Mizpah

I'm so sorry.  I don't remember how painful this time is, and hopefully you won't either.  I didn't think it was survivable.  I didn't feel it was bearable.  I couldn't imagine ever being functional again.  I couldn't imagine a present or future world without him. 

You don't know how to get through this, and right now you don't have to.  You have to survive your days and keep your expectations very low.  Breathe, hydrate, get outside a little, eat if/when you can, do the things that will help you be as stable and sane as possible (it can be as simple as making your bed or (ambitious) working out).  Take all the solitude or company you need.  Tell people what you want from them, if you know.  Take comfort and solace in any little bit you can. 

The enormity of this is inconceivable.  It still is inconceivable for me 4+ years later, though my life is rebuilt and I am a "normal" member of society and I wouldn't say I'm "stuck."  I don't believe the mind can really grasp it. 

Take care of yourself and allow yourself to hurt as badly as you are hurting.  It is the only way through, in my opinion. 

Also, I'll pass on some advice from my then-therapist when I was overthinking my then-new relationship: "Allow yourself good feelings."

I think it's good that you're examining things, but don't in the process get too hard on yourself.  LOTS of widows and widowers hook up AND fall in love early out.  I used to say that there is nothing that happens AFTER they die that can ever take away from or change what was while they were alive. 

My biggest caution is that the widows and widowers I know who moved on fast also tended to be the ones who didn't let themselves grieve, and then realized partway in that they ended up having to pick up where they'd left off and weren't as ok as they'd thought they were (kinda like when you're sick and feel a tad better, then overexert yourself only to remember how very sick you feel).  That being said, those are two people I know, and that's not representative obviously or a scientific study or anything like that!  You said you're lonely, and desperation does make for poor decision-making, but you also said she's your friend and a great person and you enjoy your time together, so it doesn't necessarily sound like this is a dumb idea. 

My boyfriend/BabyDaddy is a widower.  We were friends first.  We got together very early out - around where you are - for him.  (I was at 2+ years.)  It's been a very rocky road, but we're still together. 

There is nothing magical about 12 months. 

Hi SailorGirl,

Big big hugs.  I can relate to much of what you said, though our specifics are different.  I moved hundreds of miles, back to my hometown area from the City, about a year and a half ago.  I moved in with my widower BabyDaddy because I was pregnant.  And it's hard, and it's lonely, even having a kid, so I don't think that's what's making you feel out of place because I do too - it's at least not the only thing.  All of my friends are back in the City.  (Because I have a young kid/baby, I'm very socially isolated, because my life revolves around taking care of her.)  It's so hard to make friends in your 30s.  Everyone's lives are work-oriented and family-oriented and just simply already established.  I honestly think EVERYONE is lonely and craving community, but no one knows how to find it.  Anyway, I've been here for a year and a half, and I'm still homesick and waiting for it to feel normal and like I'm not out of place - don't get me wrong, it's way way way better than it was at the beginning and when I was 5 months in.  Do you have meetup there?  One of my friends goes to meetup groups/activities, and has made lots of friends that way.  But mainly I'm just here to say: I hear you.  Me too!  Too bad we live so far away - we could hang out! 

Oh, babe.  From 4+ years out, these are my reactions to your statements, and I hope they provide some something for you.

(1) Maybe people "change."  But I don't think so.  I think grief just "magnifies" who you are.  It would be crazy if it didn't change you, I suppose, because the things that happen to us, the things we see and experience, big and small, all contribute to who we are.  I don't feel changed.  It's for the good and bad.  Sometimes I wish I was more changed - like I *know* that life's too short for this or that, but I still get caught up in shit like work stress, etc. 

(2) I was 32.  I truly, deeply believed I was not capable of loving anyone again.  When he was alive, I saw only him.  When he was gone, I saw only that not one person on earth was him.  At about 15 months, I forced myself to go out with some guy who was very nice but I felt nothing for, kind of for life practice.  It was beneficial to me, though extremely upsetting at first (when he first kissed me, I cried - DH was no longer the last man to have kissed me).  At about 2 years out, I made a pilgrimage to where DH was from and I came alive again during the trip.  I had a vacation fling and when I came back, I got involved with a widower I'd recently met and had been shocked to find I had chemistry with.  I felt something.  I felt things about life, and I felt things for a man.  All the exciting stuff of new relationships: infatuation, lust, obsession, adoration, deep caring, huge friendship, all of it.  Two years later, we live together and have a daughter - who, miraculously, is the happiest girl ever.  One of the YWBB widows on my timeline used to get extremely angry when anyone would suggest she may one day be with someone again - she's getting married next month.  (Letting myself grieve fully, deeply, completely - I think it's why I was able to "bounce back.")

