Toosoon2.0

Good for you, klim! From the beginning I have treated my husband's illness and death as a free pass to do whatever the eff I want to. That's the gift he gave us. It's been so good for me and my daughter! Liberation! Obviously, I'm also responsible but its been great to buck all the notions of how things are "supposed to be" and just do our own thing. Go for it!

Hi Mac, I have been thinking about how to respond to your earlier post about living an extraordinary life and just saw this one. Two things come to mind. First, while much of my life revolves around the ever shifting realities of raising a little girl (I suppose now very young woman), I have lived and feel like I continue to live an extraordinary life. There are the Big Things (like trips abroad, music festivals, shows in NYC) but there are also a lot of Little Things that are, to me, extraordinary (for example, a great book, seeing a heron in the park, walking around our little city with no other objective than just to see what we discover, stopping into a dive bar and talking to whoever is there, baking bread). Those little things are extraordinary because I choose to see them that way - for me, it is a matter of perspective. Second, to this current post, I've never cared what others think about me or my choices. I have never had an interest in material things, for example. If anything, I actively dislike them. Rather, it is experiences and relationships that are important to me. Surrounding myself with interesting people makes me much happier than, say, a new pair of shoes or a piece of jewelry ever could. In this regard, I am different than most of the people around me in the suburban world in which I (hopefully not for much longer) live. Its just how I'm wired; live and let live, march to the beat of your own drummer, to each their own, etc. - for as long as I have been aware of myself, that's who I've been. There are plenty of people who don't quite "get me." but it has never bothered me. So to your question, I don't think I could live any differently than living what seems to be "different" to other people because for me it isn't different - its just normal! I hope you find answers to these questions that seem to be related in some way and wish you happiness and peace.

Hi Trying - Just wanted to let you know that I understand. Having had several years to lay the groundwork for blending our families, and thinking we had things pretty well lined up, we now have four branches of our families on two continents seemingly constantly unhappy with us. Every decision we make pisses off at minimum about 4 people, for completely different reasons and typically, they consider themselves in the right and cannot be reasoned with. I could write a PhD thesis on this subject at this point. There are half a dozen or so people in the UK who clearly wish my daughter and I never met Andy and would just go away - none of which was really revealed until we actually got married and he adopted my daughter. I believe there might even be some magical thinking going on that we actually might disappear. You know, we've only been together for more than four years!?! Meanwhile, we might move in the next few months, and my parents - who live a mile away and who have been very supportive but now are acting like our daughter is somehow theirs - are acting like we're moving to Singapore instead of 2 hours away and like we're teenage parents who need supervision instead of the adults we are. It is all maddening! Blending - or whatever it is one might call what's going on with Andy's and my families - is definitely not easy. You can only do the best you can do for your new marriage, your collective children and yourselves. That's my conclusion. It is, in my experience, impossible to make everyone happy so you might as well try to take care of your immediate family first and mind over matter the others. Hugs.

I'm really struggling over here at five years and three months. I decided to change careers and left my job of 15 years, have a feeling we're going to be moving which means selling this house at long last but I suspect after everything that's also going to be an emotional cluster. My daughter is thriving (if tweeny), and I'm happily remarried though blending families is no walk in the park. I honestly thought that by this point I wouldn't still be struggling but in some ways I feel what I can only call the reverberations of my loss even more acutely now than I did let's say at three years. It is some kind of weird realization for me - and this might just be me - that for as much as I tried to believe that some parts of my life and of my self could stay the same, they really can't. As I get closer to the reality of selling this house and relocating, I feel this more and more. It will hopefully be the change that will finally liberate me but right now I find myself clinging - even though I want these changes - to this last piece of that life I used to live. My memories have faded a lot as it is - I guess I fear walking away and the finality of that break with the past as much as I know I want it. Its a weird, weird place to be.

