ATJ

?Just feels like sometimes I go back and forth between grieving and rebuilding.  When I start rebuilding and hit an obstacle grieving hits.?

 

I really don't want to go back to grief when those obstacles hit but forge forward .  Does this make sense?

MIB,

'Rebuilding' is an enormous, multifaceted endeavor, and for some it can present a more daunting task than others, based on individual circumstances. Similar to a major natural disaster, it depends on the level of destruction that has been wrought and what elements of the former structure are still intact and usable. Is there any foundation left? Is the general area safe to rebuild, or has it been declared a 'danger zone' which is now off limits, or perhaps it has become a malodorous miasma, too unpleasant to want to stay. 

I have observed some variations among the widowed. The ones with whom I have become personally acquainted are all older than I, and they were without exception 'fortunate' enough (a relative term) to have the major structure of their lives still intact. They were left with a big hole in their "house of life", but the remaining part still stands strong. They did not lose ANY of their former friends, and their families stuck with them like glue. Often their existing relationships with both family and friends became even stronger, and the logistics of life also remained relatively undisturbed. - They still live in the same home which they shared with their spouses, often without making any, or only minor decorative changes, still drive the same car, frequent the same stores, restaurants, and are still deeply rooted in their communities and social circles. And while they miss their spouses, their lives pretty much continued on autopilot, and therefore they have adjusted rather well. Grief returns sporadically and briefly on special occasions, usually anniversaries.

Then there are others who have to go through a major metaphorical remodeling project, but still have sufficient original elements left intact and reusable. However, the enormous task ahead of them can be daunting and long, and sometimes, in mid process, as their remodeling plan unfolds, they realize that they don't like it and tear part of the new structure down again. It can be an intermittent 'hit and miss' project. All of this is energy draining, and during the ensuing upheaval grief often returns and exacerbates their exhausting efforts. At times it all can deplete them so much that they have to slow down and take a short or more extended break, meanwhile living in an unfinished structure, which contains part of the old and some new elements. Quite confusing, enervating and discouraging, indeed!!

Then, there is a third category, where EVERYTHING has been obliterated, no more usable elements left at all. No foundation, and even the original construction site can't be used anymore. In those cases the "survivors" have to find an entirely new site, in addition to new construction material. Every single aspect of their lives has been destroyed in the blink of an eye, and they don't even recognize the greater landscape anymore. They feel as if having been transported to a different planet. As a consequence, they have to literally reinvent themselves entirely, in addition to the logistical part of their lives. There is in fact no physical evidence that their former life ever existed - no children, no family, and no other witnesses who can attest to it. The collateral damage was too far reaching.

This can result in a MAJOR mind game, making them doubt their own sanity. It can transport them into a surreal state, questioning their identity and very existence. Perhaps it is similar to living under a witness protection program - with a fake identity, drastic relocation, and no looking back on what was before - the entire past wiped out and having to deny one's authenticity and assume different characteristics, just to survive. This can at times feel like an eerie 'out of body experience'. And even if "The New" has pleasant aspects, it all seems FAKE. And then grief comes barreling back with a vengeance at times, even as they want to leave it FAR behind, never to return. The resurfacing grief then often finds an ally in the nefarious hypnotist who puts the patient into an altered state of mind, and both form a new and powerful battle front.

And yes, even new triumphs and victories can feel hollow and meaningless, while outsiders enthusiastically applaud and express their admiration for our efforts.

Yep, this rebuilding can in its own way become almost as rigorous and challenging as the initial stages of grief. It's a different kind of struggle, but no less significant. We had to transition from the 'WE' to 'ME' thinking, thus feeling further separation in the process from not only our spouses but also our former selves, and with it a new sense of loneliness emerges.

No matter what each individual's circumstances are, widowhood is "the gift that keeps on giving"!! The only thing that keeps us going is trying to find renewed hope and clinging to it, which in itself is a challenging and often frustrating endeavor, as I described in my related post.

Let's keep climbing together and holding onto Hope!

 

ATJ

?How is it possible that he's just GONE.  Like there one minute, gone for freaking EVER after?  I'm 16 months out and it just bothers me that this basic concept of death and grieving still eludes me.  I just still can't wrap my brain around the fact he is not out there SOMEWHERE?

