MrsMisterman

Hello All, I have not posted here in many years. I was widowed in 2012. I made many friends on the old YWBB and here, including a very special woman named Bunny who also lost her husband to cancer around the same time as I lost my husband. I’m sorry to say Bunny passed away from breast cancer Monday. She was surrounded by loved ones every step of the way -from diagnosis to a peaceful death. Her boyfriend was a constant, loving, caregiver. I am so grateful to him. I am so thankful that love she gave so freely was revisited upon her ten-fold to the very end. She was so special. I am heartbroken.

Cancer sucks. I found it interesting, but oh so understandable, that the family has not released the type of cancer he had. Cancer strikes such fear in people. The big bad boogie man. And it is bad. It sucks. So much pain and destruction. But that fear people have makes decorum and compassion go out the window for many. To ask so many inappropriate questions to a person grieving. They want answers as to why it happened and how to protect themselves. Blame the victim. Did she smoke? Did he drink? Didn't they eat enough fruits and vegetables? Didn't they use sunscreen? Didn't she have mammograms? In trying to prevent cancers, we have stigmatized its victims. I don't fault the family at all. Now the media reports focus on him, his accomplishments. Not dissecting risk factors and his personal behaviors. I wish we had kept my husband's diagnosis private. Would have saved me additional pain.

I agree with Mike. If you want to just end the conversation and move on, the only polite and speedy way to do that is say " Thank-you" or "Good" to the landmine question of "How are you?". Polite niceties. Asked and answered. Anything else gets you trapped into follow up questions. A conversation you probably don't want to have. And in reality, a conversation they probably didn't intend to have at that moment. I can be stubborn sometimes. Even though I know I should say "good", I refuse. Instead I answer "Ok". Ok is never a little white lie, because I'm always ok considering the alternatives. "Ok" can get you follow up questions, but easy to shut down. There was one routine question I never answered with the polite, expected response. So robotically inane to ask of me. Pissed me off. Always happens on a Monday- "How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?" Uggh. If they were lucky- I rolled by eyes, changed the topic, or walked away. If I was in a mean shock and awe mood, I was truthful.

To me, sharing a bed is very extremely intimate. It's not something I have done lightly. So personal, the only people I have even slept with are my parents, sisters, long- term lovers, and my husband who once had the status of lover, then became family- closer than parent or sibling. In the many places we called home,no matter the position of the bed, left or right, my husband slept on the side closet to the door. Protector. Knight. Ready to charge at any intruder who came thru. In almost 4 years, I have not taken a lover. So, I guess I have no real advice for you. If he ( imaginary lover) chose the place closest to the door? Would I feel grateful, doted on, cherished? If he, (imaginary lover), chose the side farthest from the door, would I feel abandoned? Poor imaginary lover, can't do right. He is damn if he does, damned if he doesn't. Uspurper or shrinker. That's why I don't take a lover. I'm not there yet. But you, Mrs. Dan , are there. You've done the hard work. We have been your witnesses. It doesn't matter which side of the bed he chose, you were ready to deal........

Dear Torn, If I understand correctly, your daughter and family moved into your home after your wife passed under the guise of helping you with your grief and your own health/ disabilities issues. Instead, they've hijacked your home and your grief. Excluding you from family events like turkey dinner and decorating. They take your things, break sentimental objects, and disregard your important mail. You want to be there for your daughter and infant grandchild- but the toxic SIL with his control issues and quick temper make that near impossible. They've interrupted your mourning of your wife in your own way that have damaging impacts on your own ability to process the pain and loss. Did I get that all right? I agree with ThatGirl. And I hope you take her up on her offer. You've got to get your home back. Home is sanctuary. And I know you want to be there for your daughter when she finally "wises up"- your words- over the guy. But probably the best thing would be for you to be able to provide her and your grandchild a safe place to flee to if she does leave him. You can't do that if the guy is in YOUR house, also making you miserable.

About 6 months into my widowhood, I had this co -worker unload on me. I didn't really know her. She was hired to run another division while I was out on family medical leave then bereavement leave. So anyhoo, her spouse of 25 years, lost his "shit". According to her, he literally came home from work, said I want a divorce, never spoke to her thereafter, and moved into the basement. In her mind, I had it easier! Weird, hurtful shit came out of her mouth, like in a daze. I was so wounded, but blindsided, I was speechless. She told me how my tears were "pure", and how much easier I had it financially, socially. I just walked away. Stunned. But committed to confronting her in the future. Widows here, especially Bunny, helped me deal. See her side. I had the fairy tale. Binding love. Till death do you part.....and there beyond. Nobody left nobody here. There was a lot of fight. It made me understand this woman's fantasy version of my deep pain.

Sojourner- your words were beautiful and all encompassing of my feelings. Thank you. At more than three years out, I still wear my rings on my left hand out in public most days. I feel amiss without them. Just like when I forget to put on my watch. Something's missing and doesn't feel right. But I do go without them, just like sometimes I go without a watch - on purpose or by forgetfulness. I have never wore any jewelry, including my wedding rings, at home or in private settings. The first thing I have always done when home for the day is take off all my jewelry. I chalk it up to being a widow thing that will resolve on its own. One way or another.