(4) I too moved home.  Not because of DH dying, but because I was pregnant and was in a long-distance relationship with BabyDaddy.  I NEVER thought I'd ever return home.  I was gone for almost two decades.  I find that people are more flexible than we think.  They won't all hold that against you - maybe none will.  Also, I moved to "boyfriend island" when I got together with DH.  I now tell people that I'm sorry I disappeared, but also that I'm so glad I spent every second I did with him, and am so glad we just devoted ourselves totally to each other.  It sounds like "playing the widow card," but it's actually the truth.

(5) Some, you will.  I lost a few, one of them my absolute best friend.  I thought I'd miss them.  I don't miss one of them.  Your life will look different.  It hurt at first, but now I'm glad that I don't have those people in my life.  There's something about each one that I lost that explains why they weren't there for me, why they couldn't handle it, why they weren't good friends. 

(6) I have a friend's baby like that too.  Totally know the feeling.  It gets crazier over time, as they get bigger and bigger.  (I also have a physical reaction every time I hear about them getting Osama bin Laden, because it happened the weekend DH died.)

(8) Weddings can be HARD.  Prepare support people ahead of time to be there for you.  Have a plan in place in case you need it - tissues, waterproof makeup, "know the exits," have people there who will give you little "hey, you alright?"s. 

(9) I had to move on the 5-month anniversary of DH's death - could no longer afford our apartment.  It was wrenching.  I got inside our closets and wrote where it was not visible to anyone (unless people get into closets!) little lovenotes in pencil to DH.  I felt like leaving our home was like the wind blowing sand over his footprints at the beach or something.  It killed me inside.  It was the idea of it and the anticipation much more than the eventual reality, which I think was actually good for me. 

Thinking of you and sending huge hugs.

Hi Gretchen, I'm a lawyer AND I just (well, about 1 1/2 years ago) moved back to my hometown area.  Remember - you didn't have to do well on the bar, you just have to have passed (D = success! hahaha).  Thinking of you.  PM me anytime if you want.

the minute someone even questions one of my decisions I get totally defensive and take it as a major criticism.

Me too.  I never used to care what people thought, AND, in retrospect, I realize I was surrounded by only positive reinforcement.  Now, I feel like I overreact to even the slightest criticism that may not even BE criticism.  I don't like it.  I'm way more serious and intense now - I used to be more smiling and fun, lighter.  Ugh. 

I'm not generally sentimental, but there has always been something about this one that makes me cry.  In the beginning, I wasn't ready for it and it upset me in a bad way, but now I just think it's beautiful:

Epitaph, by Merrit Malloy

When I die

Give what's left of me away

To children

And old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,

Cry for your brother

Walking the street beside you.

And when you need me,

Put your arms

Around anyone

And give them

What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,

Something better

Than words

Or sounds.

Look for me

In the people I've known

Or loved,

And if you cannot give me away,

At least let me live on your eyes

And not on your mind.

You can love me most

By letting

Hands touch hands,

By letting

Bodies touch bodies,

And by letting go

Of children

That need to be free.

Love doesn't die,

People do.

So, when all that's left of me

Is love,

Give me away.

I agree - it seems lots of people further out are struggling and feel they have nothing to give.  It's unfortunate in a way, because for me personally (and I realize I'm just me and not representative) I always came here more when I was struggling, rather than when things were going well - I found I needed it/others more.  But, like I said, I put these thoughts out there more about the newer widows, who I think could really benefit from "early intervention" and finding others on the same timeline to go through the long-term experience with, beginning in the most raw, most painful period.  Just thoughts - never meant to put anyone in a position where they have to explain and apologize and rethink what they do/don't do.  It *is* "funny" to me though, that my point was to say that people newly out need the support and free discussion with others similarly timelined, and the result is that people further out realize they're struggling with the same issues as each other in a large way.  Oh, widowhood!!!! 

