Margm

I think it was mentioned Martin Shorts interview with Kathie Lee. But this is what he says after his wife Nancy's death. "We were, as a couple, like a big 747 jet plane, powered by two engines. But now one engine is out. Nevertheless, the plane is still filled with passengers and there's a lot of responsibility, a lot of lives still to influence. So, the plane must continue to fly with one engine. It travels onward, but with a bit more effort and struggle" Losing our mate affects us all about the same way.. Except my mom who stayed angry at my dad for leaving her. He had no choice, neither did our mates and I have never been in an airplane, but would hate to lose one engine. We have lost one engine, but we have to keep flying. "There is still a lot of responsibility" Moving van comes tomorrow. Still not ready. Will have help. Maybe they can get me more organized. I am so up the staircase, down it, around it, on top of it, under it and never finish the job I started. Hope you have a good peaceful night. I have doc appointment in the morning. Just blood pressure refills. I don't let them delve any further, if there is something wrong, they will get it in the end, or it will get me is better understood.

Well, I was brought up Baptist, parents took me and dropped me off at First Baptist. My folks were natives of the area. My Sunday school teacher came out and informed my dad he did not need to "bring" me, he needed to be there himself. He knew the woman and he was very angry.. He was so angry he started coming with me, he and Mama both and eventually they made him a deacon. They were tithing Missionary Baptists, (I did not know there were different Baptists), we were there every time the doors were open, even cleaned it and ran off the bulletin, cooked Brotherhood meals, Girls Auxiliary was Monday and of course Wednesday night. So, church was an everyday thing with me. I should have brought my kids up in the church and it was hit and miss. After some church problems when my daughter was in her teens, we just quit going. But, faith was already ingrained in me, so I know what I am lacking right now. Not saying I am right, just saying "as the twig is bent" and I was bent. I also know what I have to do. And I cannot say what is right or wrong for anyone else, but just know what is right for me. Don't think I can find comfort without my faith. Again, that is not for everyone. This is just me. I also feel for everyone on here. That is one thing we all have in common and that is why we are all here. Hugs to you WW, your part of the best.

Thanks Marita. My heart, no, I am sure all our hearts are with you also. It is very awkward. Very lonely in with a bunch of people, in fact, I am not comfortable in a bunch of people. That did not use to be. I think we are supposed to slowly get ourselves used to it a little bit at a time. Not sure I can do that. Not even sure if that is written. Might be something I thought I read. I do that often, think without proof.

WW, when I read the books, Billy was still with me and had not even been diagnosed. Rode the elliptical 30 minutes right before we went for his MRI for his back. We did not stay at the neurosurgeon's long. He told us about the aneurysm but did not tell us anything else. We saw the neurosurgeons on the 31st of August and they told us nothing. Then all hell broke loose after eating at the Outback Steak House so we were back over at the hospital and found out everything. No need going into it. Just needless to say, glad I finished the books before we knew anything. We have had Jehovah's Witnesses come to the house ever since we have been in Arkansas. I cannot criticize their religion, not someone who believes enough to come knock on a stranger's door uninvited. This morning I had two women, two children. Both women widows. One married 66 years, the other married 16 years, mother and daughter and grandchildren. She read me a passage from Revelations, and I heard not a word. From childhood when they would teach Revelations in church I steered clear of it like I do the TV series "The Walking Dead." Both women were in good spirits, I did not question their grief. I thanked them for coming. My son's "intended" is a JW and wants to find a church where they are staying now. How can I possibly question anyone's faith or religion? .

WW, I am waiting for the 9th book. I know what happened at the end of the 8th book and there has to be another one. I honestly hope I am alive to read it and I hope my grief fog has lifted by then to where I can comprehend more than a paragraph at a time.

I could put an addendum to the above, but will add this. I am getting calls to help me from all over this town. Remember that old thing on TV "Please Mother, I had rather do it myself." I feel pushed. Why am I hating being pushed by people who want to help. What strange idiotic feelings are driving my persona, my psyche, myself? I don't know this person who lives in my body anymore. I don't know that I ever did, even though I have had over 70 years to get used to her. She still is an enigma.

