Margm

Gwen, I don't know if we can call it "strong." I think I heard one time a phrase that this guy said a lot and dammit, well "It is what it is," and that just stuck with me. We are either "it is what it is" or we are jello and give up. And, you, me, him, her, they, them all have been in that place. I talk to Billy when it gets too hard. "Billy, please help me find the Town and Country Nursing Home so I can go see Bill." And viola.....there is the T&C Nursing Home. Of course it had not moved and this is only a small town of about 11,000 or 12,000, so it has been where it always has been. But, I like to think he helped me, like finding his wedding ring nugget. Like us reading his last book together, then my mind turned to wax and I could not comprehend stop signs unless I just made myself. We aren't strong, we exist, we might not want to, but we just do, each day, another day, another week. Easier? Probably not. Numb probably and we keep moving like zombies. Sometimes I see older people stooped over, dragging their feet, with walkers, with canes, and I know if I live that is in my future. Heck, I even shopped for a shower stool. The only kind I found were ones with a back on them. I walk a little straighter, hold myself up without a stoop, climb those steps (slowly), and I think of Shakespeare 's "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." But by golly, we are making it. What "it" is, I don't know. We gripe, we complain, we cry, we stumble along, but like the fellow (was it Darrel?), we put one foot in front of the other. I just have to watch not to drag my sneakers. That almost throws me down sometimes. I have to learn to pick my feet up.

We never do Brad. Billy could not get me to the ER when I had sepsis and ruptured bowel until I passed out. I hallucinated in the ambulance, but can remember the two little girls that rode on the steps of the ambulance all the way to the hospital. (I was the only one who saw them, I asked about them.) I had so much radiation years before that only thin hair grew back, so I wore a wig. I fought those EMT's the whole way because they wanted me to take the wig off. In and out of consciousness, I can sympathize with Deedo. Sometimes we do not have control of our own bodies and we fight against outside sources making "a scene" that we never wanted to make. Billy went from walking with pain, walking with a cane, next week a walker, the final couple of weeks a wheelchair. I cannot describe his ego. He was so emasculated that I had to bathe him, do toilet duties for him, that he did not want to fight to live. Deedo also had an ego. So do I. So do we all. We fight losing our self worth that we carry in our head. I understand. And, they do not understand that what we do to help we do out of love. "In sickness and in health, until death us do part" and I have made myself cry for the Billy's, the Deedo's, for myself and the many bedpans, tube cleaning and changing's Billy did for me and I knew he did it out of love, he never cringed, but it took something out of him for me to do the same for him. I wish we could tell them face to face they never were a burden.

Some times I come here, empty out my heart and mind, and then I go up and delete it. I have written all I care to say. It is said. It is gone. I give out TMI in my word salads. This little box has become my psychotherapist.......then, on to next patient.

I only talk about it to my sister and she is very supportive.* My kids have their own grief and if I add mine to theirs, well, it is a different kind of grief, but still grief and Billy was such a good dad and granddad, nothing can replace what is lost. We just deal with the hole that was left and like you said, we walk our own path. But, the panic attack I had in Walmart a few weeks back, just before Christmas was the worse one I have ever had. I actually did not know what it was. Was not worried about my heart, but the fear and shaking was all over my body. I hid in between the sheets, towels, comforters. I took a Xanax right there. It was like an automobile that has stalled. After a few minutes I was okay. The shaking will forever be with me, but not to the degree that I had then. I have been in the store many times since then, been in when it was a totally full store and did not have the symptoms. I had them once before and one was so bad I left my shopping cart in checkout line, did not even look around, just left period, and did not look back. That was in the early 1980's. Have not had any more since then to those two degrees, just get afraid some times, even with my daughter fussing. I did take a Xanax to settle down after she left. I hope she can find some help with her anger attacks. Sometimes I think so many doctors have given her so many different medications it has made her worse. I told her that sometimes we have to find our own help. I have had to. One help and stick with it. One city. One state. One doc. *Except on here and I spill my guts on here.

