Toosoon2.0

I'm sorry you have had to join us. My best advice looking back is this: be kind to yourself and don't try to do too much, too fast. There will be wild ups and downs and that is upending and painful but it is normal. This is a great resource of supportive people who really do understand - lean on us. It does get better. It just takes time. Wishing you, as rifoffour said, moments of peace.

Thank you - every single one of you - for your responses. I haven't written one myself because when I wrote what I wrote I was feeling like a seriously crazy person and a failure at this whole grief thing (I did cancer well; grief not so much). I really wish none of you could relate, while, by the same token, I am relieved that you can (the yin and yang of this, I guess). The uncertainty I now find myself in with my career really shook me. I'm not regretful and I know its temporary. Andy and I both agreed and agree that it was slowly killing me for a long time and that only amped up this fall leading up to my resignation but its just opened up Pandora's Box for me in some ways. I got to let my guard down and have time to really think about what happened for the first time in forever. My child was 4 when this started. I wasn't even 40 yet?! I have held it together FOR SO LONG, and I guess this is the first time I am allowing myself, to use Trying's phrase, "to look behind the curtain" of the last seven years. One thing is for certain. I am inexorably changed by the events that took place. I am fortunate that my partner now, Andy, went through many of the same things I did and that he's years ahead of me on this spectrum but I wish we lived in a society more open to embracing and accepting the things I kept hidden - the falls, the late night ambulances, the alarm on the hospital bed, getting kicked out of hospice, the irrational behavior and personality changes that come with brain cancer that were excruciating both in the privacy of our home and in public, the three years of sleeping with my child instead of my husband, the toll all of this took on the career I built my life on and having to accept that I was never going to attain the goals I set for myself because of it, dealing with a child whose learning disabilities presented less than a year after he died (and dealing with them on an ongoing basis), and now the feeling that I should have cut the cord on this house, my job, this life a long long time ago. But I was determined to conform to social norms, meet expectations, stick to the program and keep this operation going even though I'm not entirely convinced I ever wanted to in the first place. I suppose the trick now is to not make those mistakes again. Someone here said we figure it all out in our forties. Really?! I thought I was starting to figure it all out when "it" happened. Silly me. Rob, I appreciate your comment about music. My work with refugees in this last year has given me something to care about that is my own (even if I share it with my family). So important to have something that is your own when you are a working parent in our situations. It could be knitting or running or music or whatever but something. I struggle with this sometimes. Motivation is difficult when you're exhausted. But as ever, thank you, all of you. Some of you have been subjected to my ramblings for a long time now. I am deeply grateful that you still listen. Life is full of much joy and has been for a long time but it remains difficult and stressful. There is just this ----je ne sais quois - this - what is it? - a void? questions? For me, it is not nostalgia; I do not long for the life I lived before "it" happened. I think the wiring of my brain was somehow altered by my husband's brain cancer. Its the only explanation I can come up with. Short of up and moving to some remote island somewhere, I feel like this void is going to be with me for a long time no matter where I am or what I'm doing. Maybe the trick is to be ok with that? This has again turned into a massive post. I'm not going to apologize though because I promised myself I would stop doing that. xoxoxo

This is a great one, Leadfeather. They're wonderful but this song in particular.

