Margm

Gwen, you did not hear back from her because the question was asked without thinking that you would tell the truth about how you feel. You see, you are supposed to say "I am just fine." Now, you have told her the truth, and she does not know what to do with it. So, she will do nothing with it. Remember Jack Nicholson saying on the witness stand to Tom Cruise: "You can't handle the truth!" from "A Few Good Men." People cannot handle the truth until it hits them in the face. We have been hit. We understand. Now, I will go into one of my word salads. I can do this because my middle name is "procrastinate" and that is what I am doing. I have put on Billy's every day jacket, (it no longer has any Billy essence to it), the heat just came on, but April 15th is a "Billy Day" and he would be proud of me. The taxes go off tomorrow, and I have them all in one place, all prepared to do, but I will put it off a few more minutes. They owe me money, they ought to thank me. They would not. Guess what I have done? It has been 2-1/2 years now. I got all the picture albums and looked at them. I did not cry. But, these are all pictures taken in the 1970's and before. When we went RVing, we left boxes of "stuff" in Mama's shed. Mama, being Mama, she inspected each one. She found my box of bra's I was going to throw away and she washed and put them inher dresser drawer and she had new bra's for years. (Mama never wasted anything.) And, she also took all my loose pictures and she put them into albums. The picture below was 1972, in New Mexico. We went once a year. Billy's sister lives in Albuquerque. Billy, me, Scott, Kelli, and the little one is Cindy, their cousin. It is one of many of Billy without a beard. I will tell you something ugly I said to him, but he laughed and laughed, so he knew I was teasing. Billy said to me, nearly every day of our married life, "do you like my hat?" and I got to thinking he was Dr. Seuss. Sometimes, it was best not to tell him the truth, so I lied sometimes. He needed to wear one because he was so fair that the sun would give him skin cancers. His dad passed away from one that invaded a part of his neck and spread into his body. But, Billy had grown a beard once. He felt itchy, scratchy, but I loved it. After he shaved it, he asked me if I liked him with a beard. I said "Yes!! you look like you need a pair of underwear over your head, you look naked." So, from about the next 45 years he had a beard of various length. I hated the long, stringy mountain man that he wanted to be...look. So, he kept it trimmed neat and I certainly miss that beard and the personality underneath it, and the man that he became not because of, but the man that was my best friend. He was a genuine person, no "put-on" but just a wonderful, kind person. He went from hunting wild animals (we would not eat the meat, so it was donated), to a person who could not kill a possum that invaded our garage and would not leave. He had to kill it, and he did cry, although he did not want us to see. And, he cried at sad or happy TV shows, unashamedly, though quietly. We did not bring it to his attention. A big heart. A man's man. (Unfortunately, the women liked him too, but he came home to me.) An irreplaceable father, grandfather, husband, lover and friend. Okay, I have his jacket on, I will channel Billy, who loved numbers, and try to love to crunch these numbers. I have a program to help.

Nayajan: I am using this only as an explanation of my feelings. Remember, I am a 75-year-old woman from the deep south and really my ways, mannerisms, and feelings have grown outward over these past many years. Still, some things I say may sound strange, as I am sure they do to everyone else on this forum. I get in a habit of running my thoughts through my fingers and sometimes I say too much. It only seems like a few years ago, but I know it must have been probably 20 or more when I was on the phone, and in correspondence with a young man from the coast of India, that I will call the west coast. If I lived in India, being who I am right now, I would call it the west coast the same as California is our west coast. This young man was a medical transcriptionist, as I was. I cannot remember why or when we got to talking, but we talked often. He had just lost his father and was supporting his mother with his transcription job. I never saw him, but I pictured him many times. He got married during the time we were talking,, I assumed it was a marriage he picked out for himself. He was very happy, and yes, his mother would still be supported by him. There was no worry or problems with this, and I admired him so much. We did not talk much after that, but one time he got in touch with me and wanted me to go to work for him in his transcription service that he had started. The USA was sending much of their transcription to India at that time. I was getting close to retirement (a 2nd time) and did not want to work anymore. I hope he had much success with his business and I so admired him for taking care of his family. That does not happen in the USA as much as it does in other countries. Nayajan, it really does not matter where we live, we all bleed if we are cut, we all try for happiness, we all support our families, we all, all over the world, try to make sense of things that are happening that we have no control over. One thing we do have control over though, our grief is ours alone, (which we share on this forum), your boys have their own grief, it is their own, and that is one thing we support, anything we can do, we will try to do, if it is to just help you have one moment's peace. My heart is with you.

