Margm

Kay, I don't understand me at all. I have had all this bravado. I can do this, I am brave, I am a forward thinking woman, I am Eleanor Roosevelt. I think about my friend (who I got angry with, but not to her face) whose husband had died and she remarried. We had got her husband and her together when we were dating. He died from cancer also. We raised our kids together, we remained friends all these years, she remarried. I made snide remarks (in my head), not to her face. Her poor husband, the new one, has been dying all these years since they married. I did not envy her at all, but she said "now you can find yourself." Kay, I don't remember a "yourself" that was not married. Now I have real fear. I cannot remember being this afraid. This is not me. I am sure it will pass. I am not moved yet. I cannot find me a shrink in between here and Louisiana. I might find a Voodoo practitioner and at this point I might look for one. You know me, you know I will get over this, and I hate to show I am human. I wonder if Superwoman wears Depends now? I wonder if Wonder Woman has to have a cane to help her walk. I have not reached either of those stages yet, but I feel them creeping up on me. Damn, it is very downgrading to find out you are human after-all.

Mitch, sometimes I read all the setbacks, all the suffering and I think "I'm so glad I am doing better, I am not happy but I have a goal." But, the past two days those goals are slapping me around. I am so fortunate to have family around, even though I gripe about them a lot, more than I should. But, our son has lived with us most of his life. Even after marriage we had to insist they get on their own. Billy apologized to Scott when he was dying for never teaching him to live on his own. Apologized for being an enabler. And, that is what we are, what we have been. The 15th is the day they will leave in the RV. He has a girlfriend he has been with about `10 years. His marriage, his drug use, his grown kids, they are all in the past and still part of his life. (His family, not the drugs.) This girlfriend has her own problems that I cannot contend with. He has learned to contend with them over the years but two women in the same kitchen, same house really, does not make for a happy life for either of them. I don't know if they will make it together. They have for this long and I sure do not want to be a sticker under their saddle, so to speak. What it amounts to is that neither of us have ever been on our own. It has to happen, but he feels he is letting his dad down by leaving me. And me? Well, I am very depressed. He has taken his dad's place in taking care of helping me, but the fact remains I am alone. When we lose our mates we are all alone, no matter how many people are around us. I cannot separate my things from theirs until they leave. Then I still have to separate the things that were left from all the other people we have enabled over our 54 years together. We wanted a life of our own and finally we were going to have it, but that was not to be. I am so much better off than most people, and I don't mean just financially. We did build a safety net during those 54 years, thanks to Billy's insistence that when I worked I never drew my retirement out. My sister, a teacher, every time she would go to another job she would pull her retirement out. Now she has an exceptional education, but when you are in her position, no money is still no money and it does not matter how much education you have, Now I find myself terribly afraid. All my bravado has disappeared. I said I had never been on my own before, I sounded brave, but I still was not alone. I do not have to be alone, but I do have to make myself be independent. I don't know how. Somehow I have never felt Billy's absence as much as I do all these many months later. I admired Eleanor Roosevelt so much. I cannot understand why I cannot carry on with the attitude I had below. I will take my granddaughter to see some super hero movie in Hot Springs in a few hours. Sometimes we think "what a difference a day makes" and maybe this is what I will need. As far as Eleanor's quote below, I hope I can pull myself together to practice what she preached. I am such a wuz.

Gin, I used to have what I called my magical, mystical imagination. Fairy Tales were not far from my mind. I almost lived happily ever after. I was allowed a lot of years, lots of milestones, but I did not want him to leave. I had rather have left, but I would not want him to hurt. I have had strange things happen that I believed were meant just for me. I had a bus run right in front of us in 1982 in downtown Houston at the medical complexes. That was when you could put scriptures on billboards, etc. The bus ran directly in front of us on my way to get the results of all the staging tests I had gone through. It had a picture of Jesus on the front, his arms outstretched and he said "I will give you health." I believed in miracles and I was not scared. Billy did not believe in anything supernatural and I wanted so bad to feel magical things. Now, my finding the ring nugget to me had to be a miracle he had made possible. Same with finding this forum after three days from his death. I had definite plans for suicide where my family would not find my body. I had told him I could not live without him. He would always say "I know." We both said he was me and I was him. I just want him to be me again. I have to find faith again. This I know. I have got to get finished with this moving and find my faith.