This could become epic so I am going to apologize in advance for potential length/stream of consciousness. Five years coming up here. In the past year, I got remarried and walked away from my career. For the first time since I was 14 years old, I am genuinely unemployed. I know it is temporary, but it is a lot of time to think. A lot of time to think that I probably should have given myself five years ago. I still live in the house I bought with my husband three months before his terminal brain cancer diagnosis. I've managed to let this "fixer-upper" fall into a state of even worse disrepair - don't get me wrong, it is still vintagey cool just like it was when we bought it. And it still is often home to lots of gatherings and for that I'm grateful. When my husband finally died, everyone encouraged me to "get on with it" and to "pull your bootstraps up" and to "soldier on" and I did that with a determination I now cannot even imagine. How did I ever have the energy or the will to keep on like that? That message blinded me. It kept me in a working situation that was killing me. It kept me running to activities and appointments and birthday parties and and and like I didn't also have a career. How did I do that? I am so full of "should haves" right now. I should have taken a leave of absence. I should have found some kind of help. I should have sold this house. I should have quit that job long before I did. I should have moved to England. We should have taken the jobs in X, Y, Z places. I'm realizing that powering through might not have been the right approach for me. No one in my family ever really acknowledged my grief. My cousin committed suicide in a spectacular way in 2014. His parents have become much closer to me than ever before, acknowledging that they didn't understand how much I was hurting (and my god I have no clue how much they are hurting). But literally, everyone in my world basically, if they said anything at all, said, "You must be so relieved." when Scott died. I've said this a thousand times - of course I was relieved he was no longer suffering but then? What happened then, well, it was a very private hell (apart from my posts on ywbb and my conversations with the friends I made there). It was a kind of loneliness, darkness, that no one in my *real* life even tried to understand, that I couldn't tell most of them about in the first place. It was important in my world that I appeared to have it all under control. I was so determined to keep on going and to see silver linings that I'm not sure I took care of myself very well. In stubbornly not making any big decisions, I feel like I dug a great big hole I now have to get myself out of. Blending two lives between two continents has proven stressful with even more uncertainty than when we were on different continents. And now there is my tweeny daughter in the mix. And a whole lot of relatives who are unhappy with us on a seemingly perpetual basis. Sometimes I think about that life we once lived. We were so young and oblivious and had a lot of energy. But then brain cancer and death. Everything is so serious now. I don't have any regrets; I did the best I could. But I sure wish I'd had more empathy and encouragement in those early months and years from the people in my life. I wish someone had said, "Take a semester off; get yourself on terra firma again." I have to wonder if things - not my relationship with Andy - but things for me, personally and professionally, might have turned out differently if I had made some different choices instead of just trying to fit life after Scott into the life with Scott box. I suppose now that I have some time, I can try to do that. But I'm tired. This is a long road for me. I can only hope others don't have to experience this the same way I did. Not sure if any of this makes sense but I just need to get some things off my mind. I have to focus on reinventing my career at 45 and dealing with a handful of a tween after all. Can't have this widow stuff clouding my focus!

Hi, RFF, Your post took me back to the lunch here in PA where we met, which now seems so long ago. It was all so raw then, wasn't it? I have to admit, with five years right ahead of me in less than a month, its hard to put all of the pieces together. I feel like I've lived three lives in seven years (including the illness). It is still disorienting sometimes even if life is often very good now and even knowing we have much to be grateful for. I, too, cherish the connections and friends I found on ywbb and then here. I quite literally would not have made it without you all. I also cannot overstate the impact my husband's death has had on me as a person trying to live in this world. While life is generally pretty good now in spite of stresses and uncertainties, I wasn't always confident it ever would be ok again and I certainly wasn't expecting for everything I knew to be turned upsidedown, shaken up and then spit out something completely new that I never could have anticipated. Gives new meaning to "roll with it." Yet, here we are and living. Our children are thriving; our comrades are still standing, moving forward, still supporting us and new members of the club no one wants to be a part of. What I've learned from my husband's death is that life is never going to be the same but sometimes, and I hope its ok to say this, I think that his death taught me so much about what's important in life - for my daughter and for me - and how to live better in this world. I try to honor that and live that, even though it isn't always easy. Lots of love to you and your beautiful family.

