Margm

Positive as always Kevin. Your an inspiration. Hope things just go swimmingly great from here on out. Sorry about the snowstorms, down south we are flooding. You be careful and take all the help you can get. Proud of you.

Well, since this is the only kind of salad I have had since March of 2014, I will start another word one. After school Bri likes to go the "long way" home so she can listen to her music out loud, otherwise she uses ear bud/phones. Sometimes we play it on the TV, especially if I am tempted to watch the news some mornings. We started out down the road that I used to ride the parish school bus to NW Tech school (trade school). It was close to where I live now, but they built a modern one over off the interstate. That is where Bri goes to school. The road was a rough, secondary road that gets washed over lots of time. The bayou, where my granddaddy's folks come from is up this road. And then, we passed this house that I remember as a 17-year-old, it was my ideal home. I saw it each day being built. I think it was a Jim Walters home, (my desires have always been simple). Now, Billy was not in the picture yet. And there it was. My dream home. To be fair, that house is well over half a century old and people have not been kind to it. And, I am over three-quarters century old, and these last few years have not been kind. And riding around in our home country I always come up with "what if's" but know there cannot be any "what if's" because if we said "what if," then we "did it." And so many of those "what if's" were not us. Can you imagine all of the "did it's" that you can do in 54 years. We might not have got to do the things we wanted for as long as we wanted, but damn if we didn't try. So, there are no "what if's" for me. I didn't cry. Tonight, going out to the laundromat that ole moon is almost full. I talk to Billy in the moon. I told him, "well, we are entering into our third year of breaking up." I also believe in C.S. Lewis' quote: "But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." I'm looking forward to that.

Gin, our RV Billy bought seven months before he left is finally gone. The only home I ever cried about was when we had to settle back down in the stix and brix home and be homesteaders again. We had to so we could help save our son, but when they were pulling our Holiday Rambler home away, I cried. It was beautiful, comfortable (for two people) and meant freedom. Lots of history since that date. Strangely, I have gone against everything "we" would have done and fought down following "our" path we had planned. I am him, he is me, but I feel the loss. Bought everything new but the bed. Time for it to go too. Memories are good when they do not cut like a razor blade. I try to stay away from the blade as much as possible. Not always possible. Strange feelings. Rode around my old home before I met Billy and cried constantly. Rode down where his folks came from and enjoyed the ride. My granddaughter teases me about my memory. I am not worried. She bought me a Tee-shirt that said "If i don't remember it, it didn't happen." That about says it all.

These days, after viewing so much loss, my word salads cannot even fill a two oz cup. What can you say? So much loss. One of our own could not take it anymore. And, we are all left wondering that if it had been us, could we have taken it either. No words. The dam has broke.

I liked snow when I was younger and did not have to worry about walking on the snow and ice. I remember typing all those 43 years of the admissions during this kind of weather, most always to the orthopedic floor.. Now, I just have to be careful. Left knee wanted to lock on me today. Ho-hum, joy of getting older. Kevin, please let us hear how things go for you and wish you the best of luck. I will say some prayers too, and lets hope they go further than the ceiling. Always figured Billy went first because I had not completed my goodness tests yet. He was good.

Gin, it does not have to be a special day, some days are just like that. Dark and gloomy, rainy weather brings on my chronic depression, and it is raining for days.

I remember once a fellow from another church informed my daughter that if she went to church with him, women were to be silent. (She ended that relationship right then.) I remember pictures of old church services where the women were all on one side, the men on the other. I'm glad women finally found their voice. Strange customs most all of us come from if you are involved in any church.

Of course Kay, you have to have two people or more to debate, or you can to a tree, I guess, but the tree does not talk back. I don't know why they argued religion, but it had to be both of them. Rather makes me wonder. Where was my mom. She was always the winner of all arguments. Daddy told her once women were not to be deacons and she very strongly disputed this. Like in a lot of churches we had women that were leaders, their husbands stayed home. Mama found the scripture. Daddy backed down. You don't dispute the Bible to my mom..

As I have said over and over, my grandmother said at 18 years, people thought she should be "over it" but to her it was the same as if he had just died yesterday. Sometimes people are only half a person the rest of their lives. Sometimes they find someone else and are happier than they were the marriage that death had dissolved. Sometimes, it is the only person they ever really loved and no one can take their place. Sometimes..............

Kay, I felt a lot like your son. My dad was too strict and I remember how it started. Citizens of the area all his life, his family's life, my life, he used to take me to First Baptist, drop me off and come get me. I will forever remember, Mrs. Braley, my Sunday School teacher who came out to the car and said "Elvie, you bring your child to church and you drop her off. Your the one who needs in church with her." I can imagine my dad driving real fast to get the few blocks to home. Telling my mom in such an angry voice what Mrs. Braley, an old family friend, had said to him. But, the next Sunday he and Mama were in church with me. And from then on it became an obsession. My sister used to argue with him when she would come home from college. I was out of the home, married. I had escaped everything, out of the pan into the fire. Daddy and my sister argued religion. She was a good debater. I learned all this since Billy left. Daddy got so angry, he got so confused with the arguments that he quit being a deacon. I really hate that. She would argue, it would get so heated he would go to the door to her room. She would close and lock it and he would go outside her window. And then he passed away. I did not know all of this. His ground had been shaken and his belief had been shaken. Lifelong belief. I feel bad about that. He was a Christian through and through...............but, you don't argue religion or politics. Something I learned early in my life. Mine and Billy's.

