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Quixote

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Posts posted by Quixote

  1. Coming up on five years, it's still hard. I get by on routine and obligations.  If I always do X in the morning (feed the critters, for example), I'll catch myself doing it before I have a chance to just crawl back into bed.  Making times to meet others helps, too:  oh, I'll still do that last minute cancel thing, but push comes to shove I'll try to make appointments.  And once you get moving, you'll typically keep moving. 

     

     

  2. I have that dream. Where she walks into the room and asks me why I'm so sad, and says "Silly man, I've been RIGHT here this WHOLE time!"  I always did need her to find my car keys.  She titled herself Finder of Lost Things.

     

     

     

     

  3. I stayed in our old place for three years after my wife died.  It was a cozy little one room beach town condo, where we'd finally gotten the dogs she wanted and figured we'd retire to someday.  We lived there from our early thirties to early forties, and I'd say they were absolutely the best years of our lives.  It was a town where we could walk to all our favorite places, everyone knew our dog's names and occasionally ours too.  And after she died, we planted a memorial tree for her along her favorite morning walk--  a municipal garden path that few knew about except locals.

     

    I felt like I needed to be there, until I couldn't stand it anymore.  I just kept seeing her around every corner, every shop we used to pop into, every stack of books at the local library, every empty table at the local music scene cafe.

     

    So I moved.  I moved away from most of my friends to the countryside and a town of 2400 people, most of whom I don't talk to all that much.  I spend my days off with my animals (sheep, chicken and horses added to dogs now).  And I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake.  But honestly, by myself in that old place, I was going downhill fast.  The memories just crowded me too close, and I admit I used to have to drink heavily to get them to quiet down enough to more or less sleep.  I'm not sure I'm that much better now, but I don't wake up curled up on the floor with a half empty bottle of whisky and a pile of old love letters.

     

    Did I have to move to achieve that?  I'm not sure.  But at the time it seemed like the right thing to do.

  4. My wife was the computer guru of the two of us.  She was heavily into electronic music, and wrote programs that interacted with the performers in real time. So that made her the go to "Waaaaaaaa!!  Computer not working!!!"

     

    Music has been hard for me.  She had a masters in flute performance and composition, one of those types who could listen to a multpart piece and write it down.  Me, I'm a hack harpist.  We played together in professional groups and as a duo, but I realize just how much she helped me out.  It's as if I've lost the subtitles to music that explained what was going on.  A part of my brain has been cut out, and I doubt I'll ever be able to experience music the same way as I did with her.

  5. That's it, ain't it?  I mean, I hate to be that bitter guy but seeing all my friends cooing at each other on Facebook is a bit tough. Hell, I bring up my wife and I get *the look*.  You know it:  pity combined with "don't be such a downer, this is supposed to be a happy time".

  6. It's probably for the best that I'm working that day.  Might buy chocolate and eat it for her.  When she was around, I'd buy her nice stuff (there was a local chocolate shop in town that make their own).  She'd nip at me if I got to close to her when she was eating them.  We picked up a lot of interpersonal mannerisms from our various animals.

     

    How about you guys?  How are you celebrating/surviving the day?

  7. I can't remember when I changed my status to widowed, so it probably was shortly after she died.  FB occasionally pops up and asks me to update things, so it probably was then

     

    No creepers, but I think that's different for guys (I have gotten a few unwanted stalker types, but I suspect that's because of my horses and not because I'm a widower).

     

    If I ever start dating again, I doubt I would change it to "in a relationship" unless I got engaged.  I mean, it's hard to imagine a girlfriend of a few months trumping an intensely loving bond that lasted decades.  Heh--  maybe that attitude explains why I still haven't started dating again :D

  8. I haven't asked a girl out on a date in...decades (other than my wife.  We had awesome dates together.  Bookstores and snacks).  Four years since I lost my wife, and yes, I'm not adverse to seeing someone if we were right for each other.  But that just hasn't even remotely happened yet.

     

    So, no, you're not a loser.  Or maybe I am, too.  But I suspect by the standards you're holding yourself up to, there's a lot of losers in this world ;)

  9. My wife and I got engaged seven days after we kissed for the first time.  Somewhere between then, she broke up with her boyfriend of three years.  We were originally going to wait a while to get married, but I had orders to flight school and we realized that if we wanted a wedding with all our friends and family able to attend, we had to do it before then.  So we got married nine months after getting engaged, or as she put it, long enough that everyone would know we didn't *have* to get married :)

     

    23 years together before cancer took her, so I think I can safely say that all those naysaying "What are you guys thinking?  You're way too young and it's way too soon!" were wrong.  So there, naysayers.

