Margm

I do get the emails. I can drive at night in town, just not interstate or long roads without streetlights. I will keep going but I sure wish our group could magically meet. This is actually better, on line, we can immediately have our emotions taken care of. Otherwise, I guess it might be like AA meetings and have to have a sponsor. This is best because our pain comes on 24/7, 365 days a year. I actually was surprised that my friend, her husband has been gone seven years, she will not go again. She does not feel she needs it. She really does get her peace in her faith, and that is the mountain I have to climb.

Steve, I mentioned that I felt like I was in the third grade and should be in the 8th. This (our) group had me more than prepared to go into a group that I already felt I was ahead in my understanding of the process. In our group here, we do not have to "wait our turn" to talk, we just talk. In this public group my "word salads" have to be dampened down or I would control the whole group, which would be disastrous. Like Kay says, I am "transparent and honest." I let the whole group know my faith was lacking, but not entirely gone. I noticed the pastor did kind of wince. This is a church group, so I will keep my words clean. I felt comfortable, but only because I was here first. As to the suicide. I know we are given numbers to call before we consider suicide. Somehow or other, at the time I was feeling suicidal, I did not want to talk to anyone. I was not frightened, I just hurt so bad the only release was to follow Billy. But, I am not so positive in my faith that I would have followed him, so, I had to push that thought away, but it seemed not a sad thing, it seemed a release. Like I said, when I cried to where I would lose my breath, it seemed so easy to just not breathe anymore. I am glad I did not let that happen, I have things I have to try to do, but at the time I only thought of myself. Selfish. I will go soon enough at the time it happens. Addendum: And, also, this new support group is led by someone trained to run such a support group (he also has lost a child and considered leaving the ministry and suicide also), but I have more understanding from a teacher, sponsor, superior counselor with the name of Marty than I do any other person and have learned much from here. She has known how to plow through this grief fog we all suffer from, more so at times, and she always knows when we are going through this bad time and offers help. The thing this offers me is getting me out of the house, which I have shown fear of doing lately.

Gin, do you live in Chicago? Surely there are meetings such as this going on at a lot of the churches. It is called "GriefShare" and there is a big book to go along for each meeting, to read and fill out in between meetings. Most of the women were around my age, but as big a church as this is, I feel there should be more men to share with. Our forum has great guys on it, and it seems like there is something missing from this meeting. I know there are widowers here, and my friend's father just lost his lovely wife of over 50 years, and in reading his statements his hurt is as raw as ours. But, he lives probably 500 miles away. I think this is the name of a national group so I know there are more starting up at other places. If you enjoyed it, it is really good fellowship. I don't think I was ready this time last year though, so our group has saved me, and I could not compare it to any other.

You guys, you prepped me for this meeting tonight. They were wonderful people. I will go again. I did speak out. A bunch of good Christian women. I did shock them when I told them I had suicide plans after Billy left, and had them right down to where I was going to go. They knew I had/have trouble with my faith, let them know the reason I did not carry out the suicide was because I was afraid I would not see Billy. And, one woman told me truthfully, "you had not lost your faith or you would have carried through with it" Of course she was right. I certainly will go again. You see, I feel kinda like that 3rd grader that is actually supposed to be in the 8th grade. I am so happy I found you all on the 3rd day after Billy left. I know he had a part in my finding you. If you doubt me, then just let me go on believing in this. You are an exceptional group of people and I love you all. (I feel I have much to offer this group) (because of you all) , and who knows, I just might rediscover my faith and find some peace.

Butch, we never know how much energy we can manufacture when we are needed and you are needed. My heart is with you and your family. We are praying for the best. Do not like anniversaries of anything. Don't like counting days. Just me. There are 365 days in a year and we are without our spouse/love/partner/reason for living all 365 days, even on Saturday and Sundays. Again, my heart is with you. Take time to rest, even if it has to be when the others are sleeping. Our thoughts are with you.

