jeudi

I have a friend who is a little bit on the self-absorbed side of life. She told me, "I can't believe I have a friend that this has happened to." The worst I've ever heard though came to my brother who lost his son to cancer (son was in his early 30s) from my other brother, said brother's twin. "Well, you should be OK because you still have me. I know you loved him but not like you love me." Granted, one twin lives in North Carolina and the other (the dick) lives in Arizona and they see each other maybe once every three years and haven't been close since they each got married (they are in their late sixties) and my non-dick brother was close to the son who died... This dick brother of mine also told me when my husband died "at least you are a (maiden name) again." I am now remarried and didn't take my new husband's last name. He REALLY can't wrap his pea brain around that! Judy

nerdy, It is a terrible place to be put. I never had anything such as this happen but my late husband was an only child and both of his parents were dead when he died and we had been married for 24 years so that pretty much cleared up any doubts anyone might have had about what was mine. It was ALL MINE. I doubt, had I been in your situation, I would have been so generous as to let 8 year olds play with my husband's cherished microscope and I sure do hope you are getting it back intact and your SIL doesn't continue to be challenging about this. Sounds like your SIL used the science themed party to get the microscope- if she was OK to buy a new one, why not buy one for the party? I'm probably borrowing trouble here. And I don't really like kids all that much... Wheelerswife- you behaved admirably. You are obviously a nicer person than me! Now, having said the above and having admitted to my shortcomings as regards children, I lost a brother in 1965. I was 9 and he was 13. My Mom died in 2012 and when my siblings and I sorted through her things and devised a system to divvy-up her things, number 2 on my list after my Mom's antique blue sandwich glass was a small box of my brother's little childhood trinkets. I was floored that none of my brother's wanted them. A magnet shaped like a horseshoe, a big metal shooter marble, a tiny cap gun that looks like a real gun in miniature and a ring shaped like a saddle (this from a gum ball machine) as well as a tiny model airplane that I always coveted when my brother was alive and he would threaten me with bodily harm if I so much as thought about touching it. Number 3 on my list was the family sterling silver flatware, if this puts things in perspective. I never would have dreamed of asking my Mom for my brother's things when she was alive though. Jeudi

semperfi- As far as ability to handle a "Hypothetical future horrible scenario"...thanks for the succinctly accurate reiteration and for letting me know you feel the same way. There are some ways I am bolstered by the ways I have changed and grown but I'm not sure that I am necessarily in favor of this in particular. Nor proud. It is what it is though, isn't it? Today I am thinking even more about those string of days from the past, the ones leading up to the end. They are far worse memories than the actual end. I indulge myself and weep for him. Not just on or near the anniversary of his death but many times during the year. I find that I can't help myself about this. I can hide it if I need to though. My husband will bring me flowers tomorrow despite my not letting him see these cracks in my mortar. Usually he brings yellow roses because I am from Texas. John never once bought me flowers. I still marvel at my luck in finding two such wonderful men. One now with yellow roses and one lost who offered other gifts. Husband "now" doesn't forget about December 7 because he was widowed too. He goes off alone on his anniversary date to spend some time where he spread her ashes. And Thursday, I buy the Christmas tree. And move on into year 15. And so it goes. Jeudi

(I have yet to introduce myself here. My name is Judy and here I go by Jeudi and I used to be Jeudi on the YWBB of yesterday where I wrote many times about my ride through widowhood. Suddenly today I find myself transported back to a place where here in the present some pretty sizable and very hot tears are falling...) In two days it will be 14 years since John died. I have become accustomed to the way the world is without him in it. All is ok too. There is nothing earth shattering happening right now nor even recently. Cheerfully, the life I sought after losing the one I had with him has come into being. I slid into it despite not really knowing how to slide. I can give no advice except to just go for it, be fearless. I decided a long time ago that there isn't much worse to endure. I doubt I will ever be buried alive or kidnapped and tortured. I am probably a jerk to say it but I think even if my beloved daughter got sick and was dying/died or if she got into some sort of terrible accident that rendered her in pain or maimed or crippled that I would find some way to cope and continue on. It feels almost gross to say that I have endured the worst because I know, deeply know, that there are those who have endured so much more than have I. So why do I say I have endured the worst? Because I have. I remember feeling that way so it must be true. I remember how grief smacked me down and around and wrung me out like a pathetic mop and left me pitiful. I was not prepared for it despite knowing it was going to happen. 14 years ago today John spoke his last words to me and to his best friend who came to visit and fled before witnessing the end. We were walking John to the bathroom, Mark on one side and me on the other and John was weak to the point of being a dead weight. We nearly dropped him and as John struggled to save himself from a dead weight fall his foot was injured, probably broken. His words to us were, "Y'all are killing me." Two things- One, it's ok to laugh at that. It WAS a great comedic moment and John was a great comedian. The second thing is that once Mark and I got him back into bed he slipped into a coma and a broken foot means nothing to a man in a coma. Even when his foot turned blue and black and swelled up to twice its size and even though the thought that Mark and I hadn't supported him enough to keep that from happening still fills me with a despair that I will never be able to fully explain, it was a foot that he no longer needed and the pain he might have felt in his foot was completely covered over by coma. And then his body, including that foot was ash two days later. Today I watched the movie Joy with Jennifer Lawrence. John didn't know of her- he died when she was 12 years old which really puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Things like this often catch me off guard and bring me to that familiar place with those sizable, hot tears I previously mentioned. He would have liked her. Just because he is dead doesn't mean I don't still know him. Knowing this is fodder for tears and it will take another widow to understand. My daughter ( John's daughter too) is getting married next year. She is in her 30s now. She was 17 when he died. She hasn't forgotten him and mourns that he never knew her fiance who is very, very much like him. John and her fiance would have been such buddies and I know this is part of why she loves this man who will soon be her husband. There will, no doubt, be moments during her wedding when she and I will feel our loss. I've already ordered this little charm thing that she might pin to her bouquet, guaranteed to make us both weep (so when do I give this to her? before hair and make-up certainly and so I worry now about forgetting to do so in a timely fashion. The charm says on one side, "We walk with you" and the other side says "Today and Always. Love, Maam and Dad." I know. I've gotten accustomed to the way it feels to live in this world without him. But damn...I miss him. Damn. Jeudi