Love you, sweet friend. xoxoxo

Here's the conclusion that i came to and the advice that I have given to my middle aged divorced friends. This time around is not about the things a partnership was about in our twenties or thirties. Most of us have "done the firsts" - bought a house, gotten married, had a child, insert other firsts here. Priorities, at least for me, were different this time around. As my relationship grew more serious and committed, I realized that what I wanted was a companion. Of course there was/is chemistry and intimacy but more than anything else, it was that we just had so much fun together all of the time and in this relationship, I have enjoyed a level of mutual trust and respect that I did not in my marriage (my short marriage was a happy one so this was probably because we were too young/naive/it didn't last long enough because he died). Its been almost four years now since Andy and I met, and I still feel that way, even though for us it has been a long, uncertain and stressful four years involving two continents, three children and two complex careers. For what it's worth -- long winded way of saying (and sounding much older than I like to think I am), for me, I just knew I would still want to hang out with this person 20, 30 or god willing 40 years from now, and that I could trust him to stick it out with me (and my daughter) through the good and the bad.

We're in the south of Spain, headed to London tomorrow night. Can't say we've missed being there for this polar blitz but we're going to be facing 10 + inches of snow on our car at the remote parking at Newark on Sunday (will it even start?). We only have a tiny little scraper in the car. We'll also have who knows what on our driveway?! I believe this might be karma for a week in southern Spain in January. Good think we both know something about shock! Hope everyone is hanging in! It won't last forever! The winters of 2013-15 were pretty awful and I was a grieving mess but we made it through! OXOXO

We're in Spain trying to have a good time with a moody, hyper-hormonal 11 year old. Mixed bag for sure. I thought 2017 was going to be the year of decisions and stability for me. It was the year of decisions, for sure, but not the year of stability. Silly, silly me. Hoping for something looking a little more stable and permanent in 2018. Hard to believe that in a month it will be 5 years since Scott died. The impact of his illness and death still march along side me every day; its no longer menacing but the reverberations now seem like a constant companion. I've come to accept this as just the natural course of things. Thank you all, widow/er tribe. What would I have done/do without you? Will be wishing you all peace in the new year in just about 5 hours so Feliz Nuevo Ano a Todos from Sevilla where we will eat one grape with each stroke of the cathedral bells at midnight along with the throngs of others who are, I assume, hoping for the same. If I can stay up that late, that is..... oxox Christine

Thanks for this post, BH2. This is a hard time of year. I'm remarried now to a widower. It has been far from unicorns and rainbows but we persist because life does go on and we keep figuring it out as we go along. I read here and try to post all the time in the new widows and 6 months time frames. I remember them vividly and comment as much as I can. It does get better. Day by day - sometimes hour by hour. It really does. My advice always has been and always will be - give yourself time. It takes time. Reach out and do not isolate yourself. Forgive yourself and everyone else so that you don't get into a self-blame/anger dynamic. Find a counselor or a good friend who you can trust to tell the things that you can't say now in real life. Tell people in real life how they can help you manage day to day. Reach out to people on this board; they will be there for you. You will get there. I know you will. With tons of empathy, Christine

Happy Christmas from PA, Maureen and all! We made a fire and played cards last night. This morning we woke to find we HAD NO COFFEE!!!!!????? An inauspicious start to be sure. This was followed by a ten year old who, when I tried to wake her at 8: 30, said, "It will still be Christmas in half an hour..." Alrighty then! My parents are coming over for brunch and then friends in the afternoon before we leave for the airport to do it all again tomorrow on the other side of the pond. The holidays are stressful enough as it is but even more so for those who are grieving. Be kind to yourselves, everyone. Sending wishes of peace, Christine

For the first year, I mostly read on the former iteration of this site. I was lost and I needed to hear other people's stories so I could try to understand my own. I am older than you by quite a bit (am 45), as are the authors of these works, but these are the books about being widowed that I loved the most. I probably read them in years two and three but here are the authors and titles: Elizabeth Alexander, The Light of the World; Joan Didion, THe Year of Magical Thinking; and Colm Toibin, Nora Webster. They are not self- help books. The first two are memoirs and the third is a novel.

"The problem as I see it is that our 'former' family members expect us to remain in stasis" ---- This is totally what has happened with Andy's family and his late wife's parents. Exactly this. So very much the situation with his family. Admittedly, they're old and resistant to change but I have never experienced quite this level of resistance. Its like they're in denial that we exist or that my daughter and I also have a whole family over here who might want to see us or who we might want to spend the holidays with. I might have to stop reading this thread. My holiday dread is only deepening.