I am not looking forward to tonight's first grief group. It is new to them also. My friend, who suggested it, belongs to this church. She took care of every movement and need for her husband through a seven year bedridden period before she lost him. She has a musical quality to her voice. She is the first person our group of women calls on for a prayer warrior. She never leaves the house unless everything matches, every hair in place, in fact she is prettier than she was in high school. She will go with me tonight (I really am not afraid to go alone), but that is just the way she is. She was alone on Christmas day, her very successful sons had other family, but were with her Christmas Eve. She has been alone for probably 7 years. A very lovely love story of her and her high school sweetheart. She is very involved in her very large church. She does not date. There will be no one else. But, she can see and feel I need help. She lives alone and takes care of her beautiful long time home. I am like the rest of you, the majority of you, I really do not trust me, any of my feelings, I am afraid of living. I sometimes am fearful to take that next step. No, I all the time am fearful, but sometimes I leap before I look. Hence the move south It was not a mistake. Sometimes I do things right. I just took a Xanax. Sometimes I have fear that makes me unmovable. I try to intelligently analyze it and there is no reason for it except the ghost in the room that I cannot see. I am not afraid of him, certainly, just afraid because I cannot see or feel him. We had a long life together, I am thankful of that, but I only had dependence upon myself beginning 10/17/2015. Until that time I was never alone without someone to depend on my whole long life. I am not alone now, but there is no other person to depend on. Instead, I know that everyone depends on me and that frightens me so much even though you can only take so much and then you can take no more. I understand that. Will this help tonight? Never know until I try it. I jumped into this forum after three days of being alone. See, sometimes I do things to help myself that seem to work.

I have not put it in weeks George. It actually was more calming, if you can use that word for this torrential storm we live, but to realize this Christmas he was not here last Christmas either. Last Christmas, I was thinking "he was just here." Nothing helps, but he was not "just here" he was gone last Christmas too. I wish you peace also.

In my crazy mind I got angry with my mom for being sick, for dying and taking my time of grieving away from Billy. I was actually angry at her. Sometimes either we are strung too tight or flying in the wind. As an addendum, my mom's hospice nurse (who all must be real angels) gave me a book on grief. It is said that nearly everyone gets angry at God. Like my Grandfather cursing him. If you get angry at him, you must believe in him, or there would be no entity to get angry at.

Don't know if any of you remember the crazy woman in "Twin Peaks" I think. Not sure, but she would carry a round log under each arm. That will be me going into the meeting, roll of paper under each arm. William Saroyan said about five days before he died "Everybody has to die, but I always believed an exception would be made in my case. Now what." I think I have floated through life with this idea, until 2015.

Oh you guys and your box of Kleenex. I take around a roll of towel paper with me. I keep one by the couch. One roll in the back seat of Ferris Yaris, and it takes up the whole seat. Maybe I'm lucky my skin is tough. I got to where I cried at the end of every Criminal Minds show. We binge watched them. Bri and I both would cry. You all know I spent 15 years in psychoanalysis, group therapy and one on one therapy. I tried different shrinks but finally wound up with a female bipolar brilliant woman who fired me one time because I would not go into the hospital. Of course, I went back, but still did not go into hospital. Billy begged me not to go. I spent one week the first time I started going and I was a mess coming off amphetamines (legal at the time, prescription), and those people wanted me to have dinner with all those crazy people. I cried until they let me have it in my room by myself. On top of everything else, they had the nerve to take my makeup away. Nope, hospital was not for me. But this woman did help me, and she also let me know I was not bipolar and my only quirk was chronic depression (after I got off the drugs), but I have been that forever anyhow. This time I searched. My doc had retired. I could not get a good feel for any of them and besides that, knew I could not take antidepressants anyhow.. This forum saved my life and now my little town (about 11,000 more people than my other town), the Baptist church is starting up a new grief group. My good friend was watching for it for me and I will soon start this. I would like to have two emotions, enthusiasm for anything and some happiness. I am sorta afraid because it is a "grief" group and I don't know if I can handle very many children grief's. This is a terrible fear of mine and my heart goes out to anyone who has lost their children and my aunt has never recovered. One woman I got to know well, her 10-year-old had passed away through a childhood playground accident. She is gone now too, and I think that would have been what she wanted. Her husband put a happy birthday in the paper for her and said he would see her soon. They were both quite old. But, being as this is hosted by a pastor, I might possibly find some of my faith and being that grief is not a mental illness, faith is something that I search for. I don't know how this will go, but Karen, Marty, all the mothers and fathers in this group, I will let you know if I can handle it. But for myself, I think I have been "shrunk" enough. I have no secrets. You all know me by my word salads. Besides, right now I think I might be too much for a real psychiatrist.