     

    Love is weird. 

  10. Whoever a widow(er) goes out with, they've got to accept that our late spouses were-- and are!-- someone we loved dearly and remain a huge part of who we are.  If that fact makes them jealous or even just irritated, they aren't someone we need as part of our lives.

     

    I agree with most of what you say, but I think we as widow(er)s also need to use some empathy with those who haven't been through it.  If the slightest bit of jealousy or irritation with our former loves disqualifies someone from being part of our lives, I think we're winnowing the list of potential new mates just a little too much.  I think jealousy and irritation are things that can be worked through with compassionate communication from both sides.

     

    I suppose it's a matter of degree.  It's one thing to have perfectly human glimmers of jealousy.  It's another thing to get self righteous like the OP's boyfriend and claim that it's somehow the fault of the bereaved that she's upset over some she loved dying.  That's someone who has a serious empathy deficit.

  11. Yep, don't let the door hit ya on the way out, dude. 

     

    I admit that's one of the things I dread about dating (still haven't).  Whoever a widow(er) goes out with, they've got to accept that our late spouses were-- and are!-- someone we loved dearly and remain a huge part of who we are.  If that fact makes them jealous or even just irritated, they aren't someone we need as part of our lives.

     

    Seriously, would someone ever tell a grieving parent that they should "just get over" their child's death?  (maybe they would, people can be freaking idiots)

  12. I keep her iPod unchanged.  Every now and then, I go back and listen to all the podcasts she'd downloaded.  She was a huge fan of A Prairie Home Companion.  Listening to the Powdermilk Biscuit song gets me all misty, but in a good way.

  13. Aw, thanks Torn.  You, too.  I did eventually make a Christmas party on Christmas proper--  but it was a small gathering of close friends.  Dinner and just hanging around.  I find that easier than the big parties.  And if you have one of those grief moments, you're with people who at least are sympathetic, even if they don't really get it (maybe that's a new acronym:  DGIBC--  doesn't get it, but cares)

     

    Best to all of you as we staggering into a new year.

  14. Bailed on two invites this afternoon.  Still having difficulty with the holidays--  spent Christmas with friends, but not up for doing the social thing twice.  Figured I'd spend the day at the barn but too bloody windy to ride, just fed my girls and went home.  Walked up the hill and played Frisbee with my dog.  Hey, at least with my pup I know I'll get a New Year's kiss :)

  15. At 22 months out, I still feel married to my wife. I start every day telling her that I love her and complete every night the same way. I talk to her all the time, write to her and still get her cards for special occasions including this past week for Christmas.

     

    Snipped, but so much of your entire post speaks to me.  I am still very much married to my wife (4 years since losing her).  Unlike you, I'm not completely adverse to meeting someone else, but that's more of an intellectual than a gut feeling.  My wife and I were beyond close, and pretty much two halves of the same person.  People used to joke that I'd married my sister, but that isn't true--  my actual sister is not vaguely as much like me as my wife was.  Add in 23 years of marriage where we hated being out of sight of each other (barely survived going out to sea when I was in the Navy).  We grew up together and were shaped by our life experiences together.

     

    Bottom line, I realize that there's absolutely no way of reproducing that sort of shared life with someone new.  I'm lonely as hell, but yeah, when it comes down to it, I'm lonely for HER, not some hypothetical new woman.  Maybe lightning will strike twice--  but even if it does, said hypothetical lady will have to accept that I'm still in love with someone else.  Even if if HNW is okay with that, there will also remain the question of whether I'm okay with that.  I may never be.

  16. I guess I'm in a similar, yet different, place.  I hate being single.  My relationship with my late wife was pretty much the center of both of our lives, and I feel completely empty without her.  Oh, I've learned to live and cherish each day as the gift that it is, yatatata, but I don't feel complete without her.  Call it the cliche of being two halves of the same person.

     

    For all the fact that the loneliness is overpowering at times, I can't bring myself to actively seek out another relationship.  At four years out, I'm beginning to think that's the new normal for me.  It's hardly a happy place, but I suppose it's better than a string of dysfunctional dating experiences.  I'm open to the idea of a meeting someone new, I just doubt very much that it will happen.

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