Margm

Christmas, other holidays, I never know. Customs were for my childhood. My daughter tried to introduce customs, but due to mental overlay, the holidays never were custom. I always thought that eating at a restaurant would be great. Someone told me "no, that is not a family Christmas." My biggest part of my family is gone, but still my granddaughter and sister need some way to celebrate it. I don't want to think about it. Billy the Kid was so easy to buy for. Yes, and when i cleared out his clothes and other things the tags were still on them from years ago. We lost our biggest child with losing Billy, but will have to start building from the ground up to make this special. I can do it. I still think volunteering at a soup kitchen for homeless people would be more gratifying.. But, I can still hear and see the disbelief in my mama's face when I suggested she volunteer. "What!!!!, not get paid for working????" Giving was totally lost on her without monetary gifts for doing the volunteering.. I don't think she knew what volunteer meant. She used to fuss about being on committees to cook for visiting preachers or the bereaved. My poor little mama. Life sometimes was lost on her completely.

I have a very bad habit of seeing this blank space and just a penchant to fill it up with words. I don't know why I do this. Occasionally I will go ahead and post one of my word salads, but all those things that you have seen me write, well folks, you cannot imagine how much I delete. I am just a frustrated writer with no order to my thoughts. So, if I have these same words somewhere else, just ignore this. If I go back and read what I have posted, sometimes I delete some of it too. I also try to read how famous people write about their grief. And, I am hypocritically judgmental if someone finds someone else. I know, I know, how could I begrudge someone their happiness. (I'm really not that mean a person......yes I am). I read histories of famous people and Mary Todd Lincoln was mental, and she lost her children, and her husband. I understand her being mental. My sanity can be questioned at any time and I am probably certifiable 99% of the time. I have a friend who has found happiness with a man who treats her "like a queen." And, she is going to tell me one day how our mutual friend, who Billy knew all his life, hated women. Not that he liked men, he just obviously did not treat her like she thought she should be treated. I have finally come to terms with her happiness and I am so glad she found it, but this husband's life hangs by a thread. How can we go through this more than once??? I would like to quote Rose Kennedy: "It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. Time - the mind, protecting its sanity - covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone." I have said I am no spring chicken. Realistically I don't have enough years left to be with another man, no man could measure up to the boy I married and grew up with. But, there are still some of you out there that might find happiness again. I know that will raise the ire of many of you. But most of all, I wish you, any of you, all of you, just moments of peace. Moments where you can have memories that do not pierce the heart and brain. I wish each of you "scar tissue" with time.

It is a good sign. Please stay off the ice. You know I am writing to a person in Canada and I am in the deep south. My cousin wrote me they had their first snow last night and she lives on Lake Michigan. I do know 175 miles above where I live now it was colder than it is here. So take it easy. Let us hear from you.

It does seem like we are fighting life at every turn. And, it does not get easier, there just sometimes is a lull where you can numb out. I admit, my numbing out times are far apart now, and I miss them. It does not help me to cry and tell him that no matter how much I cry he is not coming back, but he isn't. We cannot bring any of them back and sometimes I wonder why I am here because I could go at any minute just like Billy did, but I so hope I get a chance to make a difference in this little girl's life. She deserves it so much. The other night at Walmart an old fellow with his clothes all askew had a flashlight looking for something in the parking lot. Luckily he found it before my granddaughter had me and her go help him find it. I think I have watched too many "Criminal Minds" TV shows and every person is an "unsup." She has such a kind heart and I hope I can help her some way, help her find her way into a better life, one she can be her own woman. Even finding a good husband, I cannot do it for her, but I want to help in some little way. We have no choice, we play the hand we are dealt, whether we like it or not. I'm glad I came back home. He is not here. But, when I am ready, I will begin going to church again, if I am allowed to live. Still think faith is my path. We all have to find our own path of some sort. And as someone very wise on here said, "one size does not fit all." "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." I sometimes wonder how Robert Frost wrote a word. I think in his case, in his position in life, in his family, I would have withered up like a vine with no water and died. But he didn't. What keeps people moving on I will never know. But-they-still-do.

