Frederick

To top off, it was three days after my five-year sadiversary. I won't be looking forward to early August from now on. Thank you all for your support.

After Alex's first cancer treatment ten years ago, we decided to adopt a kitten. We went to the humane society, and there was a brown tabby kitten who was climbing on the front of the enclosure and meowing to get our attention. I still still remember Alex's words, "I think he wants to come out with us." We adopted him and he was a comfort and joy for us. He was there when Alex took ill again in 2012 and passed in 2013. The last five years he kept me going, snuggling up beside me every night, sitting next to me on the chair, greeting me at the door when I came home. He was a vibrant big boy full of love. Until yesterday. It was something called "saddle thrombus" which I hadn't heard of but it sadly too common in cats. I knew this day was coming but I hoped I'd have him more than ten years. It's doubly difficult because it feels like the last piece of Alex and I is gone.

I don't think I'm beyond active grieving yet, so I'll post here. I feel bad that I haven't posted here much in the past year. This site was very helpful for me in early widowed life. I guess overall I could say the last year has been...okay. I've had to come to terms with my situation and making the most of it. I'm still living in the suite I moved into last year. I've had a few options to move out but I've decided this is the best place for me at the moment. After, sigh, almost a year with no employment I've decided to go back to college for a diploma in a field that has better job prospects. I feel like I'm living the life of an 18 year old again; living on my own, going off to college, if only I didn't have 20 extra years of aging and debts to match. But I guess this year I'm finally seeing a future of sorts for me of my own making. And I'm okay with that. I had a very difficult first two years, a challenging third year, and this year I was able to move forward.

I have, too. Should have left the old house, and this city, soon after I became a widower for starters. All the bad decisions I made after stemmed from those roots. But...I think I did what I thought was best at the time. I did the best I could with the information I had, and thought it through as best I could under my emotional state.

One acquaintance, when I'd bring up the topic of DH would tell me "at least I had someone," like I was supposed to feel guilty because he wasn't in a relationship. And from multiple people, something along the lines of "you have your memories." Yes, I do. I loved our relationship. But it's like telling someone who can never breathe again "at least you can remember being able to breathe."

I'm three years out and in some ways this has been the worst year yet. I had a few friends early on into widowhood who pretty much took pity on me but I've exhausted their support and now spend most of my days alone. I feel no motivation. Advice about broadening my social circle doesn't really apply when I'm pushing 40 and most people my age are already settled down with a spouse and a job and aren't up to making new friends. Especially when I don't have anything to offer a new friend. I've heard finding hobbies would open me up but I just haven't found anything. It's a vicious cycle and I'll have to crack myself out of it...someday...until then I have no one to blame but myself.

Thank you all for the feedback. It is good to get a widowed perspective on the matter. I think we understand that there isn't always time to say the things you want to say. If I had kept quiet and then later at some point found out he was gone, I would have felt worse.

I had been dumped out of an abusive relationship, when I met Myron. Myron was a sweetheart...kind, gentle, and patient. I met him in 1998 and we were together for a couple of years, and as wonderful as he was, I just wasn't feeling the passion (I'd been damaged in that aspect by the last relationship.) Immature as I was, I didn't want to put any effort into it and we drifted apart. I didn't hear from him for a few years, then in 2008 he contacted me out of the blue, after a little catch-up I found out he'd just gotten out of a relationship. I was already with Alexander at that time. We never really talked about why our own relationship had ended, and we lost contact again. Earlier this month, I read an article about people who had been hurt by not getting closure and in many cases blaming themselves, and it made me think about how I left things unresolved and probably left Myron with undeserved hurt. Against all common sense, I decided to look him up and contact him. Initially, he was glad to hear from me again. I told him how sorry I was for how I treated him, but he said "life happens" and I didn't have to feel guilty. As we spoke I realized that the relationship meant more to me than it did to him. He'd forgotten my nickname for him, and "our song." And I overdid it with going on about how much he'd meant to me. He sympathized with my losses. He told me he's been in a relationship for seven years, but it was dysfunctional and he didn't want to be in it, but didn't have the courage to end it. And...we kind of trailed off from there. I tried talking to him again the next day, but realized I didn't have much in common with him anymore. He'd made something of himself and was in a decent career, meanwhile I'm still picking up the pieces from Alexander's death three years ago. The last talk I had with him was two weeks ago, he stopped responding and I hadn't heard from him since (nor have I contacted him since.) The whole thing triggered a flood of memories and "what-ifs." I realize what I probably really miss is that time of my life where I was 20 years old and the future ahead was full of hopes and dreams and I had no idea of the tragedies that lie ahead. I realize I just made things awkward for him and made myself look like a creepy stalker. I'm just going to leave things be now and not make matters worse; if he really does want to talk to me again, he has my contact info now. Getting in touch with an old boyfriend doesn't work out in real life like it does on TV or in movies. I wish I'd left well enough alone.

I still have this feeling three years out. That may sound discouraging. But...I'm still here three years out. So make of it what you will.

