Margm

I remember Prince Charles being thought of as dumb when years ago he warned of climate change. I've had a new respect for him.

I went to a fellow from India, he had written a book. This has been back in the 1980's, I paid $125 for about 15 minutes, I bought his book even, his mantra for me is "you have to learn to love yourself." So, I said, I love myself, I won't be back.

Karen, the book, The Two Old Women was short and rather juvenile other than it showed two old women who thought they were left all alone in the world to face all kinds of terror and on top of everything else, their joints ached, they hurt to bend over and pick up the sticks they had to find in the snow and they had to reach back in memory on how to catch animals so they would not starve. Squirrel broth one meal, meat the next, they had to keep up their strength and between the two of them they built up a couple of seasons worth of food that their tribe did not have. They shared, but only as they gave it out. I think it was just telling us, in a fairy tale sort of way, a legend of two old women, that deep down, if we reach far enough we might find resources to live that we didn't realize we had. To the tribe they were just two griping, bitching old women, but when push came to shove, they were stronger than the whole tribe. It was just sort of a parable, but it sure felt good sleeping on those spruce (cannot remember tree mattresses) with the fur laid on top and then crawling under the fur in the mornings, to 80 or 75 year old legs and arms, it just felt better to lay there. They did it though with urging from each one. I was at the laundromat today and a woman about my age (her husband passed away three years ago August), and she just had to have heart bypass, no relatives with her, one of the women from the apartments stayed with her nights for two weeks. She did not know her, it was just the kindness of strangers. We were washing clothes and we both had to sit down, our joints were hurting. Kelli (daughter) is a retired nurse and she helps take care of some of the elderly at her apartment building. She was a born nurse, just like Billy. She has two more teratomas (they are tumors, not malignant, but will grow) on the back of her head and the Cleveland Clinic wants to wait three months, the neurosurgeon is going to see her sooner. He wants to do some kind of ablation to get to the root of them. She has them along her spine they can do nothing about. She is afraid, so am I. She's tough. I hope your teeth do not give you too much more trouble. They wanted to put implants for me, I asked were they guaranteed and they said "no." Well, the prices quoted me about five years ago were so much it was not worth it. The antibiotics I would have to take forever would kill me. I'm not gonna hang around long enough for all that pain. They wanted to draw blood and I wouldn't let them. I'm not taking any more pills. Pain pills will kill me too. I'm back reading C.J. Box's new Joe Pickett novel. I've played around with so many authors, but The Two Old Women was just a legend passed down........hey, it could happen. Sometimes we are tough old goats.

Mitch, if you are, you have a lot of company. I'm not appalled at my feelings. It does not matter the age, the amount of time, none of that matters. You had a lot of love to give, you still have that love for the person, we just don't have the person. I went on one of my trips Friday. I spoke to Billy very little. And then it hit me. I have no idea what his voice sounded like and I am grieving all over again. No one is nuts, but some of us are worn out, worn down, tired, bewildered, and just plain exhausted. I feel like I lost another piece of him. I am him, he is me, why can't I hear his voice? We do what we can and accept what we have to accept. I saw the flowers again this year. Looked just like they did last year. Joy is something we miss.

Sorry Tom. Know we do not all feel the same way. My near death the year before, my family's thinking that I was leaving, and then to have Billy go instead definitely made me think "it should have been me." Do not think we all suffer the same things but one common denominator being grief. However we describe our own, or no description at all, it is what it is.

It was the Native American's way to tell their stories and pass them down. I suppose that is the way legends are made. If there were really these two old women, years and years ago, then they need written about. They felt deserted (they were), their feelings were hurt, but then the survival instinct took over and I notice we have a survival instinct, all of us, even wanting to leave, we really don't push it. The old women had a purpose to each other. And what tickled me was their complaining of hurting, not wanting to get up from their warm spruce beds covered with fur. What I love is they got their memory back, they remembered what it was to survive, and even if I told you the whole book it would not ruin it for you. We are all what legends are made of. It is a short easy read. And, I did just about tell you all the book. Somehow, it shows an old dog can remember his old tricks if push comes to shove.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” ― Frank Herbert, Dune I don't think my mama was afraid of anything but nursing homes. Last night/this morning I read too long. It was 3:00 am and that jolted me. I put the sleeping music on and my ear buds in. I heard the slow rhythmic beat of my heart. Wait!!! I am not supposed to hear that, OMG, means something. Then the old paranoia hit me, and I don't know if it is fear of living or fear of dying. I tried counting the beats and became more afraid. They were so loud. So, I sat up to face my fear directly and figure out if maybe my body was telling me something. Well it was. I had the ear buds fixated wrong and I was hearing the clock ticking. Not my heart at all. Just the old stickler fear growing to something you have to face, even if it is comical and foolish. The slightest dizzy spell, anything off kilter makes me think "Elizabeth, this is the big one." And you have to be old, or watch Red Foxx reruns to catch that one. Addendum: Kay, I am into the "Two Old Women" book. I love them. Ages 75 and 80 and if my mom had been of sound mind and body she would have been the 75-year-old one. They hurt in all their joints, they complain, yet in that cold snow, carrying around the embers to keep a fire going at each "camp" it is uplifting, especially the end. Don't throw us old people away yet.

