Quixote

Hmmm...thought that’s where I posted it, unless it was moved. But feel free to quote, repost or whatever.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on Widda. I’m coming up on seven years out, and I’ve learned to live with the loss. Even in another serious relationship these days. I guess I’m doing okay. But the wife of a close friend died from cancer, like my wife did. A musician and teacher, like my wife. And like us, went through the emotional roller coaster of remission and hope followed by despair. Then to hospice. It brought back all the terrible memories. And I was that awful friend who faded away when times were hard: I knew I would bring my baggage to them. And they didn’t need that. But I made it to the memorial. And I gave him this letter. Some of it is drawn from these pages (thanks to WheelersWife for help in locating some old posts). I hope it helps him. Maybe it will help some of you. I know some of the words helped me once. ——————————————————————————- Dear ***** The truth is, there’s never the right thing to say. I’ve gone back and forth whether to write this at all, because I was afraid that I’d make it more about my loss than yours. But I’ve been – somewhat – where you’ve been. Details differ, and the fact that you’ve got two awesome kids to look after and care about changes things. From widows I’ve talked to, it both keeps them going but adds stress of the pain of their loved ones. You know your life and loss better than I do. But here’s what I know. It’s the worst thing in the world. You were a caretaker. You feel that it was your job to keep her alive. You wake up in the middle of the night feeling like you failed her. None of it’s true, of course, but the voices come in the middle of the night. But remember, you’d have done anything for her. You even made the decision to say goodbye. And that was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it was right. The universe is a terrible place, where it steals the future of the best person in the world. Creative, loving giving, she was supposed to grow old and cranky with you. And in a world where terrible people do terrible things, the universe chose to deprive a loving family of everything. And yet…we go on. Life still has worth, for all the awful ragged hole left behind. You’re going to have to look after yourself now, though. It’s that shift from caretaker and husband to widower. Again, being a Dad might make this different. But me, I suddenly felt I had no more purpose. I hope you do. If not, find one. Some thoughts. --You will never “move on”. The pain recedes, but the loss remains. --The hurt lasts longer than people think it does. It’s ok, they don’t get it. --After about four months, everyone not close to her will think you should be leading a normal life. Maybe you will. I wasn’t. Honestly, it was about two years before I functioned normally. Take the time you need. --Force yourself to take care of yourself physically. If you can work out, great. If all you can do is get out the door, that’s a start. --Drink lots of water. --Try to have easy to prepare healthy meals around. Trader Joes FTW --Set a routine in the morning and try to follow it. My dog always got me out of the house, because I lived in a condo and had to at least walk her to the corner in the morning. Find something similar to get you going. Tell yourself you'll go back to bed later if you have to. --Carry Kleenexes at all times. Duck into bathroom stalls if you need to cry. Cold water on the face helps. Sunglasses, too. Your grief is private. --Did I mention nutrition? But (occasional) comfort food helps. Sometimes, I’d make her favorite dishes. That may or may not have been a good idea, in retrospect. --Sleep will be hard. A pillow against the back helped me (I couldn’t sleep in our bed for three months). Hold her favorite shirt or sweater. --It’d be really cool if grief focused us and made us able to do superhuman things like write that novel, compose that symphony or train to be Batman. The world isn’t like that. I am still waiting for superpowers. --Friends you thought were close will let you down-- not in a purposeful way, but some people just can't be around others in pain. --Friends you didn't really think of as close will be the ones over at your place with a hot dinner and an offer to do laundry. --Everyone will pitch in until about two weeks past the memorial/funeral. Then they'll be back to their old lives, even family members like parents and siblings. And you'll be in that empty house. Be ready for that. --Be prepared for people to say incredibly insensitive things, often in the guise of wanting to help. Don't take it personally-- no one ever really knows what to say. --Don't worry about "moving on" or anything like that right now. It's okay to curl up with old love letters and photos, watch videos of your lost loved one, all that stuff. They just died! --Emotion is a roller coaster. You will find nothing funny, then laugh uproariously at stupid stuff. You will not care about major things that will have outraged you (because does anything really matter anymore?). Then a little thing will anger you beyond belief. You need to be around people, then you’ll need to be alone. Roll with it and realize it’s normal. --You will forget things. Basic things. Coworkers may get pissed off. Remember that they don’t get it. Shrug. Me, I used checklists-- not just for work (thank god for industry standard) but at home too. --Couple of ugly truths. Some people, relatives even, will use your current weakness to take advantage of you, or pressure you into things that serve them. I hope this doesn’t happen to you. It did to me, but I was ready because other wids had warned me. --Try not to make major life decisions. It’s probably not the time to put the house on the market just yet. --For some reason, friends will start talking about you seeing other women after about a year. Hell, I had one buddy—a guy who’d known us since college—tell me “you’re still young” a week after Janet passed. File all those comments under “they mean well”. --Just file this for future reference, though: when the day comes you think you’re ready to date again, it’s going to be…awkward. You’re used to dealing with a life partner you loved beyond belief. That’s not what a first date is --Finally, the forgoing has been about you, as it should be. But remember that others are grieving too. They may be just as insane for a bit, so try to be forgiving. The day after Janet died, I walked in on her father tossing all the contents of her purse in the garbage. I took her old library card gently from his hand and he just broke down sobbing, saying I didn’t need it. No one needed it anymore… I felt the anger flow away when I realized where he was in his head. Same place I was. I don’t know if this is any help. No worries if you didn’t feel like reading it all. You can call anytime if you want, completely understand if you don’t want to talk. I didn’t want to talk to any widow/ers at all for about two years, myself. In deepest sympathy.