We have tried (and failed) to meet everyone's expectations. No amount of compromise seems to be enough to please everyone so we are going to stop trying and do what feels right for us. Between us (both widowed) there are three children in three different countries and six grandparents on two continents. We tried especially hard this year to accommodate the relatives in England but it blew up in our faces. Dreading going, in fact. My FIL (late husband's father) has been very understanding over the years, first while I was a grieving wreck and then when my now husband moved here from England. We just "do" holidays with him on days other than the actual day and it has worked out well. In my experience, one can't win in these things - someone always somehow feels slighted - so I guess our default from here on out is to do what's right for us. Good luck!

Trying's post is so close to what I would have written. It mirrors my experience very closely. This is the time to be as easy on yourself as possible. I, too, powered through until six months somehow believing that it was a magical date that would somehow turn the grieving clock off. I was wrong, and I paid for it. I, too, became extremely reclusive and paid for this, too. Try to surround yourself with a few good friends who understand or who at least have the patience to try to understand what you're going through. The good new is, by the time one year rolled around, things were starting to recalibrate. Lean on people here; reach out to people in your same time frame. That's one of the smarter decisions I made. I spent hundreds of hours on the phone with other widows talking it through. For a while there, they were my life-line and are still now, years later, dear friends. Take care of yourself. Christine

Twin_mom, thank you for your comment. I should have done this 22 months ago! But I am a child of the 70s. The messages were conflicted. I was taught to soldier on no matter what. I did that but it dod not work. Its been a month since I resigned. I love being able to be here for my weird hormonal 5th grader. She got the short shrift a lot of the time during my husband's illness and after his death and then when I got psycho about moving up the ladder at my job. I'm glad I can be there for her in these dicey times. Its astonishing how little I worry about not knowing what's next or how little I miss going to that place I've gone to almost every day for the last 15 years. Sometimes, I do feel like I was sold a bill of goods. Be ambitious but not too ambitious. Be your own person but keep it within some sort of unstated cultural/social norms. I'm still sorting a lot of that stuff out, trying to make sure I don't pass those mixed messages on to my daughter.

Ahh, the silence. My husband lived out his terminal cancer diagnosis like an 18 month work of public performance art and for performance art to be effective, you have to have an audience! I basically hosted an 18 month open house with people, sometimes lots of people, in and out of our house, the audience for the performance. I can't tell you what that was like for me but it certainly didn't come naturally but these are the gifts we give to the dying, to the people we love. But my god the silence afterward almost made me crazy. It was louder than any gig I've ever been to. It never occurred to me that silence could have such volume. It does get better though, I promise. I made friends on this board and we must have clocked hundreds of hours on the telephone just to keep the silence at bay. It helped me. Sending you support and understanding.

Just beautiful. Thank you for your thoughtful wisdom. Christine

I'm sorry for your loss, Carrie. I've found tremendous support through this board (and its earlier iteration) over the years, especially in the parenting section. I hope you will, too. More hugs from me, Christine

Dragonfly, I was a walking shit show at 1 year. It felt every day like my house of cards was going to collapse. I had a nervous breakdown because of the responsibilities of a demanding career, a 6 year old whose learning disabilities were just emerging, and exhaustion coming off two years of intensive care giving. Those were dark, dark times for me. But the good news is, you do have this. Things will get better. By 18 months I was starting to come out of it. It took me that long though. Little by little, day by day, i started to get stronger. Be kind to yourself. Don't try to do too much too fast. Know that what you're feeling is normal, even if it is hellish. Sending you support and understanding. Christine