You do get tired of saying how much time. I counted weeks at first and now do months. I am not going to do October this year at all, so I won't have a one year anniversary. I will just have our regular marriage anniversary and we were never celebrating people. Billy loved the times people was supposed to bring him presents, but other than that we did not celebrate anything. Just another day in paradise, I guess. Mama was 95 on the 2nd. We did not celebrate, neither did she. Life just goes on and sometimes it doesn't.

I understand Karen, Gin, Joyce, Cookie, all of you. Why couldn't I have gone two years ago when they thought I was, even the doctors. There is so much to do, you don't want to do it alone, but also you know you have to do it alone. I don't want to be taken care of like my mom. I have to finish this.

Me neither Karen. I won't go into my family's problems anymore than I already have. If it was just me I would be okay, but it has never been just me and Billy. If it had been, we would have been RVers for about 20 years now. I would read in our RVing magazine couples laughing about their grown kids did not know where they were. I don't know what to say. We are enablers, always have been, and I doubt if I have the strength to quit by myself. If we were rich it would be different. All I can say is we share. (I say we because it was Billy's retirement also. His combined with mine). And I buy cards "from the both of us" and I sign his name too. I get scared of doing things by myself, but damned if I am not going to try. Walking through the grocery store earlier I just talked to Billy and told him I could not believe he left me with this mess. I know he did not do it on purpose, I know I can have plenty of help, but I don't know how to separate all their stuff from mine. I am at a standstill. When they leave on the 15th, I will take those little white garbage bags that I can carry, filled with books and "stuff" and drop a bunch of them each night in front of the thrift store. Then I will get someone to help me clean, then hire the movers. Too many cooks spoil the broth. And it hurts. I hear how all of you feel your loved ones. I loved Billy. I tell him that all the time, but I don't feel him anywhere around me. He just left. .

Well, you will excuse the pun, but that smile, that face, it has to do the heart good. Beautiful.

Laura, my sister is as different from me as night and day. She is an intellectual, I am a redneck philosopher. She loves democrat politics, I hate any politics. She gives me books to read. Not my kind of reading. She is into the foreign ancient philosophers, I am into Edward Abbey (hey, he has been dead a few years himself). and outlandish comedy. We do not agree on much at all. But, she is a generation behind me.

Girls, you know I crossed that line back when I reached puberty. Now that I am entering my second childhood, I prefer to live on the crazy side. I don't care about respect. I think the Native Americans honored those of us whose brain had taken flight. That is honor enough for me. Hey, I went looking for my house note to pay. Thought I had paid it. Found it and it said October, 2015. Billy died in October 2015. I know that house note was paid, never been late, never missed one. Tore through all the papers on my desk. No house note. What to do? Okay, I signed in to their web site and registered. It gave me 3 times to sign in. Took the whole three. Their password and mine did not like each other. Finally, on the 3rd time we agreed. Wrung me out. I cannot tell you how wonderful it really would be to have that padded room with a collection of my books. Just let my kids come peep in the window, I will wave, they will know where I am, I will know where I am. If this is second childhood, shouldn't I have no responsibilities?

I started this post/thread/whatever you call it awhile back. Don't want to start a new one. I do not want to be morose, but there are some things I have had to do that scares the bewillies out of me. Scott has been right by my side now for over seven months. Running back and forth from the RV to the house. He is a procrastinator like his mom and dad. But, he has cleaned out the garage, he has painted, what I call, the New Orleans Saints room. He has put his life and his partner's life on hold for over seven months. Once this rain stops, he will mow these over two acres, he will clean out his room with the big bath that we gave to him when he was fighting/enduring treatments for hepatitis C. Then, I want him and his partner, this young girl he has been with about 10 years, I want them to go on to the life they had planned. I will be alone. That scares me too. But, as it is I cannot distinguish between what is mine and what is other people's that have lived here. I want a clean slate with what I keep, what I get rid of. I cannot do it the way things go right now. I am comfortable knowing Scott is by me. This is something that is going to be very hard, Scott has lived with us nearly all his life, and I would not be adverse to him living with us/me the rest of his life or mine, but there is this other person that he has to make a life for also. He has been married and has two grown children with grandchildren of his own. The situation he is in now, I cannot explain or understand, and won't try to. But, this woman needs a home of her own, even if it is just the RV. I say "just the RV" but that is what Billy and I planned on living in. We did it for six years back in the 1990s and when we sold the last RV, it was the only home I ever cried over. I am no spring chicken, but I can get around and I can get myself moved into the apartment on my own. I will have to hire someone, but I can do it, rather than hurt a member of the family that I have left, I think I can engineer all of this. There is no guarantee that when I am alone, really alone, that I won't be admitted to one of the padded rooms I talk about. I am not getting any younger though and neither is my family. What I see happening, if it continues like it is going now, is my mother and my sister. My mother was not going to leave her home. Not going to do it period. And, she got her demands. I want to leave this house, it is not a home if Billy is not in it. I will have no home, I will exist in a roof and walls, but home was only with Billy. I am not feeling sorry for myself, that is just what now happens to be the facts of my life. I have a fear of my kids taking care of me. I have enough money to take care of myself. And, when I cannot take care of myself, I want to be put where I am supposed to be. If I can will myself to die then, so be it. But, I have got to tell you this. Those meditation messages that I listen to every night on the Kindle (and you would not believe my collection), they have not soaked into this wax laden brain at all. One new one woke me up in the middle of a nice sleep quoting some language I did not understand and I got rid of that after I woke up again. Again, I am scared, but it has to be done.