I am so happy about his improvement. That is about the best Christmas present your family could receive. This time last year I would remember every day that the year before we did not even suspect Billy was sick. We were sleeping in the RV and getting used to small spaces and loved it. Now I only think "he was not here last year" and it is sad, but it is more realistic than thinking he was alive this time last year. We all have our idiosyncrasies and no one is the same, but we all hurt the same. The pain is just as knife wrenching to each one of us as the other. The disbelief is the same. The nightmare and hope to wake up is the same. I wish you some peace my friend and so happy Gracie is well and walking. So happy Noah is talking. The rest they will work out. My prayers are with your family my friend.

And the other word added to "why" is "how?"

Billy had gone fishing and left me a note "Love you, be back by noon" and when I found it in cleaning out things I taped it to his wooden urn. It freaked Scott out because it is so definitely Billy's writing with a Sharpie. I keep it taped to the urn.

I too have a bad attitude and that word enthusiasm, it is gone, and that word happiness, it is gone too. Sometimes I feel a tiny bit of peace, but it does not last long. I really feel so old since he left and never felt that way when he was here. I just have some things I have to do and afraid I won't get to complete them because I feel so old. I never worried about my knees, my legs, my hips, a cane, a walker a wheelchair or a nursing home. Still not ready for any of them but they loom over my head and I really do have miles to go before I sleep. Don't need any more stress for sure. My mom died in August and I keep forgetting it. What kind of person does that?

Darrel, I had to let go of the time and the last few minutes or I would just plain die of guilt. I didn't know. He did. I would not accept. He had to. I got angry. And, that is what I have to let go of and will turn away from now. To copy the words of the woman above: "Our spouses just keep being dead." And now I will take a deep breath and forget those words I just mentioned. Sometimes you have to for your own sanity. I wish you easier times. I wish a modicum of peace for us all.

Darrel, I try to read a lot to get other people's feelings about widow/widowerhood. I have not uncovered anything world shattering, not even my fossilized mind shattering. I do feel empathy for these people because some of these people, like the woman I am going to quote below, some did not have the luxury of fighting and loving one man for 54-years. Was it 54? It only seems yesterday. And, as long as we were together, neither of us were old. Not in our own mind, we did not notice the years. We both had escaped some life threatening episodes so we were invincible. And now he is gone and even though I came back to our hometown, I cannot find his essence anywhere here. And I have aged 100 years more than I was when I left this town, with Billy. Yet, I have a terrible fear of going those 175 miles to the destination where he left me. I like your idea of driving down to the sea wall with your wife. It has been over 14 months for me now, and even though I quit really counting time, it is actually 365 days plus one more, plus one more, etc. This young woman I read about this morning, as young as she is, I suffer the same grief, hers is a grief of love not fulfilled for a long time, mine is a grief of love fulfilled for a very long time and wishful thinking it would never end. The years, youth, or age did not matter. It is what it is. This young lady wrote this back in 2015, for The Washington Post. She lost her husband, along with (I think) four other men in a rockslide on Mount Rainier. She and I have done some of the same things to try to alleviate this suffering. We all try to do things to alleviate it and one day the sun might shine a little, but the clouds return. Rose Kennedy said that time does not heal all wounds, it only builds scar tissue. I'm wanting the scar tissue to build faster. This young lady I am quoting below is Lisa Kolb. I think she may have lost her husband about in May of 2015. I lost Billy in October of 2015. Time seems to stand still for us all. "I lay there amid my luxurious new bedding, which, along with my new apartment, was supposed to make his absence feel less acute, since he was never associated with it. By Year Two, those things are largely resolved. No small feat, yet it is all replaced by an equally daunting, though less obvious, list of second year to-dos, like learning to live with a new, solo identity after years of partnership. Like knowing that other people must think you should be functioning and working at a back-to-normal level again, and being ashamed and frustrated that you are just not. Like facing the immutable truth that he is still — still! — gone, always will be, and there is nothing you can do about it. In other words, if Year One of widowhood is a struggle for survival, Year Two is the equally difficult struggle to begin living life again. It is hard. Our spouses just keep being dead." Yet, we all know we have to keep pushing on, sometimes though we wonder how and why. I know my why, my how seems to want to grab my legs and sling me down. Yet we cannot let it.............we have to fight through "how." And I have not got a clue.