Linda E, didn't we have a good time?

I gave up my friends when I first married because my poor husband was so insecure that he did not want to share me with people that knew me. I kept in touch, but we were all going different ways, college, marriage, babies, etc., so we did not really have time for each other on a real personal level. I made friends with his friends and what a delight they were. We became all close friends, playing cards, dominoes, visiting, all the time. They became my friends now. But, life got in the way, we all kept in touch, but distantly so, we all moved to where the jobs were, the good schools were, etc. Still, we all kept in touch, ever so often. Billy passed away. Their lifetime, total lifetime friend. It was unfortunate to them, but somehow his passing away made them hear the footsteps heavier behind them. They were not totally rude, just terms of their friend was gone. Who are you? I had enough people in my life that I did not need them, but I did feel a slight toward Billy. Soon afterwards, the oldest one came close to death and the other man has been in the nursing home since then with strokes. I went and visit his wife in the nursing home and took her an uplifting Christian book. They are all Christians. Sometimes even Christians are human. That halo gets crooked or just plain hangs on the side. I did feel a slight. Really, my only one. I look on it as if they have their hands full trying to live. None of us are spring chickens. One will not be leaving the nursing home. I hate that. The other male friend, I detected dementia, so his wife has her hands full. I honestly will tell my friends how I am doing if they ask. They understand. They have already gone through this. My real, low down feelings, you, my friends on this forum, you have to suffer through my hard times. My friend Hettie would listen. Hettie lost her husband too and I need to be lifting her up rather than dumping on her. I am fine. I have my family, I have my friends, and even though I did get stung by Billy's lifelong friends, it kinda showed me that they were afraid for their own life. They heard the footsteps behind them, so really, I just needed to run ahead of them and let those footsteps find them. (Isn't that mean?) Anyhow, I do not plan on putting myself in the position that someone has to help me, has to listen to me.............except you all. The rest don't have time for us, unless they are a counselor. I will put an addendum to this. I know you have read, watched in movies, seen in person even, some funerals in some countries, they pay people to be professional mourners, to cry, to mimic people in grieved distress. And, I cannot think of the thoughts that counselors of the grieved must take home with them, they are human, they cannot leave them at the door of the office, they probably lose sleep worrying about us, the people who cannot get over, under, or around this horrible grief. I would, I would take it home with me. I would need antidepressants to handle the hardships of the people who pay me to give them advice. I have often wondered, and someone has to do this job, but the professional hospice nurses who counsel the families of loved ones with terminal illness, these have to be Angel emissaries sent to Earth to help us. I did work 43 years typing some stuff you could not imagine in your wildest dreams. But, when one of my doctor supervisors brought me into the lounge where they watched surgery being done on a TV, while it was being performed, I had typed thousands of pages of those same surgeries, the instruments, the body parts, sponge and needle counts...........but, I could not watch it. My choice, mine alone, I do want to "go quietly into that dark night." No fanfare.