*hug* You're pretty darned strong, Maureen. More than I think you know. I think cracking a bit from time to time is needed. One of my grief counselor told me to try to pick a quiet, alone time and then let it go. Helps cut down on the crying while driving incidents. I think you're at the "Why am I not over this? Shouldn't I have a normal Life by now?" stage. I think the only answer is that there is no such thing as a normal life. Not really joking there. But we can hope for islands of safety, security and love. That thought keeps me paddling, anyway. Crossing my fingers for you in the job search.

Hugs. I found the five year mark was as hard as the first. For some reason I think it was when the reality of loss finally set in. Go easy on yourself, and take the time to grieve.

Done. This board has been a huge help.

You so seriously go, girl!

Congrats!

So happy for you! I think slow and friendship first is the best -- us widows have a fair amount of scar tissue that (I think) is best dealt with with that style of courtship.

I dunno. I mean, your counselor is working directly with you but-- if you feel angry and that distresses you, I'd call it an issue regardless of whether you have reason to be angry. You need to process that emotion somehow, imho

Awesome news! Huh-- I always thought the anger was more of a guy thing. You know: "Women cry, men curse". Guess some things are universal to the human condition. For me, I worked through it mostly with time and realizing that sometimes I just needed to not be around people. If my tolerance was low, it was better for friendships if I just had alone time instead. Exercise helps.

I never thought I'd love again. DW and I met when we were 19, married out of college and stayed desperately in love for 23 years, did everything together, never disagreed on significant things, toured the world, had adventures but above all had that connect you can only have by growing up together-- literally our entire adult lives were together. We shared a secret language no one else could understand, sometimes literally Five years of being still alive after losing her (and that seemed a 50/50 proposition once), I said to myself: at least try to meet women. So I gave it a try. Chatted at parties, met up for music rehearsals, even the odd date. And it all seemed to confirm my suspicions. I could have a nice evening, enjoy a fellow human's company, maybe even be intimate. But True Love? Nah. That I was fortunate to have once. Not everyone does, so I should count myself lucky. Then NG called me up one morning. We were good friends from forever. She'd been a friend of DW's too, and in fact they'd gone through chemo at the same time. Not much alike, but close as sisters. NG and her fiancée had broken up come months prior. She told me that she was just going to drop that into conversation, since I hadn't picked up on it. But then she heard DW's voice saying to her "Better tell him you're interested. He's clueless". I laughed so long, as people do to avoid crying. I could hear DW, too. It's the sort of thing she'd have said. It's not just the history-- we really are ridiculously similar in so many ways, interests, philosophy and a desire not to waste life. We're going to have our adventures, too. The weird thing is, although we've always been friends, old me wasn't as closely matched as we are now. It's taken five years of being on my own and the life changes I've experienced to be the guy who is madly in love with NG I read the above, and realize old me would have thrown something at the computer if he'd seen it. Once, I wore my pain like a badge of honor. The thought of loving someone new still raises guilt at times. But being miserable doesn't bring our lost loves back. Life is precious. It deserves to be lived. And loved.

I guess it's serious if I'm willing to post a pic on this thread . Here's NG looking awesome after a hike to the top of a sea cliff on the NorCal beach. Me, eh, I really do smile these days. But it's still not an automatic reflex

Thank you guys. And I really appreciate the libations and prayers. Beaches and trails were two places she loved.

Just need a place to vent: so my wife donated her body to a university medical department. No cremains, even, which I'm okay with. The university sent me a lovely letter and some wildflower seeds that I gave to her mother, who planted them in the garden behind my wife's childhood home. Locally, I paid for a tree to be planted at the church down the street, alongside a public walking path my wife loved. The gardeners were intermittent with their care, but the church always followed up on needed trimming. Anyway, life was life and I moved-- I came back to visit a couple of months ago and found the tree completely brown/dead and the memorial plaque missing. I talk to the church and they promise to replace the tree and plaque. Nearly two months later and a few unreturned phone calls, I get this: Seriously, "poor appearance" is not a single green leaf or shoot on the entire tree. I'll be visiting it again in a couple of weeks (it's about three hours on the weekends) to see if it's improved at all. But honestly, I'm just sick about it. She doesn't have a grave, this is her only memorial. They were supposed to be taking care of it and are basically patting me on the head and saying "Oh well". I dunno. It's just a tree. I've a painting of it with our dog sitting next to it. I guess that's as good a memorial as the tree itself. But I don't actually feel that way.

I've been "widower" since about six months after my wife died-- that was difficult, but it marked a change in my self perception: if not the beginning of acceptance, at least the end of denial. Anyway, social media can seem pretty silly at times, but it does reflect how we want the world to perceive us. So last night I took a big breath and asked my-- rather serious-- girlfriend if she wanted to change our statuses. I feel like such a millennial typing that, but there we are 😀 So I figured it would be just a way of saying "Hey, we're seeing each other" to the world, but judging by everyone's online reactions, you'd think it was an engagement announcement (seriously, Mom, "happiest mother alive, may your love continue forever"? Not helping!). Maybe I'm sensitive because things ARE in fact moving in that direction, and things seem to be happening fast: we've actually known each other for over 20 years, which is doubtless part of it. But seriously, is this a normal online reaction? Or are our friends basically just saying "about time you two"?