping against hope that Tammy is just on some extended vacation and will be back. If only.

Terri, I did 99% of the cooking at our house. Not that Tammy wasn't a good cook, she just seemed to love my cooking and I loved cooking for her. She always said my secret ingredient was TLC. Watching her eyes light up when I made a scallop dish, or shrimp scampi or my crab cakes... really any of my meals, put a huge smile on my face. She was especially fond of my "kickass" chili as she used to call it. I was making a meal of some of Tammy's favorites on March 6, 2015. Corned beef with candied carrots and mashed potatoes. A meal Tammy never got a chance to eat. These days, here and alone I honestly don't cook many meals at all. Salsa and chips are sometimes a meal for me. I eat because I have to eat. The joy just isn't there. On the other hand, I did recently buy a smoothie maker and have been drinking a lot of healthy smoothies, I have to give myself a pat on the back for something I'm doing. I've been exercising quite a bit and overall eating healthier foods. The exercise actually seems to put my head in a better place. I figure anything I can do that does that is a very good thing.

It's amazing how many times you're doing something run of the mill and all is well. Like driving, watching TV, eating... anything really, when... A thought just pops into your head that causes you to burst out into tears. Then there are those grief triggers that make your lips quiver, get your stomach in knots and make your tears flow non-stop. Here are three words that amply describe the grief "journey" we are all dealing with: THIS JUST SUCKS.

Let's see... my grandparents are all long gone. My uncles are gone. My aunts are gone. My dad died at 55. My mom was 69. And last March 6th the love of my life died suddenly at 45. Yes, I do think about it. I was 59 when Tammy died and I felt like a young 59. Now I'm 60 and all of the sudden that number seems kind of big (and scary).

Tough day today. Last March 4th, Tammy came home from rehab. I was so glad she was home and she had a new attitude about trying to exercise more and make herself stronger. March 5th we had a big snowstorm. On March 6th, I got up bright and early to clean up the snow so I could get to the grocery store and be first in line to get Tammy's medications at the pharmacy. It was supposed to be a good day. I was cooking Tammy a special meal. Getting things setup in a special room we had for her to exercise in. By the evening, Tammy was gone. And my world felt like it caved in. I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person but when I try to understand how this happened I'm like a three year old. I babble, I cry. I look to the heavens trying to make sense of it all. I just can't fathom how this happened. I cry so much at times (and I often don't drink enough water) that I get dehydrated. I don't know if this has happened to any of you but I've even cried in the middle of eating and almost choked. If only I was smart enough to build a time machine and create a cure for lupus. I'd be all set!

The "wouldn't they want you to be happy" comment we hear is obviously a no-brainer. Of course they want us to be happy. But because of the type of loving, one of a kind relationship we had, our spouses also would realize, happiness is virtually impossible without them. Tammy would go back and visit her family in Illinois a few weeks a year. I couldn't make it due to work obligations. And I'll tell you what... being without her for a few days or a couple weeks was torture. Sure we talked on the phone but I missed her so much. Last January, I was helping Tammy to the bathroom when she told me she felt a little shaky. All of the sudden she just collapsed. My first reaction was fear. Fear that we had to go to the hospital again. Fear that I didn't know what was going to happen. Fear that I could lose her. And all those memories of all the past medical traumas quickly went through my mind. And I burst out into tears, sobbing and blurting out "Tammy, please be ok... I don't know what I'd do without you". Tammy was not just a part of my life, she was my entire world. With her in it, the birds sang, the sun was a little brighter and there was much love and smiles. Without her everything is just a shell of what it once was. Yes, I was so blessed to have Tammy in my life and that's why life without her is so hard and the hurt so bad. Life these days feels like I'm stuck in the mud. I'd guess you'd say it feels like I'm in a rut. It's Groundhog's day over and over. It's just that I simply don't know "how to live" this "new" life. I take it one day at a time and I do what I "have" to do. The chores get done... I go to work. I eat. I watch TV. Kinda sounds like a prison sentence doesn't it? But for now, this is all I am capable of doing. Question... I find myself talking to myself quite often and talking to Tammy here and there. Am I the only one?