I am so sorry you have to visit us. This is probably the last place (or at least one of them) that people want to come. I came after Billy had been gone three days. I like to think he led me to this place. He could not help me anymore and after 54-years of marriage, even with grown children and grandchildren and other relatives, I was alone. You have teenagers that you have to put up a brave front for them. That makes it very hard for you knowing you are missing half of your life and having the knowledge that your children are missing a big part of their life. I did not have anyone I had to pretend to be brave for, I just shut myself off and cried until I thought I could not breathe and remember thinking what a relief it would be if I could just stop breathing. I honestly did not think of anyone but myself. As you go along, you will see her come to you in the presence of your children. I always go back to what Rose Kennedy (our president John F. Kennedy's mom) said, and she had lost many of her children and her husband. She says the wound never heals but you do develop scar tissue over the wound. After 2-1/2 years, I would like to pretend I have developed some scar tissue, but then something happens and it rips off. But, it forms again. I am so sorry for your loss. We all handle our grief in different ways, so nothing you feel is wrong. You have come to a good place and I hope you gain peace, even a small sliver of it, ever so often from reading our experiences. My heart is with you my friend.

My mama was a lot of things, but one of those was a "tough old bird." Back after Daddy left us, don't know when exactly, she started complaining about her legs hurting. Going to the doctor was out of the question, she only went to him if she was sick. She was not sick, she was hurting. In the last month or so, probably about the same age as Mama was, my legs hurt from my knees on down. No, not leg cramps. I saw Billy turn a complete somersault in the bed once with a leg cramp. Woke me up, I saw him turning the somersault and I remember thinking "well, if this was the Olympics, I would give him a 10." He and his dad had leg cramps that would make them jump out of bed. (Of course he hit the floor that time too). My son has them. These are not cramps, just aches that get damn bothersome. My sister says I need a Celestone shot in my knee. (I don't think so!!!) I did have one of the x-rays of my legs, MRI or CT or something back a few years ago when I had a bunch of veins show up. My grandmother's legs were a road map of blue road broken veins. She kept on walking. I guess I will too cause wrapping them does not help. I wear high soft diabetic socks the doctor recommended. I don't have diabetes. Some of the old ways help.

You know, some people might really care when they ask you how you are doing. But, in passing, here at the apartments I hear "How are you doing" so very often from neighbors who do not know me, I do not know them, and I just say "fine, or I'm okay, how are you?" We are saying this in just passing by. If I answer my sister, she says "you seem tired" and really, I have just done four loads of washing in a room that is not in my apartment. I am overweight, and I'm short of breath. I have exerted myself too much. She wants me to go to doctor. Why? And all the other people I pass (and honestly, I will not remember 3/4 of them when I see them again), maybe it is just a southern thing. We pass, we exchange pleasantries, we go our own way. Yes, I will contribute to a dinner tray for my neighbor who lost her father and who is going into surgery for cancer and I will do everything I can to help. That is what neighbors do. When I had cancer, over the months people would stop me to inquire how I was doing. Not pleasantries, really wanting to know. My psyche said "quit asking me questions, I am not sure if I am dying or not" but that is not what I told them. I told them I was going to be okay. My neighbor. I feel the same kindred with her. She does not want to have to explain that she might be dying. She does not want to talk about it. So, I don't ask. I do not ignore her, II ignore her cancer. You don't have to ignore me. But, I am not ready to share my grief with anyone but this forum and my family. Women in the laundromat yesterday, two women looking for a house, they could not believe I just "gave" my house away. I did not want money. My mind was not calculating. It was a beautiful house. The most beautiful one we ever lived in, the biggest, the loudest quiet I have ever been in, the safest place a widow could live. No, the people who lease it love it enough to do all the repairs themselves. We were leaving anyhow. It was a good house. It deserves someone who loves it and I will never tell those people that while I lived on that short street five husbands died. Bob passed away two months after Billy. Do I believe in such things? Does not matter, he is already gone. I wanted away. I got away. I didn't have to ask anyone how they were doing. I knew how they were doing. Somehow, they did not have to ask me either. I ran. I don't regret it. I don't want anyone to ask me how I am doing. I tell all y'all how I'm doing.