I know. My mom used granulated sugar. Then when Billy and I got to Arkansas we introduced it (the condensed milk kind) to two 90+ year old trailer park residents and they loved it so much. At one time, one of the ice cream companies came out with it and one of the chicken companies had it in their ice cream. It was Billy's favorite. I would freeze it in the deep freeze in the garage and then bring it in, put it in the blender with a little milk and it was fresh again. It is a good memory of Billy. But, from my childhood (and did not happen often in Louisiana), Mama's was too granulated.

y'all all please don't think I am making light of snow. My cousin lives off lake Michigan and sends me pictures. All my girls that I typed with knew that when it snowed in Arkansas I was ready for it. Condensed milk, vanilla flavoring, Pet or Carnation milk to thin it and you have snow ice cream, Billy's favorite ice cream. I packed the freezer cause living on somewhat of a mountain, we got plenty a couple of times a year. I got it out of the back of the truck mostly. I heard all the bad things about it, but it was a treat we did not get often in Louisiana. (I do not miss it) and will never make snow ice cream again. I'm sorry for all of your weather troubles. I hope your car is okay George. You all please be careful.

Well, before we moved to Arkansas and before Billy's family all passed away (they were all older than him by a lot of years except one sister), there was a neighbor that Billy was friends with the man's brother and we were friends also for a long time. When we got back, one of the first people I saw was this man at the Dairy Queen. I went up and hugged him. Turned out to be his twin brother, who I did not know, and who did not know the crazy woman whose husband had just passed away and was hugging him. Well, I got to know him real fast. He was nice like his twin. And, as I said, a lot of people are standoffish sometimes because they "hear the steps" coming up behind them too. Sometimes I feel like I wear a black cloak and carry a sickle. And, the twin recently passed away. Maybe I am just bad luck, or maybe everybody I know is old and just follow the nature of the world. From dust.........to dust.

I went to see one of Billy's lifetime friends and his wife in the nursing home. It has taken me awhile to break away from same old, same old. My son "loves" (his words) his new apartment. He does not know how to handle things on his own yet. My daughter moves to hers Friday. I hope she feels the same way he does. It helped me to get out of myself. My family keeps me in such an up-tight time that I guess I enclose myself trying to get away. Billy's friend looks the same only years older, of course. He thinks he can do things that he cannot. He has had two strokes and is bedridden but his mind thinks he can still do things. And I can see and hear Billy, I remember the exact room, telling me if I was gone all the worry would be on them. I would have hated leaving him with so much worry. I wanted ice cream, went outside, decided not to go. No snow, just bone chill. That is hard to warm up. You can be cold without bone chill, I hate it when even your bones are cold.

I think most of our poets and artists suffered from some depression. Melancholy. I believe the bipolar people usually have some exceptional artistic ability. Winston Churchill gave into his "black dog" often. My hero from this part of the country, a journalist teacher, professor, Wiley Hilburn wrote often of the "black dog." I wish, if I was going to suffer from it, I had been given the talents of the poets, composers, artists, statesmen and comedians, actors, and other people who suffered from it. I'm afraid I am just plain "Joe" from Al Capp's own miseries. And, my readings have almost all been from people with loss. But, perhaps reading uplifting things,, watching "Grace and Frankie", "The Golden Girls," is the way to improve attitudes. Certainly laughter is probably one of the best medicines.

I'm starting over in my "Grief One Day at a Time" by Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D. That's okay, I don't remember reading it last year, but I am sure I did. January 3rd (tomorrow) is written by Sylvia Plath, and although I really do not know that much about her life, I do know she was depressed a lot and finally took her own life. Oh, I have been down that path before. Chronic depressives might ought not to write. I like reading about the life of the poets. I love autobiographies and have all my life, or biographies. Makes you feel like you know someone, even if you don't. "On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack." I think we write from our grief, sometimes grief and depression gives us words. Words do not heal. Actually, I think this might have come after some disaster in her life. My son, when he is going through his depression can paint pictures that show his mood, and those pictures have sold because it showed other people's moods too. It would be nice to paint a picture of a field of flowers, or a poem of happiness. One of our professors got on the elevator with me one day and I complimented him on the children's book he had just had published. I said I used to do a little writing, but it was usually after amphetamines. He said his writings were after rum. We do what we can with what we have. Sylvia Plath usually makes me more depressed. Daughter stayed with us for over a week but got angry and left about midnight last night. Not a good way to start the new year. "All God's children got troubles." Going to a new apartment by herself, so maybe she can find herself. That is what a friend told me "now you can find yourself." I quit looking for myself about menopause.

Thank you for keeping us updated Allen. Please take care of yourself also. A whole family grieving multiple losses has to bend the minds of the strongest people. I hope you all find help. You are in our prayers, and that seems so easy to say, but your in our hearts also. All of you.