I don't think any of us understood it Gwen. It was just our parents trying to train us up in the way they wanted us to go. I resented my dad for insisting that we even attend brotherhood services sometimes, cook for them, serve them, run off the church bulletin, clean the church on Saturdays. Daddy was one of three deacons. On one Sunday in the month we traveled to one of the other Missionary Baptist Churches in the area, that meant three services on Sunday. Monday was girls auxiliary, Tuesday I think was free, Wednesday was prayer meeting. But, they trained me up in the way I should go and even though it is a mustard seed faith most of the time, it is still faith. I don't want to run from it. But, even though it provides some comfort, it is not as close as I need and I am lacking somewhere. I need that comfort.

T.A., you mention your friend whose loss is six years ago. She asks "why?" I talked to my prayer warrior friend, we passed her husbands grave, at the time he had been gone seven years, probably nearing 10 now. She is prettier than she was in high school. She takes such good care of herself. Every hair in place, clothes match her purse and shoes, and won't leave the house without them. She invited me to her house one time to get a gift she had given me engraved. She looked fabulous in her house coat, but she was so apologetic on how she looked. I was thinking, "gal, my only worry is taking enough showers so I don't smell." I don't care to look in a mirror and we are the same age. I asked her once if she still talked to her husband. She is totally deaf now but reads lips and can talk. She said "you are young in your grief." I do talk to Billy less, but I hope I never quit entirely. We all walk different paths to get to where we are now. We have the bruises to show the paths were not always smooth and free of obstructions. We do what we can. We walk our path alone, but we know others who walk that alone path.

I think sometimes I have reached Rose Kennedy's "scar tissue" phase of this grief wound. No stitches, the "skin" has not grown together, the wound is still as open as ever, but even though I sink into tears at odd moments, even though I feel total despair at moments, fear a whole lot of time, I can now feel the continuity of his being with me. I cannot see him, cannot physically feel him, but at odd moments I will hear a noise in the apartment and my mind immediately leaps to "its Billy" and then immediately understands it cannot be. Not really a let down. Just knowing it is an impossibility. But, the feeling happens enough now that I almost feel he is somewhere around me, I just cannot see or physically feel him. Is this acceptance? I don't know. Maybe worrying about my family, being stretched so thin by them that I cannot see daylight, knowing this is my life now and feeling I "have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep" and when that stops, maybe I will just let go. Not on purpose, just floating the rest of life. I have a few things to do to prepare, but someone always needs something and I get pulled so tight I think I will snap right then. So many people depend on me, but we depended on Billy too. Life goes on, even if we don't. One of my friends lost her 57-year-old son, her sister, and her little dog that had been her companion since her husband passed. Our little forum family has losses that make our own loss, an individual loss. A loss is a loss. Mama used to have me say my prayers each night. The same one. I was afraid to go to sleep. "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." I don't remember when we stopped that childhood prayer, but I think I slept better when we did.

That is all we can hope and pray for. This little family is so special and I am so sorry for their torment. Reading on this forum, we all take our grief in different directions and their torment is unimaginable. My "mustard seed faith" at times seems so lacking and remembering the hospice book given to me by my mama's nurse. It is common to question God and turn your anger toward him, and sometimes I just look over my shoulder and shake my head. In praying, I want it to go further than the ceiling. This little family needs prayer warriors, but we still have to watch what we say. Our belief, even disorganized belief, is not everyone's.

My heart is with this family. I just wish there was some way to help them. Too much. Thanks Kay.

It isn't just dates Gwen. I escaped from the beautiful little town, but I have to go back this month, it is beautiful, safe, wonderful, but he is not there. I watched a travel movie a couple had made of their travels. When Billy was here I would watch and dream. I was watching with four eyes then though, now I watch with two and the prospect of traveling was ours, it is not mine alone. Reminders come in all shapes, sizes, dates, weather, roads, places. Staying inside seems safe and it would be okay with my granddaughter too, that is the problem. (Promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep. RF) Push myself. No, I want to hide. Cannot hide. Another life needs pushed. Sister wants me to move in with her. Daughter wants to move in with us. She needs taken care of. Didn't old people used to have to be taken care of? I'm doing okay. Do not need any more stress. Doc cut down Xanax.

I'm sorry, I realize that three is just a number and you have done so much to try to help yourself, and I am sure some of that has helped you build scar tissue to the pain, but the numbers can remind us and the pain returns. You are a true fighter George, and someone we all respect.