Sometimes I still get "carried away" and write too much. I've tried to correct that, but it still happens. Tom, I know your circumstances, and I think with us all having different circumstances of losing our loved ones we all suffer some from survivor's guilt. How can we not? We are still here, they are gone, and there were no circumstances of them leaving us that we want to accept. Now over 40 months gone, sometimes I still cannot believe it. It was supposed to be me.

Purpose has many meanings. You happen to be one of my purposes. So, just being a purpose for someone else, that is still a purpose. My life is enriched by so many of you. You all are my purposes and when we lose one of those purposes, it is like the old poem I quote all the time. Gwen, I swear, if I could get to you, we could at least explore different kinds of tea. My granddaughter samples different teas all the time. Her thyroid condition makes her tired all the time. She is on an antidepressant and for the first time in her life, twice, I heard her say she felt good. She deals with the thyroid constantly though, (hypothyroid) since she was eight years old. I will be freezing, she will be sweating. We've learned to cope. I put on a flannel shirt as a jacket even in the summer. Her numbers, by laboratory statistics are in normal range, but sometimes that does not mean a thing. I have to put the poem back. It is as old as time itself and has always meant so much to me, all my life, not just since Billy left, even in high school. For Whom the Bell Tolls by John Donne (1572-1631) No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee. If something happens to any of you................I am the less. We love you dear Gwen, you are a strong woman. You don't want to be, but your indomitable fighting spirit through pain, mental and physical, your focus on the nursing homes so many years, you may not like what I say, or believe it, but you are one of God's special Angels. You have always had a purpose.

Gwen, I'm glad you loved your step-father, who was in fact a real father. My granddaughter thought of Billy as the only dad she ever knew and they loved each other dearly. So do I. Family is what and who you make them. DNA does not really matter at all. After all Billy was my closest relative.

My very close friend (we grew up together and married best friends within three days of each other), she lost her first husband (our friend), the father of her two children after about 40 years of marriage. Her grief was anger and torture. She remarried two years later and was married to him for 15 years with him passing right before this new year. Her grief is equal or more, how do you measure grief? I don't think you can measure by years. I was him, he was me, so maybe he is still me. I do not think number of years defines your grief. If you did not love greatly, you would not grieve greatly. We cannot measure, compare, or even understand what path any of us have to walk. We just understand you have a loss, we all have a loss, it is ours to bear. And, my heart goes with each of you, and I know that cannot help, but I grieve too. I reach over on the car seat just to imagine my hand on his leg. I reach up just to feel his high cheekbones. I am him. He is me.

I don't like the reality of the word "dying" even if it is the right one. So, I will just say "leaving this body behind."

And that is what you do, and all the others, too many to list, we just survive. Until Billy I was really not familiar with death. My dad was gone, but he and I had cancer at the same time and were fighting on two different fields. He and my two best friends fighting it at the same time. One out of four lived. You have survivor's guilt. I watch my granddaughter, afraid to face life out in front of people and I think about how much life I hope she has to live, and I hope it is good. She told me I had already faced all those things, and she is scared. And, that is why she goes to counseling. I look at the new trees at Walmart waiting to be planted and I think, "done that." I have one more adventure. I sure don't want to be a burden to anyone. That scares me most.

Yesterday I received a message on FB from a friend through high school, had been my best friend for awhile. She had undergone back surgery, L4-L5, and could not sleep in her bed because of the pain. She cannot take the opioids (neither can I) and was going to have an epidural (I think), that is not what she spelled. She wanted to sleep in her bed but couldn't. She lost her husband a few months before Billy left. She has grown children and grandchildren so I asked her did she have help. She does not. I did not ask why. She lives in Wisconsin, I cannot reach her. Her sister from our old hometown has Alzheimer's. She would not come back anyhow. I will order a book from Amazon (it is only $1.99), but right now need to help someone so won't have money till the first. This book is a legend about two old women left behind by their tribe in the Arctic region because they were too much trouble to take care of, and the story of these two elderly women not only surviving, but thriving. We all have a purpose of somewhat. I don't do things because of Billy anymore, but I do help others that are close to me and sometimes when I am alone with too much time to think, still knowing I have a purpose, my flight/fight impulse runs into a bowl of jelly. And my friends, you who are fighting alone battles, my friend in Wisconsin, well.............my heart is just with you all and that does not help one damn bit. Remember when you chew all the sweet out of gum and you throw it out? Well, that is when my anxiety takes over.