HOW the f*ck can he just be GONE?  I guess I just want to know if it's normal to still feel this way.

As to understanding death in general, people have struggled with this question from time immemorial. And when it comes suddenly, out of the blue, it is an even greater shock and seems surreal. -

Although my husband was very sick for a long time, one morning I discussed with him our plans for going to the hospital later in the day for treatment. Then I was ready to go grocery shopping and told him that I would hurry back in about an hour - would he be OK? He calmly nodded and smiled. When I came back, he was GONE, and police told me that he had wandered off to a nearby place and shot himself. It felt surreal beyond belief. Here one moment, gone the next! I simply could not believe it, and my sense of reality was turned upside down. I never saw him again.

For about three years I expected him to magically show up on our doorstep. I kept looking for him in crowds - simply couldn't wrap my head around it.

That's it exactly it. Over time we begin to feel on a deep, visceral level the enormity of 'the absence of presence' - 'the endless time of never coming back'. The initial anesthesia has worn off, and it becomes very palpable - another difficult part of this complex process.

It can all become a real mind game, distorting one's perception of reality. The surreal part of it compounds the pain and can challenge one's sense of sanity. - So, is it 'normal' that you 'still' feel this way? In a distorted sense, yes it is, because the actual event deviates so far from what our mind considers 'normal'. It takes time to process it, and unfortunately, it's not the Hallmark movie version, where everything is resolved pronto. I really feel for you!

During my time of great desperation and wanting to "feel alive" and 'normal' again, I wrote the poem below. Perhaps it will give you at least the sense that you are not alone in this:

 

I fervently wish that light will shine on your dark path

and that your troubled heart will soon find rest and peace!

 

ATJ

Ahh yes, Hope, that seductive, mysterious and enigmatic enchantress! From time immemorial she has been a powerful magnet for humanity, drawn to her in the midst of unspeakable terror and pain. She was all that kept humans going against seemingly insurmountable odds.

When my husband was fighting an almost nine-year, vicious battle for survival, Hope was the instrument that buoyed us when all else failed.  However, after his tragic death, I felt betrayed and deceived by her alluring nature, and the mere invocation of her name engendered rage and repulsion in me. When well-meaning people spoke to me of "hope and healing", I wanted to vomit. In my despair I railed against Hope, and when she gently tapped at my door, I screamed at the top of my lungs: "Go away, you despicable, shameless LIAR, and don't ever come near me again!" -  followed by a certain hand gesture for emphasis!! ;D

It reminded me of a cynical quote which mirrored my emotions at the time:

My mind and soul were filled with fear, rage and despair, which threatened to vanquish me, and the "final exit door" looked increasingly inviting!! As I lay on my bed, curled up in the fetal position, I felt that I was DONE!

From this experience I learned:

Then one day I read the following:

Well, I was careening downhill at breakneck speed and had nothing to lose anymore. Though, even as I still did not trust Hope, that mercurial temptress, I felt that she was 'the only game in town'. From past experience I knew that she did not come with a guarantee, only offers an opportunity to remain in the game and provides a vague chance, however infinitesimal, to walk away from the table with at least Something. Just MAYBE, I should give it One more try instead of capitulating in unconditional surrender.

But when I called for her, there was only silence. I learned that Hope cannot be summoned or cajoled, she often tarries and takes her own time. "You FOOL!" -  I  berated myself - "Are you daft?" How could I fall into that alluring trap once again?? She had led me through so many meanderings along the way and left me alone in a maze of utter confusion and disorientation. Well, bleep HER!!

But just when I had resigned myself to stoically face my dark reality, I heard a gentle knock at the door, and a quiet voice called out: "I'm back, let me come in!" I was taken by surprise, but recognized her immediately, and replied in a timorous tone: "Wait, don't go away, I'll open the door!" When I let her in, I felt some of that heaviness drop from my shoulders, and a renewed sense of courage emerged. And despite her fickle and tenuous nature, I was grateful for her return.