I know the laughs are few and few between for many of us but.. they say laughter is the best medicine, right? Here's a top ten list that may give you a laugh or two... If anyone is offended in any way my apologies in advance, --------------------------------- Top 10 signs your HMO is going belly up 10...Annual breast exam conducted at Hooters. 9...Directions to your doctors office include, "take a left when you enter the trailer park". 8...Tongue depressors taste faintly of Fudgesicle. 7...The only proctologist in the plan is Gus from Roto-Rooter. 6...Only item listed under Preventive Care coverage is an apple a day. 5...Your primary care physician is wearing the pants you gave to Goodwill last month. 4...Patient responsible for 200% of out-of-network charges is not a typo. 3...The only expense covered 100% is embalming. 2...With your last HMO, your Prozac didn't come in different colors with little m's on them. 1...When you ask for Viagra, you get a Popsicle stick and duct tape. - Mitch

As an aside, can you be a true redneck if you're from Oregon? One thing I've noticed about my grief is I now have a much lower tolerance for BS. And when I hear someone complain about how horrible their life is due to a hangnail or something, I just want to scream!

When people say "you're doing so good", is that because you appear to them to be functioning... to be smiling here are there, etc? Again, it's so clear that others who haven't experienced a loss like this simply don't understand the magnitude of the devastation to our daily lives. Let's face it, none of us are doing very well. And so true about things being so much harder without the support and understanding of your loved one. ------------------------ Today a female co-worker was questioning why I haven't "moved on". After all, "It's been a year", she said. And she said "wouldn't your wife want you to be happy"? To which I responded "Oh, no doubt she would, but I'm not sure she's ready for me to find a new mate". I mentioned that I still feel married and that Tammy will always be my soul mate. I don't think she understood where I'm coming from. She also mentioned that she had been through divorce but like I tried to tell her, it simply isn't the same.

It's hard to imagine losing your soul mate and "accepting it gracefully". I mean, a loss like this is not just a change, it's the worst thing that can ever happen. It's the loss of love, of companionship, it feels like you've lost a huge part of you. And, in a way, I honestly wonder how deeply and truly in love those folks were who aren't completely devastated with a loss like this. In a way, the pain I feel is a testament to how intense the bond was with me and Tammy. We truly were two souls sharing one heart. As far as folks gleaning something positive from the experience... sure there are the cliches like "they are in no pain" and "they're in a better place". But those are just things people say who honestly don't know what else to say. I can't find any positives from what happened on March 6, 2015.

During the last 8 or so years, Tammy's health was not good. Her lupus flared up and it seemed like her body was breaking down. There were many long hospital stays and countless life threatening ordeals. Tammy was the strongest and most amazing woman I've ever known, handling all this with humor and grace. She was an inspiration. I was by her side through all this doing my best to be her knight in shining armor. At home, I did almost all the cooking and almost all the household chores. I did Tammy's wound care trying to help with her MRSA infections. We weren't able to get out much so 99% of our time was spent together in this house. I think the thing that kept us "sane" was our sense of humor. I always like to be silly and joke around and Tammy loved to laugh! When Tammy died last March the 6th, the laughter and love that was a wonderful part of living in this house was gone too. But... I have never given thought to moving. I haven't given any of Tammy's things away. Heck, I've barely even moved anything. I guess for me, having things "the way they were" gives me a sense of comfort. I don't think it's denial on my part (sure in a fantasy world I'm hoping this is all a bad dream) it's simply what works for me. I mean, I've lost the most precious thing I ever had in my life. Tammy, was the sweetest soul and she really did make me the happiest man in the world. So, why should I now move or move things around because, at times, those things bring tears to my eyes? Those tears are there because of the love I felt for her. They will never leave. My house is lonely, yes. I'm terribly sad and in much pain. But not because I'm living here. My Tammy died. She was only 45 and we had plans for the future. A future filled with love. That's what's unbearable for me. Giving her things away or changing things around would be another sense of loss and emptiness that I can't handle, for now. Everyone handles grief in their own way. If others need to move or change things, that's what they definitely should do. It's all about trying to find some level of comfort in a life without our beloved in it.

