Margm

Steve, glasses go in one place, keys stay in left pocket (I wear deep pocket pants), phone goes in right pocket. On bedside table at night. I have made a mistake or two and when I do my mind goes insane because I know I won't be able to find them and I cry every time. Real anxiety if I forget to put them where they belong.

She is beautiful and I love to see her smile. Those boys are something to be proud of also. I know they keep you on your toes. I just read about the febrile seizure. Brianna had them when her temp went high as an infant, but none since. Scares parents and grandparents too.

Billy and I separated for six weeks back in the early 90's or late 80's. My girlfriend and I went to the movie. I said "Debra, what am I going to do about changing my oil." She looked at me like that was the dumbest thing I could say. She said "you go to an oil changing place." Okay. I gotta hurry and get away from this owning a home responsibilities, so I will start packing boxes to leave like Santa Claus at night in front of the thrift store.

Mitch, how do I explain this? I believe that if I can get through with this ever incessant trying to move and then someone needs me urgently in the other state, if I can just finish (which is what I should be doing this morning), then I will reassociate with my faith. You see, somewhere along the way my faith has been put aside somewhere. I can say I am too busy, I am never alone, but I could have used a moment of faith that one night in the apartment. No fear, no apprehension, just a dead spirit in myself. Billy cannot associate with a spirit that is dead. So many do not agree with or understand the meaning of faith. This is what Billy quoted to me when I thought God had left me when I had cancer, undergoing horrendous tests (before CT and MRI's and PET scans). I cried and told him I needed to go get me a drink from the bar at the motel we were staying at. I did not drink, cannot hold my liquor, but I had to have something. This is what Billy said, (who used to be a student for the Methodist ministry). How think ye? If a man have an hundred sheep and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine and goeth into the mountains and seek that which is gone astray?" Matthew 18:12. That was my answer. My faith returned. I read what Billy quoted and I think the wolf might have eaten the one that went astray. If I live long enough, I will find it again, and I will find my Billy. Mitch, right now my heart is hard. My only explanation. And Mitch, my sweet friend, your asking can do nothing but help me, never harm me.

I have been on here all morning, I may have answered this. But, like we say to all the newcomers "Welcome to the club no one wanted to join." I do believe in strength in numbers. We don't all feel the same way on the same day or minute, but eventually, we all feel the same way. Reminds me of Billy's big yellow exercise ball (I have to get rid of), it bounces okay, but sometimes the bounce is not so high. That is with all of us. We bounce, just not so high anymore.

Mitch, those are the truest words I have read today. Spending too much time on here. Too much to do but I want my granddaughter to sleep so I won't make noise yet.

I complain about not being able to feel Billy's presence in any way. I know heaven is supposed to be a perfect place with perfect spirits. I am afraid Billy's perfect spirit would definitely make its presence if I chose to "not be lonely." Only three of my vast widowhood friends have chosen remarriage. One had lots of money and this fellow from our childhood years (that was gossiped never to work), he latched onto her and they have been having a ball, as long as the money lasts. Another has been remarried about 12 years with most of that time being spent at Houston's Heart Hospital and emergency trips to ER. But, he is like the Timex watch, and he keeps on ticking. The third is a man who remarried and seems to have a wonderful lifestyle. He is a lawyer, retired, but still works for the VA system, mostly for free. Their pictures are in the society section of local newspaper often. Seems like a win-win. My friend's had only just been buried when I called to talk to her husband. He was on his honeymoon. His mom said he was lonely. He had to have been very lonely while she was being taken care of by his mother on her deathbed. (I am judging and that is a sin.) And my own MIL making a date with the undertaker at my FIL's funeral. Life is a series of jokes, unbelievable happenings, and hope for the people that look and find someone else. I knew my Billy, and I believe that he is in heaven (my religious belief, mine alone), but I know he is not on the saint circuit.

