Quixote

Smells predatory. Maybe it really is a pitch for a show, but (if it's anything) I'd be willing to bet that it's some reality tv thing where drama is the order of the day-- even if it didn't exist prior to editing. Under thirty and women only gives off a somewhat prurient vibe, too. Each to their own, but involvement in something like this doesn't sound very helpful for someone deep in grief.

It's the pattern. My wife would invariably get to the bottom of the stairs when we'd go out and then ask me "Did you check to make sure everything was off?" Of course I hadn't, so I'd say "Sure!" And of course she knew I was fibbing, so she would kick me in the ankle and then clump back up the stairs to check while I played with our dog. I tried not checking after I lost her. But I could her her audibly sigh with irritation. So me and the dog would check together. Then I'd sit on the bottom step and cry. Things like that filled my first year alone. I think it's pretty normal.

Big prayers and healing thoughts. I don't know if this is any comfort, but while pancreatic took my wife, she did breast cancer twice and made it through. Second time around, the treatments seemed to have improved significantly (targeted hormonal therapy, etc). It still sucks hard, but early stage breast is very treatable these days.

Or they're a vampire. Seriously, don't date vampires. It's not like Twilight, you'll never get past the age difference and the fact that you'll never agree on a restaurant

I know he's still troubled, but thank God they talked him down. I remember how helpless I felt when my youngest niece tried to kill herself-- you keep running through the guilty "if only I'd been there's". Worst feeling in the world, but while they're alive you've got hope.

Thanks everyone. I don't use present tense, not anymore (did for about a year). But I call her "my wife", not "late wife", use her first name, that sort of thing. So I get what my friend was saying. And Serpico nails one point-- I've been somewhat half heartedly considering maybe dating again, so yeah, not a winning proposition. There's that whole comparison thing. But she was and is a big part of my life, part if me, really. Not talking about her at all feels like denying that she existed Maybe Maurevens right, there's someone out there who can accept that. My dog does, anyway

I had one of those moments where someone asks about my wife and I tell them that she died a bit ago (five years). Then there were the usual embarrassed "I'm sorrys" followed by me telling them it's okay, and anyway it's been a while now. That's when a friend of mine told me "Nothing wrong with it, but you know you talk about her all the time, like she's still alive." I guess I do. I mean, we met when I was 19, so the vast majority of my adult life and experiences were with her. And we pretty much did everything together, so if I tell a story about visiting someplace, I'll mention she was there. And she was pithy and smart as hell, so I often quote her. It's not like I bring her up in every sentence, but yeah, I probably talk about her as much as people do with living spouses. It's not an awful thing, I guess. I like reminiscing about the good stuff, even the mundane things. But this tendency of mine probably isn't helping me with my complete failure to move on with life. Anyone else experience this?

Not a father, but I make a point of calling up my father in law and telling him that he did an awesome job of raising my late wife. He's a pretty reserved guy (North English), but I think it makes him feel better than it hurts. I hope so anyway. And I mean every word, so hey.

Yeah, it might be just a "getting to know you" thing-- after all, work is a big part of most people's lives. Epilogue to my drama. I decided to text my friend about the whole Facebook thing. She apologized for being juvenile, but then called my choice of trainers "reprehensible" and told me that she was trying to get her head around the fact that I seemed to be a good person, but did "that" to a horse I claimed to love. "That", by the by, is having the horse train at a barn with the first American to earn an instructor rating from the British Horse Society, and has turned out several high level competitive eventing horses and riders. But modern competitions require a bit, and bits are evil (and also used by 95% of the horse world). For the record, after a month at the new barn, my horse is fitter, visibly less nervous, and to my eye happier. I told her flat out-- if it's down to her or my horse, it's the horse every time. Yeah...so, that attitude might explain why I haven't had a date in over two decades Then again, my late wife was kinda nuts about animals, too. We generally agreed on training methods, though. Heck, it was something we'd do on a night out-- "Wanna go socialize the dog tonight?"

I wish there were magic words. But it hurts for a reason. Five years ago, pretty much the only reason I kept living was a) my wife made me promise to. And b) my dog depended on me (that's not a joke). Eventually, life doesn't hurt as much. It takes a good amount of time, and the pain never really leaves. But you start feeling like things have value again. Hugs, and just try to make it day to day

Big hugs, Maureen. I can't imagine what having to go through this twice is like. I get the oddness of friends not knowing your late spouse, though-- when I moved, it was like the previous life became just this dream I'd had. In some ways, that's okay. Like you say, some of those flashbacks are difficult. Wish the happy ones were as vivid as the pain at the end. But maybe this is a time you can let yourself become swamped by nostalgia and remember the good, too. It sounds as if there is some healing happening. And that's good, even if difficult

Wonderfully written. Yeah, sometimes its best to be fuzzy about the end. That's not what their life was about, anyway. And James Herriot is awesome.