I struggle sometimes on where to put things, under what topic and I usually go to my own topic about "going through hell." (I wonder, do you capitalize "hell?") Stupid little wonderings. Like my neighbor told me "Margaret, we are of the age we are going to be losing our friends." That is true, then we have the Orlando's and the Dallas's, the Baton Rouge's, all the other places. One of my friends just traveled to Florida for vacation with a friend. Her sister, on FB, told her she was so glad she was out of the city because the threat from the "Black Panther's to kill all whites and policemen was a rumor making the rounds. Said that everyone needed to get their weapons ready. Yeah, that is what we need, more innuendo's, more weapons. Makes me think of the Biblical passage mentioning "wars and rumors of wars." Just what we need, more fear. Some of my best friends have different colored skin than I do. How can I say that? My skin has freckles, I am brown and I am white, so where does that put me? I find time to get on this forum and pour out my heart, but I cannot find time to read, and like my grandmother before me, reading is a big part of my life. I have become entrapped in watching "Gossip Girl" on Netflix, something Billy and I never would have watched, but I am enmeshed in this show, watching other people's tragedies as if they will cover my own. My granddaughter and I have watched so many seasons of shows that Billy and I would not have watched. I have not watched my soap operas in weeks. I don't know if Victor is out of jail or on the other show if Sonny has had Julian killed yet. My life is a soap opera. Last night after a binge of the show I pulled myself away, too much to do today, so I read on my Kindle until sleepy. I bought Martin Short, the comedian's autobiography. I turned to the chapter on him losing his wife of many, many years Nancy to ovarian cancer. Comedians make us laugh, but at what expense? Like Robin Williams. It made me think of Steven and another of our members that after losing their mate, they had shortages of electricity to different things. After his wife Nancy left he all of a sudden had flickering lights, electrical mysteries. Someone told him to have it checked. He did and there was no reason for the power shortages. This morning I put my hands on Billy's urn and begged "Please help me." I went to the big window and looked at the sky and in my faltering faith I begged Jesus for help also, talking to him and to Billy. I don't know if my prayers go beyond the ceiling sometimes, but clearly I need help. In plugging back in my Kindle from last night, setting it on the drawer beside the computer screen a Cardinal, a male red Cardinal flew to the porch and sat. Am I looking for signs, pulling at straws and strings? I don't know, but clearly I have to get out of my quicksand and organize. Not my best quality. I put this under "How to find peace" because I will always search for it, will imagine but not fully accept signs. I don't know, and clearly that should be another topic "I don't know."

“If you can sit with your pain, listen to your pain and respect your pain — in time you will move through your pain.” ― Bryant McGill, Simple Reminders: Inspiration for Living Your Best Life I can sit with it, I listen to it, but I have not grown to respect it yet. Someone was always giving Billy flashlights, lamps for living without electricity, all over the place. I asked Scott last night, what do we do with all of them. He said "well, we may be without electricity sometimes." I will box up all the lamps, flashlights in a box and deposit them at the thrift store. Our electricity is gone anyhow, lamps will not bring him back. So many things, so many useless things. I made him lists of all his books he read on Kindle and synopsis of each book printed out. I hesitate to throw it away. I removed the books from Kindle, but the lists, Billy read those books, how can I throw away the lists. Friends, the rules are made, you do not do anything for a year. Even after a year, I see our people on this forum unable to move away from "lists." The scar will not heal, not even if you remove the lists. "In time you will move through your pain." That one is so hard to believe. I don't "respect my pain." How can you give respect to something that hurts? And moving through my pain, well I am moving away from here, how can I do this? It is not practical to stay here. What is practical about grief? Nothing.