They told me if I had GYN problems they could do a D&C, but if anything was wrong, they could not correct it, because of all the radiation I have had, the ruptured colon, the sepsis, so why in this world would I put my feet up in those damn stirrups again? If I have an infectious disease, heart trouble, anything like that, I will seek preventive care. Anything below the radiation line (and that is a big area) will not hold a stitch and can do no more radiation. If I have to have surgery on my knees or hips (which were radiated....hips), I cannot take the opioid pain killers or anything that would affect my colon. I found a gallows humor cartoon one time that involves me. Hope I don't shock anyone. I did try to remove this. Don't know how. But, this is the sorry truth. I would have preferred to have problems in a more accessible, something that allowed me more dignity. Laying on the surgeons table, when he removed the tube they had placed beside, operated into the fleshy part of my hip, I did not know he was going to jerk it out. It had been in there quite awhile. The pain was such that i let out a string of curse words that my sweet husband had heard before, but he had not heard me use them in public. I surprised him. I did not surprise the doctor.

No, we can never fill that void, although some younger than us, some our age even have found companionship. Somehow, it seems to work out. I had put that movie on here with the "unspeakable actress" and Robert Redford. They were elderly. They just wanted someone to hold. Like my kids say, if I ever thought about that Daddy would kick them out of bed. No worry, I don't think about it, but I sure do not begrudge the ones who find friendship along the way. My granddaughter is 18, she is beautiful. My only real dream for her is to "get out of the house." (Not figuratively remove her from my care). She has had problems, maybe her bio mom taking all the drugs may have hit some synapses in her little brain that makes her afraid. She has gone the pill and counselor route and she is afraid they will give her more pills, and they will. We are the most pill giving bunch of medical clinicians there ever has been. One boy paid her attention and it scared the dickens out of her. I explain it in my best generational grandma way, and my hope would be that she would find someone that treats her like the princess she is, and someone she can love as much as I loved her grandpa, but not have to go through the bad things we went through. Her little psyche is not as strong and mean as mine was. I would like her to have a successful profession that she would enjoy going to each day, like I did. I cannot make all that happen. And, the first thing anyone offers her is pills. Is that the way to treat our mental problems? Pills. (Well, I cannot fuss about Xanax), but that is not what she needs and in my case we have come down to "quality of life, not quantity." Please Fairy Godmother, we need help. (and you do not know what abuse she suffered from a bipolar mom with a transgender partner.) My daughter is getting herself straightened out, long story for that one, but she has made enemies with the person she really loves most. You know why? Pills. So many psychotropic pills they gave her diabetes and made her so strung out she fought the police. Not pills like opioids, these were genuine, psychotropic medications that she is doing 99% better off the most of them. "All God's children have troubles." I think that was supposed to be "All God's chilluns can dance" (but this one can't.) me.

Gin, my neighbor is elderly. She has run back and forth helping take care of her father who passed away yesterday. She was scheduled for cancer surgery today but will have to put it off till May 1st. Her husband is with her and is partially disabled. Her cancer is in her throat. She has had so many stents and a major heart attack that they are being very careful with her. My other friend (and relative) was so happy that they had cured her husband's prostate cancer, but he has sunk so far into dementia right now she cannot leave him alone. They are our age also. Bette Davis said old age was not for sissies, and if anyone knew that, she did. I hope you get to feeling better. I'm sure it was just a slip of his mind by asking about Al. And, he probably does not even remember doing it. We just loved so much and we have such a big void.

