Wheelerswife

Hugs to you...at this amazing juncture for your daughter. You've raised a fine young woman and encouraged her to pursue her dreams. I'm sorry her dad isn't there to see her shine at her graduation. I'm sure she is a wonderful role model to her little sister, too! Maureen

Tweety, Everyone's experiences are just different. I'm guessing that some of the more seasoned widdas at your meetup just don't really get that. I'm probably guilty myself of not really getting that point in the first year or so after my first husband died. My two experiences of being widowed are very different from each other. I've not had anger at either spouse for dying, but I was really angry at the universe after my second husband died because he had so much left to do with his life and that potential was stolen from him. There are no specific magic marks in time. My life turned a big corner 6 months after my first husband died. My life turned another corner after I got my service dog in December, nearing the one year mark for my second husband's death. Still, I haven't turned a big corner yet in terms of finding myself happy again. I am a lot less anxious, perhaps. I have a bit more direction for a future career, too, but that just happens to coincide with my university studies and not in relation to timing since my husband's death. I guess I just want to say that your experience is just what it is - yours. Don't be afraid to encourage new widows with your story. Just be aware of their experience and validate their reality, too. It sounds like you are the kind of widda friend that the new widdas need. Maureen

Wonderful news about your ongoing recovery! Take advantage of every service they offer you...coming from an old rehab PT. Best wishes, Maureen

I don't think I've ever posted here before, but today I feel like being positive. There seems to be so much sadness lately that I want to highlight some good things to add some balance and help me stay focused on possibilities. Here goes: 1. A widower friend I came to know through YWBB, with whom I spent hours talking last year when we were both at fairly low points...he messaged me last night that he is now engaged to a wonderful widow. Go dsb! I've enjoyed following his connection to his new love. 2. I'm getting myself ready for a summer road trip again. This time, I will have my 14 year-old niece with me and we will head west. 3. I'm having lunch with a local friend today that is relatively young and also widowed. Anyone else? Maureen

Hugs, Donna. Sometimes, it is a lot to process, but we don't have to hold onto everything that brings us down. Still, I think these days help us to remember and sometimes get some perspective. May you have some really wonderful memories today. Maureen

Hugs, sweetie! It is so hard to miss them. The loss of short and intense relationships seem just as hard as longer ones....at least from what I can see. Love ya! Maureen

Tracey, my dear friend...I will kidnap you and J in in early June. I love you! Maureen

Trying...I'm impressed! Maureen

As someone who HAS a rare cancer, I have to hope that those people who have dedicated their lives to cancer research keep trying to find ways to prevent, detect, treat and cure cancer. I know my own oncologist does research and she sacrifices her own personal and family time on a regular basis. She has returned a phone call to me from her home while supervising her daughter's homework! I'm not convinced that the majority of researchers are trying to rip off donors. The biggest part of the cost of research is time...the time of the people doing the research...and therefore their salaries. Do these people...who have expensive educations, deserve good salaries? I don't have a problem with that. Is there overhead? Of course. Should donors know just how much of their dollar goes to overhead? Sure. Are their scammers out there? Probably. Cancer charities? I don't know which ones are legitimate. But...like most situations, not all are good, and certainly not all are bad. Maureen

Hi, AG...I'm glad you are back and talking here. Self-blame is a tough one. Sometimes, though, I think we need to be kind to ourselves. Jim was an adult. He made his own decisions. If you had treated him like a child, he probably would have resented that. I think, too, that we make decisions based on the information and resources we have available to us at the time. "If I had only known....I would have...." John's mother is angry with me because I didn't look after John's health....like it was my job to tell him what he could eat and to drag him to the doctor for a physical. Umm...nope! He, too, was a grown adult who made his own decisions. I guess I just wish to encourage you to forgive yourself for being human. We only have hindsight sometimes. If guilt or regret are keeping you from being able to be a good mother and teacher now, then they have too much power over you. I doubt you had any control over the reality that Jim was going to die. I didn't have control over that reality for John. It happened. It sucks. But somehow, we have to figure out how we can move forward and keep living. I'm still working on that.... Hugs, Maureen

Leslie...I'm sending good thoughts. It sounds like you are getting the best care possible. My sister went through this about a year and a half ago...the whole airlift and all...and with the right care, she had an amazing and quick recovery. The PT in me says keep all hope. Hugs, Maureen