For a while we walked together, and my stride improved in steadiness and strength. My gaze began to shift in forward direction with lesser views into the rearview mirror. Eventually, she seemed to have steadied me sufficiently to let me walk on my own. For a while, the new optimism that she had imparted allowed me to steer my new course. But as we all know, life is in constant flux, and unforeseen obstacles are thrown into our way, just when we begin to think that we have finally 'got it'.

And so, once again, I placed other '911 calls' for her assistance, often being put on hold for an interminably long time, and she doesn't have a toll-free number, it came at my cost. But I have a determined nature and therefore thought:

And so I kept holding on until she answered each time.

When I was little, I had assumed in childlike innocence that once I'd grown up, I would know all the answers to life's questions. A sweet infantile notion and wishful thinking. But I've learned that Life is a long sequence of darkness and light, and therefore, the alluring 'Siren of Hope' has been called upon again and again to help me find my way to new beginnings.

Below I summarized my thoughts about this:

May Hope guide us to the brighter shores of New Beginnings!

 

 

I bid you Peace!

 

ATJ

((Rooshy))

I believe that it is a natural tendency for us to second guess ourselves, forever wondering WHAT we could have done differently. But we did the best we could with the understanding and resources available at the time, and we did it with LOVE, not carelessness!

Guilt and doubt can devour us, if let them.

Sometimes we must attempt to let go of our painful ruminations and say to ourselves: "I did the best I could!" And our loved ones knew that.

May Peace and Serenity surround your troubled heart, and may you find regeneration!

 

ATJ

Happy 2 years in Heaven, Hon!  Want you to know that you will be forever loved and missed!

 

Until we're together again,

May you continue to feel the unbroken bond!

 

Peace to you on your journey.

 

ATJ

Deleted!

Time will lessen the pain, but I doubt it will fade away completely!

Peace to you, today and always!

 

ATJ

Deleted!

TO:  @Carey @Wheelerswife @BrokenHeart2 @messageinabottle @Icoxwell @canadiangirl @Wifeless @AC @Bluebird @Just Jen @Grammy

I wish to express my gratitude for your warm and gracious responses. Indeed, we all can help each other! Unknowingly, YOU, through your kind replies, have helped ME and lifted my spirit, which had been under attack for some time. And through the recent board upheaval I have also witnessed so many helping hands extended to make this new 'Home' possible, as well as many hands reaching out to others in need.

Help does not have to come in a fancy gift-wrapped package; sincere support can come in a wrinkled, brown bag. Sometimes just VERY FEW words can help someone else to hold on.

I remember from my earliest days, when during one of my many sleepless nights I totally 'freaked out' and had a panic attack of epic proportions. I felt like 'pulling the plug'. In my despair I wrote a private message to a trusted fellow member. The response was not fancy or long, but just A FEW words. They said: "Steady now!" - "I'm here." Shaking and trembling, I kept staring at those words, and gradually calmed down while tears were flowing. Those simple words had a hypnotic effect on me and got me through the night.

During the last several days I have seen MANY 'candle lighters' here, many who have helped to shine light on another's path. So much kindness and caring has risen to the surface. Never doubt that YOU can make a difference, even if to just ONE single person!

With deep appreciation,

 

ATJ

Deleted!

I am so hopeful.  There was a time I couldnt get out of bed for days on end.  It feels good to look back and recognize that while it is surely different and wildly unpredictable and certainly imperfect, it isn't miserable any longer.  And you know what?  I'm going to take credit for that.  I made that happen! 

ATJ

Deleted!

Bluebird's beautifully written, mournful commemoration about the loss of our former "mothership" deeply touched me and has been in my thoughts since I responded earlier today. She expressed so well how many of us are feeling, and the many heartfelt responses confirmed it. But from all of this I have also gained a sense of comfort through the expressed solidarity and feel a rising sense gratitude for being able to say "Hello again" after the mournful "Goodbye".

Thanks to the enormous efforts and hard work of the 'Builders' and the MANY efforts of the 'Search and Rescue Team', whose mission it was to "leave no man behind", the numerous Guardians of this new place who keep it safe, the ones who sowed the first seeds with their posts to encourage others to follow, the ones from many years ago (even before my time) who returned to let us know that they still care, and countless others who quietly worked behind the scenes - owing to ALL of them we have found another "Mothership". Together we have weathered another difficult transition on this long widow road. Life is in constant flux, but when we stick together, we can somehow make it. 