My husband and I loved to travel. Rarely for very far or very long, but we loved weekend getaways. There was a town with a Bavarian theme and a Bavarian hotel where we went for overnights every two-three months or so. He introduced me to the beauty of Mackinac after I moved here, and I fell in love with the place; we went a few times over the years. About once a year, he'd have a week or two off from work so we'd go on a road-trip cross-country to visit my family, stopping at interesting attractions along the way. Since he's been gone, I haven't gone much of anywhere, mostly due to finances, but partly because I couldn't imagine traveling alone. I've realized if I wasn't going to travel without him, then I wouldn't travel at all, so I've been trying it again. I just got back from Mackinac for the first time without him, and, I felt his absence so much. I felt like I was just going through the motions...trying to recapture my past but just feeling hollow. Being solo among all the couples and families wasn't helping. I did go to some different sights while there that I'd never been to before, and ended up enjoying those more. Earlier this year I went to a park on Lake Huron that I'd never been to before and enjoyed it, too. Sadly, I think it means I have to let go of places I visited with my husband, and focus on new locales. It really depresses me. How has everyone else's experiences been with travel as a widow/er?

I'd compare anticipatory grief to very slowly and painfully peeling off a bandage. Just how it felt to me, anyway.

I moved into Alexander's apartment, and we lived there for eight years. We moved to a new house two months before he took ill. I used to have dreams in the months after he died, that I'd go back to our old apartment, and he was there, alive and well, wondering where I'd been all this time. I actually miss having those dreams.

I have to admit the congratulations for long anniversaries get to me. Yes, congratulations for one of you not succumbing to an illness/accident that you have no control of, that must be quite a feat...

Though together nine years, We'd only been legally married ten months, so I wasn't ready to take if off just yet. But I ended up trying some different things around the one-year mark, wearing it on my other hand, and eventually usually not wearing it at all. Partly because I'm afraid of losing it, and partly because I had a couple of encounters while wearing it of, "Oh! I didn't know you were married," which resulted in me giving the story and depressing both parties. It may seem dishonest, but I wear it when I go to visit his mom. For her sake, and it feels like he's with me in some way.

Thank you. I wish there were more timelines for after the first year, many resources give rough guidelines of what to expect over the first year, but in the second year I felt abandoned. Though perhaps experiences vary widely after the first year so it would be difficult to generalize.

It's hard to believe. Late last month I started feeling really down and realized, today would be three years without him. If 6-12 months is "reality sets in", I'd say 1-2 years is "coping with reality" and 2-3 years is "picking up the pieces." At least that was my experience. My second year without him was about learning to live life without him, and my third year was been about learning to live life on my own. They may sound the same but they're quite different. May 2015, I finally found work...probably the only cashier with post-graduate degrees. This summer I moved on to a position more in line with my education but it was temporary...it was tough (some coworkers made it very rough) but I made it through. I feel a little more confident now (alas I often had lingering thoughts of 'if only he were here to see this', seeing as he was there watching me go through school and giving me constant support and reassurance.) Earlier this spring, I moved from our house. Kind of feels like cheating, it's on the same block, but a neighbor had a tenant move out and she offered me the suite, it's definitely a downgrade in size, and I never realized how much 'stuff' I accumulated over the years, so I was forced to downgrade that, too, but I think I needed it. Mid-move, my mom passed away suddenly and I had to fly out to deal with that. In the three years since my husband passed, our cat, my nephew, and my mom all passed--all suddenly, which is unusual for me to experience. So that's been my experience. I haven't posted here in a long time but it was my lifeline early on and I'm eternally grateful for that. I'm not sure what "the fourth year" holds. I know I'm far from Beyond Active Grieving yet.

I have those kinds of dreams, too; in an odd way, it's nice because I got to feel what it was like to believe he was alive again.

I was about to leave his hospital room; his mom had come to spend the night and I was going to go home to gather some things and cancel the home care services at our house since he was going to be discharged into hospice care at her house. I hugged and kissed him and said, "I love you." His voice was a raspy whisper, "Love you too." That was the last thing I heard him say; he lost the ability to speak shortly after that. He was with us another few days and unfortunately I don't remember the last thing I said to him.

I was going to repost my introduction from YWBB, but then I decided to make a fresh introduction here including my experiences since then. My husband passed away from glioblastoma in August 2013. His diagnosis was a year before that. His last year could be divided pretty evenly into thirds: the first was full of hope and optimism, and our wedding, the second was reality setting in, and the last was, well, anyone who's lost a partner to terminal illness will understand why I won't go into detail. Soon after I found YWBB, and it helped me immensely. I didn't post so much, but just reading other experiences helped so much. I discovered that old friends distancing themselves was quite normal, grief causes all sorts of physical and emotional symptoms, and many other things. Reading responses from members weeks, months, and a year or more out was helpful. I know some "veteran" members don't like to post potentially discouraging things for fear of scaring new members. But, you know what? I was impressed by the fact that they were still around, still pulling through, and at a time when I felt I didn't have any future anymore, it was encouraging.