Gwen, as many hours as you have put in at the nursing home, as many years, you have had a full life of public service. I dare say any of the rest of us have done so much for our fellow man. Your a good woman and I am sorry your going through all this. I have my granddaughter, but right now she is afraid of everything and is scared to learn to drive. We will get through this.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. (Robert Frost)

We want to believe that people love and are loved, but there really are people that find it a relief to escape the prison they cannot get out of. I have only one in mind, and that is my other set of grandparents. He was controlling, he had Parkinson's disease, and he held himself back from everyone. My grandmother catered to him and I do not remember unkind words, but neither kind ones either. He had anger. No one said a word at the table while eating. You pointed to what you wanted passed to you. I know his mind was affected at age 56 and he died on my birthday. He was not mean to me, but he had been mean when he was able to be, but other than beating my dad when he was 17, he was sent away for chasing his 16-year-old daughter with a knife. My dad grieved him because as the oldest he had to help take him away from his home. I think he had been mean all his life. I don't know why. We did not talk about such things. But, my grandmother was a quiet sweet woman, but I think there was relief. I think sometimes that must happen. I am so very thankful I was married to my best friend and though life has an empty void, it was filled with love. So, Mitch, you are right, and we don't know what goes on in other's minds. I do not remember Mama missing Daddy as much, but they did love each other, but I am not sure they were friends. I get into the judging sequence when I do this, and I am not that smart. (And, my grandmother would never have said anything callous to anyone. She was sweetness and love, honor and beauty).

Linda, I cannot imagine why your family would not want to see pictures of the two of you. I love them. But, I am going into my 3rd year, at least 2-1/2 so far, and you know how I hate numbers. But, it is just now that I can look at pictures of him. We are all different. Some wanted pictures with them from the very moment they left and surround themselves with pictures.. It has taken me this long, and I am still not there yet. I have one of him looking off into the distance that I cannot see. I flip right by it. I have one taken at my daughter's wedding years ago that we are dressed up and he is grinning because he is pinching me on my backside just as the picture is taken. I'm getting better with the pictures. Yours are wonderful.

A funny story. I was at the Christmas party for our school back in 1960. My friend Judy was from the town the school was in. I rode the bus with a bunch of other Webster Parish kids. Her boyfriend of many years looked at me and said "she is for Billy." Now, don't get me wrong, her boyfriend was a college "man" and she had gone with him and only him forever. She thought he was the most handsome person in the world. It was a blind date so I talked to him on the phone and they wanted to go that night but I had a date. He kept trying to make me break it and said "you don't know what your missing." I had asked my friend was he as good looking as her boyfriend and she honestly told me he wasn't, but he was cute. That turned me off exactly. Later on, persistence paid off. But, to make sure I wanted to go, I had a boy (friend, just a friend) take me to meet him. That way I had a way to go home. I met him and my jaw dropped, he was a 6'3" Steve McQueen. I had been known to miss a date on Saturday night just so I could watch Steve McQueen in "Wanted Dead or Alive," crew cut and all. Still it was not love at first sight. We decided to date others after three months (I had), but that didn't work too well, he was unforgettable. Plus, my friend told me after his date with someone else; something about the difference in an orchid and rose song. That did it. He is still unforgettable and always will be. It is funny as you grow old together. I never saw Billy as old. He looked better than 54 years before. I miss him.

Billy always looked so dour, but his dry sense of humor kept us in stitches. He was a friendly fellow, but preferred not being around lots of people Funny thing was, when he was around a large group of people, he was at his funniest and people crowded around him. Did not stop him from preferring solitude. He kept us all laughing in the family but you won't find many pictures with him smiling.....or me either. Just us. And he had the beard since the 1970's. Early. He shaved it off once and I told him to grow it back. Didn't have to convince him. And, I liked it when he had a pony tail hanging down the back, but he did not like that, still I liked it long. We were over 21, we could do what we wanted to. And we did.

I love it. My dad used to take pictures at our big dinners and he would wait till I had a fork going to my mouth. I have so many pictures of me and forks. You look so happy. This is a picture of Billy and me doing what we liked to do best. He had his camera around his neck, his trekking sticks beside him and I guess mine are there somewhere. We loved walking those backwoods of Arkansas, and in the Ouachita National Forest we were in magic land. No more magic. My heart is with you my friend.

