Mizpah

Definitely dark/sick funny. There should be a widows' comedy. Some of this shit.... Just cannot make it up. Maybe only widow(er)s could see it though - everyone else would just think we're sick and twisted.

OMG (paying her a commission for handing out business cards) and creepy (the name of the store)

Hi Nicky, I see the thread has taken on other topics, but I wanted to respond to your initial one - concern over remembering him sick and not well. My situation was different, but I'm nearly six years out and thought perhaps my perspective on this could be helpful to you. DH was hit by a car while he was on a sidewalk and had extensive physical injuries, and a severe brain injury. Though it wasn't a prolonged illness, there was a hospital time and I saw very very disturbing things. I was obsessed from the beginning with remembering him as the so-very-alive, young, healthy, vibrant man he was, and not the being rendered powerless and just not-him by injury. These years later, I can't say that I've forgotten the hospital not-him, but *mostly* I remember the real him, the him-him. I have to really allow myself to or choose to think about the hospital stuff. It's still there, but it's not at the tip of my brain/heart when I think of him. I hope that brings you some comfort.

Yayyyy!!!! Congrats! Amazing! I'm so happy for you! Awesome.

Not my own child, but my boyfriend's son has gone through a lot in his short life and has horrible, conscienceless behavior. Different issues and causes (lost my boyfriend's fiancee who was sort of like a stepmom, and has an extremely tumultuous homelife with his mother), but definitely ADHD and total lack of coping skills/gives up beyond easily. I don't have a perfect answer, but my boyfriend has for a year or two now been regularly hiking with him. It makes a difference. It gives him something. http://www.latimes.com/science/sciencenow/la-sci-sn-nature-mental-health-20150629-story.html

Mcdc, I'm so sorry. As I read your words, I had remembrances from 5-5 1/2 years ago. You say you don't care about politics, and I remember how I stopped watching the news when DH died and I never had any clue what was going on and I felt a keen awareness of how little it truly mattered what went on in the broader world. (Osama bin Laden was killed the weekend DH died, and I didn't even know for weeks.) For me, the full first two years were very, very hard. Though, for me, it never ever felt as bad as those first few days/weeks, I do distinctly remember the feeling the day after the end of the first year. It was a deeper sadness than I'd been in, because not only was nothing different, but I also felt exiled from grieving. In the beginning (I barely remember the first 5 months), I hated how time took me further from him, took him further from existence/reality. I monitored myself pretty closely, the waves of feelings - do I feel a little better? Do I feel worse? Am I ok? Am I crazy? Does it get better? My opinion: yes. Yes, very much so, but very very gradually and over a long period of time. (And as a mom to a 2 1/2 year old, I know that always having to be "on" and always having to put others first, to be a servant of sorts, to never have time alone, not to be able to indulge your own needs or feelings, it is extremely hard all on its own even without grieving.) In April, it'll be 6 years for me. At two years, I started to feel alive again. It had been coming and growing for months by then. I was still very upset at times though. I don't know when that stopped. But I know that now, I'm ok. Pretty fully ok. I think one of the worst things we widows can do in the beginning is look for a big grand "graduation" of sorts - finding a big inspiration, a big "reason for living," and big new 5-year-plan, a big better feeling. For me, it was about the little things. Finding joy in simple pleasures again, slowly, random ones at random, unexpected moments. Being interested in reading again. Finding other people's (more minor) problems worthy of concern and sympathy. Wanting things for my future, even if I didn't know what. Starting not to shudder when people touched me (in the beginning, each touch upset me because I wanted him to have been the last to touch me), and then eventually, missing and craving romantic/sexual/physical contact. In the beginning, I found it best to just engage in simple, healthy habits and not think too much about the future or goals, thought mostly about him and loss and grief - really delved into it mentally and emotionally. Just keep going. One day it won't feel so hard.