Ugh. I don't even think I could form words to describe my current frustrations beyond Ugh. UGH. I always said step-parenting was a calling. You have all the responsibility and obligations to raise the little person into a healthy, responsible adult without any rights or legal status. Step parenting an adult child as a widow should make me a candidate for Sainthood. It's just so hard without my husband!! And I made promises to him I will keep until I die.

Awh. Tradition in our house as well. Maybe because we are from Massachusetts? It's was so much fun because my husband could recite from memory all the real funny parts. And he would pepper jokes or funny stories with them whenever. Dont think he could say " kid" in a joke without impersonating Officer Obie, the Army recruiter, or the meanest, nastiest, father raper of them all. And forget any mention of photographic evidence, automatically became-" twenty seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one."

I don't know about a stamp on my forehead, but I clearly remember feeling like a wounded baby gazelle. I felt certain every predator within a mile could sense my vunerability. Ready to pounce and tear me to shreds. And I was so emotionally weak and defeated, I would have just bared my neck and belly. Praying for a quick ending. I was a practical agrophobic for the two months or so. Safer that way. I needed time to lick my wounds. All of widowhood is a mind fuck. But feeling unprotected and alone for the first time in my 48 years was a serious mind fuck.

Congratulations! On much more than a new car. Congratulations on facing a major hurdle alone and achieving. It's scary, sad, exciting, and anxiety producing. I did the same thing a year ago, at the 2 year mark. I did it for the same reasons- my SUV was 12 years old, things going wrong, my hubby not around to keep it running safe and top notch for me. I knew intellectually I needed a new vehicle. Emotionally, it was hard to have a new car he never drove. To give up a piece of my old, happy life. But I did it. And you did it. 2 thumbs up and a pat on the back! Little story. I have driving " issues". (Best way to describe it.) so, when we went into the car lot at first, hubby was always large and in charge. Salesperson always assumed he was the decision maker and customer. I was the " little woman". MisterMan would put me in the driver seat, show me all the controls until I was comfortable. If we were in busy traffic area where I wouldn't feel confident driving a foreign to me vehicle, he would take the test drive to side roads or a parking lot and we would switch. When we got back to the dealership to talk money, everything changed. Dragon lady made an appearance and hubby was in the shadows. Ha! Salesmen,especially, never knew what hit them as I negotiated the best price. They would look at him with bewilderment . Hubby would just put up his hands " it works. It's how we roll"

I am sad for all those she left behind, including us. But take solace in knowing her reunion with her beloved husband was joyful. The circumstance also brought back the feelings of being so incredibly *annoyed* at YWBB. I wish we still had her words. So kind, helpful. Would have been a fitting tribute to re-read her posts. But, they are lost.

Dreams - I've had lots over 3 years. And they changed over time. Much more comforting. I think it's just my brain working stuff out. Visitation - I think I've only had one. The morning after. His hand on my shoulder waking me up and a very real voice in my ear. Intercession- All the time.

I don't know if guilt is exactly the right word for what I struggle with. Extreme remorse is probably better. The " could've, should 've, would've " paralyzed me for a long time. If we had made different decisions, if I had been paying better attention. If we had turned left instead of right. Head east instead of west. Where in the road we got lost that lead to the awful path. I got obsessed with it. Trying to pinpoint where in time a different action " could've, should've, would've " yielded a different outcome. An exercise in futility. It can still be triggered, but it is not as consuming as it once was. True guilt overwhelms me occasionally. I think back to me bitching about something stupid. Or meaningless little annoyances I blew into some kinda big sin. It's a quick stab to a broken heart. But, a healing balm takes over very quickly. He knows. He knew then and he definitely knows now. It meant nothing. It was a bad day, hormones, a stressful situation at work. Meaningless. Never changed by one ounce my love or devotion to him. He knows. I know.

Signs. Oh I got signs. Every single one you all mentioned- songs, animals, pennies- everything. Sugarbell once spoke of the energy revealing itself. Oh yeah. That too. I've blown thru so many appliances, light bulbs and electronics in three years, it's just crazy. But more than signs. There is a deep, deep (cosmic? divine?) connection remaining that I know is real. There are only two people I talk to about it in any real depth. I don't want to be labeled as looney. Or worst, ridiculed. But I know what I know. And it's real. Not the delusions of a grieving widow.