“All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer.” ― Robert Owen Our language has changed so much, If Robert Owen was to return to today's time, he would know his words were not "politically correct." I remember a movie, probably from the 1930's called "The Gay Bride" and our words mean something so different now. Gay was happy a long time ago. (Maybe it is now too, I don't know). But, I remember my mom quoting "everybody's crazy but me and thee, and sometimes I worry about thee." So yes, I think we all are a little "off kilter" and sometimes if I could get further "off kilter" I probably would, but I think dementia will creep up on me before then. I think I hear it slipping up behind me now. But, I have been called crazy before. I had a supervisor who once told me I was crazy, but crazy in a delightful way. Oh well, anything works. I hope we all have enough craziness to protect us over the next few years. And Darrel, we are all family. We make life in some strange way bearable. We cannot really say misery loves company..........but I just did. I hope all of yours, mine, and our misery is lightened in some way in this new year. Otherwise, next New Years day, we will be giving out the same wishes. Best wishes to you Darrel (and for us all) for coming times.

Joyce, I left so fast, I threw stuff in boxes and still have those big plastic boxes with lids and handles. I opened one and there was an important card on top. I know it was important because I had written some time in the last hundred years that "this card is important" and when I saw that, I put the lid back on the box and now I'm through opening boxes. If you remember, I did my moving soon after he left me. And Joyce, I honestly cannot remember much that first year. I know I physically moved in here but I do not remember too much about it. I can only think I am now coming out of my shock. I have wonderful people leasing my house and at the end of their three year lease they hope to assume the loan. No problems so far and they have made so many improvements I know they don't want to leave it and they take so much better care of it that I know the house loves them better than me. You are sorta in the same fix I was in, I needed to get closer to my mom and sister to help them. My family was all down here then but have since moved back to Hot Springs, the region we had lived in for nearly 20 years. Both have life up there though. They want me to come back and I cannot. I am glad I did it before I thought about it. I am glad I did it when I was still in shock. Billy was not here waiting for me and honestly, no place is home. For us home was only where they were when they were with us. One thing that has helped me was doing things that Billy and I did not do together. I don't want to go into trying to carry out our plans, they were ours. I am in a place where I hear people now, I am not afraid, and no Billy would not have lived here, but he really does not live here even though sometimes I feel him close. I feel I am where I am supposed to be and those boxes make good bedside tables and stacked in closets, etc. The things I gave away, the kids got what they wanted and I gave away other things and I really got all new things. I don't know why, even my clothes and I don't know why. Certainly not to dress up, just new ones like my old ones. Got the new car. I don't know why we do things. I have been here 18 months. I really think shock covered the first year. I have renewed friendships and sometimes wish I could just stay inside and hide, but I have so many things and places I have to go that maybe it is good to push me on. I don't know. I exist. I can say I did not want to be where he left me. And honestly, sometimes I feel like "okay, I don't make sense, who cares." I wish you the best Joyce and that you feel peace in your new house. Please let us hear from you more often now. If you don't want to open a box, don't. Heck, I even bought new silverware. (Stainless steel). Again, do not know why. Boxes take up my dining room. I'm not ready to open them. I may never open them.

“Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'...” ― Alfred Tennyson I hope the sun shines on all of us sometime this next year and we have a glimmer of happiness and health for all of us.