Reading this makes me sad for her that the person who is supposed to love her the most sees her faults (or what you personally may see as faults, which may not be faults at all) so starkly. Whether or not you are doing or feeling or going through something, every person deserves to be loved better than that - more fully, more kindly. One of the most wonderful things for me about being with DH was that he saw the best in me, and never made me feel like he saw or cared about my flaws - and that view of me brought out the best in me - the best person and the best feelings. Is what you describe really something you can base a relationship on? To be irked by someone's minor actions? To look at them and feel critical rather than desirous? To find them so wanting but to know that OTHER GUYS would be all about her? Maybe you're not sabotaging. Maybe you're "just not that into her." Edited to add: As far as being honest with her, please think hard about that before laying your feelings bare for your own relief. As someone who is with a widower, it is VERY HARD. If you tell her you are comparing her to DW, that is something that is going to stick with her and could haunt her forever, a feeling of never being able to measure up, of never being good enough. I'm assuming she didn't know your wife, so she will imagine her as the most amazing person she can never be. Be careful with words if you choose the honesty path.

I think many who haven't been in this situation are very quick and easy to judge. I was one, too, believe me, until I was in the situation. People can be DGIs about things other than widowhood.... For example, I have DH's name tattooed on my ribs near my heart - can only see it in a bikini/underwear or naked really. Someone asked before I got it if any future boyfriends would be comfortable. I very angrily and flippantly said: "Well, they'd have my life and body, all [DH] gets is this." But it's not that simple. Most people don't just want to share a life. They want the heart of the person they're with. The whole heart. And a widow/widower will always have either a divided heart, or two hearts. And it's easier to forget when you're not immersed in the departed's home/town/social world/life. Serpico, I think just the fact that you came here to air this means you are trying to do everything you can to help her move through this. It's hard to know how much of it is circumstantial and how much of it is internal insecurity. (NG and I plan to move as soon as we can get our adulting in order. I am looking to that as a kind of personal/relationship salvation: a new start, a unified endeavor, something that is OURS, not just his.)

I keep having further thoughts. Apologies. I think that it's harder when you move to someone else's home and town and life. For example, NG and I are both widows, but we don't ever have contact with DH's family. We do, however, run into DW's family and friends ALLLLLLL the time. So it's always in my face in a way that it's never in his face. We go fishing on the lake where they had their first "date." We grocery shop at their grocery store. Etc., etc. All the places and memories and people - they're remote to him, hypothetical almost, not as real I would guess.

My (widower) boyfriend has no problem with my status. But I have big problems with his, or rather how he has handled it, or handled me, or handled us. I left my whole life, job (I'm still working, but my old job was way more exciting), friends, city (for the country), peace (for pets and his young son who is... challenging at best), etc. To live in the house he shared with his late fiancee and her children, and raise our child together. It has been HARD. Hard. Very very hard. (Added: we're not married) P.S. I read the post after I responded. I didn't find it offensive like DOE. I found it comforting and refreshingly honest, and also slightly tragic for me and the blogger. Many late spouses become perfect upon their death. A new person coming into that situation will often feel they cannot measure up. I know that I have felt that way, sometimes because I've been made to feel that way by circumstances or other people or even my boyfriend (though he claims he never has or would or intended to). There are lower times when I have been obsessed by her, where I imagine their life together as this perfect thing that he would choose in a millisecond and get rid of me. This woman I can never ever live up to. I do often feel as though I live in her shadow. I live in her space, and imagine what it was with her in it. Thank Gd for therapy.

I love this!