It rained, it was cold, I drove to the clubhouse in the big city. My friend was afraid to drive in the rain. She has a big Lincoln, but she did not seem to mind "Ferris Yaris" too much. I got us there safe. My nice dressy shoes where completely covered with water, bottom of my pants, my sweater hung cause the rain went to the bottom, but I dried out sorta and had a "good time." Well, I honestly did not look at my classmates with husbands and wives with despair or dread, I enjoyed talking to them all and after nearly 56 years they remembered me right off, except one girl I could not think of anything but Glenda. That was not her name. All went well, as well as it could. I even laughed. You see, these people were not part of Billy's life. None of them. So, they did not remind me of him. I am just very tired. And I know someone stole my Cheetos cause they know I am not supposed to eat them. Right now all I can think about is Cheetos. You cannot have Cheetos interruptus at my age. And yes, I own a raincoat that would have been dressy, and I had an umbrella in the back seat. Once your feet are soaked though, it just does not matter.

She was only 25, he was 28. How can anyone on this forum explain how they feel any better than Richard Feynman did in his letter? Thank you Marty. In a lifetime with Billy, the words fit for me the same as if I had been 28 when I lost him. I did not know of this man Richard Feynman. This was definitely a man, a complex man, a man of letters, a man of numbers, a man of awards. You will be happy to know though, at such a young age of losing his love, that he lived a long and complex life, achievements, criticism, travel for the sake of "you better not stay here" kind of thing, go to another country till things die down. Okay, there has to be a biography, and I will find it later. I love being introduced to people who lived in my lifetime that my little papermill town did not know of. I just went to Amazon. How did I not know of this man? Maybe the numbers scared me away. There are books galore on him. Thank you for introducing me to this man of many books. I do get turned off by numbers, but he might have had something to say beyond numbers.

Cookie, I had only a very short time to take care of Billy. He had to know (and I believe he knew) that every thing I did for him was done with love and never with any revulsion on my part at all. I would have done this forever if I could. But this man (who when we first married said a wife of his was not going to work), he prided himself in "being the man." He was old fashioned in a lot of ways, but also he was not going to make the same mistakes his dad made. "I love you" was never said in his household. It was said 100 times a day in ours. If I left out of the house without saying it and got down the road, I knew to go back. He would laugh, but he expected it. And we meant it. Toward the end he even got his sister to saying it and after he is gone, she still says it. He had to be "the man" and even after I started working, it took a little away from him, but in these days and times, this happens. It was never called my money or his, it was always ours. My helping him had an effect on him that he did not like. He had taken care of me totally, changed the bags that were attached to the colon rupture and wanted to drive me everywhere. He was being "the man." He went from walking, no trouble, to cane, to walker, to wheelchair in five weeks and to my giving him baths in his bed. It was a loving thing on my part, but on his part, his old fashioned manhood and dignity had been injured more than his body. My dad had prostate cancer. Things that were done to him injured his own manhood and took away his dignity. My mom's sisters could be crude. One's husband had had prostate cancer. My aunt came down the halls of the hospital very loudly saying, "Well Elvie, did they cut off your _______s". My dad lost every shred of dignity he had and it took him four years to pass away. My only consolation is that Billy only suffered a short time. I do not believe he would have wanted to live with my taking care of his every need. Yet, he did not mind, expected to do all the personal things for me, because he was THE MAN. We grew up small town, red-neck country southerners, maybe we had different customs than people in other states. Maybe the customs in the homes we came from were different. Myself, I enjoyed living in trailer parks after we retired. That was the fun of having an RV, just move. And people may look at my cards strangely, I always sign them Billy and Margaret, after all, it is still "our" money, and he contributed more to it than I did.

Good luck to you Kevin. Hope things go as painlessly as possible.

My worlds collide often. I used to watch Gunsmoke and think, well if Doc Adams is 10 miles away just use your cell phone and call him. What a waste of Chester's stiff legged time to ride those 10 miles to town and bring Doc Adams back. But the thing was, back then we had people that were like Doc Adams. A family doctor that was not afraid to spank me at age 7, when I was having my tonsils out and bucking the ether. (Have you ever smelled that stuff?) At least that (ether) has improved. I think Marty's father was a Doc Adams type. They disappeared about the time the HMO's came into being. My doctor left the hospital for another one because he did not want to take the HMO's (and I hope I am remembering that right). I think Cigna was one of the first. Now medical costs are outlandish. My sister thought our wonderful president was saving so many people with his new Obamacare. Then, Jindal in Louisiana started shutting down the charity hospitals. It is not all the doctor's faults. Their insurance against people suing them is impossible almost, to pay. But, we have no more Doc Adams's and we still have some caring doctors, but you cannot find them. If you do find them, keep them. One of our "good ones" you cannot get an appointment with. He has too many patients. And you have nurses that time them no more than 15 minutes with each patient. They charge Medicare an impossible rate, because they know Medicare is going to pay Doc Adams charges, not modern charges. And Obamacare.............? We have someone in there now over health and hospitals that hated Obamacare. In Louisiana, we can no longer have our charity hospitals, the teaching hospitals, because Jindal has done more harm than Hurricane Katrina. That is not an exaggeration folks. One person cannot fight city hall.

