Margm

I understand your story is complicated. You are in the right place. We all miss someone we can never have again. All of our loves are gone and we are all shells of the people who loved them. I wish you peace of mind. I wish us all peace of mind. There are no easy paths to walk, if there was, we would all be on the same one. Instead, each of us have to forge ahead, each on a new path, one that has been trod many times before by nameless people. We all grieve. Welcome to the grieving place. Resolution to this pain is hard to come by, yet somehow, some people get a small piece of peace occasionally. Keep reading. Marty offers words that grieving minds can comprehend.

There was one show Billy loved (lots of westerns, mountain men, and early America shows of the west.) When this show on AMC went on a long time between the dynamic conclusion and months later was to begin again, he wondered why they made us wait so long. He was not sick (that we were aware of) when it took its time off. He was not alive, if and when it begins again. Cannot remember the name. Conveniently forgot. Do not care to remember. Something about the Union Pacific Railroad making it to the coast. Rather brutal show. Never care to watch it again. Funny I can remember the lead character was Anson Mount, I think that was his name. Don't even care to watch anything he is in. Know it was not his fault, know the show did not hurt Billy on purpose. Know also that Billy probably forgot about the show. I did not though.

It is so nice to be part of a happy story.

Shannon: Read on. You will find yourself somewhere among all of us. Some of us are angry, some of us are agitated, some of us are angry, agitated, hurt, terrible pain, all kinds of feelings. You will find yourself among us. Just read on. Also, Marty posts things that help. You see, grief took away a lot of my memory, not of Billy, just things like where I put things, things I bought without remembering, things I said, and still do not remember. Things that help someone that hurts someone else. If it can be thought, if it can be felt, you will find it on this forum. I am so sorry you lost your significant other, and I am sorry the way he left. Somehow, no matter how, when they are gone, they are gone. You will find a carbon copy of your feelings here. Read on. And saying "welcome" is such a terrible word to say to you, but here we are.

Myeverything, I wrote from a book not long ago. It was at a meeting of widows. The old widow told the young widow that "you are young, you have a chance for a life." Of course, that is not what the young widow wanted to hear. Then, or before, the young widow envied the old widow because she had so many years and passed so many milestones. Neither one should be envied. Losing your mate at whatever age is impossibly hard. I read in one of my grief books, your born, your married, you die. It just follows. Somehow reading that did not help my feelings at all. That means the same as "Sh__t happens and then you die." True. Was not what I wanted to hear. Time heals all wounds, shoulda, woulda, coulda, none of those helps. Coming back to Mount Ida from Hot Springs I got into a one sided argument with Billy. Why in the hell didn't he find some young woman that would have made him give up that smokeless tobacco, someone that would have fed him something other than his favorite biscuits and gravy. I really got angry with him and yelled at him because he did not find him a younger woman, someone lots younger, one he would have had to work to keep, one he would not have let himself get old and die. I did not cry. I could have taken him leaving me for someone 20 years younger, if she could have just kept him alive. Oh yes, I have mean arguments with him now that he cannot talk back. Strange feeling blaming his death on him. I did not cry a time. But in reality, I know he could not help it. But, I would rather him be alive, even if it was with someone else. At least that way I would know how to live life without him. Right now, I just don't know how, but know I do have to try.

Mama used to tell me that she always told the teachers to whip the kid sitting beside me instead of whipping me. She said that because I always feel like the guilty culprit and if someone else is "punished" then it is the same as punishing me. So, I feel guilty about everything, whether I am or not. Does not matter. I always think "oh no, I have hurt someone's feelings." Now, I am on my way to the big terrible city. I wish only peace for all of us. I suffer, you suffer, he suffers, they suffer.