I've never been bothered with advice from people. I don't ask for any anymore. I did ask one girl I graduated with, more beautiful now than in high school, still working, an elite job, kind of figure (judging here) that the reason is not just money. It keeps her young though, so I sure do not condemn it. I did ask her how she handled things, knew her husband (damn good looking creature all his life), they had been neighbors, high school sweethearts and married for at least as long as I had been. She acted like it was a strange question, did not really give an answer, and I sure let that go like a hot potato, learned not to ask. Given some advice. Mainly, "keep busy" and that flew over my head. Relatives leave me alone about it. Friends are not inquisitive and do not offer real advice. Maybe after being shunned by two of mine and Billy's young married life friends, it kind of put things in perspective. They were still married, in precarious health, in fact one went to the nursing home with a stroke right afterwards and his wife matter of fact said he would never leave. The other husband, I think he is 80 now, and I think he has a dementia of sorts. They already heard the footsteps behind them, they were Billy's childhood friends and only mine after marriage. It was too close a reminder to be comfortable with. David Wolfe's book "You Can't Go Home Again" definitely meant you cannot recover the past. I haven't. But, I have made a present that has purpose. Being needed is a purpose. I don't solicit advice and none is given. It is my path. My sister "backseat drives" when I am driving. She misses her car, but I don't accept backseat advice about my grief, except from experienced drivers. (I will remind about C.S. Lewis's quote "No one ever told me that grief was so like fear" and sometimes in the mornings when no one is around I start into an anxiety attack. Have not figured yet if this is fear of living or fear of dying.

We lived in Billy's Jeremiah Johnson country for four years. He had a new Kabota tractor to keep clear all those acres. At night there was a bear that came and got grubs from fallen trees. It was on a forest service road leading into the national forest. Billy would get at front door and call up a coyote in the daytime and then run around to back door and call it. I like the wilds, have tented and RV'd in apple orchards in New Mexico and way off in the Gila Wilderness. One night heard animals fighting outside the tent. I beat on the walls to run them off. I slept with the sleeping bag zipped up to my nose. They were all skunks. For a Louisiana flatlander those hills were mountains, and they were designated mountains, yet for Cookie in NC and Kay in Oregon, and probably Kevin in Canada, they might have been small. We were 40 miles one way from a doc and 40 miles the other way. One night we thought two year old Brianna might have taken Billy's blood pressure meds, as we could not find them. Took her fast to hospital. I drove the 40 miles back to the house, but getting her to doc/hospital was paramount. I found them under the bed. I declared I would not live more than a few miles from doc/hospital ever again. In Mount Ida we were maybe a half mile from clinic. Got rid of the Kabota and a lot more stuff during our "mountain man life" and as beautiful as they are, never regretted it. I'm as home as I will ever be again.

OMGosh Kay, all I can add is "do what Marty said." One of my problems was that I worried my granddaughter so she had to keep coming in and checking on me. The last thing I want to do is be a burden on my family and because she was so afraid of nursing homes, my mom ruined my sister's life, and my sister tried to ease her own problem of my mom by the wrong method. I know our mother's gave us life, I appreciate my daughter insisting on "taking care of me" but that is my worse fear. In cases of being alone and being so far from your caretakers, a medic alert system would be in order. My mom was a "special case" and her Alzheimer's made her so hard to manage and made her so mean that my sister had to "self medicate" to take care of her. If I knew I had people like Gwen to visit me, a nursing home would be a haven to me, and I must be terribly mean, I know my mom wanted to stay at home, and "saving" her home was paramount in the early stages, but ruined my sister's life. I do not want to do that. That is one reason I don't have a home. We each have to do what we feel is best for us, but if you live alone, Marty's suggestion is so necessary. We have to take care of ourselves, our mate is no longer with us. Kay, you knew how to take care of the problem. And when there is a problem the anxiety is terrible.