I try not to think about working nearly half a century typing symptoms of diseases, symptoms before death, wasting of the skin. I saw Billy's skin was hanging, but I thought it was just our age. Gravity. We neither were spring chickens anymore. I thought it was just aging. Then they told us and the light bulb went off over my head. I remember my cancer doctor fussing at me for reading up so much on my cancer. He told me that I just wrote words the doctor dictated, to quit trying to be a doctor. And the time I went to the library and was reading about a rabbits reproductive organs and cancer. It hit me, I was in deep over my head. I knew words, I knew symptoms, I did not know what things looked like and here I was reading about cancer in rabbits. (Before computers, before Google), so I quit taking things so serious. No one would give me a prescription pad anyhow. They told me Billy only had months to live and I knew it, I knew he had skin wasting and it was not age and I hated me for knowing but not really knowing. I knew words, I knew how to spell them, I was no doctor. I had Billy at his twice yearly checkups. Couldn't someone have read his lab work during all that time? My doctor's nurse called today. She said the counselor they had found me would not just accept Medicare. She said she had told me that when she (counselor's office) called. I told that nurse no counselor had ever called me and that I had Blue Cross and Blue Shield also. I told her the next time she talked to the "counselor" to tell her that she had never called me. Then I asked "was my lab work okay?" She said "wait, let me look, I will have to get back to you." Hell no she did not look. This was done a month ago. Neither did the doctor. And my little verse underneath that is.........I don't give a damn. No, they did not read Billy's lab work. If they had, they would have seen his LFT's were so messed up they would have had him in months before. But, even then it would have done no good. We have had Group Insurance with the State of Louisiana since 1959, now the retirement Group Insurance, which has to be secondary because the almighty Medicare says they have to be first. Old people fall through the cracks because they cannot hold on long enough.

People talk about being cut from the same cloth, or not being cut from it. I think we all suffer the same pain. I cannot count my love any greater than anyone else on this forum. We have all suffered immeasurable loss. There is no graph showing the peaks and valleys of our pain. Mine is no worse than yours, his is no worse than mine, their pain is no worse or better than any of the rest of our's. My friend's husband was married again right after my friend's death. I figure I was hurt by that more than my friend. Her pain on this earth was over with. I read of others seeking solace with others of the opposite sex, and how can I find that a failure? The cloth does not matter, we approach our pain the best way we can. There was no funeral pyre to throw myself on. At the time, I would have probably done it. Up near the gate of the family cemetery is buried my great grandfather and next to him his wife, my great grandmother, and next to her is her first husband. I think she had about seven kids with him. I remember visiting all of my grandmothers half brothers and sisters when I was a child. In our ancestors time they had a family of 10 kids or more and as soon as that wife died in childbirth they had to find a babysitter fast. Lots of "old maids" past the age of 20 and they found one to take care of the children fast, within days or months. Then they had 10 children by that woman and being worn out, she died in childbirth. My great grandfather then found one that was part Native American. She outlived him, no children. And, on the other side of that ancestry, the same thing was happening. Personally, I'm glad we are not made out of the same cloth. I'm glad women were allowed to vote, and certainly glad we quit having 10 children and dying. Heck, we were not even allowed to have property of our own. And, the slaves were given a portion of a vote before we were even recognized as "human." But how we approach our grief is all different. And, none of it is wrong. Unless you take a rawhide whip and flog yourself to death. I have guilt, you have guilt, they have guilt. We are still living and the one that mattered most to us is not. Every time I start to cry I think "well, this is not gonna bring you back." I wonder and get angry at "why did you leave me?" And, I know he would not have left if he had had a choice. "Time heals all wounds." Well, I am not too sure of that. And what other people say to us, it is in one ear and out the other. "Keep busy." Yeah, I can listen to music again, some of it. I guess that is one step forward. Faith? It has not returned, but I am kind of sideways in that thinking. I have not turned my back on it. Anger with God. Yeah, I think I still have that. Count my blessings. I have a lot of them. I was going to make a shadowbox with all Billy's tied flies with his picture as a backdrop, the one of him fly fishing, gonna make it for the kids Christmas. Nope, gonna give a Walmart card. The flies are in one of those 15 boxes I have not opened. So are all the winter coats. He had a lot of winter coats.. I got rid of a lot and still have a huge box filled with mine and his winter coats. That is symbolism. That is his essence and my essence mingled together. I will buy a new winter coat. Not opening the box. Somehow, I doubt a ghost of him and me entwined is going to come from that box anymore than I have found him moving back to our old hometown. He is still gone. Happiness? I had it. Laughter? I can do this. Socialize: I'm attending some Christmas todo Saturday that I have been invited to for years. I'm going, we will leave early, neither of us drive at night. Don't want to go. I remember those people from when I was 17. I hate to embarrass them all by attending and them all being old, it will make them so depressed that I have not changed in 55 years. I hate to see the envy in their faces. But, I am going. Gwen, see how logical I am in my thinking. I think this cloth I am cut from will tear very easily, might fall apart from age. Just wad me up, soak me in Xanax and throw me in the car seat. I cannot remember those steps yet. Two forward, one back, maybe three forward and two back. I hate numbers.