I understand what you are saying. I'm usually pretty good at expressing myself but I often find myself in so much pain that my mind goes numb and I simply don't have the words. Just remember that words are just that... words. It's the love you feel inside that really matters. As far as it getting easier, I'm almost at the one year mark and the pain is about the same for me. After all, we were all madly in love with our soul mate and it's this deep love that means we have deep and intense grief. Our once wonderful, filled with love lives are now filled with anguish. All any of us can do is cope and take it one moment at a time. I know that my Tammy is with me forever. She will always be my bride. She made me a better man. I miss her so much!!!

Cookie... you certainly didn't ruffle my feathers. Oh wait... I don't have feathers. And please stick around! You've said nothing that anyone should be offended by.

Marg, I honestly believe this forum is an amazing place for us. As members of this community, we can speak of our sadness and pain and know others understand what we are going through. As in any discussion group we all come from different backgrounds and upbringings and there may be times we have different points of view on things. But, I can tell you, without doubt, everyone here only wants to help. I wish I could help ease your pain. Mitch

Very well said, Cookie. I agree 100%. All of us here are grieving. And in this particular forum, most of us have lost our soul mate. I may take heat for saying this but, I think the loss of a beloved spouse is the deepest hurt of all personal losses. It affects every facet of your life on EVERY level. And each of us are dealing with the loss in our own way. If faith in God, gives someone comfort that's a wonderful thing. For those who feel 100% sure there is an afterlife that will reunite all loved ones... hey that's fantastic. But everyone's grief and everyone's belief system varies. I mean, I do believe in God but I don't honestly know what lies ahead. I hope and pray there is an afterlife where Tammy and I will be together again but I don't know the reality of that. I can only live in the moment. And for now, nearly a year after Tammy's death I still am in deep pain. I miss my Tammy and for me faith alone and my belief in God has not eased that pain. That doesn't make me a non-believer. It's simply that losing your soul mate is a life altering, gut wrenching experience and for some, like me, faith alone is not the "cure". And like I've said, there is no right way or wrong way to grieve. It's personal.

I think that everyone grieves in their own way based on their own history and their own beliefs. And that's how it should be. This is a very personal, difficult and lonely journey and all any of us can do is experience it one day at a time.

I certainly understand that faith does give you a degree of comfort and hope and for some, maybe inner peace. But... this incredible pain I feel, losing my perfect wife, my soul mate, my sweet Tammy... has not been "relieved" by my faith. If only God would allow our lost loved ones to speak to us before they go to heaven and let us know they are "ok" and we will meet again... Now that would change everything! If only it was that easy... Janka, I do have a belief in God but I still feel the emptiness of love lost inside.

Tammy loved to be touched and especially to be massaged. With her chronic pain from lupus, the massages were like gift from heaven for her. The way she would "oooh and ahh" when you hit the right spot always made me smile. Making her feel good and making her happy made me happy. I miss her on so many levels like you mentioned, Gin. Just like your Al, I am pretty handy and I miss being able to share some on my "Mr. Fix-it" accomplishments with Tammy. When you share your life with someone and they become a part of you (and vice-versa), life is the way it should be. Losing your soul mate is like losing your arms and your legs and your heart and your soul. All that's left is an empty shell. and maybe your brain, I guess. And what's left of my brain is filled with so much sadness, it's often too much to bear.

"Memory lane solo"... what a great and true way to put that! Just as you said there have been so many times that I've wanted to turn to Tammy and tell her about something. And then the unfortunate reality sets in and I look to the heavens and hope she can hear me. This new life of memories and loneliness is absolutely awful.

I know I was lucky to have Tammy in my life. To be able to share a life as one and laugh and love together. To have my soul mate. To be able to finish each others sentences... etc. etc. etc... And that's why people who say "remember the good times" just don't get it. It is remembering those good times that's a constant reminder of happiness you will never experience again.

Butch, your son is in my prayers and hoping for a speedy and complete recovery.

As it gets closer to one year without my beloved Tammy, the intense pain and awful anguish has not subsided. No, it's not constant pain. I mean, I am able to function for the most part. but, the triggers and thoughts pop up constantly and so do those tears and the intense, gut wrenching sadness. That's my world. The world without my special angel by my side.