Hi, I could have written your post. The house overwhelms me, sometimes terrifies me. But it also gives me a lot of comfort. Lots of beautiful memories and constant, daily reminders of just how happy we were here. How much I was loved and loved in return. I'm not ready to let it go. I still need it. But it is getting to be too much. I have a pretty extensive skill set; but it does not include the use of tools, outdoor work besides planting flowers and vegetables, or heavy labor. Inside our home, me and hubby had a very traditional 50's marriage. It worked so well for us. Hiring out is so expensive. This winter tapped out household account between using an obscene amount of heating oil and large plow bills. Also an unexpected huge dental bill. I know if I get to the point I'm dipping into savings or retirement to run the house, it will be time to let it go. The only good thing coming from it is it forced me to reach out. Ask for help and favors. Completely new to me and outside my wheelhouse. New skill. And probably more useful in the long run than learning to run a chainsaw or change a faucet. Good luck. Whatever decision YOU make will be right one for you.

I did this over a decade ago (pre-widowhood) when I was having a very bad bout with anxiety. It really works. It is just the right level of mental engagement. Not at all taxing, but just enough thought (what shade of blue should I chose?) to stop that hamster wheel of worries from turning in your brain. Nice reprieve. I haven't turned to this in widowhood. Felt the strong need to sit and examine my greif. But maybe it is time now to track down a 64 color Crayola box.

My husband died from a previous " 100 % cured" stage 1 cancer of his uvula. His uvula! Stupid little piece of flesh hanging in the back of your mouth, serving no purpose. Like your appendix. Vestige organ. Useless. He died within a month of " oops, sorry not cured" of a stage 1 mouth cancer with what? 93+% 5 year survival rate. We were the statically unlucky 7 % . The small percentage no one pays attention to. If the boogie man is coming for you, he is coming. Doesn't matter what you eat, drink, smoke, or do. Doesn't matter if you have insurance or not. Doesn't matter if you live in the boondocks or within a stones throw of the best of best hospitals. If the boogie man is coming, he is coming.

I say use it while still valid! And yes, by proxy. Spread it far and wide. Lately, I feel like my widow card has lost all value. Like an expired coupon. And I have never intentionally shown it. It organically reveals itself during times of high stress. (Widow high stress, which is probably a normal person's run- of -the- mill day stress) Last time was Feburary with receptionist at oil company. Got me nowhere. It's 30 below at night with 6 feet of snow pack. I need oil or me and kitties will freeze. She tells me I need to shovel a path to the back of house where oil fill pipe is. I lose my mind and have a widow melt down on her ass. She tells me every nice and comforting thing to get me to say good bye and hang up. Two days later, I still had no oil.

I can usually say "no" pretty easily. Appeals to reason and logic get the asker nowhere. However, play to my emotions and sympathy, you can turn a no to yes with a damn good appeal that tug on the heart strings. Since widowhood, my heart string are oh so, so tender. I resent those who tug. Is it an intentional maneuver ? Are they taken advantage of my weaken state? I hate being so vulnerable.

I backed up and crashed into my garage door the other morning. Not sure if I can even call this a widda brain moment, since it requires no brain cells. I do it by rote. Every day. For years Get in car. Press door button Put key in ignition. Turn. Put car in reverse. Back out. How did I screw up a simple sequence? More baffling since my car now has a back- up camera with alarm. Widda brain? Yeah, let's go with that.

The cemetery is down the road from my house. I go frequently, though not as much as in the beginning. And this horrible winter didnt foster visiting. Roads in often closed. And the snow pack covered the head stones. If I drive by the entrance without stopping I often honk the horn, wave, and yell "Hey Mister". I know it's just his body there. His soul is somewhere much better. His love and memories reside in me. I was also raised by a proficient grave decorator, so I carry that practice with me. Flowers. Seasonal arrangements. Granite cleaner. My husband is buried in a historical state park. So it is used as much more than a cemetery. School field trips. Daughters of the American Revolution always holding some event or parade. Sometimes that annoys the heck out of me. "Hello. Active cemetery. People are trying to bury their dead and grieve". Other times, I like that it is used for more. Depends on my mood. I can imagine my husband feeling the same. He would get a kick out of teenagers sneaking off and making out behind his grave. But other times he might yell "Damn kids! Get off my lawn!"

I just filed all my federal and state tax forms. Fun times! I'm sure it took me 3 times as long as a non- widow. And the program does the math!

I'm with you AW. April always used to be my happy-happy month. Spring. Easter. Everything blooming. My birthday. Pretty dresses and flowers. Celebrations and happiness. Then, my wedding. More pretty dresses and flowers! Happy-happy! But then he died in April. It will never again hold that kinda joy for me. This year, there is still snow on the ground here. Cold. Nothing blooming. More like winter than spring.i don't know if that's going to be helpful or make things worst. I'll let you all know come May.

Oh THAT dream! Oh my. My brain came up with some pretty weird scenarios to explain his absence and why he was always just out of my reach. In the Army. In prison. In the hospital. And " they" always kept transferring him. THAT dream replaced the first series of dreams I had as a new widow - back from the dead. Those were also filled with so many questions. How? How are we going to explain this? Do we keep it a secret? Lately though, my dreams of him have been pretty darn AWESOME. Sleeping me stopped asking unanswerable questions. Just reveled in the dream. And my subconscious brought me to some beautiful moments.