Feeling connection and desire and closeness is way better than feeling darkness and a gaping hole where your home and family and present and future used to be. It's natural. I became very close with DH's close co-worker and friend just after he died - he'd lost his fiancee at a young age 15 years prior, and he kind of took me on, and I consider him my widow mentor. I looked at him like he was magic: "If he can survive that, I can survive this." (His loss was coupled with another large-scale trauma.) He knew DH, and that connection was EVERYTHING in the beginning, when I just wanted to keep DH here, retain him in life and existence. I cared more about his friends and family than mine, because they were a closer thing to him, and getting closer to him, who kept receding in time, inaccessible to me, was all I cared about. Lucky for me, this friend moved away a couple months later, and I was not able to continue to lean on him. Years later, we had an extremely brief fling in another country while I was on vacation, and it made me realize exactly how lucky I was - even years later, the intensity of his connection to DH and our common love for him, mixed with what seemed to be a true connection and crazy chemistry between us and great love and care... It would've been disastrous for me in a very complicated emotional/psychological way. (After he left, DH's former boss made advances. I was extremely vulnerable, desired that connection to DH in any way I could get it, and almost got very involved. I wasn't thinking straight. I barely remember the first few months. At the time, I didn't quite understand why I didn't engage. Looking back, it seems my instincts were smarter than I was at the time. I'm glad I didn't get involved.) My advice: go to therapy. Go to lots of therapy. And work out. And get sunshine. And write. This situation is likely to lead to suffering for you and/or this woman. (My boyfriend is a widower who got involved with me WAYYYYYYYY too soon, and it led to some of the worst suffering I've ever endured - and I include losing DH, who was my life and my king and my soul, in that.) You're going to do what you're going to do, and maybe there's no "wrong way," but when given a choice to avoid or minimize hurt rather than increase it, I say do your future self (and her) a favor and exercise some major self-control. Who knows - maybe you two will fall in love and "live happily ever after," but honestly - she's telling you to slow down (and this is perhaps the most important part - you say you are causing her stress). Take her advice. Respect what she's saying. Stop it. Don't use her as a balm for your grief. It's not fair - to you or to her. If you were developing true care for this particular woman - HER, not how she's making you feel and how she's distracting you from pain - you'd take the knowledge that you're causing her stress and you'd stop. You would care about her and her experience of this, not just the relief it's giving you. That, to me, is the clearest sign to you that you are not ready to engage in a relationship. Maybe just a fling. But not with this woman. It's too fraught. Embrace/confront your grief and suffering - it's the only way through, IMHO.

Ugh, I'm sorry. That's rough. And yeah - it not happening again is a fantasy/myth, especially given that bf condones the overall situation, even while disciplining for specific incidents. I have a really hard time stomaching the excuse that goes along the lines of a child just acting out or misbehaving or being an a-hole because they're just so smart. It's gross and precious, and I have no patience for that. Yay smart, but guess what's more important? Wisdom, kindness, maturity. Smart may be important for academic and professional achievement, but it's far from the important thing in home and family life. And it's nothing to brag about in the face of rude and hostile behavior. I know it's got to be so hard, but I think it's "smart" (hahahaha) to end the relationship to prevent further negative/hostile/ugly/toxic household dynamics for you and your son.

After DH's death, his brother started wearing all his clothes, even cut his hair like DH's had been. I didn't have the complication of children who could be upset by it, just my own shaken, traumatized, disturbed feelings. I let it go and didn't address it - he was missing his brother and dealing with it in his way. I did have a really hard time looking at him, though.

From 5 1/2 years out, my advice is to allow yourself to grieve. Try to keep things/your life simple. If therapy is available, avail yourself of it. Any friend who is there for you, take it. Talk to those with open ears/hearts. Write (about her and about your love and loss and your experience) if it helps you. Create healthy rituals that give your days structure. Think of ways to honor her that make you feel good. Try to get sunshine, physical exertion, hydration, and nutrition. Try not to pressure yourself to "do well" or feel better than you do, but also don't deny yourself good feelings when they come, whether it be for a fleeting moment or a day or longer. I remember the first time I felt happy after DH died - it was about 5 months out, I was out on the sidewalk watching the marathoners go by in NYC (the wheelchairs go first, and I was so moved by their drive and strength - internal I mean, the inspiring aspect of it). I was standing alone in the sun, and the excitement of the day, the simplicity of it, got me a tad teary, and I smiled. For a few minutes, I knew happiness again, and knew that light in me would continue to grow, in fits and starts, gradually. The simple pleasures and beauties outside ourselves still exist (I spent a lot of time staring at the sky, rivers, trees), and in the beginning that can be painful, but those tiny moments can also save us. I'm thinking of you, and wishing you moments of comfort and solace.