Last night I had to confront a note I had written Billy after we bought the RV. I won't go into what was said, but suffice it to know, it made me cry, but maybe because he knew how I felt. I felt I had let him down at the last, but after 54 years, that man knew he was my life and when his ended, he had to know that most of mine ended also. The only part remaining is the part that he decreed "the one left must stay." Believe you me, if he can hear me, he has heard my words of wrath about that. Now, to another thing, since the theme seems to be something I cannot comprehend, because my mind lets some things sink in, some things wash off like water off a ducks back. I will address that now. In my estimation, there are no "sides" to take. We all suffer. If I read something that hits me in the face, that I agree with, I "like" it. I wrestle with my faith. I admit that being brought up in the Missionary Baptist church, there are some things I believe in. If you do not believe that way, that is totally your business. In some countries, they are not allowed to have their own religion. Maybe those countries take their faith as a privilege instead of a burden. It is a privilege to me too. I remember opening the doors of the church and looking at the sky, I was afraid the world was going to end and I had got left behind. "Matthew 10:33 says New International Version: But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven." So, in wrestling with my own faith, this is something I cannot deny. If you have a different belief, like I said, that is your own business. We have all lost our partners, our mates, our reason for living. But, if you do not believe like I do and I like something you say, I am not taking sides. We have no "sides". We all suffer. We are all human, we all make mistakes, and a lot of times we say the wrong thing. A lot of times well meaning people hurt us. They say the wrong thing to us and it stings at that moment. We have got to understand, we are all here for a reason and that is to give hope, voice our feelings, and also to show if we have even had one moment of happiness. Myself, I am sorry if I offended anyone. My wish most times is to offer some humor; I sometimes do that and it falls as hard as a pregnant elephant. But, when I bleed, the blood is just as red as yours, mine, and ours. Sometimes we have anger. Well, that is an emotion. We are all emotional, and I honestly feel akin to each of you on this forum. You have helped me very much. I can see where religion should not be offered. But, I also saw that with that wee grandchild of one of our members, we offered prayers. Not trying to make any point except that we ask for help from various sources. We all have a belief. We are all from different cultures.. I will address this to George. I sure wish you lived closer. This cleaning out a house to put on the market is hard work. I appreciate your services to the people in your community. It is well worth any price.

I am half reading, half comprehending, and I guess two halves make a whole. I don't feel whole though. I am haunted by my three month widowhood of my neighbor Carolyn. And, she had been with Bob, dating, and then married since she was 14. He has been ill for so long. We cannot compare apples to oranges though. Once they are gone, they are gone and sometimes on here I know I am not helping anyone, sometimes I write to myself, and I don't plan on going back and reading what I write when I am in such a low mood. I want to be happy but every place I looked in the "big city" today was the last time I took Billy there. I have to go back in the morning. What I meant about helping people though is I don't think I helped Carolyn. I just told her I reached places and times when I was numb. She had been crying and back in November and December I tried not to cry around Hettie my neighbor, it would have been okay. And, we both are going to miss each other so much. She does not do computer, so I will write her. I just feel I failed Carolyn. I wanted to encourage her but it is like trying to teach someone to walk with one leg, when you only have one yourself. I think we usually do pretty good on here. Rant, beg, borrow, steal, cry, scream, yell, whatever you want to do.........but screaming does give me a headache. They put me on a morning hypertensive medicine. It was not high, but the night time one does not cover the 24 hours. I think it was 140/80 in the morning. I know I could bring it down with more weight loss. To quote Rhett Butler, "Frankly I don't give a damn." At least not yet. And, I am not even sure it was him that said that.

Well HH, I am an old widow. I hate being a widow, and I was not old until Billy left. But, I find being old has its benefits. I don't care what people say to me. I can look them straight in the eye and that one stare says a thousand words. They look away. I have become mean. I am not warring verbally with my sister. I, like you, wanted to save her. In both of our cases, we cannot, could not save our sisters. My options ran out just like yours did. If someone with more degrees than she has $ cannot figure a way out of the hole she has dug for herself, and she gets angry at me if I hand her a ladder, then I cannot jump in that hole with her.. Mine is deep enough, but I still can climb out if I want to. She can too. She is so intelligent in books, such a good teacher, but this old lout of a sister is not smart enough to help her. I feel so sorry for her. I wish I could help her. I cannot. We were never close like you and your sister were, there was nearly nine years difference in our ages. In my life I worked at a job for 43 years while she was earning degrees and spending her retirement to where now there is nothing left. Even her SS is minimal, will not even buy groceries and cigarettes have gone up to $56 a carton in our state. I have tried to help, I have given options, but she is too smart for me. I worry about her so much. It is only the two of us left, and my mama, who is a two-year-old child, who needs in a constant care Alzheimer's unit. She threw up the other night. She had eaten cigarettes out of the ash tray, filter and all. I have miles to go before I sleep.