This experience has newly restored my faith in humanity, which I had intermittently lost along the road.

So, here is a BIG Hug to Bluebird, for expressing what has been in our hearts, and a HUGE Group Hug to all other fellow mourners who have made it to our new "Mothership". Welcome Home!

A Tout Jamais 

Bluebird,

Thank you for capturing our mutual loss in such beautiful words! When I read the title, your analogy immediately resonated with me. Like you, I also felt totally untehered, as if floating like a lonely leaf torn from its tree, blowing aimlessly through the air, without control or direction, and at the mercy of a mighty overpowering force. I felt so lost and abandoned, without any sense of belonging, without any guidance or support, and desperately searched for answers everywhere. I turned to books and other grief literature -  looking for SOMETHING, ANYTHING, to help me from going over the brink and falling into an abyss of insanity and despair. But the words written by "grief experts" only intellectually resonated with me, they were not able to convey any sense of comfort, no solace to calm my soul. They did nothing to soothe my brokenness or diminish my deep sense of isolation.

Then one day, through fortuitous happenstannce, I found the YWBB site, and something began to shift. For the very first time I felt that I had a place to go to - a home, where I was welcome, unquestioned and united in solidarity with other lost souls looking for answers. This new-found mothership warmly wrapped its arms around me, spoke soothingly to my wounded heart and broken spirit, and held me close, much like a mother would comfort her distraught child. I felt like being safely embraced in a warm cocoon when on the outside a ferocious wind howled and the world was dark and cold.

In the Mothership I had formed a close bond with others in exile who had been expatriated from their lives. Somehow that place helped me to hold on when I wanted to end it all. It gave me the strength and courage to fight for another hour, another day, because there were others, deeply wounded and bloodied as I, and we clung tightly together. It was the place and guardian that held my safety deposit box of raw emotions, the pouring out of my soul's deepest despair, the depository and record keeper of small triumphs and nascent hope, and close bonds forged with fellow travelers.

Therefore, its abrupt disappearance feels like a significant loss that I mourn. I will always be thankful for what it gave me when I stood on the edge of a sharp cliff looking down into a deep, dark abyss. It helped me to survive!

Upward and onward in Hope!

 

ATJ 

((Kamcho))

I can so completely understand your frustration and anger with the oncology world and indeed anything related to cancer! My own sense of frustration and anger many times mirrored yours during my husband's horrendous struggle, and especially after his death. Even many years later I am still cynical when I think of the entire experience. Then I saw it once more repeated when I later took care of a friend who had cancer.  UGGHHH!!

Touting the business of hope makes me want to give a sarcastic rejoinder and say: "Yeah, you certainly are  SELLING Hope, a.k.a. snake oil,  and reap lucrative rewards!" And yes, I retrospectively also deeply resent those rah, rah cheerleaders in the field, who MUST have known better than that, but peddled their false advertising.

While I don't want to throw the entire medical community under the bus, and believe that there are some in that field who truly care and believe in what they are doing, for MANY their elixir of hope is merely a money generating tool, which I find the most deplorable of all when people are fighting for their lives and look for any faint ray of hope.

After my experience with my husband, I also second-guessed every decision we ever made, all the research we did, the trials in which we participated, the conventional and non-conventional approaches - all for nothing -  but a steady process of attrition. In fact, I saw many other patients during that time who died from the treatment rather than the original illness.

But, lengthy ruminations, can lead to an endless loop of self-doubt, anger and finally become self-destructive. After my husband's death I have pretty much second-guessed every single decision I have made, even those not related to cancer, but widowhood. Doubt and its companion guilt can eat you alive if you allow them.

Nothing can be undone, we don't get a do-over, and that's the most confounding and troublesome aspect of it. So, I have slowly been trying to 'let go'. As the widowed we have been given so much "opportunity" and practice in "the art of letting go". It's one piece after another of our broken lives, that we have to relinquish, and often I gave the universe a big screaming "Bleep YOU!!" (Well, the less polite version of it), followed by the "One-finger salute!"