Oh Steve and Mitch, I have to find my magical, mystical imagination again. Life was so much easier to live when I had it. Steve, you could be right. Billy's urn is closest to the thermostat. So much of my life is flat-lined now. Heck, with my congenital tremor I even get loops in a flat line. If I can do it physically, faith ought to bring back the feelings I had at first and lost. I miss them. The first couple of months I felt him beside me once and he kissed my forehead. When too much family moved in, I awoke with him saying "it's enough." I miss him.

Brad, two lines, but so much between the lines. I am glad you are at home safe. The hospital's dietitian could not believe my surgeon said "low residue diet, forever." She questioned him, and the truth came out. "Low residue diet forever" if I want to live. My insides have so much destruction from the massive amounts of radiation that they will not hold a stitch. I am on my own. Pain scares me. I spent too many months in pain trying to make this doctor's choice over a colostomy work. My next step is colostomy, or accepting my death. I am neither "feeling" secure and definitely not "being" secure. I miss Arizona. We loved it. It is in the past now, only memories. Billy loved the little quail with "hats." We loved Alpine.

Marty, my reading comprehension has lapsed into a few lines at a time. Well, I printed this out. Before I printed it out though, I saved parts of it to a document I named "Security." In reading this, in comprehending it, I find I am not a very secure person. I do not think I ever was. Was it my mother's fairy tales, my magical, mystical imagination, or was it not ever facing death. My dad died. They had me on so much medication (I was fighting cancer) that Billy and Scott literally carried me under each arm. I was not crying. I was not feeling anything. Having stared death in the face twice, and escaping, I thought my life was secure. I was "feeling" secure. Billy left me. My feeling secure was gone. I actually at one time thought we would get in that RV and outrun death. Sure, it was said jokingly, but I had beat it twice. I did not figure in my real security dying. WE were going to outrun death. I understand what Paul Dunion was saying. But his "being secure" strikes fear in my heart. My "feeling secure" is just that unicorn standing outside my door. His "being secure" means I have to accept everything that is happening. Being secure is accepting my death as a natural occurrence, which of course it is. I just have a hard time accepting Billy's death. "Making peace with suffering." Where is my unicorn now? This is part of "being secure." Sometimes I can accept Peter Pan's choosing to never grow up to the way life really is. There are things going on in my life right now that I could play semantics all day with. I have family needing help every step I take. "Feeling Billy?" He was here, I am him, he is me, I cannot even talk to him anymore. It is like the TV show where the spirit fulfills what life left out and then it goes to the light. Billy has gone to the light. Maybe it scares me to think that he is standing beside me. Looking at the full moon makes me cry. Why? And then the poem I wrote in trying to face my own death, too much truth in the reality of it. "I'm not that important, life does go on, if I wasn't here then I'd be gone." Marty, I read it all, I comprehended it, believe it or not, and right now I am going to take something that just makes me "feel secure" not really "being secure." I want call you by name, but everyone of us needs to read the "being secure" part called "Making Peace with Suffering."