Daddy could and did carry a tune. His voice was not Frank Sinatra, or even Little Jimmy Dickens, but he tried, really not tried, there was no effort involved, he sang and played "by ear." I cannot dance, I cannot sing, but to the delight of my granddaughter, I can shimmy. She has me on video doing this (without my knowing). On America's Got Talent the other night they had two characters that had met at a grief meeting. They were thrown out because they were told they were not conducting a dating service. The big lady shimmied while the man sang Elvis, but my granddaughter says her Mamol (my name from her) can do it better.

Hey, I will take any sliver I can get.........thank you. Breathe, live, walk. I think I will buy some knee pads, for some reason I keep hitting my right knee and I sure don't need knee or hip problems. We got it girl.........whatever "it" is.

I just have not felt it. I used to whistle all the time. It did not even occur to me until lately that I have not whistled in months and months. But, I don't listen to music much either, and I did used to whistle along with the music. It just comes on without even thinking about it, but that is one of the after effects of grief, one that is not mentioned, I guess. Stage 109 of grief: You quit whistling. Somehow, if it comes again, I won't feel guilty. I will look up at the heavens and say "This is for you Billy Boy." If the Good Lord gives me time to get out of this move and settle down again, when I find a church I can go to, I think the first thing I will whistle will be "Amazing Grace." (Not in church, but maybe driving home.) My dad could yodel too. He never was good enough to get a record label but he did play with a lot of bands, local country music ones. We had our own Monday night Hoedowns (sp?) for years. Those were good memories. (But, it was before Billy.)

Thanks Kay for letting us know. Stress is our enemy. And the good Lord knows, Butch has had his share of stress. And, none of us are immune to this.

You are a wise woman Karen. Hugs. Hope your tests are all over with and everything was what you wanted it to be. Let us hear.

Thanks Terri, glad you are back, hope you did good with your business dealings. The whistling reminded me that Billy always said when he heard me whistling he knew I was happy. I have not whistled in over seven months. Maybe someday.

Gwen, when I am able to get off this "moving Merry-Go-Round" I hope to look for "more to it." I remember making pies and there were four of us. Okay, we could and would eat 1/4th of that pie, each of us. Right now, I would settle for a sliver of the pie, just a sliver of time where I could read (and comprehend what I am reading), just a sliver of happiness, just a sliver of being happy for other people. My mind sometimes, and this is no exaggeration, would be so happy with that padded room, no responsibilities, and just the time to color on the walls. Addendum: This has to be the twin to my wanting to go to that seedy motel in the middle of Texas and hide the truck behind it. You see, I know I cannot worry those people that care for me, but if I was in that padded room, they could just bring me new colors from time to time. They would at least not have to worry about where I was or what I was doing. My daughter even offered to bring me the Sharpies and colors. They are fine with me going nuts, they just want to know where I am at any given time.

The whole time I was with her she slept. When she awoke, she did not know me and went back to sleep fast. I think they must have her on Haldol. I can talk about my mom irreverently, but "bless her heart" she did the best she could. She used to tell me "you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." And, this "sow's ear" gave her plenty to suffer with. She was a seamstress extraordinaire. My sister would let her dress her in all the frilly things she wanted to sew for her. Myself, I wanted a tee shirt with a football player's number on it, blue jeans, etc. She made me fancy bonnets to ward off the freckles that I tended to get playing in the sun. By the time I was 15, I could make my own clothes just by looking in Sears Catalog and cutting my own patterns out of newspapers. She has outlived seven siblings, and she was next to the youngest. She has outlived all the siblings husbands (in fact, all the sisters outlived their husbands), and a book should be written about these rowdy sisters, all outstandingly beautiful. They all smoked and Mama always said the siblings hated her because she was the only one who was able to keep smoking. She called cigarettes "her friends." And, they are the only friends she has left. Louisiana has priced a carton of cigarettes now at $56.