Congrats! Giving me flashbacks to the day DH swore the oath. He was so proud. It made me teary. Awesome!

Karin_a, for what it's worth, my story/perspective: DH and I were obsessively harmoniously in love, in a way that didn't fade over the (sadly few) years we shared. He used to say, "No one's in love like we are." He brought a calm to my life I'd never known. I'd always had a feeling that stuff was happening elsewhere and I wanted to be there, but with him, I finally felt like wherever we were together was the only place I needed or wanted to be. All my prior relationships, even long-term ones, just faded into black and white. When he died, I truly deeply believed I would never have feelings for anyone ever again. Not like that. Maybe not at all. After about two years, I started to feel alive again. (At about 15 months, I started dating someone for a few months. He was a very kind and good man, absolutely nothing wrong with him, but I had no feelings, which just reinforced my original opinion.) I met a man who I'd intended to just be friends with - "more" hadn't even occurred to me. He was a widower and I tried as often as I could to "pay forward" the support I'd gotten. But as soon as we met, there was something. It was a feeling of inevitability (at the time, I only recognized it as an inevitability of a fling/sexual connection). After only a very short time, I realized I was deeply attached to this person, and he was to me, the chemistry was undeniable and overwhelming. I was SHOCKED. Fast forward a few years, and what was once a casual long distance fling is now us raising our child together. Now for the harsh truth: what we share is not anything like what DH and I shared. After the initial "honeymoon phase" whirlwind romance, newness, extreme lust of beginnings, it changed. Keep in mind though: DH and I didn't have children, we didn't have financial worries, we basically just had a life where our only obligation was work, and the rest of our lives were all about enjoyment. NG and I are co-parents to a young child (read: strain/stress!). We have financial worries. We have a house and yard. We are both widows, so we have emotional baggage. We have extremely different personalities and preferences (country mouse and city mouse to say the least). So a lot of it I'm sure is circumstantial - if we were living the same kind of easy life DH and I lived, the nature of our relationship would likely be way more fun. DH and I were perfect for each other. NG and I are not. It's debatable whether we're incompatible (negative view) or whether we balance each other out (positive view). That being said, though, there are moments in which I love this man SO MUCH my heart hurts. We have a deep bond and crazy love for each other. It is different for sure - what we share with one person can never be replicated with another person, with all the multitudes of who they are. It is different, but it is wonderful and sweet. As for making DH proud, there have been many moments (mostly in the past when NG and I were going through major adjustments not gracefully) in which I think DH would be sad for me and angry at me, would want me to leave NG. In the first couple years after DH died, all I wanted was to pay tribute to DH with my life and my choices and myself. Life becomes complicated again though, and a laser focus on honoring DH wouldn't honor my life. I used to have dreams about DH. I used to think that, when I gave birth to my daughter, I would be heartbroken because she wasn't DH's. But I wasn't, and the most recent dream I had, DH was holding my daughter and believed she was his. I was heartbroken to have to tell him she wasn't, but my heart was NG's in the dream. I will always love DH, he will always be the most intense love I ever experienced, but my new life/love isn't lesser, and I don't feel sad. I say now I have a starfish heart, that we all do. The arm was gone, destroyed, lost, dead, when DH died. But it grew back, gradually, different but just as big, just as useful, just as full.

Red. Flag.

I'm sorry things are hard right now. I think darkness and loneliness can be so difficult. You seem committed to staying there, though. Is there a way you could begin some kind of social routine/structure/tradition? Would it be weird to invite all your neighbors over once a month for an evening get together? Is there a pub somewhere there you could go to to be among others? Thinking of you much.