And that sounds like a wonderful idea. My granddaughter has me interested in all the Marvel movies. We still go to animated ones also. After Billy left us both so bereft (he was the only daddy she had every known), we would lose ourselves in the movies. And, we would eat out. We just saw the animated film "Coco" although would not recommend it, some sadness in it. We are going to see Marvel's "Black Panther" as soon as the crowds thin down. She has always been a movie lover, so we lose ourselves often. I don't know if that is good or not, but it works for us. She and her "Dade" would go without me lots of times too. Caleb is a handsome young man, and he will grow up so fast. Please stay in touch and let us know how you all are doing. Sometimes we all are family in our grief.

I don't know Katie. I lost my "Daddy Wise" when I was 12 and I know I cried a lot, but this child has lost his brother and sister also so the depths of grief on him has to be heavy. I was in the 4th grade when my best friend had an aneurysm and passed out and passed away in the hospital. My mom had to keep me home from school, I had throwing up spells and back in those days they did not know what grief counselors were in schools. I cannot advise, I am not qualified, but you and your husband are. And Marty is. My heart and prayers are with you and your husband and your little family. I know everyone on this forum wishes they could all wrap their arms around your whole family and just hold you, but even that would not help anyone but us. My mother used to say she wished she could build a fence around each one of us, and it was just me and my sister. No words help. Time will not heal, but maybe one day your many wounds can develop scar tissue to take away some of the pain. To make it softer, to help little Caleb, his mama and daddy and new brother. All I have are words and they do not help.

And that is how we have to do it. If things do not go right, walk away from them. I think they work for us and our insurance.

I believe in writing letters. I just cannot write the Chief of Staff at my old hospital about the lack of care Billy had. I just can't do it. Someone must have because my daughter was seen almost immediately and was out the door with meds and a shot of Rocephin. Going on three years this year and I cannot type that letter. And I retired from it, and it is a Catholic Hospital. Not feeling charitable after reading this stuff.

I don't know if I have put this before. I paid the $50 that was owed after my sister had her colonoscopy 3-4 months ago. Did you know they released the results of the colonoscopy after I paid the $50. Can you believe that? I wonder if it had been malignant would they have contacted her. She did not have the $50 and is having a very hard time financially, but this seems totally unprofessional. But, (and I know this urology surgeon personally, he was a resident when I was secretary in this department and he had a temper), but my sister was still bleeding after he put the mesh in and she went back to him....naturally. He was so angry she felt like the examination was a rape rather than an exam. I know him, he was just angry. You see, he is supposed to be perfect like his dad. Turns out she had female cancer. He did not find it. She had the good sense to go to GYN doc. Did she have a lawsuit, I definitely think she did. Would she file one. No, my family do not sue doctors or anyone else. Instead, she has many disabilities and this SOB should have been sued. Too many years gone by. Again, my family did not do things like that, but I sure would.

A&K, the memory, in my case still wavers more now than ever, although I cannot even remember moving these 175 miles. Just cannot remember it. I wish fate would be so kind that other things I cannot remember. And, I hope that the both of you can help each other heal from this past two years. My heart is with you, and I wish that it would help, but no words help.

Martha Jane, how much all of this brings up memories. My Billy was slow moving and I knew he would exit this world slow, he did not get excited or in a hurry for anything. I was Type A, worry, worry, worry. He used to get angry/not really angry, just peeved because I worried all the time. He was ill such a short time. The only time that man ever got in a hurry. He had about three really bad days and if I saw a furrow in his brow I was poking a morphine pill down him. I still had 50 left, he left in such a hurry. I knew what I would do with them, I would follow him. I would go off in the woods and no one would ever find me. I would leave notes and my family would understand. Fifty-four years were not enough. I was selfish. But, I did not have to go through watching him leave in the way you did. My slow moving Billy left me fast. My dad left like your husband. He hurt so bad he would have decubitus ulcers form on the bottom of his heels from digging into that egg crate mattress from the pain. He was out of it. He would have Cheyne-Stokes breathing and wait so long between breaths that we would pray it was the last, he hurt so bad. Billy's dad did the same. Billy would pick him up to bathe him and his bones would break and my dad and his dad went into that long period with no water, no nourishment, to me, it was the most cruel thing humans and their loved ones had to go through. They even were more kind to our pets than our loved ones, the humans. My slow moving Billy left me fast. I understand Martha Jane, because I have been through it with my dad and Billy's dad, but Billy did not hang around. And my last emotion to him was anger for giving up. I realize I should not blame myself now, I just hope Billy realized I was not going to let him go. He didn't listen to me this time.

Thank you Suzanne. Many of my mother's quotes from the Bible come to mind. I think our brains become so enmeshed in what we have lost that we cannot let quotes, Bible verses, or the things people say trying to help us, I think it is like water off a duck's back. I have been here before, though not from grief. I have had my faith tested and I have failed. Then, given enough time, one day, one surprising day, I am brought to my knees (figuratively), and the scripture breaks through this hard exterior and sinks in. Then, I am gone again. I don't think it is bitterness so much as turning away from the help that is handed to me in loving hands. It is during these times I wish I had my faith of a child instead of my stubbornness. And then again, I am brought to my knees and I realize that I still have my mustard seed faith. It is what it is. And sometimes, it provides relief, even for just a moment, and I feel that I am not lost, only wandering in a wilderness. Analogies.