Hi there. I live in the west end of Allentown. If you'd like to meet up, please pm me. I would be happy to get together to talk. Christine

I, too, am so sorry for your loss. There is no right or wrong way as others have already noted. Like you, I went into "getting things done" mode and after the memorial and the paperwork and and and I just kept going - back in the classsroom, birthday parties and activities with my kid, planned a vacation - I just kept on going and going and going but eventually I had to face it and when I did at about 7 months, it hit me hard. That was my way of coping with it. It was the only way I could manage it at first. I wasn't ready to grieve until seven months had passed. I don't mean this to sound ominous in any way but you will find you way to grieving in your own time and on your own terms. One thing this board has taught me is that, one way or another, everyone gets to the point when they realize the only way out is through. For me this didn't start until seven months; for others, it starts instantly. Our stories and our histories and our personalities and circumstances are all so different so it only stands to reason so, too, will be the way we grieve. I cannot stress enough how much this community means to me. I've met at least two dozen people from the board in real life (married one in fact) and have made friendships that made laughter possible when I thought it wasn't, who let me say b*t sh*t crazy stuff I could never have said elsewhere and who, well, just plain get it. Reach out here or in other online widow forums on social media. I chose this one and, honestly, it saved me from going insane. I'm glad you found us but wish so much you didn't need to. It does get better with time; I am sure everyone here agrees. But for now, be kind to yourself (that's not meant to be a platitude. Really, be gentle with yourself; take care of yourself as best you can and take the help when it is offered. As someone said above, this is a marathon, not a sprint). Sending support and love to you.

I might sound like an outdated old traditional person but I met my now husband four years ago on the former iteration of this site. We wrote to each other for six months before we met and never once talked about sex. I think sex is a very personal and private thing two people share in their own way. It is not about procreation when we are in our 40s and 50s - it is about intimacy, comfort, communication, empathy and love. I'd skip those men who seem to have other ideas. You deserve better. xx

ABL - I'm sorry to hear that your friend is being so inappropriate, invasive and insensitive; his logic is also deeply flawed. Um, I guess I feel like the sudden and subsequent lifetime loss of more than half of our household income pales in comparison to the small monthly payment my daughter receives. Maybe he should chew on that for a while.... People can be so insensitive.

There is SO MUCH to see and do in DC. I love the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery. This is a little random but the National Building Museum is one of my favorites. Also, if memory serves, there is at minimum one museum with evening hours each day of the week. So you can also extend your days (if you're not already out of steam) with some evening museum visits. The Memorials at night are also pretty spectacular!

Even now that I am remarried, we have kept up a strong relationship with my father in law. My daughter is his last link to his son, and I respect that. We tend to go away during the holidays so there's never been that specific issue, but I agree with serpico in the sense that my father in law lost his wife and his son in the span of 6 years. If my daughter gives him joy and comfort, then that is a gift I want to give him. You can and I'm sure will find a compromise as things develop and evolve.

HM, Congrats on selling your house -- hopefully we will be next! I have found letting go of certain things extremely disorienting and logic defying. I'm so grateful that I impulsively cleared out the studio (where I also found a box of cassettes including Kid Rock....???) one day in year two. I called up one of my former students who got Scott's job when he got sick and just asked him to take everything away and he did. I'd be hard pressed now to let go so easily. But in looking seriously at moving for the first time, and possibly to Europe, I have had to seriously face "You cant take it with you." Sometimes I find that liberating; other times I find that terrifying. We have a bookshelf in our dining room. A barrister bookcase I was given when I finished my degree. Its been in both of the houses we owned with the same books in it, in the same order for more than 12 years. Its become this weird untouchable symbolic thing for me. Like a security blanket. It contains - you will not be surprised to hear - a ton of outdated guidebooks for the places we went together --- Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, road trip out west, Rome, San Francisco --- I don't look at those books (or any of the others in there, including my dissertation) but letting go of that book shelf and its contents will be hard when the time comes. I get it. With pictures, I'm going to face this one too. There are thousands from the times when we actually used to print photos. I think I will hire someone to digitize them for me when the time comes. There is a room in my basement full of boxes from our 2010 move to this house. I have looked at them a few times but never opened any of them. I cannot even fathom dealing with them. Those boxes predate this ordeal. They come from a life that seems very far away to me now, almost like it never happened. Sending you and S all kinds of love. New beginnings are hopeful things. xoxo

Have a wonderful journey! At around a year, I took my daughter to Hawaii where we camped on the beach in January, ran around barefoot and wearing only bathing suits for days, hung out with strangers from all over the world, walked and walked. It didn't fix everything but it sure was a needed respite. Send us updates if you feel like it - especially for those of us in the norther climates waiting out the dreary winter. A change of scenery always helps me. Be safe, enjoy!