Karen, I truly believe that old saying about we should outlive our children. So much grief. Usually when I think of Billy, nearly every waking moment, I just wonder "why did you leave." Then, I have to think about the length of time I had with him and how selfish I am to have wanted forever. My son has been told that his son probably does not have long to live. He has been so into drugs for so long that he is no longer a real living person. He has psychosis and needs in an institution before he hurts someone. Someone needs to put him into one but not even the police will keep him long. What hurts my son so much is his son is following directly in his footsteps. My grandson is in California and soon everyone will have moved off and left him. His mother is moving to Missouri. No one is left to save him. His little mind is so gone that no one can save him. Even if the police pick him up they won't keep him. He has been in rehab before but he has to want to change and that part of his brain is gone. No one can help him now. My son has been out there a number of times and had a place open for him back in Arkansas. He would not come. Scott had to go into homeless shelters and drug houses to find him at all. We lost a cousin like that. A sweet, beautiful girl that died in her 16-year-old son's arms. Alcoholic and the train went down hill with no brakes. Beautiful inside and out but for some reason she could not stop drinking just like my grandson cannot stop drugs. We all know it is too late for him and it tears my son up, he has just lost his dad. He feels hopeless, so things besides cancer kills. I am so sorry about your daughter, just as she had found happiness. I am sorry you lost Ron. I am sorry I lost Billy. We wonder why bad things happen to good people. Hugs to you my friend and I mean it, my heart is with you. I admire your courage. I wish peace for us all.

I read all 8 Outlander books before Billy got sick. Honestly, some of the sex scenes went on for 25 pages. The books were up to 1000 pages long. I was sorta put off by how much sex went on when she had such a darn good story to tell. I checked her (author's) historical facts and she was pretty spot on with that. I did remark in my comments to Amazon that the sex scenes were too many and too long. Right close to my commentary was another over age 70 woman that thought the sex scenes were wonderful. Reminded me of that movie where the girl (Meg Ryan) has a make believe orgasm in a restaurant. The woman sitting across from her said she wanted to order whatever that girl was having. Well, I want the mind of that over 70 year old woman instead of my own. I followed the first season but have not watched it since.

George, I had never heard it until I got married. I always thought it sounded more realistic than beggars and horses.

Well Marty, that is so much more truthful and honest than "and they lived happily ever after." Of course we don't know what period of time "ever after" would be. Mama used to say "if wishes were horses, beggars would ride." That went along with my mystical magic imagination. Then along came Billy's mom who put it in a more understanding perspective. "Wish in one hand and s___t in the other and see which one fills up the fastest." So much for fairy tales.

Yep, I remember "Tie me Kangaroo Down." In fact, the 70's and Journey are about the only ones I can listen to. Creedance Clearwater Revival.I have worn out three of them. Not really wore out. Neil Diamond is okay. No theme from the Titanic or The Way We were or The 12th of Never. Have looked at pictures now, but they haunt me a whole lot. Billy had a beard from the 1970's. I have pictures before then and it looks like Scott. Found some from when he was school age and he was a little plump kid. He always worried about his weight. The only fat he had on him was between his ears.

Oh I know what you mean.. I wake up in the middle of the night wondering how I am going to get it done. One step at a time. My steps go up and down and around though. I just am not organized at all.

When I decided to do this for sure, it was like I was going over Niagara Falls in a wash tub. I was already on my way, Billy had pushed us off shore. He went to some other shore but I have been on that collision course with the falls ever since I started. Seemed simple enough. Did not figure in all of the things that were his. Actually, I packed his stuff first. This is his, mine, ours. Anything that is mine goes to the thrift store. I am not organized. The good Lord handed out organizational skills, I thought he meant political and I hid behind a tree. I am so not organized. By the time I had the tub headed for the falls I could not turn back. But, I have been stuck on some rocks along the way. I knew the house would go fast, but I did not know just mentioning it to my lawyer, before I signed papers with realtor, would mean I had to hurry. I have to hurry anyhow. Leaving is not what I would call bittersweet, it is what I would call sheer terror. I feel hidden in my apartment. I wake up to sounds above me, outside the apartment. I am not afraid. If I awoke to sounds here in the wilderness, living alone, I would be scared. Most women are just the opposite. I have no explanation except brain short circuited from taking amphetamines in the 1970s.