Gwen, I kept thinking about something Steve said to Brad all the way home yesterday. I was so tired (I had taken Bri shopping at Kohl's) before we left Shreveport. The coming home from work traffic was horrendous and all we had was road construction every direction we went. I-20, I knew was closed to one lane traffic knew it was backed up for miles. But, I had a trick, I would go highway 80. (Yep, other people knew that route too, backed up for miles.) This took me by where Billy had worked for 38 years. It took me by our first apartment, the many times we had made the trip and Billy was tired, but rather than stop at a motel, we pushed on. He was on my mind the whole trip. There was not a single place that I looked that did not remind me of him. I was so tired, just holding onto the steering wheel was torture but I had my granddaughter with me. We kept a steady stream of dialogue going about movies, TV shows, songs from my "time" and her liking the groups from the 1980's. But still, he was right there, not so much feeling him, just feeling the sights and sounds we had gone over and through. Every bend in the road was a trigger. Then the fear, reminded me of an old song we used to hear, an old refrain from that song "Please Mr. Custer,, I don't want to go." I hated seeing that state line sign. That sign did not kill Billy. So many things did though. And still, when I mention his age, at 75 he supposedly lived a long life. I remember thinking when my dad passed away at 64, he had lived a long life. Now, I think he was a young man. No, Billy cannot be gone, he was just here yesterday. When we got to this house, you could tell the doors had been left open to move things out. Must have been late at night. (This happens sometimes when other family members make their home with you.) We were engulfed with those night bugs that come to the lights. Bri is scared of bugs so it was a long fight to remove them all. I was "glistening" (or is that glowing Marty?) by the time the broom and my grasping them with paper towels (I don't like bugs either), and I noticed it was 79 degrees in the house. The AC was in a continuous run but no cool air. Where was Billy? He was the one who always knew what to do. I changed AC filter (gotta remember to do this if you live alone girls). Then I remembered he blew into a pipe because the thing would freeze up sometimes. I have no air for blowing into a balloon, much less an unknown pipe. I turned something off up on the AC inside (I remembered him doing this.). I jiggled and juggled, (my mechanical words) and eventually got the thing working right. Temp started coming down and we slept cool. . Gotta hurry and leave, this is a house, our house, not a rent house, and Billy is not here to be responsible with me. Renting, it is someone else's responsibility, not mine;. Nothing wrong neurologically Gwen. It is the devastation. I kept telling myself yesterday, I am not a child, I am responsible for this life in this vehicle with me and she is not afraid, she trusts me, so why can't I trust myself? I have to.

I think often of Billy saying that I was him and he was me. One of these days when I can settle down and really think, maybe that will bring comfort. We started out in a two bedroom apartment, I will end up in a two bedroom apartment, so maybe he is there with me like when "we" began.

Gin, we only lived 10 years here. Before retirement we got used to living in an RV. We had about 6-7 years of that, but only one full year of traveling. Of course, we went from one RV Park to another north, east, west, south of where we worked. It was fun. The only house I ever cried over leaving was when we sold our 5th wheel in 1998. We had gotten rid of things before we moved into the RV's. But, accumulated about 17 years worth since retirement. We have a big house and a big family, and we were a storage unit for a lot of people. Our kids grew up in one house, graduated high school living in that house. In the meantime we built a small house on the lake. After our daughter graduated we planned on living on the lake. We were both too much like gypsies and did not want to stay anywhere for a long time, hence the RV. I go through each day wishing we could turn back time, maybe if we had bought a small farm instead, maybe a townhouse (that would never have suited Billy), he liked to be in the woods and on the lakes. Cannot change time.

You know I try for the funny most of the time. Could not find it last night. I got up this morning, waiting for the cable guy, and I have got to tell you that I know all about that wonderful fellow's family, all his aunts, his stepgrandmother (his favorite), his brother that was not a nice fellow, and he really met a bad end, a policeman brother and his son who is the quarterback for a team that almost made state last year. You know, I have been thinking I would go watch some games, but I was thinking "we" because Billy and I followed the football. Could not afford games that first football season after marriage, but you got in free at the half and a relative took the boys to state and won. Unfortunately, he passed away a young man. On that cheery note, I will say I enjoyed the "cable man" and he was a nice fellow. While waiting for him I checked all the window locks and they were all loose. I hope that means there was no need for safe ones. Whatever it meant, I fixed everyone of them. Now, I was not afraid last night really, I'm sure I was sad, I was alone for the first time so maybe I had too much time to think, or not think, whatever that crazy woman that was trying out the new futon was doing. Now the futon. It is great for looks. I wanted the Walmart one, but I would have had to put it together. I have a smaller futon from Walmart that Scott put together (after me having it a couple of months). It is comfortable and a lot cheaper than the delivered one. I put four comforters on the top of it before I could sleep on it. I'll bet it won't support company for long. (I will buy about 3-4 inches of foam to put on top and keep it behind the futon while it is used as a couch. We (my granddaughter and I), we drove to Arkansas and got here before dark. I am going to go at this place like a mad woman tomorrow (that should not take much effort), but tonight I am one tired..........person. Got two big pieces of furniture we cannot move, a couch that makes into a bed, a nice one, and a huge wooden desk in the living room. Granddaughter taking the pictures, daughter putting them on swap shop for give away. That will take a lot away. I have been at this forever it seems and there are huge plastic boxes with tops piled on top of each other. I will then hire someone to come in and help me finish up. My son is in Louisiana and that helps because now I can get rid of things that were used for their housekeeping. I was at a standstill. Then the movers and real estate lady.