Thanks Ana. My mama always saw comic characters in people. She named me "Moonbeam McSwine" from the time I was born. I still am that character, but lately I am the "Lil' Abner" character below. Joe Btfsplk. Most of you are probably too young to remember the "Little Abner" comics. I watched "Bob's Burgers" the other night. Shocked me the people I recognized in the characters. Maybe I have some of my mom's DNA.

Polly, your story is mine. I think it is most of our stories. Into the ER when it was still daylight. Up to the ER desk over and over. In a room finally between 4:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. He was gone somewhere between 7:00 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. He left me five weeks from time of diagnosis. We thought it was just the herniated disks in his back. I think with faster action they could have saved him this Saturday on October 17th. But, what pain would he have had to endure? Surely the twice yearly checkups and blood tests should have shown how bad his liver was. Most all of our lives can be told in the three words of the oncologist, "shoulda, woulda, coulda." I hate those three words. Most all of our life and death are in those three words. They kept treating me for a UTI when I had a ruptured colon. One doctor saw something on MRI and this very pleasant surgeon called it a urachal cyst. The doctor I did not want to go to was an arrogant SOB. He actually had to undergo anger management. I had been scheduled for a colonoscopy before the colon ruptured.. His bedside manner was horrible. His first words to me were "you scare me." But that arrogant SOB saved my life by not listening to his colleagues and doing something different than the tried and true treatment. You should have seen his face when I had my first office meeting after the hospital stay. I asked should I go for the colonoscopy now. His look said "how dumb can you get lady." My reaction is to hug this man one of these days. He told Billy he was just not a huggy person. Billy, in one of his brutal humor moments had mentioned how people felt about the doctor. He was to be Billy's surgeon too, our pick, but Billy exited the stage before the play began. I am not sure what the word "crapshoot" means, I will google it. But sometimes, I think that is what life is, if the meaning is what I think it is. Yesterday I went to see Hettie, my sister widow. The day before I had talked to Carolyn, the other sister widow. Hettie is nearly five years, Carolyn is three months, I am just over five months. Hettie has helped me so much. I do not think I helped Carolyn. The pain on her face was the same mask I still wear. Hettie knows I am leaving this street that should be called "Widow Lane." She understands and we will miss each other. But, once away from this state, which any intelligent person would know did not kill my husband, it will always be a reminder of "shoulda, woulda, coulda." I will never return in this lifetime. I slept in our king sized bed last night. I did not reach for Billy this morning. There are so many bittersweet moments. We will carry on. I can hear Billy's crows calling. Even they are reminders.

This is me. I was up at 4:30 a.m. This is me going to bed and have to go to the big city tomorrow. I love my truck. I love word salads.

Maryann, no one will envy you any lightness. Peace is what we want for all of us. I am proud of your lightness and hope you have lots more, and all of us too.

She is so pretty. Thanks for keeping us posted. Prayers for Gracie, and her family.

Gwen, Maryann, listen to the voice of experience (Ha). That ought to give you a laugh. On the 17th of this month will be six months for me and I don't like to think about him being gone. I think sometimes things get easier, but I doubt the pain ever goes away. You have read my grandmother writing that after 18 years it hurt as much as on the first day. This was a little woman with not too much mirth, no "put on" at all, a little country woman that ran her own business for over 30 years and wrote a column for the weekly newspaper from the time she was 14 until she was 84. I hated to read that, because she would not lie, would not exaggerate. So, I think maybe (I have to believe this), that somehow the burden gets easier. I have to think that. What religion is that that the terrorists believe they will have ?? number of virgins waiting on "the other side" for their being a martyr and blowing themselves up. Honestly, this pain ought to rack us up at least 20 young Robert Redfords waiting on us. (But, I would settle for one Billy.)