I am at the point people are pushing me. I didn't even advertise the house. I realize it is in beautiful location and they want to move. U-haul coming Monday and will have it Tuesday. When I got dehydrated last week probably caused some changes I did not want to happen. Now my back (which sounds like a hypochondriac) is going out on me whenever I bend down. Know it is caused from the colon. But, I cannot rest. People in a hurry. I went into the garage and it had been cleaned out. I have stuff that has to go to the dump and thrift store. I am throwing away so much good stuff. Mama always said waste not, want not.. I don't like people hurrying me. But, if they don't hurry me I won't get it don. My son is just like Billy, they both expect me to lead. Always been that way. So, why don't I know how to lead? Yes, I took a Xanax. Slowed my heart rate down. I have been staying in that apartment in Minden, no clutter. All of this is clutter. Do you have drawers where you keep spare screws, nails, paraphernalia that I don't know what to do with. Going to get smaller boxes to put this in. My apartment will be full of boxes. I wrapped a bunch of Billy's rods in plastic. More stuff to wrap. I got myself into this and no one can get me out. If it was me, Billy and Scott, they would all be waiting for me to tell them what to do. So, why cannot the queen bee do it? Because she is supposed to be fat, unable to move, and let the drones bring the stuff to her. I even went by my old shrink's office the other day. An old house in an old neighborhood that used to be the rich people. They are trying to build it back up. She retired. The house is taken over by weeds, just like my life and I am feeling anxious, scared, and a whole lot sorry for me. But, does not matter, it has to be done and I am killing time. Sometimes it seems like I kill everything.........see, I said I was feeling sorry for myself. Now I am going to pull on my big girl panties and get with the program. (I have a lot of big girl panties.)

That is one thing that is slowing me down. I have to move now. But everywhere I turn, there he is, only not in body form. Gotta get on it. Time is wasting.

WW, I don't want to go. I still am reminded of the song verse "Please Mr. Custer, I don't want to go." I have two of my friends coming to pick me up, so I have to go. I have made excuses too long. And, I will have to face that camera, but will try to hide behind someone.. Right now I have to get trash bags ready, the woman that wants the house is coming to carry them off for me. Just like the reunion, people are going to make my tired aching body move when all I want to do is give up. I don't think we can just give up, can we? I sure want to.

It is July 30th, on a Saturday. We are all small town women. Some moved to the "big city" but you cannot take the country out of the girl. The town we are having it is about 500 people, on a good day. The one we come from is about 5,000 people when the paper mill was running, the one I am moving to is about 10,000. It has all the amenities, a Brookshires and a big Walmart. No movie theater. Have to go about 30 miles for a movie theater. The one I live in now just hit over 1000 people. My granddaughter got off FB because of people wanting to post her picture and she won't get back on. She tickles me. She will spend two hours adding makeup to a flawless face, beautiful big brown eyes, beautiful eyebrows and eyelashes, perfect lips and nose. And, she thinks she is ugly. My mom was a brunette, but she passed down albino eyelashes and eyebrows to me. And, a little red paint never hurt any old barn. My hands just shake too bad to put it on. Will wear my glasses. Need to anyhow. I am sure I will start crying when I see them all. I cried at the last pictures. I left them all a 17-year-old. Strange, I am the only one who has not changed. Now I will see the vandalism and weed grown woman I have become. My magical, mystical, imagination has left the building. You have a good time WW. Mitch, I keep getting called by the woman that wants to move into this house. Motivation is hard for me. I want to leave, have to leave, but making myself move my body is something I know I have to do but it is so hard to do. I know what I have to do, but just repeating myself, how do I make myself move. I have no puppet master to pull my strings and I feel like Pinocchio. Life has to go on. I have to move this body, I have to make myself fill garbage bags, boxes. I have so many filled. It looks like nothing has been done.

