Margm

Dave, we had 54 years, mostly dedicated to family, but we still were together through it all. When we retired in 1997, we were still "young" enough to have lots of life left. I wrote a letter to each kid and one to my mama. My mama laughed. One "kid" said "family does not leave family." We just wanted to full time RV. We had prepared for it by getting rid of everything and living in an RV for 5-6 years before we retired, so I guess we were actually full-timing even then. We would move from RV park to RV park and still go to work, still two vehicles. We were play-acting. When we physically retired to a river in Arkansas, just for a few days, I looked at the falling leaves and thought this was the happiest time of my life. Then we hit the road. For one full year until our son wound up in the ER and we knew what we had to do, and we did it. I saw people traveling in their RV's and I was so jealous. Okay, in March of 2015 we thought it was time again. I was one year out of nearly dying, I think the family thought I would. I wasn't afraid, I just kept rowing the boat. Seven months later Billy suddenly left. We were not young, but we thought we had some life left. We had a lot of years that I am so fortunate to have had. It was not long enough.. It never is.

I guess that is also a phenomenon. He never got old, to me, even at 75, his beard was almost white all over, but to me he was the 20 year old that I married. He was a few days from being 21, and the people I knew, they got old. Billy didn't. Now he never will.

Cookie, we miss them so much. Reality hits you in the face. They are not here. I want to touch his high cheekbones (I loved that), he never got old to me (but we were), his soft sweet hands. I still saw the turned up nose, the beautiful blue eyes (that time was making it tough because he needed a lid lift because they were falling over his eyes), but he needed a life lift the most. I see him. I see him in the clouds. I talk to him in the sky. I beg him to help me, though I know that is futile. Both of my kids have serious health issues, too serious. My son had a certified letter from the liver clinic at the VA, and that scares me. I realize he did not leave on purpose. I realize we had 54 years together, but why do they seem like such a short time? I am sincerely trying to build up the scar tissue Rose Kennedy talked about. I am trying to get on with my living. New clinic to take my granddaughter to.. Not a huge city, but I have directions mapped out totally. It is 68 miles from my apartment. My life has been riding on roads I did not know where they went. Hated going down the same road twice. A bit of my daddy's traits in me. He would take the back road every chance he got, but when you have an appointment, you do not get to choose. This will be going through country roads (which I love), but have to make it at appointment time. My granddaughter loves going the "long way" around things so she can listen to her music list on the car radio. I have become a groupie of teenage groups. My life is such a contradiction. Addendum: The letter from the VA was not bad news, so I can delay worry for my son. Both middle aged "kids" miss Billy so much.

Strange phenomenon. I forget my dreams. I remember as soon as I wake up but they just dissolve and I don't remember them again. I don't like to sleep in the daytime at all, no naps, but sometimes (not often, probably 3-5 times in two years). Bri is going to early school now and sometimes I guess I kinda wear myself down.. Back right after Billy left I went to sleep in a chair in front of the TV and he was beside me waking me up. It felt like him, I could see him, he kissed me on the forehead. Today I have dozed off twice and Billy was there when I woke up. I don't know why that happens, it does not happen in the mornings after sleeping all night but disturbing sleep (not meaning to doze off) and he was there. I have been letting the scar tissue build up, willing it to be so, this rips it off. I don't like this. I am going to wash clothes, won't drift off again. No good feeling, just hurt. Some might welcome it, but it just makes it seem like he is still here and he isn't. Do not know why that happens, something about neurons and synapses and REM (light sleep, rapid eye movement sleep), not restful sleep. (And I don''t claim to know what any of that means except the REM sleep.) Used to type polysomnograms.

My mom always told me that she gave so much to my sister because I had Billy and my sister had no one, and she still has no one, that is how she wanted it. But, I never really cared. I loved my job so much that sometimes I was working at three different hospitals a week. Also, we both would be taken care of after retirement, and Billy had 17 years of retirement. I worked cause my work was more a hobby. I did not care what my sister received, after all, she had no one else. Before Mama passed away I signed everything over to her. Nothing I want except Billy, and that is a futile want. George, I knew my mom never "thought right" and your dad might just have lost his way awhile back. I lost my way awhile back and happiness does not sit on my shoulders or sane thinking go on between my ears. Your dad, probably lost your mom a few years back, and I doubt his thinking is clear or if it ever will be.

I think I was born a nomad. RVing was to be our life. I always wanted to see over the next hill, around the next curve. Family would not stand for it so we had no choice but live in brix and stix. No place is home without Billy. He was a nomad also. Actually, I stay in one place now doing my waiting game. I have friends that have lived in one house their whole married life. Seventeen years was the longest for us, just so the kids could stay in one school system, and now, I just don't care. One friend, her father was born in one house and died in that same house about 90 years later. The only reason I am still in one place, after moving, is because Billy is not here. I still have about 15 unpacked big plastic boxes. Do not have plans to unpack. This is not my home. No place is my home without Billy. He was my home. I - don't - care - where - I - am - as - long - as - I - have - a - bed - microwave - and - refrigerator, AC/heat - ceiling fans - and - Walmart......oh, and a bathroom.

If it works for you Kevin, you do not have it wrong. Remember one size does not fit all, and my size has to have room to stretch.

I will admit the loss of my friend's husband hit me low because it fit my mood. "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." Then I visited a friend's site. She was a school teacher with part-time work at the hospital I worked. We were not close, but acquaintances, maybe friends. She lost her husband, immediately moved to of all places, Kansas. Hey, Kansas is home to lots of happy people. She joined a group called "Adventurous Babe's Society" and they are living life to the fullest that is left to them. This is not a book club, they shake, rattle, and I doubt roll, but they travel, and they have a good time. I think I see drinking glasses in their pictures, but who knows, could be orange juice. Just a bunch of women actually enjoying each other's company, women who have lost part of their life but have channeled that loss into a group of senior women actually having fun. And we ask how, when, and why? . Again, no answers, but I don't think they are a church group, and that is okay. Then today I saw pictures of two OLD friends. Came from my hometown. Spent their life as missionaries in foreign countries. They are now 85 and 86. The pictures were of them in jumping from an airplane. Miracle of miracles, they still have each other and the smiles on their faces make them ageless. The doctor told Billy and me "woulda, coulda, shoulda" and the fact was we "did'a" but he fell through the cracks and left so fast my head still swims and I cannot believe he is gone. Still, there are people trying to pull themselves out of this quicksand of grief. I don't really try. My granddaughter takes up my time and trying to see that this mentally abused child/woman has a life. I know I escaped from an oppressive mother, from the frying pan into the fire. We fought our way to happiness and had a lot of happy memories, more than bad. Sometimes visiting those happy memories still hurts so you visit when you can, or you don't visit at all. I don't think I will be joining an "Adventurous Babe's Society" but I sure admire those women for fighting their own adversity and trying to enjoy life. From the pictures I have seen, I don't think they are faking their happiness. So, with work, it can be done. Or we can grieve ourselves to death, and I saw yesterday, that can be done also.

I have no answers. I have learned that life can still shock me. I cannot imagine the hurt it can hurl our way, cannot believe it, but it does. We have all lost our buffer. We have lost the one we could tell our troubles to. I wish I could put my thoughts in 2-3 lines instead of writing a book. I have written last night and today and I have deleted. It gets too long and my words certainly will not help. I have become cynical. Yesterday, my very close childhood neighbor and friend, her husband passed away. She had called me after I retired to that AR tourist town. She was visiting. We had kept in touch through my relatives who lived behind her folks. She lost her fight with colon cancer soon afterwards. Some people have personalities that light up the day. She did. Her husband's death made me sad, but I was surprised it took him this long. He did not take care of himself. He actually was skin and bones. They had family who will mourn him terribly, but I could only think of the words of a sad country song, "He Stopped Loving Her Today." And, my mustard seed faith made me think that finally they were together again (another country song.) I think I will turn on the news. At least it provides aggravation and shock. Don't knock it, aggravation and shock are "feelings." We have 24 hours to get through. If we can sleep, that takes away from conscious hours. And, unless you read, watch TV, go for a walk, put up with relatives, if you have them, then the minutes tick by. Some are searching for a semblance of peace and maybe a moment that you are not suffering grief so hard. My friend's husband, it took him a few years but he finally followed her. Guess we can live life to a sad country song, or explore the minutes left for something. I hesitate to call it happiness, but I do think some of you might find it again. It won't be the same, but nothing ever will again. Mostly, all we look for is a reason to make those 24 hours.I saw proof yesterday that you actually can grieve yourself to death. I call my words "word salads" because it is a term used in mental illness. "confused or unintelligible mixture of seemingly random words and phrases", I think it comfortably fits me.

Today I cannot believe I've ever complained. Sometimes you just have to be thankful for some blessings. If I didn't have to see them, I would delete all my word salads. Sometimes we all lose our smiles. I am so sorry.

No words. Just beyond belief. I know my fingers don't want to type. Butch, I'm so sorry beyond anything I can imagine.

I worked part-time for three family practice docs. I remember when I was a child, all we had were GP's, and I think Marty can attest to this. They knew the family. They knew the patient. They even sometimes made house calls in our little papermill town. The family practice docs had to have new training in the new techniques every three years. They treated everything. When my new family practice doc gave me the antidepressant and I knew that one medicine could have killed me, when they called me back to come in for the bone density tests, I told them I would not be returning to this doc. She had not listened to a word I said. I told her I probably needed referral to a neurologist for my tremor, she actually was hateful to me about my not wanting the antidepressants and I knew she had not listened to a word I said. I "fired" her and now know I need to find a doc that will listen to me. Actually, we all know ourselves better than a first visit to a doc. Sometimes now, specialty docs will only take referrals from a family practice doc. We cannot protect our mate anymore, but we can protect ourselves. Sometimes it feels like we are in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. We know the mistakes that can be made and if a person is not trained sufficiently to hear our grief, don't let them treat you. I did go to my nurse practitioner that I had become comfortable with in AR, but it is about a 150 mile drive. She looked at the new medicine given to me and said that she wondered how the doc thought I could afford it. It was a free "sample" but, having worked for docs many times, I knew how that worked too. My insurance picks up after a certain amount, and mostly gives me generics that I don't even touch my insurance, although they add it in and the cost is insignificant. Those without a generic, the cost are horrible, especially for fixed income people. I could not believe it, but some people without money for prescriptions, without insurance, they would go to the local farm store and buy antibiotics for farm animals. I could not believe this until I heard some people talking that did this. We have such a mixed up health system now. I know for a fact (my daughter worked as a nurse for doc's) they will put a 15 minute timer on each patient. More patients seen means more money for the practice.

Can do nothing but agree with this.

I'm sorry Mitch. Sometimes tolerable actually becomes a word/feeling that we welcome. I hope your family gets better news.

Sometimes they hit and you just feel so empty, helpless, then you just get on with it. What else can you do? But, you keep going, helpless for an instant.

Today my daily reading in Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD's book gave a quote from Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. He immediately gave his own understanding and that he does not agree that "grief ever discretely "ends',' (it softens and erupts less frequently as, over time, we do the work of mourning.) I think I agree with everything this man says anyhow, because he talks to me, about me. No one has talked to me like he does, and there is not much that I argue with him about. I read some of your thoughts, all of you, and I see people that mourn with a sadness that I don't think will ever lessen with time. But, that actually speaks of my own mourning. And, though the shock has lessened, the loss itself has not. Then some decide to move on from this grief and find new love, a new life, and you think "maybe this is possible for me too." And, really, it might be. It does no good for me to think of my grandma saying after 18 years it was as if it was yesterday. She is now with her "knight" so, unknowing actively of life after death, I hope to be with Billy one day also. At my age, probably sooner than later. " ..........promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep" (RF) I think this is a good forum to show both sides of the mirror. I have friends who found new loves. They did not lose their mates at my age. My years with one person does not make me immune to other happiness, but it does make me immune to wanting to move on with another. (Besides, as many years as I lived with this one man, I know if he could talk to me, he would tell me to "be still" until I could be with him again). Even in angelic form, I would know this man's thoughts. I have no desire to move on though. I am not drowning in my grief, it is just there with me at all times, and again, he is me. Still, I would not deny, probably my best friend, the 14 years of happiness she found with another mate. This one "treats her like a queen" and while we were to talk about her deceased husband, we have not, and since he was Billy's friend and mine too, and she was both of our's friend too, I am happy she found 14 years of happiness. She had been angry for so long. This husband hangs on a tenuous thread, but those are 14 years she did not grieve so actively. Her mom lost three husbands, but each time she found happiness again. A couple of years before Billy left, we visited his parents graves. To the right of them, just up a couple of rows was Danny's grave. Danny had been Billy's best friend throughout his life. He married his high school sweetheart and when he came in from Vietnam, he found her with another man. Many, many years later they remarried. She placed a marker in the cemetery for him with her name beside his. For some reason, possibly because she did not want people to wonder why she was not buried beside him, on her side she had engraved "married _____, and the date" and Billy just got really angry. To him it was as if she had put a dagger in Danny's heart. Danny was gone though, but like Billy, I could see no reason to have that engraved on the stone for the world to see. You see, that was my Billy, and I was his until time we could be together again. He sometimes was a complex man, but I loved the complexity of him also. One size really does not fit all.

And George, you provide us all with a lot of healing prayers. Whether people believe in them or not, you believe in them, I believe in them and the rest are covered whether they want to be or not. Thank you for being who you are and Thanks to your mate for being there with you for 26 years. There are never enough years. If I had had 150 years with Billy, it would not have been enough. He is me.

I'm not reading backwards, but I think of it mostly in biblical terms. But, knowing my mama, maybe it was "mama-cal" terms. Just being human.

I kept hearing your part of Florida mentioned and would just think "oh no!" I am glad you are okay. Thank you for letting us hear from you. Now we need to hear from others too.

I'm glad you found this site. I found it after three days. I have never tried to go back and read that note because it would open the scar tissue that is very tenuous at best. Next month will be two years and I still look to the sky and say "I cannot believe you left me." My memory is very selective too. I do block out things that I might have to remember one day. I think we are to face our grief and I really don't know how to keep from facing it. I do stupid things like not watching anything on TV that has the year 2015 in it. I think I'll quit now. I do go on too much sometimes.

Honestly Kevin, I was referring to something in the biblical sense I thought I remembered hearing in sermons, but I looked it up and it says "a character flaw that is usually not readily apparent." Who knows. Kind of like me using the term "word salads," which I think used to be used by psychiatric docs for people that talked in a way you could not understand, words not making sense. Which actually is how I talk most of the time. Some of the colloquialisms that I use come from being a southern, country papermill town gal. Others from just being a dumb___. And, we have the hurricanes on our coasts down south, how are y'all doing with the woods burning? Wish we could tilt the water up on top of the burning.

Hello Mary, good to have you on board. Glad Marty rode out the storm. Wish we could take all that excess water and dump it on our burning country. Lots of worries, lots of clean up. Thanks for helping.

Oh Butch, again, no words, only prayers.

Why worry with ignoramuses? Remember that the lion does not worry about the opinion of sheep. Just know, and it is not really a good thing to know, but one of these days, if they have any humanity about them at all they will wonder "why did I say that to someone that hurt so bad?" And, they will understand. It really gives us no satisfaction knowing that, especially with all our sadness going on right now. People come on FB with opposing political and religious views than I have and I have to think "what are my political views?" And it is strange, all the people I grew up with have what I believe to be opposing views. I'm really not sure. I think my "thinking" is like my swimming, I prefer the shallow end of the pool. I worry about our members in these hurricanes and my granddaughter and family, they are all on the road somewhere. I wish they had enough sense to just hunker down cause they are not in a mandatory evacuation zone. And my daughter, the little teratomas have spread. They do not grow like cancer, they just spread like wind blowing a dandelion. And of course, we have these people saying it is the end of time. A snake born with two heads. I did not read about that. All I can remember is coming out of my Missionary Baptist services every Sunday after a fire and brimstone sermon and being scared to go out the front door. Knew I was not gonna be the first one out the door. And when it is all added together, what does any of it matter except the safety of all our people. And, maybe the moon is full, cause this has not been a good week for anyone I know.

Sean, I still don't know what to say. All I can say is "No words help, prayer" and for some people that is not good enough. But, we can say no words to help. And, we now know that. I wish we didn't.