So happy for all of you, widowed soul sister! Its been a privilege to be a virtual party to these exciting developments, and we wish you all of the happiness and peace you so very much deserve! oxoxox PS. I am coming to visit.

I loved that last quote about control, Bunny. It is true, though somehow sometimes I still feel like I have no control. Maybe that's life now, not grief. xx

Welcome. I am sorry you have had to join us. I just wanted to say regarding gardening: my garden has saved me over these few years since my husband go sick and died. Reading probably ranks 1st among the activities that saved me but the garden is a sanctuary where, for some reason I cannot explain, everything is ok. Maybe it is taking care of growing things that cannot talk back (unlike my 11 year old) or the fact that it produces new life, I don't know but it has been my safe haven. This year I actually cried when I had to admit that my brussels sprouts and cabbages got zapped by the cold before Thanksgiving - I wasn't ready to say goodbye to my veggies! I hope you will continue to cultivate your garden this summer. I wasn't expecting my garden to be the gift of comfort that it has become but am grateful for it and cannot wait for winter to end so I can get back out there. Sending virtual support to you.

My whole adult life was wrapped up in my relationship with my husband. I haven't missed him - brain cancer will do that to a relationship - but I also haven't found the same kind of terra firma and security I knew in my old life. I don't think I'll ever believe in the kind of stability I had with Scott again. It just doesn't seem possible to me.

This really resonated with me, even five years down the line. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/personal-history/on-losing-a-husband-and-almost-losing-a-wedding-ring?mbid=social_facebook

It's that time of the week! We've got four inches (insert inappropriate joke here) already in PA. Fire lit, soup on and bread in oven, wine poured, some sort of not very sexy PBS watching on deck....what's everyone else up to? Stay warm (and off the roads) if you're in the NE snow belt tonight!

So, we (don't any of you who are rooting for us in our job searching get too excited - nothing has happened yet) are hopefully going to be in a position to sell our house in the next six months and I am seeking advice because, admittedly, I am an art historian and, like cars, this is not my area of expertise. Here is the background. In 2010, we bought a 1966 house from the original owner. She had been living here alone as a widow for 25 years when we bought it so it was already a fixer upper. The plan (which did not materialize because brain cancer) was to slowly update it over time, keeping its groovy Mad Men features, pay it off and sell it to put our daughter through school. Ahhhh - the best laid plans.... What wound up happening was none of that apart from the fact that I am still here. I refinanced to a 15 year mortgage a few years ago and have quite a bit of equity in the house. But it needs a ton - and a ton is not a strong enough word - of work. Yet, it could be beyond charming for the right people who are into its unique features, the location (an acre of land in town yet in a good school district), etc. If I do no work (and remember, we're both unemployed right now), I think I could sell it for what we paid for it and walk away. But getting started with renovations would be a bottomless pit and I frankly wouldn't even know where to begin. We will also be selling a house in England hopefully in the next six months so would have some money to put into it but what we were thinking was sell, take the equity out of both of our houses, downsize considerably in the move and buy something much less expensive that requires much less maintenance/expense. Starting to try to fix this one up doesn't make any sense to me; it could actually be a tear down because there have been others in my neighborhood torn down for new constructions (sad but true). Does that seem like sound logic? How do you sell a house you're living in "as is"? Do I get a realtor or try to sell it myself? Is accepting a selling price that is roughly the same as what I paid for it a mistake? When I look at zillow, it has appreciated but zillow doesn't know about the "issues" that a buyer will inevitably need to invest money in to fix (dated kitchens/bathroom are the big ones but there are small ones, too) it up. Mostly, I just know I need to have a plan. Any experience/advice you might want to share? I just know I need to be thinking about a strategy in the (fingers crossed) event that we need to unload this albatross. Thanks!