"They have been gone forever and they were just right here." I cannot copy on the Kindle.

Last night was so strange. I looked at the strange ceiling, no TV, I had my Kindle. I tried praying, I tried talking to Billy. Nothing. I think I must have been dead, no tears, Sad, but I have never been so alone. Since he has been gone, I have never felt this way. I cannot say how I felt. I think I was dead, not in heaven, not with Billy, just alone. Not trying for pity, I did not pity myself, I was just dead but breathing. First ttime for me. I don't want this again.

Sometimes people are just ignorant. Billy was not my father, but he was the most fantabulous father I will ever have the privilege of ever knowing, and it was the most important part of his life.

Girls, I am butting in without reading all of this. I have to spend the night in the apartment tonight to be there for the cable people early. Took almost a week for this to happen. I am used to DISH and don't know how this will work, but my daughter has this cable and internet and it is good as I have in Mt. Ida. An apartment would not let me have a DISH put on the roof, naturally. I was given a grief book by the people who help take care of my mom. It says it is natural for us to be angry at God. Now, I would imagine that is meant for people that have our belief. But, it was put out by a church group. It did not scold but let us know it happens. I'm sorry I don't have time to read. Maybe tomorrow when I have internet at the apartment I can read things. But then I have to go finish up in Mount Ida and will see how things go there. I hate going back to Arkansas. Necessary evil. I like my apartment in Minden. I even like hearing people everywhere around.

Let us hear from you Brad. I knew when you said NG tube something was going on. Maybe DL played havoc on your Crohn's. Hope your feeling better and can add solid food soon. Brad, I know that low residue diet is no fun. I miss salads, and what pure south person cannot have peas, beans, raw onion, or cornbread? I also know what happens to me when I eat it. Well, actually, I don't know because chocolate is the only thing I have eaten that was not on the diet. Here I am assuming things and I know about the word "assume" Anyhow, let us hear from you.

I cannot tell you how to avoid hitting yourself with that cross. It has taken me eight months to remember that Billy would not be hitting me. I am in the midst of self-flagellation when I think about the guilt of those last minutes. I just know this, Billy loved me too much to hit me with sticks or beat me with a cross or straps of leather. Eventually, you will quit hitting yourself. Your the only one who is doing it, and you are the one who has to stop it. Billy was such a proud man and he would be angry with me if he could talk to me. He would say "Margaret, you always put the blame on yourself." Some things we cannot control. When I think about what I should have done when all is gone and lost, my first thought is "Who died and made you God?" Cannot stop the grief, cannot bring them back. Eventually, your brain will start taking care of you, mine did, even when I don't have the strength or sense to take care of myself., Time does not ever heal this wound, but time teaches us new tricks, sometimes the joke is on us, sometimes it helps us..............sometimes.

Gwen, now some of the folks on here have worried me lately. Brad, now he kinda worries me. Butch, Gin and Karen and some of the others have been ill. But, I have got to say, you just worried me the most. I keep threatening to go to the shrink, but I promise you, if I get excited about cleaning, I am going to admit myself voluntarily. Girl, may I suggest a half gallon of that salted caramel ice cream? All thoughts of cleaning will disappear.