No empathy in those folks. No experience. No humanity. What kind of imbecile says that to someone grieving. I don't wish it on them, but if they are not a robot, their day will come. I read all the time on here about people being so wrong to insinuate we should do anything any different than what we do. We grieve, we live, we grieve some more and we live while grieving. If they don't like to be around us, then the door opens and they can leave. Sorry if we make people feel depressed, just think, they can be depressed and they can walk on. We will still be depressed and we will still handle our grief the best we can, not to their time table or anyone but our own. And that might be the rest of our life, if it bothers them, they don't have to come around. I am not a good actress and I am who I am no matter what. If they ask me how I am, I say "fine" and walk on. If they grab my arm and want to know really how I am, then "I am making it, thanks for asking." I honestly don't have any problem from anyone though. Maybe because I am so old that all my friends know how I feel because they feel the same way, they have just sometimes developed more scar tissue.

I make grocery lists, always have, but it is only to remind myself what I need more than anything. Now, I actually use it, only this was the 3rd time I went and had to make sure everything I had forgot before, I put on the list. I was proud of myself. I only bought what was on the list (mainly because I had bought the rest the other two trips.) Coming home Tuesday my kids called me a couple of times each. "Mama, where are you?" I would say "I don't know." That freaked them out. Actually, I meant I was still in the country and could not remember what the next village was. I remembered fast cause they thought I was lost. I should not laugh at them, they are the ones that will put me away.

I head to do something and am distracted, so I say what I was going to do over and over until I finish what distracted me. Well, I say it over and over until my distraction takes hold and then I totally forget it. Sometimes I will just stand in the floor, I know there was something I had to do. Sometimes it comes to me, otherwise I go sit down and forget it forever. I need one of those things you speak into when you remember something, but I would forget to listen to it. I don't let it bother me. As long as I make it home from where ever I have been, I'm okay.

I knew about the skunk cabbage/plant. This new plant is new to me in the past few years. I still just shake my head about this stuff, cannot imagine smoking something that smells like a skunk. I think this area where it was grown, it is miles away from a police department, but still, if the sheriff rode down that road, they had to stop and ask questions, or maybe they were the ones doing the burning. I don't know, but I was coming home before the picture of people burning real skunks got out of my head and I realized what they were burning.

“Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.” ― Edvard Munch My trip Tuesday was an adventure, both an inner adventure which caused bittersweet memories, passing our back roads where we spent so much time walking and just passing pastoral settings with many cattle (always looking to see if they were standing up - meant the fish were biting - or laying down, meant no fishing today). It was magic going up those country roads, especially at the moment we saw the mountains in the distance, the beautiful landscape, houses built in the country with big lakes in front or on the side of them. Yesterday the Caddo River was running higher, and the Little Missouri River was swift, and high. Seeing all those sights brought back such bittersweet memories I did cry until I could not see the road. There was one house past Norman, on our vacations up to the Ouachita from Louisiana, I wanted that house. I wanted the sensation of living among the mountains. I got nearly 20 years of my dream, I wish Billy had had longer, but we were coming back home. The house I wanted, not a mansion, just a tiny house, was situated in a paradise. It was a bigger house we lived in, in an unbelievable beautiful setting, I didn't take it for granted. We took many pictures, but it is an empty paradise now, for other people to enjoy. Life goes on. There was a small hesitation almost wishing I had not left, but still it was necessary for my mental stability to leave.. Alone this time. My "home" was where ever Billy was. Now I only wish to hear voices (not in my head) but life all around me. I have had too much death. Yet, as we get older, we know, we hear the footsteps behind us. I cannot hold a camera. Billy and Kelli are my photographers. The wisteria, just like the tulip trees and the forsythia bloom for such a short time. The old Heirloom roses (possibly another name) that some long ago settlers planted along fence lines, snow does not kill them and you see the big trees, empty spot where a long ago house occupied a big space. The trees are still there. Across the road is a log cabin corn crib that is decaying, it is the only thing left of a settler's family from long ago. Life comes and it goes. Billy and I saw all this way in the dirt road backwoods and came upon the Fourche La Fave River in many places crossing roads. We road back roads that you needed a jeep. But the views were worth it. We fished those wild tributaries and felt we were pioneers. (I am a pioneer that likes conveniences). Billy got to be Jeremiah Johnson one year for about two weeks. He was in his element. I was a city girl frozen and uncomfortable. I tried to find a picture that would be worthy of a field of white wisteria I saw on the way up into Arkansas by back roads. There were just at least 1000 (may be exaggeration) feet of nothing but white wisteria overgrowing a whole old home site. I do not take pictures (shaky hands) but I tried to find one to do it justice. It doesn't. It was breath taking, and my favorite is the purple ones. This was a canopy that seemed to go on forever. It seemed where marriages should take place (except for the bees). The houses going out west hold empty dreams, they thought they could live in such a windy, arid area, the houses still stand. Down south the humidity rots the wood if left untended and you see dreams that had to be abandoned. In some places kids moved on to more profitable life's. The terrain in these lower Arkansas levels is rich land, can grow anything, still sustains some hard working farmers and cattle men. It is a touch of Americana you can still see. This was a short travel into my past. I will go again in six months. I have tried to hide from that place. I did go the highway (when I got to the town, I'm still a coward), instead of the short-cut that would have taken me down my former paradise. A family, who have become my friend, they live in my old house, making new dreams. I feel guilty for not going to see my friend who helped me through the first few months. Hopefully I can do it in October, when I have to go back. I checked the mileage, it is only about 160 miles.