Quixote, I don't know if you'll find this similar, but I'll throw it out there anyway just in case.... DH and I were euphorically in love in a way that didn't fade in the years we were together. Everyone wanted to be us, to find what we shared - we were the couple everyone envied. When he died I didn't think I could ever have feelings for another person. Five and a half years later, I'm in a committed relationship, and we have a young daughter. And here's the guilt: while I can objectively recognize that DH was an amazing man and we shared something absolutely indisputably extraordinary, I can also say that I no longer miss him. (It sounds so terrible, and it looks terrible written.) I am fully accustomed to life without him. I feel it's healthy, but I also feel, again, terrible: he should be missed, forever, intensely. But.

Trying, I did talk to him about it. We don't see eye to eye on it, to say the least. I'm much more sensitive in general than he is. Nothing I could say about DH could really ruffle him, and I think he judges this by his own perspective rather than mine. He did say he didn't say anything to intentionally hurt me. That none of my posts from the past about DH bother him in the slightest (which is kind of as hurtful as his post - I WANT him to care - maybe I'm immature). He feels we need to be able to grieve the way we grieve, and give each other that freedom. I think I'm much more well-adjusted to DH's death than he is to his late fiancee's. He did the denial/avoid method, and it hasn't worked. Or rather, usually it does, but when it comes up on say a birthday or when he sees her family, he finds he's still in pain and still not accepting of what occurred. And I think that makes me feel second best - that he's not moving forward about it. And yeah, MrsDan, I don't think I could handle dating a widow either. Oops. Too late! Ugh! In theory, I COMPLETELY BELIEVED I'd be so zen and understanding. In reality, it's really really hard, even as we've been together for years, seeing a photo of him looking so happy with another woman, a woman he still loves. Yeah, she's not here and I am, but it's the heart that we want as well. ALLLLLLL of it, hahahahahaha. Ugh. I don't know. It's so complicated. Struggling along! It's all trial and error, huh?

So I posted "the urge!," a while back about how I don't post except once a year on DH's birthday and I often have to stifle the urge to make people look at his face. Well, yesterday was widower boyfriend's late fiancee's birthday, and when I opened FB, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. His smiling face, looking sooooo happy with another woman, their faces close together: "The world was once a better place. Happy birthday my love." "My love." That's supposed to be me. It hurt. It hurt bad. Understanding or not, it f'ing hurt! I only slept two hours. It's funny, because I'd been thinking about posting this year, and thinking about saying something about how remembering DH doesn't mean I love NG less, that we have starfish hearts, and about how much I love him. Yesterday has given me pause. I will still probably post on his birthday (I've been looking forward to it all year!), but will be EXTREMELY aware of what I say and how it could hurt NG (not so new anymore), and adjust accordingly. It turns out, for as much as we say they just need to accept that we'll always love them, when you're on the other side, it's a whole different perspective.... I give so much credit to all the men and women who take us on - it's not easy.

I'm so sorry. I too had a pretty blissful situation, and read a quote early on that gave me some shred of comfort: "The pain now is part of the happiness then." Or, "The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal."

There is nothing immature or horrible about this, and I disagree with Portside. We are sexual and social creatures, period. As long as you know what you are and are not ready for right now, and you don't mislead someone, and are safe and smart in partner choice for whatever you seek, what's the harm? I have several widow friends (I'm 5 1/2 years out) who dated very early on, and it didn't damage any of them or anyone else.

I get what you're saying, klim. But for me it's not a message saying, "Hey, I loved him and he loved me." It's more like, "This man is nowhere in the world and he should be seen and loved and remembered." Like, "Hey, look at this man! Look at his face! He existed! He was part of this world!" Before, random people would see him on the street, strangers - now, no one sees him. (I only post on his birthday, not our anniversary or his death day. It's about HIM, not us or death or me.) I think perhaps it's the last shred of my grief, a part that's now about me: anger (for him, on his behalf) that he truly is gone. Because really, at heart, it's that people should see him, because really he should still be alive. (DH was 28 and we hadn't had children yet, so there's no piece of him left here - maybe that increases the impulse, I don't know.)