LostMyCharles

I sent our wedding bands to a jeweler to meld together into a double infinity pendant; I'm attaching a picture of the inspiration (hope it works!!). I'm also having our daughter's birthstone placed in the middle of the two loops. I plan on wearing the necklace daily.

Ironically, I had stopped wearing my wedding ring about a year before C's death because I had gained weight and it became too tight. The day after he died, I put it back on. Now, at almost 6 months out, I have stopped wearing it again because the summer heat makes my fingers swell. I have decided to have our wedding rings melded together into an infinity symbol to wear as a pendent, either on a necklace or a bracelet, not sure which. We all have our own timetables, and our own ways of coping. Do not second-guess yourself. You are making decisions based on gut reactions, and nobody can (or should) fault you for that or say that you're "doing it wrong." If they do, screw them. Jessica

Uplifting, yes. But the 4th, 5th and 6th lines still make me sob (I'm a little under 6 months in)... This is from the movie Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast (I have a 5 yo); the movie also made me cry, and made me angry at a very specific part because in real life that never happens! Still, worth a listen and 75 minutes of your life for the movie, if you have the time.

I've been losing my hair at an alarming rate as well. I also completely agree with the above. About 2 months after C passed I went to my physician and said I wanted a full screening done. All blood work, EKG, mammogram, the works. Thankfully, he agreed and understood the motivation behind the request. I'm happy to say that everything came back clear, so although I could stand to lose several pounds (thank you, stress-eating!), I'm a healthy 40 year old. I should be around for many many more years for my daughter.

4 months. 17 weeks, 2 days. 121 days. 2904 hours. Feels like a lifetime since I held your hand, kissed you, laughed with you, made plans with you. How? How did this happen to you, to us? How do I keep moving forward when all I want to do is go back? How do I hold tight to the memories and share them with our daughter when every waking minute threatens to write over those memories? How do I stop the crying, the searing pain, the daily thought "I hate my life"? Why is it so difficult for me to remember you? I remember bits and pieces, fleetingly. Images of your hands, your smile, your navel, the shape of your calves - all flashes doled out to me and gratefully accepted like water in a desert. But why can't I see you whole? What is my mind shielding me from? The horror of acknowledging my loss? Sorry, I've already crossed that bridge, no going back. I see pictures of me taken recently. The smile never reaches my eyes anymore. When will that spark of life return? When will I be able to smile at our daughter without the shadow of loss looming over us? When that day happens, will I grieve again? Feel guilty? Or will I embrace the light and keep striding forward? Why do I not feel you around me anymore?

Here's another organization that came recommended to me: http://bearyhuggables.com/ Pillows starting at $40 and bears between $50 and $60 (and up depending on customization); much more affordable than the $180 you had quoted!!

Love this typo!! ;D

I would LOVE to use my crockpot, but I run out the door at 7:00 am and don't get back in until 5:45 pm. My crockpot runs hot, and most recipes are for 8 hours; by the time I get home and ready to put food on the table, it's been cooking/heating for 11 hours and is fairly inedible. Wish they made crockpots that allowed for delayed starts. :-\

((((((((HUGS)))))))) LisaPop. That's heartwrenching.

It was a Sunday night; he had been putting our 5 year old daughter to bed and they got into an argument. As usual, I entered her room to be the peacemaker; sent him out and calmed her down enough to explain why Daddy was upset and how she needed to correct her behavior. After about 10 minutes, she was settling into sleep when he came back in the room. I was kneeling on one side of her bed rubbing her back, and he circled to the other side of her bed, knelt down and laid over her as if to shelter her in his arms. He bowed his head over her and began whispering. I excused myself to give them time to reconcile; I will never know what he said to her. Another 10 minutes passed. I was in the master bedroom folding laundry when he returned. He walked into the room, bowed his head and gently said "She kills me." His tone was different. Not angry but more bemused and thoroughly in love, but also tired and defeated. I asked what he meant and he just shook his head and began to change for bed. I don't know if we said much more that night. I'm sure I said good night and I love you out of habit. The next morning at 5:30 I found him dead. I will never tell my daughter about that conversation. I do not want her to think she holds any responsibility for his heart attack. I do not want to remind her of their argument. I want her to remember the positives, to cherish the love he showed her. Maybe when she is older and can understand the nuances of those three words and not just a stark interpretation. But I will never forget what he said and wonder if he knew... Jessica

Hugs to you, Dahlia. I am sorry for your loss, but the way you wrote about your anticipated future made me smile, which is rare these days. What would any of us give to have lived to a ripe old age with our loved ones, tearing it up the whole way? It sounds like you have a wonderful support system and are coping the best way you know how. I hope you continue to turn to us in the cyberworld to commiserate with you about those folks who just don't get it. I almost punched the woman I met at the mall who tried to tell me that her husband's sudden request for a divorce was just like my husband's death!! :

Ah yes. The trauma of finding him. I suffered from PTSD for several weeks after, and it still rears its ugly head sometimes. As my post above indicates, I found him in our guest bedroom on the bed, he'd been watching television. I thought he had fallen asleep, so I reached out and shook his arm to wake him. His arm was cold, but I attributed it to being outside of the covers in a house that was 64 degrees; it wasn't any colder than those conditions called for. Of course, he did not wake up and I looked at his neck and saw no pulse and sat him up. I knew. About a week later, I woke up in the middle of the night as I often do now, and went to check on our 5 year old daughter. She was laying in bed and I waited, listening for her breath. I couldn't hear her breathing, so I reached out and touched her arm. It was cold, just like Charles' that horrible morning. I freaked out and gently shook her until she took a deep breath and moved - reassuring signs of life. The next morning I realized why I reacted the way I had, and knew I had to seek help in working through the PTSD. Fortunately, I no longer wake her up in the middle of the night for reassurance, but I still listen for her breathing. I don't know if that will ever go away. Jessica

Thank you, Robunknown. That made me laugh as well.

A few weeks ago, my 5 year old daughter said to me out of the blue "Mommy, I wish they made medicine to stop you from crying all the time." Poor sweet child. Anyone else have stories to share, funny things their children have said?

^^ THIS!!! ^^ We moved to a suburban semi-Stepford (I read your posts on YWBB) community 4 months before my DH passed. I would say about 60% of the female population here are SAHMs, and with professional husbands, so they are the epitome of THE LADIES THAT LUNCH, if you know what I mean. So when they ask for my assistance, or send home yet another fundraising "opportunity", I politely remind them that my husband died in December and my plate is full. They always seem so shocked and sympathetic, but I know as soon as I walk away the gossiping starts. Whatever. I enjoy the 'OMG, I just stepped in a huge, steaming pile of dog s**t' looks on their faces. :-*