Great thinkers and philosophers have expressed variant notions about doubt:

I agree with the above and have always overanalyzed and overthought everything in my life. Sometimes it can be beneficial, but at this point I have found that it has become deleterious to my recovery. How I wish I could live in ignorant bliss and give my brain a rest!!

Yes, we can indeed become trapped in our own dungeon, yet we also have the key to set us free.

We all have by now experienced the true meaning of "life is short" or the more poetic version:

Recognizing the latter, I am trying to strike a bargain with my cerebral proclivity, by trying to learn to "let go", something that does NOT come natural for me. I have embarked on a new quest for serenity instead.

May we all find our own path to serenity and peace!

 

Namaste,

 

ATJ

Anyhow, she then said to me DH would be so proud of you, he really would.  It brought tears to my eyes and made me feel so good.  I know it shouldn't matter so much but it does...I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that.

ManutesGirl,

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with wanting/needing an encouraging word once in a while, even when we are doing a pretty good job by ourselves. And it is particularly comforting when it comes from someone whom we love and respect. As widowed people we have lost our "encourager in chief", and our inner child still yearns for that occasional pat on the back, hearing a voice that says: "Well done!"

Conversely, if we never hear any positive feedback from a valued source, even success can feel like a hollow victory. I am so glad that you have such a kind and supportive mother-in-law. Enjoy this gift and blessing!

Congratulations on your achievements and setting goals for yourself, and good luck with your first triathlon!

ATJ 

The word "Widow" - if nothing else - immediately conjures up an image of loneliness and sadness. Its linguistic origins and disambiguation are as follows:

Old English 'widewe', from an Indo-European root meaning "empty"; - Sanskrit 'vidh' "destitute" - Latin 'viduus' "bereft"

But, no matter how it is linguistically defined, LIVING IT is an entirely different matter, and this community can vouch for it! For us it is not an abstract word, but a harsh and painful reality.

During our darkest moments, widowhood becomes a desperate, lonely struggle for survival, we look for anything to prevent us from going under and drowning. Our emotions are raw and bloodied, and we feel a deep isolation and separation from the rest of the world. At times it can seem like a sentence of solitary confinement, held in a lonely prison cell of darkness and despair. And even as we become a little more stabilized, we still look for something or someone to hold onto - our emotional balance is still impaired, and our confidence somewhat diminished. It takes time to find restoration and varies depending on individual circumstances and other factors. Ultimately, it is a unique and lonely experience, and we have to find our own navigation tools.

Our community serves this purpose, to help us find kindred spirits who are at our side when 'night descends upon our soul' and to help us get through 'our troubled night'.  Help can come in so many forms. It does not always have to be expressed in elaborate, eloquent words or grand gestures. Often simply just letting someone know that we are 'there', not saying much, perhaps silently walking at their side in solidarity and giving them the reassurance that they can virtually lean on us when they run out of strength. This can be done in public view on the forum, or quietly behind the scenes in a personal message.

Immediately after my husband had died, someone anonymously put a single rose outside my front door without knocking or saying a word. I shakingly picked it up and put it into a small vase, then lay on my bed, completely immobilized by fear, paralyzed by horror, in a transfixed state - just staring at this flower for endless hours. It was the only thing I could focus on at that moment when I thought I was going insane, that utter madness would be my future state of mind. -

After a long, horrendous struggle with cancer, followed by a stroke, my husband's fighting spirit broke, and he somehow managed to walk away from our home to end his life with a bullet to his heart, while I had quickly run to the grocery store - the ONLY time I ever left him alone. Upon my return, I was met by police to notify me of the event.  I was in a state of disbelief and shock and wanted to see him. But they had already taken him from the nearby site where it had occurred, to the city morgue for an autopsy, and I never saw him again. No "Goodbye", simply "Poof, gone!" - He vanished into thin air as if by a magic trick! Needless to say, it took me to the brink of insanity and turned my world upside down.

Other than the kind, anonymous giver of the rose, nobody wanted to come near me, including my/our friends - it was too "freaky" for them. And since I don't have children or any other family, I felt utterly and devastatingly alone. Then, through fortuitous chance, I found the former YWBB site, and it became my lifeline for several years.