Oh, I hear you, T. But while I'm sad that I've probably lost a friend, I just don't have the emotional space for confrontation right now. If she wants to talk, she will. If she doesn't, she won't.

Congratulations and hopes!

Thanks for the kind words, everyone. It's been a bit of a week, emotionally. I don't know what I was expecting, but the memories hit pretty hard, almost like it had only been a year.

Yeah, most guys wouldn't cop to anxiety unless it was a real issue. It's not really right, but social norms don't allow for men to admit to emotional weaknesses. Heck, I'd say the fact he's willing to talk to you about it means he trusts you enough to be open.

6 weeks? Mother of God, I'm not sure I was getting around to regular bathing by then.

One day at a time. It hurts more than anything, but as you say, he'd want you to keep living. Reminding yourself of that helps.

Thanks. Yeah, I would have thought after a year of friendship, we could have a talk at least. I don't know if it's widowhood or just getting older, but I just don't have the desire to deal with interpersonal antics

Not online, haven't made that move. And I'm not really sure if it was supposed to be a date. But I'm pretty sure I got dumped before it even happened. I know this horse trainer and playwright-- we'd go for rides together at the old barn, she'd loan me various horses that needed to be exercised. Really well trained beasts. Anyway, she's also a playwright and one of her plays was being performed down in San Diego. She invites me to come see it with her and grab dinner after. Anyway, I'm not entirely sure why, but two days prior she shoots me a quick text to tell me it's off. I run into her at the barn and ask her if everything was okay with the run. She gives me a quick "yes", pops a headset on then rides off. Keep in mind, we usually would hang out several times a week. I'm dim, but could tell something was up. I try to send her a message via Facebook and discover she's unfriended me. Best guess is kind of hard to explain if you're not into horses, but she's a big time natural horseman/bitless bridle evangelical. And I just had changed trainers for one of my horses from another natural horsemanship trainer to a more traditional trainer. It's the only thing I can think of. Makes me sad, more because of the loss of a friend than the date. And it was tough enough letting my last trainer go: she was a friend, but just wasn't getting my mare to where she needed to be. Did I mention I just passed the 5 year mark since losing my wife? Let's just say my willingness to deal with unnecessary social drama is pretty low this week. On the plus side, my landlady just brought a new little Icelandic mare onto property today. So there's a new female in my life after all. Horses, I understand. People, not so much.

Long story, but my ring was stolen some years ago. It was a one off (we made them ourselves with lost wax technique), so I didn't wear a ring for many years. When she died, I got a jewelry chain and wore hers around my neck for a year and a day. Then I put it away in her old jewelry box. That's probably of minimal use to your question, save that the real answer is: listen to your heart. It will tell you what is right for you.

Just talking aloud to the aether here, no real insights. But maybe that's the one thing I've learned-- there are no profundities to be found in loss. It's terrible, awful, and at the end of any supposed journey, it doesn't matter. The person you loved more than anyone else is gone. I've become numb, after a fashion. I still find myself occasionally smiling, I make jokes, I enjoy things, all that. But that's on top of the great chasm of grief I still carry. Five years. I still wake up every morning, wondering where she is. I go to sleep, reaching for a hand that isn't there. I wake up calling for her, not every night anymore, but often enough that I've had to explain that I "get nightmares" when I share a hotel room or cabin. Don't get me wrong, I'm still functional. I'm back at work, I have friends, I get through the day, I use splice commas (See? My stupid sense of humor is even intact) It's just that I expected to move on or something by now, yet I still feel like an incomplete half of this dyad that's been shattered. I guess this is the new normal. I suppose it's to be expected: by definition, life was better because we found each other. Of course life is worse now. Not valueless, just not as good. Driving back from a horse tournament yesterday, I just started crying. I think I'm okay as long as I'm doing something, but going home to a home that isn't there is rough. The thing that kept us going when we were apart was knowing we'd be back together. Lost it setting my alarm, too. She always would call me for early show times. She'd set her alarm and sleep with her cell phone. It could be 4am on the east coast, she'd still call, ask me if I was sitting up with my bedside lamp up, then murmur how she loved me and say goodnight. Leaving from home, she-- a woman who often told me that she "didn't become a musician in order to wake up before 9"-- would get up and make me strong coffee and an open faced peanut butter sandwich, toasted and wrapped in a Scott towel. Always got crumbs in the car. It was pretty much all she knew how to cook, but as the saying goes, the secret ingredient was love. For the record, I was the breakfast maker when I was home. I'd plop her tea and snacks down on the beside table at the aforementioned 9 am and wait until I saw her peek out of the covers. Sometimes she'd just pull the tea back in. Sorry, now I'm just babbling. I miss her so damn much.

Hurrah!

5th. Got a new plane at work and a horse to train on my days off. Just trying to keep busy. I still hate nighttime; it's when the lonelies come.

Yep. I talk to animals mostly now. Occasionally anonymous people on the Internet