The first Christmas we got out of dodge. We opened presents Christmas eve and then got up and traveled all day on Christmas to visit friends living in Hawaii, eating pizza in the airport for breakfast which my then 6 year old thought was pretty cool. They took care of us and we camped out on the beach and my child could just run around and play with my friend's son and all of the other kids on the beach. It was the best decision I could have made at the time. We could "forget" for a while and my daughter could have some fun. The second year I was a wreck. My daughter went to see relatives with my parents and I went to a fancy bar in the afternoon, had a few glasses of wine and went to see two movies. Not very festive but hey, it was all I had in me. One thing I will say is that I have always gotten the tree and put up some decorations even when my heart wasn't in it. We still tag a tree the weekend after thanksgiving at the same place we did when my husband was alive and we have lots of ornaments from our lives and travels together and we reminisce and I tell her stories (she's now 10) about those times while we decorate the tree. We also celebrate secular Hanukkah because when my husband was dying we didn't know if he'd make it to CHristmas so we started a tradition of celebrating Hanukkah, too. We still do this now years later. We invite friends over during the week and make latkes. My daughter really clings to this tradition so I have kept it up for her. I'm remarried now to another widower. This will be our first Christmas here as a family and I have no intention of changing any of those traditions. My daughter won't be "little" much longer and I cherish these things and this time of year now for the way in which we can consciously remember the past and her Dad and celebrate him, too. It took me some time to get to this point, though.

Since I resigned from my job, and the possibility of moving becomes more of an option, I've been thinking that i really need to get on this. There are also half a dozen life sized ceramic self portrait sculptures my husband made that live in my garage. What on earth am I going to do with those long term?! I have the time to do some of this but not the motivation. Its harder now, I think, than it was before when all I wanted to do was purge everything in an effort to feel like I was somehow "processing" or "excising" my grief. But so much harder now and the thought of moving...oh my! This is off topic but we just agreed to let M have her first sleepover birthday party which means we need to seriously get this place in order and clean (so that 10 year olds can destroy it). Daunting to say the least! With regard to pictures, I'm an historian so I vote emphatically for finding a way to keep the pictures. Could you box them up now and scan them over time if you feel you can't physically keep them? If you have the extra funds, you could hire someone to do this for you. Store them in the Cloud? I would not let them go. I work in an archive and pictures/nostalgia/memories are so important for so many reasons. They can fill in blanks, answer questions, give solace; they tell a story of something important, no matter how seemingly insignificant. They are "proof," if you will of one's past but also one's place in this world - maybe not just your son but maybe his kids or his kid's kids. I'm also from a Greek family and have been researching our history. Precious little remains. We have an opportunity to preserve so much, so easily now about who we were/are, where we came from, where we went. But I am sentimental. Since Andy and I are both widowed the pictures themselves aren't an issue but I, too, have thousands of them. Your post is a good reminder that I should take on doing something about them, too. Stay strong! xoxo

Ha ha! So many "I am never going to *fill in the blanks*" And I reneged on every single one! I swore up and down, left and right, backwards and forwards that I would never, EVER date again; that it would be just us two girls against the world. So much for that! And it happened where and when I was least expecting it might even be possible. Go figure!! The "I'll nevers" need to go the way of the "shouldas, wouldas and couldas" in my opinion. We all know better than most that life changes and we change with it.

Hi Anni, I am sorry for your loss. One thing this journey has taught me is that, while some people who you thought you could count on will disappoint you, others who you never expected would will rise up and help prop you up, stand by you, feed you, forgive you, and just do whatever they can to try to understand. These new friendships have been the silver lining of the trauma of losing our husband/father. Sending you wishes for peace and hope. It does get easier with time.

imissdow - so happy to hear your little women are thriving! They're pretty great, you know, as are you. I stopped grieving the old me a while ago. The new me is someone I don't quite yet know or understand. I've just accepted that this is going to be some kind of work in progress for the foreseeable future. One thing I know for certain, whatever "carefreeness" I once had, I no longer have. I've become a much more serious person. I guess brain cancer will do that to a person. Anyway, just wanted to tell you I understand. Lots of love to you and the girls. xoxox