To this day I still feel deep gratitude to those who virtually walked beside me - some in a very vocal and demonstrative manner, others lent quiet support. Sometimes I would only get a one-word message, simply saying (((HUGS))). But it let me know that there was SOMEONE out there in the ether who had heard my cry of desperation, who did not run away from me as I stood bloodied and torn, looking at the ash heap of my life. Even in the middle of MANY sleepless nights, often a single, kind word helped me get through the next tortured moment of despair ... the next hour.

In our deepest pain we most often become invisible to the world, 'persona non grata', and our language of grief is not recognized, as if we communicated in some esoteric foreign language. Thus, we come to feel truly alone and like an outcast in society. For this reason a community of others, who have experienced similar tragedy, can become our bedrock of support and understanding, and our only refuge.

Therefore, whatever we can give each other here, small or large, is of help! People often hesitate because they are too shy or don't quite know what to say. But, nobody should ever think "I don't have anything to say or offer" and let it prevent them from reaching out to others.

I bid you Peace!

 

ATJ

So, the reality of widowhood is I have to deal with all of this alone, without my rock, my partner, my one person I always knew that no matter what came up we could get through together. 

 

I miss him so damn much.  I miss everything about him and I miss the security that being married, being partners, being with Rick gave me.  It's all gone and this is my reality.

Singingmom,

Your post about the reality of widowhood probably hits home with many. Your current situation seems overwhelming, to say the least. Life is inherently messy, it's baked in the cake, but when one adds widowhood to the mix, you've got "the cake from hell".  This type of reality can make one want to hide under a blanket forever.

The widowed can vouch for the above! The game goes on, and we have to play the cards we are dealt alone. It is especially difficult when one has to face a multi-front fire and is a lonely fighter. The logistics of life by themselves can be overwhelming enough, but doing so without our trusted co-pilot makes it exponentially more challenging.

And it's not always just the practical aspects, which sometimes seem to pile on and can feel insurmountable, but the emotional comfort, the shoulder to lean on, is missing. Our security blanket has been ripped away from us and leaves us shivering in the cold. We have come to understand the true meaning of "fighting a lonely battle". Yes, the state of widowhood is a very harsh reality that has to be experienced in order to be understood, and outsiders have no idea about the depth of loneliness it entails.

I know that words can't help your very real life problems, but nonetheless , I want to tell you that I at least heard you and offer my virtual shoulder to lean on for a while.

ATJ 

When I saw numerous familiar names responding to me, even under my new username, it felt like a warm "welcome back hug". There are some who came before me, some who were contemporaries, some who came after me and became short-term travel companions, and even some newcomers who extended a hand of welcome to a complete stranger.  Your individual words of kindness and generous spirit touched my heart. It feels good not to be forgotten and nice to be able to "come home"!

To all of you, Thank You for reaching out and welcoming me into your circle. Your warm and generous words have been a treasured gift.

With appreciation,

 

ATJ 

This road has taught me a multitude of lessons:

First, I have learned that it is a very long and winding unpaved trail  -  uphill and downhill, so it goes.  It reminds me of the old British song: "It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary" - and yes, my aching feet can vouch for it! I am a "veteran widow" (a very dubious honor, indeed!) and long-time member of the former YWBB. I always used to be a fast learner in life and had similar expectations for this new challenge, called "widowhood". But instead I was taught a great lesson in humility.

Grief, an insidious, powerful and determined foe, invariably finds means to set booby traps along our way, even after we have become more sure-footed and begin to believe that we may have 'got it' - briefly relishing in a new found sense of confidence. After all, we have progressed from the early stages of merely crawling to trudging along, even as it often seemed at glacial pace. And over time many have made even more progress. In equestrian terms, we now may have resumed a steady trot, evolving periodically into a light canter, and at times even charging ahead at a full gallop. Could we finally be on our way, untethered and free from the heavy ballast of grief??  Speaking for myself, the best *I* have been able to achieve is a certain "Accord of Détente", a temporary ceasefire until unexpectedly fire opens again. A permanent peace agreement has been elusive and so far unobtainable. Grief has been a tough and intransigent negotiator and constantly changes the terms and conditions.