Karen, my brain stays in a fog. I can watch something on TV and Bri will tell me "Mamol, we just watched this last week." Okay, I get to enjoy things more often than people with wonderful memory. I have no idea what endorphin's are, It sounds like a good word though. Maybe grief either alters our brain chemicals or obliterates them. I don't really care which. I have just gotten used to saying "I don't remember" and most times people go with it. Now if Billy was here and I told him I did not know how something worked, he would go into detail telling me how it worked. And, I would ignore him until he drew me a picture. He was always determined I was going to understand something whether I wanted to or not.

Karen, I cannot even begin to imagine the grief of losing a child. Billy's treatment at the teaching university hospital was horrendous. They sent me a survey I never heard back from. I told them I would not even recommend their hospital for an autopsy. He went so fast we really did not have time to consider options. I did not accept the outcome. That was someone else. It was not Billy's lifelong partner. It was someone I live in the body of, but she is sure not my favorite person. If I could find that Indian National psychiatrist that told me I had to learn to love myself, I would beat him to death with his $13 pamphlet I bought from him.

Gin, he was hyperventilating two hours before he passed. I could calm his breathing down. This was not the end. The end could not happen. It was impossible. I was expecting mine and his miracle. He reached out to me that he had to give up. No words. He knew, I would not accept it. Not going to happen. My anger would drive the truth he knew must happen away. It didn't. I let him die without holding him those last moments. Guilt and grief are identical twins.