Many of us have felt like it would be better just to die. I remember after my first husband died, I wanted to just lie down on my side of our cemetery plot, go to sleep and just not wake up. Then, all they would have to do is dig a hole and roll me in. Fortunately, that feeling passed. Life eventually became good again. Incredibly good. I met a wonderful man, fell in love, and remarried. Less than 3 years after my wedding day, my second husband died very unexpectedly. I was crushed. Within weeks, I started having medical problems, I had major surgery and was then diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer. I thought...well, let this damn cancer just take me out of my misery! Well, it hasn't killed me. I see my oncologist again next week, and hopefully there will still be no evidence of disease. Fortunately, I don't want to die anymore. That feeling passed, too. It has been over 16 months and I miss my husband(s) and my happy life, but most days I feel as though I want to look forward and I hope to find a place where I am happy again. My friends can attest that I'm still on the roller coaster. I can feel very low at times and hopeful at other times, but I have found some gumption to persevere and ride out the storms, hoping for brighter days ahead. I hope you can start to see a bit of lightness that offers some hope, even brief moments, because for me, those brighter moments remind me that it won't always be as bad as it feels right now. Hugs, Maureen

You can count me in. Maureen

Interesting thread. I feel like the old me died after my first husband died. Then I was reborn into someone new. I've always felt like the metaphor of adolescence fit me well...a second adolescence of sorts. I was trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up (again). I don't feel as if I died again when John died, but my heart was broken and I've been shaken to my core. I'm fighting through that second adolescence, but without him there to lean on. I hope to emerge again with confidence. How long will that take me? I wish I knew. Maureen

Yay! But big hugs, too! This feels scary, but you will pull it off! Maureen

I will be coming to Houston on Monday, May 25th, flying in in the 3:00 range. I will be twiddling thumbs Monday night and Tuesday for most of the day until I begin an evening of tests at MD Anderson Cancer Center. I have an appointment with my oncologist on Wednesday at 1:30 and then I'm free again on Wednesday evening. I fly home Thursday morning. Is anyone interested in dinner on Monday, spending some time during the day Tuesday (I can't eat after a late breakfast), or dinner on Wednesday? The bonus? You get to meet my awesome dog Rosie! Let me know...I won't have a car and I'll be staying in one of the hotels in the University Hospitals area. Maureen

I just read on Facebook that YWBB member LeslieG (correct me if I am wrong!) has died. I didn't see any details. I had the opportunity to meet Leslie at a bago in DFW a few years ago. Leslie was a tiny woman with a huge heart who always had supportive and thoughtful comments for fellow widows. I know that she had recently had a medical procedure to address some pain issues, but this death appears quite unexpected. Leslie was a chat room regular and many here will miss her. Maureen

Yesterday, I walked at graduation for my second bachelor's degree that I finished in December. I managed to get through the ceremony with only one small anxiety episode that I managed to breathe through. I don't even think the faculty member sitting next to me even realized it. Why did I walk? Why did I decide to put myself through this? I think I needed to really process what the day meant. I know many students who were graduating. Some sat with me in classes just days after John died. Some were John's students who struggled to complete their degrees following John's death. Then, there were the faculty and staff who knew and loved John and have been supportive of me along the way. A few are truly my friends, but others have also grieved my husband and haven't been afraid to speak of him when we cross paths on campus or in places like the grocery store. I realize that many people don't have the opportunity to share their grief with those around them, and I'm fortunate to have my husband's memory honored through many visible tributes here. John and I had a total of 3 years and 9+ months that we knew each other and were married for 2 years and 9+ months. During that time, we both found ourselves transformed. His change was more subtle, I suppose. His life looked quite the same on the outside. He held the same job; he lived in the same house; he continued doing many of the same things he always did. But...he was different. He found his affectionate side. His colleagues and students saw a much softer man. He altered his focus - becoming more attuned to his home life and me. He was amazed at how well he could love and be loved...more than he had dreamed was possible. He was happy. Truly happy. My life dramatically changed. I left the world I'd known and I made a huge geographic and cultural move from New England to Western Kansas. I left my profession of 26 years - one that I had really loved and that had afforded me the ability to support my first husband (he was disabled.) I had wonderful opportunities to travel, both domestic and abroad. I recognized that I wanted a change...yet I didn't know what it was. I was used to supporting myself, but John was completely willing to support me now - and give me the opportunity to explore whatever I might want to do. The timetable didn't matter. He just wanted me to be happy, to grow, to explore the world with him, to find some way of making a difference, whether that be independently or with him. I let myself be vulnerable. I relied on him for income and emotional support. I initially dabbled in school until I became comfortable in the classroom. I chose another undergraduate major to pursue, since I didn't have the confidence to go to grad school after so many years in the workforce. I was well on my way to my second degree, but no real career path...when John suddenly died 16 months ago. I've since started grad school and I'm heading in a new direction...finally. I am studying Higher Education Student Affairs. I want to work with students in the environment that I only came to know because of John. Attending graduation yesterday wasn't so much about my second bachelor's degree, but more about perseverance and appreciation. I've pushed through school in spite of my grief and sometimes overwhelming anxiety. I think it was important for those who know me and my grief to see that their support was valuable. I believe they also know that it continues to be necessary. One of the hardest parts for me...what seems to bring me to my knees with tears flowing...John was a huge catalyst for the changes in my life. He supported me through the confusion of change. He loved me so well, understood my grief for my first husband, he recognized and appreciated my vulnerability and the trust I had in him to be there for me as my devoted husband. Now...I have to keep living out this change, this new version of life...without the man that I wanted to live it with. I am someone who functions well in a partnership, but now, I have no partner. I know I have to be open to more change. It's inevitable. Somehow, I have to keep trusting that I'll be able to figure this out. I just want to be happy again. Is that too much to ask? If you've managed to read this through...thank you. Maureen