I was first of two girls. Almost 9 years difference between us. We were raised different. Mama would not let me keep my dogs inside. Ring, Wolf, Tiny, Midget were all killed by various means. Mama brought home bones from the grocery store she worked at and two dogs died of poisoning from store owner putting out rat or bug poisoning. They were in pain outside my bedroom window, they died. I could do nothing. Mama said they were mad dogs, but the foaming at the mouth was from poison. Ring was a Cocker Spaniel, probably my first one I remember. No fences. Country dirt roads, not traveled much at all. Wolf was a Scottish Terrier, he and Ring probably chased cars. I was too young, just remember watching them die. Then Daddy brought Midget home in a big match box. I had him until I was 15 years old. He survived being run over once (Mama let me keep him by my bed and I fed him weenies all the time he was hurt. He survived and we had moved back to our dirt road home (my grandfather owned the land in that part of the country so we had our choice of country roads. Mama did not believe in money for veterinarians and Midget died of something like pneumonia one cold night. I had him in a box with blankets but he died beneath my window. After that I would not take on the love of another dog. My sister always had cats (inside). Our kids had their dogs (inside), but mostly my daughter had cats. Inside. Now she has three dogs inside and Peaches, an ancient cat and a boy cat outside. (All animals are "fixed.") Billy had hunting dogs. I almost got close to one my daughter (when grown) left at our house named Bear. He was a Chow and it was really cruel to have that kind of dog in this hot climate. (We tried keeping him inside, he broke through window and screen). We lived on the lake and he stayed out in that water, just cooling. My mom came fishing and was walking down the hill to the lake and a raccoon, rapid, came running out from under the neighbors house and would have attacked her.. Bear attacked the raccoon and the raccoon killed him. (Billy killed the coon). For ages after Bear died I could hear him behind me. He would not let me go walking out on the country roads by myself. So, I decided no more pets. No more husbands either. .

Brad, first off, let me say I am glad you are going home. NG tube, clear liquids? Let us hear how you are doing, okay? Karen, in the nearly 55 years I lived with Billy, we never lived at a place that had an adequate working commode, except in the RV's Had five of them, lived in four off and on. I could make remarks about the size of my behind. I cannot deny my part in faulty commodes. Even the apartment one, the water just kept on running. We have a fix-it man for the apartments, but I know how to get around this problem. Now your leak, that I would definitely have to have a Mr. Fix-it somewhere around. My fixes.........duct tape and gorilla glue. I can sometimes even screw in screws if I hold my hand still. Now a hammer, hey, I am deadly with a hammer, to me, the wall, windows. A congenital tremor is not conducive to fixing anything. Like I said, just happy my life's ambition was not to be a doctor, nurse, or waitress.

I love. I love Billy. I love my grandkids, I love my kids. I feared my father, but I am sure I loved him too. I even love my insane mother, who folks, that gal was strange before Alzheimer's was diagnosed. I am her daughter, I am my dad's daughter (even if neither of them had red hair and freckles). And, the apple does not fall far from the tree. What I am saying is, Terri, I am as strange/emotionally unstable as they come. Now tell me this, why do I not want to own an animal of any kind? I like my daughter's dogs, I will not babysit them. I just do not want to be responsible for any other living thing. Maybe this is a grief side effect.

Refuge in Grief/Megan Devine I get this in my email, but when I went looking for the title of her blog I entered "Refuge in Guilt." Do you think maybe my Jewish ancestry that I know nothing about, but would be happy having, maybe it is coming to the forefront. "Calendar dates like this are weird. When you're carrying loss, it can seem like people only notice your pain when big, sweeping outer markers bring it to their attention. And these big cultural celebrations can indeed make loss feel more sharp. Dates are such arbitrary markers. They come loaded with so much energy, attention, focus - so much cultural focus on the trappings of the day. The Hallmark, pseudo-perfection of things."