Tom, I go as far as to not watch a TV show or movie that was made in 2015. My granddaughter does not understand that. Me either. Dear "MYSM," all of our grief had endings that were different. When it is all added up, compared, debated, there is one thing in common. Our partner is gone and we grieve and we feel guilt, and we feel anger at ourselves for things we think "we should have done" but nothing changes the outcome. And our grief is not all equal, sometimes we awake from nightmare grief, grief that we don't understand had to happen, things we think we should have done, would have done different, and that final look at our beloved and the fact that he/she is gone from us is a disaster we think we cannot ever get over. Our brains are miraculous instruments. If there is something so horrible it makes you want to disappear forever, sometimes if you let it, the brain does take over and the term I borrowed from Rose Kennedy, was that it forms scar tissue over the wound. And, it can be ripped off if we dwell on that final glance, the final moments. I had many years of psychotherapy fighting the aftermaths of cancer, the treatments, the uncertainty and the survivor's guilt with losing my two best friends and my dad all at once, while I was fighting to live. I had strange things happen to my subconscious, my brain, where I would form times of disassociation. The bad thing was, I looked forward to not being in my own mind and in talking to the psychiatrist (15 years, one shrink), I totally trusted her. She said the brain protects itself sometimes by the disassociation episodes. If I was able to make them come on now, I would. It was brain overload, and even though I feel I have brain overload now, I cannot bring them back. People used to have "simple" nervous breakdowns. I guess that covers a wide range of things and think probably some of us have our own mini-nervous breakdown every day. I am 26 months from Billy's leaving me. My strange reaction was to leave the house, leave the state, get new clothes (not for narcissistic purpose), get new silverware, not open the 15-17 boxes (big plastic boxes with tops with handles) and left things behind I wonder where they are now. I even got a new tiny car. I moved 175 miles away to where we started, I could not live where we ended.. Maybe that was my nervous breakdown. I have not regretted it. I don't want to visit the places we lived and he left me at these places. I came back "home" to a place that was not home, but as close as I can get without him. Home was him. We all handle things different, but you have to think of yourself and do what is best for you. We have all found, no one else is going to do it for us, the path we travel is all different and it is lined with snarly characters, well meaning people, and people that really want to help. Either reach out, if that is what you want to do, or seek help in groups like this. I joined 3 days after Billy left me and I would like to think maybe he had something to do with that, because I did not use his 50 morphine pills to do what I saw as my release from the pain. And, I think this place kept me safe.

Actually happy to see them happy, sad because I know it won't last, one will have sorrow. When we are happy and both of us are well, in health, that looks like happiness. Today is the anniversary of a friend of mine and her husband, one of my granddaughter's teachers, our favorite teacher ever. She had a first marriage, I don't know what happened, there was a child, and then she was on her own, with that child. I did not know her then. But, the second marriage she has gotten right. I am going to steal some of her words as it described mine and Billy's marriage. "Since that day, we have had more than our share of bumps in the road. We’ve endured some pretty rough times, but we have always fought to hang on to each other- and we are stronger because of it. I think that’s the greatest thing our relationship has taught me- that true love is not some perfect fairytale made up of sunshine and roses. True love is one disaster after another with little glimpses of beauty in between." And, if I had to do it over again, I would make all my mistakes all over again, and I would understand why Billy made it hell for the first nine years, and I think I would do the same thing to "pay him back" although two wrongs do not make a right. Knowing my own mind though, if I had done it differently, the forgiveness would not have come and the intolerance would have ruined a perfectly good marriage of two imperfect people. And again........he was perfect for me. It is what it is, and it was what it was. And all the stains did "come out in the wash." My only regret was not allowing him to leave while I was holding him in my arms. I had the chance, but I was not letting him go.

Well, you would love my neighbors. I heard him reciting something from the wedding vows the other day. They have a grown son and are somewhere around mine and Billy's age. He is disabled, part of the time, cannot stand for very long. I don't know why, perhaps I am morbid, but when I see older people holding hands I am sad and happy at the same time. But, it is like I can see the future and know one of them is going to have sorrow, like we do. Maybe I feel that way because I am older. "I am him and he is me" but he is gone, yet I am still him, just without him. We had made plans before, we had the plans crash, and we had plans again. Now neither one of us has plans. Just filling up empty hours. I miss all our full hours.. I miss Billy. But, I am still here for a reason, maybe punishment for past deeds. Depends on how you look at it. Feels like punishment. It seems selfish to want any happiness if he cannot share it with me. Strange, I am not jealous of you young ones, yet what is in front of me is assisted living, nursing home, or quick death. Maybe I am luckier.

George, you are enough, and I appreciate you and your experience. I appreciate the prayers I know you sent up in my behalf and so many others. (As for the clicking on the things, I still do not understand, I tried it different). But, there are a lot of things I don't understand. This is something Billy used to do, and as much as I miss him, this always brings a smile to my heart. Billy would be telling me how to do something, or he would be explaining something (and after a few years of this), I would tell him I understood because we would be there all day with Billy gently explaining something to me if I said I didn't understand. Now, in my family, if they say I did something, or said something, I do not argue the point with them because I don't want to think too hard on anything. Used to Billy would let the memory thing bother him and a week later we would be driving somewhere, walking, or just in the living room or bedroom and he would come out with a name, just out of the blue. He had worried until he remembered. I always had the "Gone With the Wind" quote "I'll think about that tomorrow." Right now, I wish I could listen to him explain anything, and I would never complain about his using his duck, quail, turkey, crow calls. I tried not to complain about them much anyhow because I always had it in my mind "one of these days you might wish you could hear him with those calls). I have a beautiful wood cabinet with glass front and red velvet lining where he kept his calls and the cabinet was attached to the wall. I have it in my bedroom, but I have never hung it on a wall. I won't. And, that is a word salad, jumping from one thing to another. You are truly a good man George and I hope you and your dad enjoyed your Christmas dinner and I wish you the best New Year and also commend you for getting healthy.