I am going to put this on my site, although it should go somewhere else. I have so many things pulling me every which way. The things I face in this house are unbelievable. I am ready to get our stuff out and just burn the house down. (If it does burn down this is not an admission of guilt). I walked down the street to get the mail. I saw the curtains pulled back and I kept on walking. What a two faced cruel person I am. Bob passed away Christmas Eve. Billy and Bob could talk for hours. Their house is bigger than ours, and it is beautiful. I look at it and wonder if she is afraid to leave it. Damn.......yes, I have got to go talk to her. I don't want to. She is gonna bleed all over me. Yep, she did. She is frightened, alone, one child and a couple of grandchildren. I hope Bob and Billy are happy. I did my best. I am such a coward. Yes, she did bring me down. She and Bob had been married 55 years. She started "going" with him when she was 14 and he was 15. They are probably a year or so older than Billy and me. Carolyn is suffering. She has a grief counselor. They tell her it will get easier. I told her I did not know about that, but you do go through periods of numbness. She assured me she was not suicidal, but she wanted to die. I did my best. I told her that with time sometimes you can handle it better, but the pain is still there. Now, I am haunted. Damn that Billy and Bob leaving us two old women. As an addendum, she is wanting to go to an apartment also, the house is not holding her.

That is our son, when he was just a teenager, in the 1970's, do not know what year, Billy and myself. I was still in bed because I worked nights.

Picture must have been taken in the 1970's. Daughter took picture, she was probably about nine. I won't look at anymore pictures, just throw them in a box.

Brat, Gin, the most maddening feeling, the most heart wrenching feeling, the most unreal feeling is that he is not in this house. He had one spot on the couch, all his hobbies on the side. Last night I saw him, though not in the spirit or ghost sense, but in the sense that I remember his last days sitting there, covered with his blanket, not with the pain yet. Just not feeling good at all. If he showed a grimace, I put a Dilaudid in his mouth. He never refused. He slept awhile, but was in better spirits from the Dilaudid. He smoked weed after he started chemo, with our son. It made him peaceful. Probably reminded him of the cigarettes he gave up probably 35-40 years ago. Finding the aneurysm in the back of his brain was a total shock. Finding he had terminal cancer in so many places there was no cure, that was when I knew I was going to have a miracle. I never accepted he was going to die. Certainly not five weeks after diagnosis. No one really knew where the primary was. Why didn't we know this? In August he was walking on the elliptical for 30 minutes at a time. The last grocery list made in August also was for healthy foods, always healthy foods. He had had back trouble since a slipped disk was found in his early 40s. He did not linger long. I would not talk death and dying to him. I did not believe this until I saw his death mask at 7:30 a.m. on October 17th, 2015. The nurse had looked in at 7:00 a.m. I am so glad he did not suffer, but my gladness is tempered with "why, how, what happened?" He has gone. He has left me. I would have been much happier if he had found some other woman and she had made him healthy and he was still living. I blame myself all the time. I just wanted him to be happy. I want him to be alive. Even if he is not living with me, I want him to live into his 90s. I just want to see him and touch those beautiful hands and rub his beard and high cheekbones. And, with that, I will go pack some more of his stuff away. He is not returning.

Gin, this house we lived in is an old beautiful over 2000 sq foot home. It was built in 1965. Some little something always going wrong. Two acres of grass. He tried to keep it mowed 2-3-4 times during the spring and summer. Billy had an arsenal of tools. He would not use them until the dam burst. Our water pipe under the sink burst one night and I walked into the den barefoot with water up over my feet. The den, kitchen, washroom, living room were flooded. I put a sign up on the refrigerator door for him to remember to replace the other pipe under the sink. That was about four years ago, still not replaced. Also, new floors, but for the part we paid of the insurance, we were to put down corner rounds. Still not put down. Billy was not a Mr. Fix-It. I am not a spotless housekeeper. We both hate houses. We were meant for RV's. Now, I am meant for an apartment where they hire some one to "fix it" and all that stuff is included in the rent. I, of course, am too old to buy a new house and too smart to buy into things needing repairs. Just my way of doing things. Some people cannot leave their home. I understand them. My mom is one that could not leave her home. Me, I am like the man without a country. I have no feelings about this house except to get out fast before the garage door opener breaks, the washing machine or any other appliance breaks, the roof needs a new one, or anything else pertaining to a house needing something. We are all different, yet all the same.

I wanted to go together. He said "No, the one left must stay." I had had two close calls. The last time, I think he actually thought about one of us "leaving." I still lived in "happily ever after land." That land did not exist.