Another word salad. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, Well, it did. And as many mistakes and failures as we had through those 54 years, it finally took death to part us. Going into it as a teenager, and him just barely more than a teenager we entered into something we had no idea of the responsibilities and implications of those vows. Till death us do part was only something we thought about when we were angry enough to smack the other into oblivion. We didn't do it (although coming off the amphetamines, I took a swing at it with the business end of a fishing rod.) He bled. I could have killed him. I did enter a hospital for that one. No, he didn't leave me, he just begged me to come home. There were times both of us wanted to leave, but spending a night or two away from each other was something we could not do. We "separated" for six weeks once. I saw him every day. "For better, for worse." We had a lot of those "for worse" times. One time he worked two jobs for about five years and he was so tired that his proclamation that "no wife of mine is going to work" became "if you want to." I had wanted to before but my kids were babies. I could not leave my babies, so I held a grudge against him for now "letting" me work. We worked out a way I could work nights at the hospital and someone would be with our kids all the time. Amphetamines kept me awake to work. They also made me very friendly. Too friendly. But, it took seven years and a lot of pressure on my mental health from those legal pills, to save my marriage I still needed to work, but I needed to work and be a wife and mother too.. I had become something I did not like. I'm sorry for you that are young and do not know what this life has to offer you now without your soulmate. Yesterday, two boys were playing basketball and arguing about how far they could throw the ball. I was standing on the porch, looking at my daughter leave. I heard them say they could throw it as far as that "old woman" on the porch. I looked around me. Well, there it was, I was the only one standing on the porch. I never was that "old woman" until Billy left. In March of 2014, I probably came as close to dying as I ever will until I do. I could hear doctors talking, but I was so out of my head with fever and pain they were just insignificant gnats in that room. He sat with me 14 days and nights. The nurses started bringing him a plate each meal. Ruptured colon and overall sepsis from the cure of my cancer 33 years before. The questionable treatment, the pain, unable to take pain pills I would walk off the pain in front of the house. Then the rupture had involved my GYN insides and something happened, we don't know what, but the GYN doc said they could do a D&C but if they found anything they could not fix it. Miraculously the fever and pain went away. I had prayer warriors around the clock. And my poor Billy, the next March we buy a small RV because we are leaving, finally to finish our RVing years, come hell or high water. Well, hell and high water came and washed away all hopes of ever having the life we had begun 18 years before. We lived in an RV 5-6 years before we retired and we did some traveling. My strong caretaker, the one who took care of me in sickness and in health, well, "death did us part." I do not have the bitterness of unfinished business that so many have. We finished everything but our RVing adventures. Our song "A Time for Us" just was not to be, but we had so many years, so many mistakes, so much happiness, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, and finally, death did us part. I cry because it is over and I cry sometimes because I loved him so much that if some other woman could have made him give up the smokeless tobacco, if they could have kept that tall, lanky, Steve McQueen look-a-like alive, I would have gladly given him up, just so he could live. One of these days I will be able to substitute logically the word "grief" over the word "guilt." His last minutes on this earth sometimes flash through my mind and my mind goes "no, no, no, no" until it is gone. I am human, it does not always work. I am thankful for all the milestones we had. But, in 54 years together, it only seemed to start yesterday and is gone today. No matter how many years you had, you want more. And now, I can only be thankful for the fact he only had a few days to suffer when both of our father's had months. I do believe I will be with him one day. I will have to believe he is waiting. How could he do otherwise? I am him, he is me.

Well now see, if I had known that then there is no telling where I might be right now.

Correct me if I am wrong, but I think in some cultures now and in the past the wife would throw herself upon the funeral pyre. In essence, that is what I wanted to do. But, having been sick as much as I have been, I really think Billy thought I was going first. I was pretty sure I was and when husband and wife died so close together, I somehow thought the notion was romantic. I would read him of such things happening. He would not reply. Finally, he said, "really, I think the one left must stay." So, I guess that negated my heading off into the hills with his 50 morphine pills. I had to stay. I honestly do not think I am honoring him by staying, I was ready to go too. But, after this length of time, I still walk a tight rope to be here, but I do have "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." Hopefully. Gotta get that gal of mine on her own two feet, or have her find a rich man. That is my goal. I just want her to be happy and secure. As far as honoring them go, I guess the fact that we miss them so bad is honoring them in a sad way.

Gwen, my granddaughter and I finished the whole series of Criminal Minds. I finally just put a roll of paper towels between us because if it ended happy I would cry. If it ended sad and terrible, I would cry. I watched Finding Dory at the theater (watched both of them) and I cried. I cry at Folger commercials. If music is playing, I will cry. I certainly should have a low sodium content to my body, enough escapes in tears. But, I remember some animated movie we were watching before Billy left and he had tears running down his face. And, it was a comedy. There are some moments that we just cannot help, and I think we should just go ahead and use that roll of towels. Right now I am looking out over the park that is in the center of the apartment complex. Guess we have a cold front coming in. The sky is sadly gray. I did get into a novel last night. That is something I have not been able to do. I could not concentrate. I did have to reread some. Maybe we are just frozen in time and it is going to take awhile to defrost. I think the pain is equal to the love we felt. No answers from me. I don't question when, but I do wonder how and what. My heart is with you.

Lately it seems one step and fall back two. Yes, I am going backward. Some days I just stand still. No math. I hate numbers.