I would say, be prepared to be unprepared. I had 18 months to get ready for his inevitable death. I thought I had it under control emotionally and otherwise, and so did everyone around me. Turns out, no amount of preparation prepared me for the emotional fallout from his death.

I feel for you, Trying; 5 years and his 55th birthday hit me hard and i wasn't really expecting it. It made me think that in another 5 years, he will have been 60 and our daughter will have a DRIVER'S LICENSE and I will be (sigh) 50 myself. Weird, weird, weird. I hope you were able to enjoy dinner with your sons and maybe some nice memories. On Scott's we went - unbeknownst to our hosts - to dinner at some dear friends' house. It was a good distraction and I brought a bottle of champagne and we all toasted to Scott, which was nice and seemed fitting. Then I completely and epically lost it on Superbowl Sunday (that it was the Superbowl - even though the Eagles won (Go, Birds!) - was irrelevant since Scott couldn't care less about football) but I think holding it together through his birthday, the day in between and then the fifth year anniversary proved too much in the end. No matter how much time has passed, no matter how much things have changed, I still miss him and it is still sometimes hard. Sending love and support.

Sneaky, isn't it, this grief thing? I guess I've learned to accept that a meltdown here and there is going to happen, often when I'm least expecting it. I got mine out of the way during the first half of the Superbowl.....This journey is a long one. Hugs, friend.

Thanks, team widow! I just had the horrific thought that some of my *other* former work colleagues might also show up for the opening. I didn't exactly resign under optimal circumstances and I don't want to see them and they sure as hell don't want to see me. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst! Will certainly report back.

Today is my least favorite day of the year. On February 1, 2013, my husband (though in a coma) turned 50. On February 3, 2013, he died. So February 2 has become this weird no man's land for me. I'm ok with all of this since its been 5 years and these are simply days on the calendar like every other day but the thing bothering me right now is this: My husband was one of the first cohort of artists to occupy the first collaborative artists' studio spaces in our town. The organization was one of the first efforts to revitalize the blasted out ruin of the campus of Bethlehem Steel, once the world's largest steel producer whose demise decimated our town. He was super-involved not just with the growth of the organization but with the organization's programming with at risk youth in our community and public art works commissioned for the neighborhood. He was beloved there and is still remembered and loved. Anyway.... We spent a lot of time there all those years ago. Our daughter was a little celebrity there, running around the halls as a toddler and popping into studios and eating all of the snacks people put out during open houses. The other artists and administrators were dear friends (some still are). We had his memorial there a month after he died. I tried to go once to their First Friday event with my daughter maybe not even a year after he died, and it was a disaster. I haven't been back since, except for another memorial service - sigh. But tonight we're going because one of my former colleagues who is a dear friend is having an opening and I want to support him as he's supported me. Andy will be with me (he's never been) and that will help; my daughter will be there with us, too, so a little concerned how it might impact her precarious tweeny emotions. I'm just hoping I can hold it together; people are going to talk about him and I know it. Am just going to have to brace myself for that. I know I can do it, but the timing is uncanny - why did it have to fall on this "in between" day? February 2 was always the day I took off - not his birthday or the anniversary of his death but the day in between. A day I just took for myself and shut the world out. This will be the first year I don't do that - not by a long shot! Wish me luck, widowed sisters and brothers. I'm hoping it brings me more a feeling of "homecoming" this time than the terror I felt when I tried to go back too soon. Five years. Hard to believe. Thanks for letting me tell that story.

I'm so sorry, Bunny. After we put our cat to rest, for months I kept expecting to see her every time I rounded a corner in the house. A different kind of loss for sure but not an insignificant one. Hugs to you.