Gin, I took a medication different the other night and it made my head swim, and for no other reason than the fact I am 76, I could not tell if my heart was beating faster or too slow, and kept thinking "I'm 76, I feel different, I know it ruptured my colon again, I cannot take my regular medications, I will die, I am 76," and kept my anxiety up till 6:00 a.m. I won't take a different medication again. Not unless they prove it is my heart. Then I will walk down that path. I have had five years since the colon rupture with overall sepsis. Billy got me through the initial year, then he left me. I felt bad because my granddaughter kept coming in checking on me. I cannot take anything for pain but Tylenol. Cannot take aspirin, ibuprofen, or any other OTC pills. I do not want any of them having to take care of me so this regimen I am on I hope will keep working. I will not eat chocolate, any kind of nuts, no raw veggies, nothing made with corn, no salads. I won't get off the tracks unless I have to. What we are telling ourselves everything is our age. And it is. But, before your mate left, were you old? Neither was I. I hope we can keep on aging until we can't. I understand.

You know what Dee? I was trying to help you in some small way and you wind up helping me. Thank you so much for that. You are a very insightful person. I think we are gonna make it, for as long as we can.

Dee, I retired from two hospitals, then I went to work for myself. I kept Eleanor Roosevelt quotes pasted to places I could read them when I was afraid. And, that was a lot of times during my working life, but I did not know what fear was until Billy left. My son is angry at me this morning, and last night. I still enable my family, but there are some areas, his children live on opposite coasts and I cannot help them. “A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it's in hot water.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt “Do one thing every day that scares you.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt “Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you’ll be criticized anyway.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt, The last one, and the others, helped me when Billy was with me, he was retired, I still was working because I loved my job and could do it from home. Since he has gone, the one quote that describes me more than any other is from C.S. Lewis. “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” ― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed Today I cannot help my son or his daughter. My heart hurts for them, but sometimes you find out you are just one person, sometimes you realize, you are only one insignificant person in this whole world of people that a lot are hurting and you cannot help them. That makes you really realize, you are only one, and no matter how many are around you, you are alone. And most times it is hard to feel like a whole person,. A little woman I met at the laundromat had just had a bypass operation of five arteries. She always has a smile. Her husband passed away in 2016. She is always happy looking and sounding. She lives by herself and has no one to help her. She seems happy to be alive. I wish I had some of her strength. I am proud of her. I do not feel that strong.

You just stated your purpose. And it is a big purpose. I am going to say this wrong, and could look it up, but Eleanor Roosevelt said something like "women are like tea bags, you don't know how strong they are until they get in hot water." (I'm not looking up direct quote so I may have quoted terribly.) We are strong because we do not have any other choice, none of us.

Oh Dee, I wanted to leave so bad, I wanted to follow Billy as soon as I could. I remember seeing women from other countries throwing themselves on the funeral pyre with their deceased husband and my shocked brain figured out a way I could join him without my family finding me. I made the mistake of mentioning that thought and I was already hurting so terribly that my family's rage hurt me even more. (But I fully understood their rage). I could not do it because of not understanding some things, and we all know our minds during this time do not work, just like the batteries that run our body had been removed. I was in a sickly condition anyhow, had almost died the year before, and at that time had wished I had. Since that time I support my granddaughter and mostly my sister also with a lot of help for the two middle aged children. There was a reason for me to live, and I do not want to leave until I can see my granddaughter walking her way in life with no pushing. She is in counseling and my sister is in AA. I know we have to think of ourselves too, but sometimes the happiness of others helps us along also. Maybe there was a purpose for us "staying."

Kevin, my childhood/lifelong friend has buried two husbands, and by all accounts both were very much loved. She is a couple of years older than the last one, recently deceased. I think about her mother and she married three times, buried two of them, and I believe had developed Alzheimer's during the third marriage. I do not deny happiness to any of my friends and if she finds someone else, I wish her well. I do hope she will be as blessed as the first two. My sister-in-law buried three, and was heard to tell the third that she loved him even more than her four children's father. (Her daughter heard her and was happy for her mother, not jealous at all, she had been just a tiny tot when her father passed in his 40's) of a heart attack. A poor analogy for me is this, you finally clean out your freezer and you find something frozen way too long ago, and you put it aside. I have been in the freezer way too long, but my sincere best wishes go out to anyone that finds companionship again, if it is wanted, if it is needed. I am so sorry you lost your friend. Billy went very fast, but I would not have wanted him to suffer like our father's did, both of them. I hope, otherwise, you are enjoying your new home.

I always remember the book my grandma wrote for her grandkids, and the book was meant to take up her time that was spent alone, away from her children who were too busy to be bothered with her. She ran her tiny country store, saw a few people each day, but she could not just turn on the "forget" button. People would come in and tell her that surely after this length of time she would be "over him." She carried on conversation with people every day, but in her spare time she wrote: "Even after 18-years, it seems like it was yesterday." Thank you Grandma for leaving written proof that grief never leaves. But, if we have to live, we just "have to live."