This widow road teaches, if nothing else, perspective and humility. We learn that we can't take anything for granted, that life inexorably presents us with new hurdles to conquer, that all is in constant flux and needs perpetual readjustment, fine-tuning, and sometimes even stepping back and retracing old ground - the latter being the most troublesome aspect. One could argue that this is essentially life's general nature, but widowhood definitely throws us some "extra crunchy" surprises, just for the heck of it, and tauntingly says: "Let's see how you chew on this one!"

This assertion made me laugh, and I said out loud: "Right you are!" - "But add widowhood on top of it, and then give me a quip!"

That is true for certain. Even after we have come to ignominious defeat, the game goes on, and we have to figure out how to play it.

I have learned that life throughout widowhood is a perpetual apprenticeship, from which one never quite graduates with a final diploma or receives the "winner's trophy" - and this insight can often be wearisome!  Perhaps my personal lens is clouded through my own experience, and conceivably there are others who have made it with flying colors through the finish line. To those lucky winners I admiringly say: "Congratulations!!" - 

Over the years I have given it my ultimate effort, but I am still in class, still learning some difficult lessons. Someone said that: "Life is a harsh teacher who gives the test first and then teaches the lesson." So it seems! I can certainly say that it has been true of MY walk on this 'rocky road'. -  Oh, WHY couldn't it be like the "Rocky Road Ice Cream Version"? - Yeah, dream on, Cinderella! ;D - And IF ONLY there were a "Widowhood for Dummies" manual that could show us how to do 'It' and avoid all the pitfalls along the way. Ahh Yes, - but that would be in the wonderful world of Utopia. Time to get back to reality and deal with it!

For numerous reasons I had taken a long hiatus from the YWBB, mostly because I missed my contemporaries, and it also felt that I had not much of value to offer to those coming after me anymore. I am a "SLOW Learner".  But when my former citadel of hope and support abruptly shut down recently, I experienced a big jolt, despite not having been an active participant for a long time. My entire widowed history suddenly fell into a bottomless, irretrievable abyss. One could perhaps consider this a positive intervention, helpful in 'letting go', because it documented the aggregate of raw emotions and agony of yore. But it also bore witness to the bond forged between fellow travelers and their mutual quest for survival and recovery. In other words, it was the documented link to what brought us to the present moment - "From whence we came" - a treasured diary, as well as a yardstick.

I played a quite lengthy mental ping pong game as to whether to join this nascent community under its new auspices. And then I suddenly saw many familiar 'veteran names' pop up, people who seemed to have disappeared into the ether.  It gave me the final impetus for my decision and was the irresistible "Siren call".  It is reassuring to hear from contemporaries and their respective experiences, and through it regaining a bit of the former comfort emanating from the 'virtual safety cocoon'.

By the way, for those who were present during my time frame, my previous name was 'SemperFidelis', a former cancer caregiver and 'SOS' - not a good combination!!  I wanted a fresh start, just like I have been seeking to achieve in my real life. Hence, my new screen name - À Tout Jamais (forevermore).

I suppose many of us have never quite cut the virtual umbilical cord. We seem to like its elasticity, something that stretches as we go forward, but holds a certain sense of belonging.

@Nuggets said it best in her reply to the @fleur post, titled "Should I go gentle?"

QUOTE:

"I'm staying until John isn't dead anymore ---

"I think all of us have done some reflection on what 'this' all means in the past couple weeks -- it will be a catalyst for some, a bit of a bump on the track for others."

The first part made me chuckle out loud! Thank you for that Nuggets! You have the spunk that we all need in this widow endeavor, and above all, you have not lost your sense of humor! Wouldn't it be the ultimate triumph, if we did not grant Death the last laugh?! Well, at least we can aspire to working toward it.

ATJ - working on the above! 

When I found out that the YWBB site had been abruptly shut down, I felt a distinct blow! Most of my grief journey had been documented there, and the community had been an emotional home for me for a long time and held fond memories of my 'veteran' fellow travelers.