Kay, there is a grade of weed that smells just like a skunk. I call it skunk weed, but it is marijuana. Oh yes, I'm an expert. No, I do not smoke anything legal or nonlegal. I will say Billy smoked it the last couple of weeks, outside by the RV. My son got it for him. He could not walk, but he saw me coming out the kitchen into the garage and he bowleggedly ran to me. So, I can attest that it made him feel better. It is supposed to increase their appetites, but his had gone so far he could not eat. More bitter sweet memories.

I have put this on here a bunch of times. My grandma wrote a book for all the grandchildren of her life called "I Remember" and I have seen some of it repeated at some colleges as teaching of the pioneer woman. She also wrote for a local newspaper, wrote that since she was 14. She wrote it until she passed away in her 80's. In our book she repeats some of the things we go through. I have not really gone through people telling me "to get over it" in nice words or cruel words. I am lucky. But, as I have mentioned in other posts, she says that people tell her it is ancient history and she says "He has been gone 18 years, but to me it seems like yesterday." We never get over it period. It is one of life's burdens we carry because we loved so much and we were loved. Period.

Kevin, you are an inspiration. Good luck with all you've taken on. Sometimes it is worth it. Although, driving back to town Billy left me in, it was bittersweet, had thoughts of "what if" and that cannot be. No regrets, except I had to do things without Billy. We had been planning on heading back home soon anyhow. I needed to help take care of my mom. As it was, moving back so soon after Billy's leaving, I was really a wreck and of no help. The shock is that the 20 years I was away from "home" it was like I was Rip Van Winkle. Time did not stand still and I find so many family and friends had left, just like Billy did. So much bittersweet to life. Guess that is what we do, we are born and we die. I sound very cynical, but I mean it to be just sad. Funny thing. On the country roads back to old town I left, I had to pass through a wall of smoke. Someone was burning things in a very big way. The smell made me think someone was burning skunks and I gagged and thought how cruel. Could not think of anyone doing something so cruel, maybe finding a home with lots of skunks. Then it dawned on me on the way home, those were not skunks, they were "skunk weed" and the odor made me want to throw up. I don't know the value of such weeds, but if a terrible odor makes the weed more valuable, a lot of money went up in smoke. Did not see any cop cars. Empty area, I guess a good place to grow such stuff.