I found some disturbing information about my first husband after he died. I could not confront him about it. Some really smart widow friends and a therapist convinced me that I had to let it go (after spending some time processing it all). His transgression perhaps defined a small part of him, but it wasn't the him that I knew and loved. Honestly, my advice to you would be to let it go. There is enough pain in the loss of your wife and everything that comes with being widowed. Don't look for more angst. She loved you. You loved her. We are all imperfect. Remember her for the wonderful love you did have. Hugs, Maureen

I don't know anything about this, SVS, but I wanted to extend my condolences to you and your family. Hugs, Maureen

Hachi...have a blast. I expect a full report when I see you again! Maureen

Good for you, Trying! I'm excited for you! Maureen

MB, you have had to face so much. Big hugs! Maureen

Some days it is hard to believe that John has been gone for 16 months. It seems like it was just yesterday when I had that last Facetime conversation with him from half-way across the country...only to find out many hours later that he had died in his sleep shortly after that conversation. Many of you will remember my YWBB post announcing that John had died. I still don't even believe I had to write those words, "John died today." But it is true. It still breaks my heart. I just finished my last final exam of my first semester as a graduate student. Saturday, I will walk at graduation for the bachelor's degree I finished in December, 30 years after my first bachelor's. (Am I really that old?) John was the reason I went back to school. He offered to support me, allowing me to give up the career I had suddenly decided was finished, and dabble back in a world I had left in 1984 - academia. If it wasn't for him, I'd never have changed careers. When he died 16 months ago, I still had a year to go on my second degree and I still didn't have a new career path. I had tossed around the idea of grad school, but I had time to make more decisions. My life keeps moving forward, though, and school is my vehicle. In 3 more semesters, I will have my master's in Higher Education Student Affairs...and the beginnings of a new career path. My professor husband introduced me to the university environment. I've come to love this world, but he is no longer in it to share it with me. John loved this regional comprehensive university. The university loved him, too. Every day, there are reminders here of him. He has a tree planted in his memory, research events named for him, a scholarship, and several awards for faculty and students as well. They are all wonderful tributes to a man who contributed so much to this place. Still, they bring tears with the smiles when his name is called out or someone stops me to tell me that they miss him or they were thinking of him. Every day, I run in to one of his colleagues or another. Sometimes I get a knowing look or a hug or someone who honestly wants to know how I am doing. I wonder, though, if I can heal my broken heart if I stay in this place of constant reminders of what I lost and what this university lost when my husband died. I'm taking the summer to travel again. I'll return in August and continue work on my master's degree. I don't think my future will remain here, though. I just wish I knew what was going to be out there in another 18 months. I hope I can find a happy place again. I found incredible happiness after the loss of my first husband Barry. Right now, happiness feels far off... Maureen

It can be awfully hard to make a move. I admire you for taking this step. Hugs, Maureen