I am glad.  I have not gone back and read it.  But I have the comfort of knowing I have them, and that comfort was and is huge - so much so that I bought a fireproof lockbox for them.  Also, the process was really important to me.  I carried a journal with me everywhere and anytime (I mean anytime, no matter how socially inappropriate!) a thought flitted through my mind, I jotted it down.  I didn't care about style or pretty writing - I just scrawled a thought or memory as it came.  I think there are some pieces that I wrote down several times probably.  It helped me in so many ways.  I too was terrified I would forget.  I think the most important things about a person - the way they walk, the way they carry themselves, their different smiles and transformation of face from one expression to another, the way they smell, the lilt of their voice, etc. - these can never be encapsulated in words.  But writing definitely helped me. 

My widow friends regularly e-shout: "Totally normal!," at each other, when one of us asks if some crazy-@$$ $h!t we've said, or done, or felt, is crazy.  It's totally normal.  As one year approached for me (I think the whole 9-12 month period), I felt very upset that I was reaching this arbitrary marker.  I felt like soon I was to be exiled from mourning.  I wanted to remain in the safety of raw pain and not have to engage with the world again.  I didn't want to get further from him, in time or emotion.   

I'm just waiting for my heart to catch up with my head.

I've heard and used the withdrawals/detox analogy.  We get attached and they're addictive - human relations - the good AND bad ones.  It hurts.  It just hurts.  Keep hanging on.  Solidarity!  Support!  Love!

I don't remember the first few months, and for that I am so grateful.  I know I carried sad little packets of tissues with me everywhere and engaged in public sobbing quite often (it's funny to me now to ponder how many NYC tourists' photos include a crying girl on a bench in the background).  I choked down half a banana and half an English muffin a day.  I know I wrote compulsively in a journal, jotting down every memory I could think of, every detail of his him and his life as I had seen it.  I know that I looked at the sky a lot, with a mythical non-believing feeling that I could talk to him.  I know I sat on a bench in a park a lot, staring at a river, and looking at people walking by, thinking how none of them, none of any of the billions of people in the world, were him.  I know that the phrase "bear the unbearable" became a descriptive staple of my life. 

I also know that the YWBB (the board that preceded this one) helped me survive and, much later, thrive.  I "met," through their raw, broken writing and responses to my writing, men and women who had lost their person around the same time as me.  We wrote and read constantly, several times a day.  They made sense to me in a time in which nothing and no one made sense.  I came to know them and to feel I knew their lost loves.  We had hope for each other when we had none for ourselves, and/or didn't want any for ourselves.  Some of those people remain some of my best friends, though we've met only once or twice and though our paths (once identified by the razed, devastated, emotional commonalities) have had significant opportunity to diverge in 4+ years. 

I hope this won't come off as condescending.  I'm here to encourage all of you to lean on each other (and those of us further out) as much and as often as you want/need.  Saying it, whatever "it" is, even if it seems obvious and pointless and stupid or crazy or too horrible to say, it helps.  I honestly don't think I'd be doing as well as I am now had I not had the opportunity and taken advantage of the opportunity to pour out my suffering to those who got it. 

I'm thinking of you all with so much love and sadness and support and compassion, and hope. 

I'll be thinking of you and am so proud and happy for you.  You're not less strong if there's a tear or two (or lots), but I understand your point and your hopes.  So I won't call it strength, bc you're so strong no matter what, but I'll be sending you "composure vibes" hahahahaha! 

I have noticed that we don't seem to be getting many newbies

I should've been more specific, or maybe I didn't even realize what I was saying myself when I posted.  A lot of veteran widows say they post less now, and I think that's totally normal and natural, and was the case at YWBB as well (unless I'm wrong).  But the newly widowed section was always so busy, with some people posting several times a day and tons of responses.  I think it's the lack of vocal/processing new widows that I'm noticing most starkly. 

Oh gosh.  I used to worry that my sister would be so busy posting photos of my daughter on FB that she would forget to watch my daughter.  This social media age!  It's insane (and I must admit that I'm part of the problem).  Do you think they'd react ok if you voice your concerns a little more pointedly? 

I say, "I'm not jealous - I'm possessive."  Like it makes it better hahahaha!  He's yours!  It's ok.  I think it's healthy and natural to be a bit territorial/protective/possessive. 

The YWBB was instrumental to my surviving widowhood in the early weeks and months (back in mid-2011).  It seems so quiet here recently.  I like to think it's because no one's getting widowed.  I suspect perhaps, though, that this site may be harder to find than YWBB was???  Total speculation on my part, but if it's true, it makes me sad for new widows - that they could be missing out.  The site used to be so active, full of tons of posts daily I thought, though I could be misremembering....