I cannot even begin to imagine the stress on your loving D-I-L's mind. She has fought to keep the beautiful angel you all have now, she has probably had horrible stress from all her hospital visits. I have been on a psych unit myself with Billy begging me to come home, my kids were much older. I came home, I had to. But the stress your DIL has, I cannot even imagine. My little grandma, after having a stillborn baby, had a nervous breakdown. She was in the hospital with six children all under the age of 10 having to be taken care of by family. A woman's hormones go awry when she is pregnant. Many women have postpartum depression, and I would think the stress from your granddaughter's hospitalizations and now losing another baby, it was just too much for her to take. My heart is with you all and my prayers also. You have beautiful grandchildren, and with time, your DIL's hormone imbalance will straighten out. We women can be complex people and pregnancy sometimes takes a strong woman and all the stress she has been under, she just has not had time for her hormones to balance out with her stress. Your son also has undergone a lot of stress. Your whole family has had more than your share of stress. My prayers are with you all.

Some one said that we take one step forward and fall two behind. I believe that. But sometimes, just taking that one step forward is momentous. "It goes on" until it doesn't. Doing the best we can with what we are left with, maybe one day we can take two steps and only fall back one.

This was wonderful. We know Patty personally now. The only drawback for me is my little Louisiana town is so far away from all that good food. I saw cheesecake. My granddaughter's favorite food is pasta of every kind. Everything looks so delicious. What a beautiful article and already feeling like we know Patty, now we know her for sure. You have really done Ron proud. I am going back and watch that video again. Thank you Patty for sharing and thank you Marty for putting it on the forum.

I have two friends that were married 4-5 times. Always trying to find that one. I married the first one and he was "that one" but I didn't know it at the time. Took over 50 years for us both to know beyond any doubt that each was "that one." One friend, her husband was killed by a butane tank, that was her 5th, and I think he was "that one." We take so much for granted. We wish for man's inhumanity to man to end. We each have to do our part before that happens. But, unfortunately, we have to be on the alert still. I hope everyone has as good a Thanksgiving as they can have. I remember Mama running around the house with her bandanna tied around her hair. Mama still believed in using everything, gizzard, liver in the giblet gravy. Mama was a true deep country woman. My friend said now I could find myself. I'm still looking. Don't know who will be here except my sister and granddaughter.. Son will come by later. He is at Billy's and my nephews house. That man loves to cook. My daughter is still estranged. (She called me three times this morning, Mama is still important to her). Some times too many words are said that should not be said. Mental illness is a terrible disease that touches all who come within distance of this anomaly. Addendum: I did stop at her house earlier and hugged her. She had company for Thanksgiving, and I am glad she was not alone. It never dawned on me that after we were all grown and had families of our own, going to his folks, going to my folks, that there was the little lone grandmother who had lost that big family, still hurt from her husband dying, and now all her family was gone. Precious little country mouse that would not ask anything of anyone, but still saved all her meager earnings from that little corner country store and left each one of those selfish "kids" a gift of money and land. Funny how you remember things when it is too late. We are thankful for what we have, empty for what we have not.

Went for my first "joy ride" in my little clown car. I had looked forward to it. Getting to know the car, being by myself, talking to Billy. I started talking to Billy about our trips, about all the good things and fun we had had. I honestly had a lifetime with Billy. My 17-18-years-before him were insignificant, another person. Did I love him the first years? I cannot say. I was comfortable with him, he was nice to wake up to, and so very gentle and sweet to me. He also could be a horrible person with his problems from his mom's running around on his dad and his distrust of me. I went through such mental abuse after awhile, but I had a young child. I was not beat down.. I have a spirit that is not turn the cheek but "I will take revenge." Such children. We grew up with our kids. He was my best friend and acknowledged his abuse and apologized in later years. Yes I loved him, more than myself, more than life. No, he was not perfect, but he had married a very imperfect child and we complimented each other, even at bad times. The road was bumpy for about half the marriage, but we never could leave it. I'm glad. But, I would have gladly shared if she could get him off the poisonous oral tobacco. I can only say it was raw emotions. I don't think they have ever been that raw without being able to numb them down. I couldn't. No special day. No special place, maybe it was talking to Billy, I just do not have any idea, and the fear was most prevalent. It has been over a year. I am going to read my grandmother's book again. She wrote about all of this. None of us are different in our grief. I think we all fall victim to the raw emotions. It was a real surprise, an unwelcome surprise. Gwen, this is my word salad.