I was an early active participant at YWBB (under a different user name), which had become a lifeline and safe harbor for me at the absolute nadir of my life. Being childless and not having any other family, the widow community became my 'virtual family' and sustained me through many rough and harrowing stretches on this dark and perilous road. During that period of my life total strangers, although invisible and inaudible to me, brought me great comfort when I felt like drowning, simply through their virtual presence and reading about their own pain and battle for survival. While each of our stories were unique and our circumstances, backgrounds and personalities diverse, we all felt lost and were looking for answers. Writing many posts and replying to others became an analgesic for me and a therapeutic tool which helped me to hold on. As Shakespeare wisely wrote:

Over time, and probably through natural progression, my former close travel companions vanished. Some gradually faded into the distance, others took a more abrupt departure. Each time it felt like a personal loss for me. - Perhaps similar to a natural disaster situation, the people affected by the cataclysmic event come to initially rely on and cling to each other and forge a bond, all having the same goal - mutual Survival! Some of us were also 'Survivors of Suicide', which drew us even closer, in order to not go insane. I was both a cancer caregiver and an SOS and felt completely shattered. YWBB was my sole refuge, there was no other in real life.

Over time though, some of the initial travelers' gait stabilized faster than others', and they began to explore their own escape route into unknown territory. Meanwhile, many continued to still huddle together for strength and support and followed a common trail for a while longer. But eventually everybody comes to realize that they cannot reside in their created 'safety cocoon' forever, but must take up and follow their own course. Often by default, Life takes them into different directions, and they have to learn to stand on their own feet. But even as they move forward on their journey, it feels comforting to many knowing that their former 'team mates' are still within reach for moral support. For others it feels better to not look back and recall painful memories, and instead to concentrate on the road ahead of them. ALL are looking for personal restoration and building something new, and each of us has to follow his or her own drummer.

Unfortunately, I was one whose progress was slow, and most of my former companions far outdistanced me. Eventually it began to feel quite lonely in my familiar safety cocoon, and so I finally decided to wander off on my own. Yet, I still kept reading many times, but no longer continued writing. It seemed that my glacial pace in advancing would only discourage newcomers and that I had nothing of value to offer anymore. Therefore I adhered to the following sage advice:

However, following the recent abrupt change of events, I was surprisingly quite jolted, and it felt like my metaphorical home had been destroyed. - I deliberated at great length whether or not to re-join to show at least some solidarity. Like @fleur in her BAG post, I had been quite ambivalent for numerous reasons. But then seeing more and more familiar names from a long time ago became the irresistible 'Siren call' for me.

It has been said that "You can't go home again" - and therefore only time will tell if my decision has been wise. Can I contribute anything positive when I still don't have all the answers even after many years? One thing I have learned on this bumpy road is that life is a perpetual apprenticeship. One never gets the final diploma. Each stage of widowhood carries its own challenges and raises new questions. What I have experienced on this journey is that there is steadily shifting ground, nothing remains constant.  It reminded me of another quote:

And while this is true of life in general, widowhood seems to amplify it. The journey becomes an endurance test as it keeps changing its facets like the colors in a kaleidoscope, and one has to continually find new answers and keep jumping new hurdles. And sometimes life compels us to retrace old ground which feels like defeat. This road is not a short sprint but a marathon in my own experience!

Therefore it is comforting to know that former fellow travelers of this journey are still there, even if not as visible and vocal as they once were.

I wish to express my sincere gratitude to the founders of this new site, who have my highest respect and admiration for taking the reins in the midst of total chaos, despite their own personal struggle, and deciding to help so many others in dire need, especially newcomers. This shows true grace under pressure! Someone said that character is not built during adversity, but adversity reveals it. In this instance it has revealed positive leadership, great generosity of spirit, deep compassion and caring for others in the midst of great personal turmoil. It reflects humanity at its very best. Thank you @wadmin - @Jess and @Justin - for your enormous effort, dedication, hard work and great skill to help others who are hurting like you. Additional thanks to those who act in other supporting capacities to get this new place off the ground and keep it running smoothly.

May you derive comfort and healing through all you have done, and may your own path become bright and filled with hope and rejuvenation.

ATJ