Gorgeous!  So beautiful!  The landscape is such a balm, I find.

I went to Israel at 2 years out, on my own.  I visited with friends, but was alone several days and evenings.  I always got hotel rooms with balconies on either the sea or a busy street in an active part of a city, so I would have something to watch in the evenings if I wanted it.  One night, there was a jazz festival going on, and so I could hear so much great music just from my balcony and people watch and watch the city from above.  I brought a couple books.  I went to restaurants and bars (one drink only).  I wrote.  I took walks.  When I travel alone, though, I tend to go to bed a tad early and wake early. 

10 weeks since I fled the depths of evil and abuse and chaos... 10 weeks and I've accomplished a lot, but it has triggered all sorts of painful and unsettling feelings. 

 

I still travel this road, hoping to grow into a stronger and wiser person.  I have to remember that I still have a future, and it is up to me to define what that will be.

You are an inspiration! 

In the end, the player in him revealed himself.

 

I am a damn good catch and I deserve so much more....

So glad you can see this and decide before you get attached.  Go you!  I'm sorry for the disappointment, but glad you're standing up for your worth and desires!

(And as for my story and there not being chemistry until we met: neither of us were looking for someone, and certainly neither of us wanted a long distance relationship, and we'd never met, so being "just friends" made sense.)

I mean the phone goes off while we are asleep, at dinner, movie, having sex...you name it.

 

It buzzed all freakinh night last night. Till like 2 am.

This was DH.  Even when he was on vacation.  It was the nature of his work.  I just had to accept it.  Like the guy you're with, he was great to me, so it wasn't like I felt neglected AND he had this going on.  It became a running "joke" or rather a running annoyance for both of us that we treated with humor.  If he CAN turn it off, he should "just do it," but if it's like my DH, that may not be an option.

Trying to generalize about chemistry, attraction, love... it's huge - how to know if that's true?  DH and I had twin souls.  Our preferences (anywhere from food tastes to what we felt like doing on a Friday night to what people we liked and didn't like) were always nearly identical.  And it worked.  We were obsessively in love.  BabyDaddy and I couldn't be more different (I'm city, he's country; I'm a vegetarian, he refuses to eat "rabbit food"; I'm a reader who hates TV, he watches Alaskan reality shows and hates books; the list goes on and on and on and on - and on!).  Attraction (on a visceral level) is maybe more about pheromones - all that animal stuff, probably having nothing to do with being similar or dissimilar.  Compatibility is a whole different animal. 

BabyDaddy and current boyfriend is a widower from my hometown.  He was working on my mom's apartment-to-be when his fiancee died suddenly (car accident).  The next time I was visiting my family, to pay it forward, I stopped by my mom's apartment when I knew he wouldn't be there and left a note and lots of Gatorade (in my early days, I couldn't eat and subsisted on red Gatorade).  I told him who I was and left my number in case he needed someone who got it.  He reached out to thank me via text and we texted for months on and off - grief buddy stuff.  Months later, I was going to be in town briefly and told him if he wanted to get together to talk we could.  Our texting had been very serious, grief-related, life-post-loss-related, nothing even remotely flirtatious at all, and I'd met other widowers totally platonically.  So it shocked me when, within a few minutes of meeting, we were laughing and there was undeniable chemistry.  I had major... I guess you'd call it ethical?... conflicts because he didn't have anyone else who was like us (young widow(er)) and I really wanted him to have a very simple friendship for his benefit, and he was only about 6 or 7 months out.  Within the first hour, he'd reached out and touched my hair (what?!).  I resisted all of it, and returned home, and went abroad to the Middle East for a couple weeks on vacation (during which I came alive again).  I resisted, but I *knew* that there was something there, and I felt it was inevitable that we would come together in some way, whether it be a casual fling or something more.  Two years later, we live together and have a 14-month-old daughter.  It all happened way too fast, and taking it slow would've been very smart and prudent.  Chemistry doesn't always equal compatibility.  But hard as it can be for a million different reasons, we're making it work every day.  A little more than you asked for, but there it is....

Edited to add: it wasn't on-line, but was a stranger connection through technology, so kinda close????

I wish there was something any of us could do or say, but I wanted you to know I read this and feel tons of compassion/empathy, and am hoping you find some relief long-term and deep.  I'm sending you lots of love.