I kept his name on my Amazon account. Now I have Billy's 5th Kindle that is the main one. Billy loved his Kindles. That boy read to 2:00 a.m. each morning. When we first got married he got jealous of me reading all the time. But then, I taught him to bass fish too. Then he really got into it more than I did. Then he got into reading more than I did. I was him and he was me, for true, so maybe he is still here. If so, I wish the him that is me could concentrate on reading again.

WW, our female part of the class reunion is being held in a small town just over the state line. I grew up with Arkansas within a rock throw (if I had a good arm) and our reunion is being held at the Baptist church in the small town. (In the daytime). This honestly is the first one I have attended in 55 years. I talk to the "girls" all the time and the majority are widows, and kinfolks. Been lathering the youth serum on lavishly. My granddaughter told me when she was 8 or 9. "Mamol, why do you buy that stuff, it does not do you any good." My pictures now look like I have had a small stroke. Oh well, the bubble has burst and now it is time to step into the real world. First thing I have gone to without Billy. But then, we did not go to many things except family reunions. Had gained three pounds as of this morning and there was no room to gain. I sure like to hide.

Maryann, sometimes we have to have a "to each his own" Not sure, but think Steve might have written that one size does not fit all. I tried the writing the journal. I kept trying over time, then would put it down. I had lots of pretty notebooks. While getting the books ready to move I went back and read what I wrote and my feelings were in a fatal accident. It killed me to read my thoughts. We are supposed to do it to show our growth, how far we have come, but it was like seeing the old vandalized school, the falling down apartment house, it showed me that I had hurt so terribly bad, and I still hurt that terribly bad and worse after reading them. It put me in such a blue funk I wanted to run away so bad but I could not run away, where ever I went, there I was. So much I don't want to remember. So much I have to remember. So much I want to numb down until I cannot remember. Maybe in a year, maybe in two years. Might be like our marriage. I had no pictures of the happy, tumultuous event, can remember what I wore, could not remember what Billy wore. We have pictures of early marriage, early events, I even have my clean shaven Steve McQueen looking Billy the Kid. I know you all are going to laugh at my stupidity. People told me to get boxes to take stuff to the thrift store. I asked and they told me they were all broken down so I gave up. Then the lawyer's secretary this morning told me to get the broken down ones and put them together with duct tape. Damn, I cannot think of the most simple things. So, I filled the back of my truck up with these flattened boxes. Fixing to shore them up. The one who wants to buy it is bringing boxes also. Maybe things will get done. My son was in a blue funk when I got here. Coming in with no one here made him so depressed. We have to get out of this house. Billy did not want to stay and I know reminders help people, but sometimes reminders trigger a blue mood that is no where close to the color purple I love. Peace to you all, you too Mitch. I don't wait for people to ask. I tell them I am a new widow and somehow people feel sorry for the little old lady that will jump up and bitch slap them if they get on my nerves.

WW, I agree 100%.

Well, to tell you the truth, I lived in a bubble. Billy and I never got old. Now, I actually look at people I have known all my life and in spite of Billy and me not getting old, all those other people did. Now I associate myself with that antiquated voc-tech school Billy used to pick me up at lunch, and now it is vandalized with weeds growing up all around it. I feel the same. Terrible analogy. He would bring his nephew with him that was 2-3 years old and he would put his arm over Billy's shoulder to let me know that this 17-year-old girl did not have a chance with his uncle. (He lived with them). Terrible, a 17-year-old hating a child, a child hating a 17-year-old. Now he is 58-years-old and we have been very good friends for years and years. But, he is getting old. Back in Arkansas again. Told Hettie, my neighbor I was here. Whole two acres needs mowing. Gotta get outta here. You all take care. Terri (WW), I don't know about the stages, but I wonder about them. I think waves is a better word. The only one I like is not mentioned, I don't think, and that is blessed numbness. It happens sometimes. Not often enough. (Just got here so I am writing off the cuff, have not read anything yet).

Right now I just wish I had only one bed, and a good idea of how to get it in one bedroom.