I think Kay said he was in God's hands. There are no words I can say for you, your wife, your children, and the worry you carry is monumental. Our hearts being with you does not take the weight off your shoulders, and we all wish we could help in some way. Thank you for keeping us updated. I cannot even imagine the strength you have to carry for your whole family.

When I "react" to something and it has an X over the heart, I want the heart too. I don't understand when I do this. Gonna play with it a little. I usually just "punch" it because I read it and like it. Am I supposed to do anything else?

Some where along the line our fairy tale life showed us "and they lived happily ever after" was just a fairy tale. I still hang on to Billy's "I am you and you are me" as he said over and over. But, I cannot see him. Ever so often I remember a familiar presence and the feel that he is near disappears as fast as it came. Like seeing the mirage of water in the desert, it is there, but it is not. I hate to keep saying this, because before Billy left he would not have let me get old, his ego would have never accepted old. He went out as only he could. And I am left with the him that was me, but he is a mirage in this desert. C.S. Lewis said "Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” I'm waiting.

Could quote a sentence, thought from every line. You hit them all. I suppose one difference is that I talk to Billy all the time.......and Jesus, in a prayer, just talking, letting both of them listening. Know that is not your thing, and that is okay, I'm sure I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. But, we do whatever we can to help at the moment. Except the stable weight. I was on the low residue diet when Billy was with me and did not gain. He left and "Katy bar the door" and I am lucky I do not have diabetes. No resolutions, I only lie to myself. But, I've got to do something to start taking care of the extra 30 pounds. I would not have done it if Billy was around. Excuses, excuses. You've got a handle on things Brad, despite the tears, and that music your listening to will do it. Heck, I tried the Oak Ridge Boys and cried all the way through the CD. Gotta find my musical CD's without words. And, I was positive I could go back to listening to Elvis. Billy hated Elvis. I cannot listen to him without crying. We are all writing our own book and I am the person that likes to skip to the back of the book and read the ending. I usually go back to where I left off and read it again. I cannot skip to the back of this book, they are blank pages for us all. We just have to fill them with something. I guess we could water warp them.

Allen, you have fought this grief, this unimaginable grief along with your dad. Our hearts are with your family and our prayers also, please let him know we are all praying for him, we all have him and your family in our hearts.

Politics are just words made up by rich fools. No one compares politics to our kind of grief. Sure, they give us grief if we watch them, but they are the fabled ant on an elephant's rear end compared to our worries. I might tease our Canadian friends about changing leaders, but that is just foolish banter. Now, we are not supposed to argue religion either, but that is one thing I think we are given leeway with if we don't try to shove it down anyone's throat. Anything that gives any one individual respite from the horrible feelings we all have is mentioned. But, no one tries to argue it. Right now, one of our own, has all but given up and we that do pray, we that do believe in it, we pray our silent prayers for him. And, it is not anyone's business how they handle their own grief. Perhaps "handle" is too easy a word. We wrestle with it, we fight it, we try to "develop scar tissue" to help cover the open wound. There are many analogies to whatever path we take. Anger is one of them. We turn it inward, we turn it outward, but the problem of grief is still there. Our Butch has been covered with grief and it has pummeled him into not wanting to eat, drink, or talk. We have our own grief and can only imagine the mountain he is trying to climb, and having such a hard time with it. For those that pray, for those that believe in it, it is all we can do and for those that do not believe in it, they offer compassion from deep within our minds and hearts and can only imagine the depths of despair that he is fighting. He has fought this unimaginable weight of all his grief in a short period of time. And we worry.

Thanks Kay. I admire people that can get their opinion, determination, plan, whatever open to people to understand in one or two sentences. I do write books every time I write. But, I wish I could get what I want to say done in just those one or two sentences.