2017, and I have just found me. Almost 3/4 of a century it took. I even sound like Eeyore

It's a very good Kindle. I'm not a very good Marg. Last year my word to realize (last 14 months) was e-m-p-a-t-h-y. This year I need to practice another "e" word, e-n-t-h-u-s-i-a-s-m. Enthusiasm. I act like it is a new word. It just as well be. Love you Kay, I hope everything gets fixed this year (your eyes included), but I hope you have someone with you when they are.

Kevin, I have been told by 3-4 women to read Psalms. I even had it put on my Kindle Fire. I cannot get into it. I must be a terrible person. It helped my friends and I cannot get into it. Will try again..............later. I think one thing we lose in grief...............................enthusiasm for anything. I know I have the Bible in versions I can understand. I have had makeup on twice in 14 months. I do realize a little red paint helps any old barn, but I am going with the weathered wood look for now. As long as everything is covered, I don't care what it looks like. Enthusiasm is gone. We try.

I'm sorry Marita. As a mother of two bipolar middle aged "kids" and the daughter of two with undiagnosed mental illnesses, and myself with chronic depression, I understand a lot of things I wish I didn't. We are all trying to wrestle with things that go way beyond our power to understand. One can look at me and see someone that had her husband for 54 years. They do not know what all happened in those 54 years (though with my word salads, I leave little to the imagination.) Still, I realize how lucky I was to have him so long, I was lucky his illness did not drag on long like both his and my dad's did. I am lucky I have so many friends that have lived as long as I have and have the wisdom of walking on the same coals we all walk on. But my love for him goes so deep that it is hard to imagine "luck" playing any part of it. I just miss him so bad that I still look at the sky and ask him why he left me. I know he did not do it on purpose, but I am so selfish I wanted to go first, but then that person I loved would be suffering just like I am. All any of us can do is just make it through the day. At first my brain protected my body by numbing down. Then it quit doing that and a terror of being alone among a bunch of people that needs my help, and trying to understand that I can only do what I can do, and then I can do no more. I don't want to stay, but I have to stay to make sure a little granddaughter has a chance at life. I only hope I get that chance, to live long enough to help her. I don't want to hurt those I love, but I want them to have someone that when I go, they can lean on them instead of me. With life comes responsibility. We are life. Until we aren't.

Too much wasn't it Gwen? You know how dangerous I am once I get started. "Oh no, here comes another word salad." Karen, I cannot question the unknown. That stained glass window pulls me in, but it belongs to a Missionary Baptist Church, one I said I would never join again. We have to "move our letter" and that is one thing I do not like. But, if I went to a church I wanted to go to, it would have an "all knowing" pastor that was really an angel and committed no sin, but that is our big problem isn't it? We are all human. Karen, in your case, I know the type of church your daughter went to and I truly believe she had solace before she left this very imperfect realm from a lot of good Christians. Wanda and Hettie are two of my good friends. Hettie pulled me through a horrible time. Hettie and Wanda both have walked on these coals. You go in their house and there is a Bible open on the dining table and/or besides their comfy resting place. There really are good, comforting people in this world. Sometimes you do not even have to look for them. I am happy your daughter found them.

PRETTY MUCH CHRISTIAN SPOKE HERE/DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO. Gwen...........I'm not a good one, but I am still one Matthew 17:20 King James Version (KJV) 20 And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you. I'm still a Baptist, but hang on by a thread. My granddaddy cursed God with all the fire of hell taking his six little kids to see their mama for the last time. The family was brought in. Mama was a little girl but she knew they were going to be hit with lightening bolts so fierce was his cursing. But (in my faith), he was also talking to him so for that much, he believed in him. Just my way of thinking, no one else's, and possibly it is part of my magical thinking, my grandma outlived my granddaddy by nearly 30 years. So even cursing God did not bring damnation on him, because he believed in someone enough to talk that way to him. I have told this story before, and again, it is Christianity spoke here. When I had cancer I was further away from my faith than I am now. Billy had studied at one time to be a Methodist minister but because of some things happening had fallen away from the church. But, my folks church sent, by mail, a list of people to the Holiday Inn next to M..D. Anderson where we were staying. I felt so lost and was dying I knew. Billy told me the story, I already knew, that the shepherd would leave his 99 sheep in search of that one lost sheep. At the time, Billy brought me back my faith. He did that more than once. About two years ago I ordered a necklace with the mustard seed in it. Some more stuff I cannot go into. There can be evil in all things. Now, lots of people do not understand this, nor do they want to, and that is their business. But, there is where my mustard seed faith comes into being, I still have it, but it is very shallow right now. But, my mom and dad brought me up in the church and it is something I cannot turn my back on. That is my belief. And to add to this little story, there is a crossroads at Walmart here in Minden. I have not picked a church. The other night a storm had made it very dark and I was turning left to go to my sister's house. There on the corner is a big church with huge stained glass windows in front of the shepherd and his 99 sheep, with him holding the one lost one. I had never noticed it in all the times I pass it, 3-4 times a week.