Maybe that is why they call hindsight 20/20. I think remembering back to what I could have, should have, would have done will definitely be the death of me. And, I am at the point that the "death of me" would not be such a calamity. But, what would it do to those that think they have to "take care of me" and I have a purpose right now of getting my granddaughter, teenager that she is, Billy's own heart, it is my purpose to get her to being a self sufficient person, and there is so much I cannot talk about, and won't bore anyone with. In some countries and some religions there is a strict form of punishment called self-flagellation. It means beating with a whip, strap, rope, or some form of self punishment and honestly, I think I have done that for over seven months. I am so tired of my "what if's and why didn't I see this or that" that it seems like I have self appointed myself as God. I have discussed, did discuss his treatment, the hospitals with his grown kids, with everyone who would listen. I have come to believe I did everything I possibly could, in the circumstances that were given. I will not dishonor him by remembering those short five weeks. I will be thankful that he did not have to go through the suffering his father and my father went through. I have ordered that all pictures taken of him while he was sick be destroyed. He would be heartbroken if that is how we honor him, if that is how we remember him. I am human. I will still question why I did not do things different because the most important person in my life is not with me anymore.. I was not old until he left. My grandmother wrote that "living with him was as close to heaven on earth as I will get, until I am with him again." That is my feelings also. “There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.” ― William Wordsworth

Okay, I am in a better mood. I forgot to mention today (although I have mentioned it time and time before, today was my mom's 95th birthday. Is it any wonder my dad married her after knowing her only two weeks. Boy was he in for a surprise. They hung in together though from 1940 until 1984 when he passed away. Mama said he had a smile on his face when he left. My son said it was because he was so happy to go. Their relationship was very stormy. My dad was a gentleman though, he always would turn the other cheek, put his hands in his pockets and walk away whistling. It was not till years later I figured those hands were in his pockets to keep from doing what a gentleman would not have done. I am pretty sure I have broken all 10 commandments, except the killing one. My mom and dad raised me the best way they knew how. I knew right from wrong and I went to church, and was taken to church by them. I have got to say, neither drank (give my dad points for that), neither cursed, and they did not spare the rod. I sure wish I had whatever gene it was that my mom had that made her able to save money (until her mind gave way), and wish I had Daddy's musical genius. He could pick up any musical instrument and immediately play it. His singing was not the best in the world, but that did not keep him from singing and whistling. Guess I came from pretty good redneck stock. Daddy from the Dorcheat Bayou bottoms, Mama from the Bodcau Bayou bottoms, met together in a papermill town.

I am going to completely revise what I wrote. She told Kelli that her daddy (Billy) was standing right beside her. Of course it scared Kelli. I guess I get jealous that she can talk to him and I cannot. I hope if I have to live that long that I can live in that land of our past instead of this land of the present. Alzheimer's is a horrible thing. There is a part of Mama's brain that tells her to "go ahead, do it, do it, you know you can" and her poor body just lets her down. I spent yesterday with her. My sister has to spend every day. She gets a week's respite this week, Mama goes into the unit for a week. There are reasons she cannot stay all the time and there is nothing I can do about it. I wish I could. She needs in a big playpen with the sides all padded. I want to be in a padded room myself sometimes, but I would quietly color on the walls. Mama would climb them. She talks to her family, she talks to Billy (who she thought of as her son), but she does not talk to my Daddy or her mother-in-law (she hated her MIL).

I liked it. I reread it and decided some might not like it. Now I cannot get rid of it. I'm going to bed. I am not real time sad, but I am real time tired and I have to drive 175-185 in the morning back to that ......house. Things are coming together. Anyhow I don't know how to fix this. I did get rid of it. I have to google the word platitudes. I think I think of quotes and I am gonna wrap my redneck brain around a platitude.

Strong woman. We have been through hell and came out stronger. Our hearts are with you.

Thanks Karen. Short legs, big behind, I was lucky nothing was behind me but stuff that softened the fall. Didn't even hurt my feelings except I was treated like an old person. I forget I am sometimes until they worry about me.

Agree