I've got your picture, that you gave to me, and it's signed with love, just like it used to be. I've got the records, that we used to share, and they still sound the same, as when you were here. I got your memory, or, has it got me? I really dont know, but i know is it wont let me be. I've got your class ring, that proved you care, and it looks the same, as when you gave it dear. The only thing different, the only thing new I've got these little things, but they are not you. Okay, Patsy Cline, I took some changing of the last words. Cannot get this out of my mind. I woke up at 4:30 a.m., not sleeping in our bed. We have company and they have changed the house around. Changed things in the bathrooms. Have some bills to pay. They wanted to go up on my house notes because of $350 not in escrow. But, I had a check as a refund from someone for $350, and I hope next year I won't be paying these house notes. Dr. Seuss said he did not like this hat. Well, I don't like this house. Things started out fairly good, some of the company left. After I do the bills I can start on the house. I am not taking the bed. The bed has lasted longer than most marriages. I will sleep in a twin bed. It is not too easy to reach for Billy in it. Miss him like I would miss both arms and legs. I felt safe in the cubbyhole my daughter allowed me to hide in. There are memories at every turn. Yes, I will start over with new dishes, silverware (or stainless steel in this case), new everything but his clothes I will pack. The pictures I will pack. All memento's I will pack. His hobbies I will pack. I will not save all his dog training books. Don't plan on using them. I will label each box. This is a revision of my original note from last night. I was tired. Went through a month's worth of mail. And, I told Billy, if he wanted me to have the apartment for him to help me. As it was, I was at an impasse on apartments. The big city close (Shreveport/Bossier) I could not get a good feeling for. These apartments were here when we last lived in the small Louisiana town. Lots bigger than Mount Ida. Lots of good memories in this small city. Our roots are very deep in this parish. I set my sights on these brick apartments. Two layer, probably about 50-60 or more apartments. Beautiful park in the middle with swimming pool in perfect repair. Looks new. The apartments look new. They are kept up perfect. No trash laying around, or trashy people. Sidewalks all around and if it breaks they fix it immediately. They stay full. Manager called me yesterday. A young woman had to leave for another city, long time tenant. (ground floor) An ideal apartment across from the office, across from the park, and she said older people lived around me. I met one woman that is fixing to have a baby boy. (Of course she is a young woman). She told me she would try to keep him quiet. I told her to let him cry all he wanted to. I am in these apartments because the street I live on, though the most beautiful setting anyone could ever want, it is quiet, nine houses with five widows living here. I want to live life, I want life all around me close. I want to hear life. I will be getting rid of everything.

Revision:: I came off harsh this morning around 3:00 am. Appointment with doctor at 8:15. I cannot sleep restful if I know I have to be up. You see. I was supposed to go first. I am like a second hand patched tire. My insides won't hold a stitch. I have a lot to do before that old patch explodes. If I don't, I am leaving my kids with a mess to clean up. Losing our mates took away our will to live. It is hard on all of us, but if we can say we have made it six months or more, if we can still stand up, walk and make decisions, I think we will all be okay. Maybe not happy, yet some might find a measure of happiness. If you can still go to a job, if you can get six hours of sleep, you are accomplishing something. I carry guilt, anger, anxiety, FEAR, big time fear. We all do. I hate change. We accomplished a lot during all those years and I don't have my biggest cheerleader to tell me what to do. And I have a terrible situation to handle with my mom and sister. The anxiety alone should certify me for a padded room. Moving to an apartment, just plain moving on without Billy is unheard of. Still, I know I cannot handle a large home by myself. But, some of you are doing just that. I think we are doing good with all the things we have to do. We hurt, yet here we are. We don't think we are doing good because the pain is so raw. We have triggers throughout the day, yet we make it through to another day. Sometimes our biggest question is "why?" I am old, yet I have to act like I am not. I just keep thinking..........and miles to go before I sleep. After I get out of the doctor's office I have to pack and move to that other house 175 miles away, filled with Billy memories, hobbies, clothes, and make cosmetic repairs. Things Billy should be with me to do. But yet here I am.

I do something terrible. I try to remember bad things so I can get anger as a bandage to stop the pain flow and then I feel guilty. I hate hurting.

Yes you can Gin. You have survived when I know so well you would have loved to go with him. I understand 100%. You have survived. That is a monumental accomplishment.