I know George, I understand the feeling of walking on earthquake ground. I never left my mighty protectors, my dad running around the house with shotgun, barefoot, in his boxer shorts if I heard a sound to Billy telling me to "go see what it is." but knowing he was there to protect me. My son tries to be there to protect me but I have never gotten over the idea they are my children and I'm supposed to protect them, and now protect my granddaughter and younger sister too and all of a sudden there is no one to protect me in 3/4th (almost) of a whole century I am really alone. I know God and Jesus are supposed to be with me but I have about as much faith in Billy as I do them right now. Still have not found that faith yet, but still have my mustard seed. That is all of us, part of our protection is gone. Part of us is ..............gone.

Karen, Marty, you both know I drove those 175 miles back and forth from Minden to Mount Ida over and over, cannot tell you how many times and never was afraid, most of the times by myself, so this new fear was like slapping me in the face and knocking me down. It was not expected, but I do expect it to leave me alone if I keep trying. I will keep trying. Karen, it is so much fun parking between the lines. Even with the little Ford Ranger I would get back in and back out and try again. I am terrible at parking and if I am going to parallel park, it better be a blank space in front and blank one in back, because even with Ferris, I don't parallel park. The thing I love is it will turn around on a dime, and that is not much of an exaggeration. Also, it is so common looking, not extravagant or sleek, so even if I am speeding the cops think I am insignificant. My son just said he would drive with me, but it is just like his dad when he thought I was dying and was determined he was going to drive me, I have to do it by myself for myself. He understood.

This is my Ferris-Yaris. I love this little car. It is a tiny "clown" car. It is not expensive. It gets up to 39 mpg. For the past 18 years (since retirement) we stuck with one vehicle. One big Dodge Diesel truck to pull the RV for about 12 years kept it. Then the big black Toyota. Then when Billy left, the little Ford Ranger with the long bed. While working I had the smallest vehicles I could buy. Some four wheel drive even, but small. I don't judge distance intelligently. Billy and Scott fussed at me cause I hug the right side of the road. Ferris has warning signals that aggravate me if I touch that line in the road. Billy would laugh at that. (I really, really was a danger to walkers on the side of the road). Everytime I backed the little Ford Ranger out that damn long bed would get me in trouble. When I backed into the telephone pole, I decided it was time. See, my one frivolity, my one thing that I have always liked to do is just get in the car and ride. No destination. No time limit. Did not, could not stand circular roads that took me back over the same road. Dead end roads better warn me because I hate turning around and going back. It was a freedom feeling I have had all my life. Daddy had a motor scooter, one of the big ones. He let me, as a teenager, just take off in it. He knew I wasn't going to town. I road down the dirt roads to the oil wells, turned around or went another road, circled all the sloughs, creeks, bridges in the backwoods. Freedom. It was okay with Billy after we had been married about 20 years. I was working, he was fishing, we lived on the lake. He headed off in his bass boat or his pirogue (pee-row), and fished the cypress trees. I took my tiny red car and hit the roads. One time I saw huge "animals" when I came over a hill. I took pictures. My first sighting of wild turkeys. I cannot describe the freedom. I was fighting cancer and my thoughts were outside the car. Two small trips in Ferris. I talked to Billy. Next time I am going to leave Billy in his pirogue. I cried, I was in some kind of total terror. I was even in familiar territory. Sure, it was long ago familiar, but there should not have been fear. I cannot have this. This is something I have to conquer without Xanax. Strange thing. I could be around all my friends from high school and there was no "wish Billy was here." He did not know these people so it was not part of him. Thinking about doing it scares me too, but I know I have to. What is the worse that can happen? Maybe I will cry all the way, I will just take paper towels. The little Ferris sits for days with no one touching it. I used to have this saying by Eleanor Roosevelt taped on my computer, where ever I was typing, in the hospitals or at home. Learning new programs always scared me, but learn them I did. “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt