AprilRain

Oh Ruth, what a terribly sad story, I'm so very sorry for all that you've been through. Thank you for coming here to share. I'm sorry that both of us (all of us) are here but glad that we've found a place we can come to vent, cry, and share with others who understand and will never judge. More (((((hugs))))) for you. Wendi

Ruth, newbie here but I wanted to give you some support as well. I hope today is better than yesterday. All we can do is get through it one day at a time and there will be bad days and better days (can't say I've had a truly 'good' day yet). I know nothing can replace being held by your beloved Michael, but I hope cyber ((((((hugs)))))) and understanding from a stranger can provide at least a small amount of comfort.

geminigirl, I'm so sorry you are going through this right now. I can totally relate. My husband died six months ago and I need to sell our house for financial and emotional reasons. This was not our first home together but we built this house together from the ground up (not physically but you know what I mean). Leaving is going to be very hard because every inch of this house from the floors to the cabinets, paint, lighting, finishes, etc. we chose together. But the hardest part for me was selling his stuff - all of his exercise equipment and his office furniture. Also going through his office and throwing away files, papers, and supplies that are no longer of use. I told my therapist that I felt like I was erasing his life. I know I'm just doing what I need to do to move on, but like you said, in a way it feels like a betrayal. As others have said, you will take your memories with you no matter where you go, and photos and videos of your home will help you to keep that special place close to your heart. I wish you strength and peace in the difficult days ahead.

I want to thank everyone who responded for your kind words. I feel like I've learned something from each of you. Being a newbie on a message board is hard because you feel like you're at a gathering where everyone knows each other but you (sort of like the party I posted about in a different thread) but this might be the most important message board I've ever/ever will join. So I'm going to do my best to overcome my shyness and stick around to get to know you all, learn from your experiences, share my own, and join in the healing process. I'd like to share something I saw on Facebook that really had an impact on me. It's a sculpture called "The Weight of Grief" that I think exactly captures the pain that we've all been through. At the same time I think it also depicts depression, and it helps me to understand the unbearable pain my husband was feeling before he ended his life. I'm going to try to post a picture but I'll also post a link in case that doesn't work and so you can read about it. Here goes... http://qz.com/672131/a-sculpture-that-perfectly-captures-the-weight-of-grief/

As a new member here it's incredible to find these threads that address issues that I've been dealing with alone and to realize there are so many others facing the same things. About 3 months after my husband died I was invited to a 21st birthday party for the son of some people I've known for years. My son and their son played soccer together and became great friends, so our friendship developed from that. They are extremely social people with a huge circle of friends. DH and I had been to many of their parties but neither of us felt very comfortable there. It sounds terrible to say but my husband was not a very friendly or likable person so by extension I was always kept at arms length. I thought this party would be my chance to be the "real me" and have fun, socialize, get to know people better, and maybe even form the beginning of some friendships. But as soon as I got there I felt just as out of place as ever. I tried to mingle but just felt shut out. I ended up outside with a glass of wine, sitting alone on a porch swing crying. The birthday boy's dad came out and talked to me for a while and I told him that maybe I just wasn't ready for this. He took me by the hand and tried introducing me to some people but I was past that point and I just couldn't stop crying. The only reason I stayed was because I knew my son was coming and I desperately wanted to see him. So while I waited I sat alone drinking glass after glass of wine (big mistake) and by the time he got there I was a mess. I cried like a baby on his shoulder, ruining his evening I'm sure, and later on ended up jumping into the pool in my clothes because a bunch of other women had and I wanted to be part of the crowd. I just ended up looking like a fool. Suffice it to say my first foray back into the world as a widow was a colossal failure and I don't think I'll ever be able to show my face in that crowd again. But I think I learned some things from it. If those people weren't my friends before they're not gong to magically become my friends now, especially given my situation. I think I'm better off sticking to smaller groups and not big parties. I need to do what I enjoy doing, and hopefully meet like-minded people and grow friendships that way. And for God's sake, lay off the wine! I'm so glad I found this forum where I can share my failures and hopefully someday soon my successes as I try to move forward into uncharted territory.

Just found this thread and it brought back all my sexy widowed Saturday nights from the last six months. Pretty much all the same, sitting alone on the couch (with an occasional visit from my cat) with a glass of wine, falling asleep watching tv. Twice I've fallen asleep with said glass of wine in my hand and spilled it all over myself and the couch. Now THERE'S some Saturday night excitement!

What a great thread, and so timely for me. I've been widowed 6 months and I'm getting ready to take my first solo trip in October. I will be traveling through Pennsylvania visiting family and friends, then going to Canada to visit a friend in Toronto. Although I will be visiting for the most part, I will be doing some things on my own, going to a hockey game in Ottawa (my team is playing there at the same time I'll be there, so why not?) and I'm going to spend a few days at Niagara Falls by myself. And all of the flying/driving from place to place will be solo. I'm a little nervous, but also looking forward to the autonomy and being able to do whatever I want. And reading about all of your experiences has given me a little shot of courage. If I've learned anything it's that life is short and tomorrow is never guaranteed, so if there's something you want to do and you have the means - do it!

Nonesuch, your topic title describes me exactly. There's a lot I don't miss but so much that I do. And although I go through life doing what needs to be done and smiling when it's called for, I wear a cloak of sadness at all times. You are not alone.

TooSoon, I understand completely and I'm right there with you. My husband died in the master bedroom and I haven't slept in there or used the master bath since, I use the guest room. I was at my exercise class when he died, and I know the exact spot I was at when it happened because I got inexplicably dizzy for a moment and then it passed. For the longest time I avoided being in that particular spot but one day it was the only spot available so I fought my way through it. I still try to avoid it but I'm not afraid of it anymore. Baby steps.

Thank you for the warm welcome everyone, I already feel that I'm among friends. One reason I'm hesitant to share my story is that I feel it's different from most people's stories, but I have a feeling I may discover I'm not as different as I think. So here goes. And believe it or not this is the short version, there are so many relevant details but this would go on for days if I tried to include everything. I was unhappy in my marriage for many years, but I never had the nerve to leave. There was always a reason to stay; money, my son, the prospect of being alone. But the biggest reason was fear. My husband was not abusive in the usual sense, but he was jealous and controlling and I was always afraid of what he might do if I tried to leave. My son grew up and left home, and another year passed until I finally mustered up the courage to tell my husband I wanted out. Long story short, it took three times over the course of a year before I was actually able to stick to my convictions and start making plans to leave. At first he seemed accepting and we would even discuss my moving out. I started sleeping in the guest room and he told me I could stay as long as I needed to (there was never any question that I would be the one to move out, since I was the one ending the marriage). But then he started having issues - at first he couldn't sleep, then he started losing weight, and he became very depressed. Things got worse and worse and he stopped going to work. He went to the doctor and found out that his testosterone level was critically low. He got medication for that but it didn't seem to do much. He tried different sleeping pills and antidepressants but nothing helped. He begged me to stay until he could get straightened out and I agreed, I told him I'd stay as long as he needed me to. I knew that I was being emotionally blackmailed, but he was in such pitiful condition I couldn't bring myself to desert him. One day just before Christmas last year, he swallowed every pill he had - I came home from work and found him and couldn't wake him. He survived this attempt and spent a Baker acted week in a behavioral health facility. He spoke to a therapist and psychiatrist each day, they adjusted his medications and I had hope that he had hit rock bottom and this would be the start of his recovery. But to be safe I took the gun that he kept under his mattress and hid it. After he came home he never asked me about it so I was reassured that he hadn't noticed it missing. His depression didn't ease, even after several medication adjustments. Our life settled into a holding pattern. He sat at home every day while I went to work. Every day I would ask him if he was going to call the therapist that he'd seen in the hospital to make a follow up appointment and he said he would. Every night I'd come home and ask him and he'd say "no, I'll call her tomorrow." I couldn't get him to do anything - go for a walk, go to the grocery store, nothing. All he did was sit and stare at the tv. He hadn't worked in three months but his boss (bless his heart) continued to pay him his full salary. Finally at the beginning of February his boss told him he couldn't continue to pay him, he'd either have to come back to work (but only if he was ready), or be laid off. He didn't feel he had a choice, so he went back. He worked a few days and would come home and tell me that he just couldn't do it. I tried to convince him that he hadn't lost his knowledge or skill, just his confidence, and he just needed to take it one day at a time and it would get easier each day. Then one night he said to me "I'm not going to make it." I assumed he was talking about work and asked what he was going to do, and he told me he wasn't going to quit but he didn't think they would keep him on if he couldn't do the job (he was in construction management by the way). Then he went on to say "You should have never done what you did" - meaning trying to end the marriage. I told him that all I "did" was to be honest with myself and him for the first time in years, but that I wasn't going anywhere and reassured him that I would stay with him until he got better. Friday morning I got up to go to my early morning exercise class. I woke him before I left so he could get up and get ready for work. I would get home before he left so I told him I'd see him in a little bit, and he said okay. About 5 minutes into the class, I got extremely dizzy and had to stop for a few moments. It passed, I didn't think anything of it, and I finished the class. When I got home I found him - he had shot himself in the head. I had completely forgotten about the small gun he had put in my nightstand. I hate guns and hadn't thought about that one in years. You can imagine the rest - the shock, the horror, the police, the funeral, the guilt, the guilt, the guilt. As I said I'm seeing a therapist and I've joined a support group, and of course everyone tells me I'm not to blame. And looking back I can think of so many signs of mental illness that I mistook for character flaws. But the words he said to me that night still haunt me. And I think of all the things I didn't do that may have helped. What if I'd hid the second gun? Why wasn't I more insistent that he get help? Why didn't I make an appointment for him and take him? (I actually did make him an appointment but he took his life before that day came.) Maybe if I'd just made a clean break and left he would have dealt with it better. It goes on and on. And I feel so damned hypocritical playing the grieving widow when all along I wanted out of the marriage. But I am grieving, I am sad, I am traumatized. My son lost his father, my SIL lost her brother, many people lost a friend. I know it's only been six months but I don't know if I'll ever be able to completely let go of feeling responsible for his death. If you've made it this far, thank you. It's been a long road and I am doing okay for the most part, but the guilt that I carry around with me is overwhelming at times. I'm hoping that joining this forum will give me another outlet to air my feelings and find some comfort and/or commiseration. What a terrible club to belong to, I'm so sorry for each and every one of you.

Actually I don't know what qualifies as young, I'm 55 but I don't feel like I'm 55, so does young at heart count? I lost my husband to suicide this past February. We would have been married 25 years in July. Our only child, a son, will turn 21 next month. I've started typing my story a few times but I find that there's no way to tell it succinctly, and I really don't want my first post to be a novel. So for now I'll just say I'm glad I found you and I will come in and read your stories and all the beautiful words of support you have to offer each other until I am comfortable enough to share my own story. Although I am seeing a therapist and I've found a wonderful support group, this seems like a place where I can come 24/7 when I need to vent, or cry, or express those dark thoughts that I can only share with those who really understand. I look forward to getting to know you all and hopefully one day offering support to others who have have suffered/are suffering this unimaginable pain.