Jen

Leslie, I couldn't go to bed last night until I saw your name on the member list. I'm so glad you got here. So many hugs-- we can do this, we ARE doing it.

Okay, I'm taking some liberties by putting a concrete date on there... we had pretty well settled on Sunday, right? This is the place Karen suggested: www.palapizza.com, which meandthekids mentioned was close to Chinatown and Soho-- even better, a large candy store. Who can resist that? So who's in? I'm counting down the days, y'all, I'm not even kidding. (34)

I'm Jen-- Just Jen now, but I was Jim's Jen, until he died suddenly and unexpectedly from a pulmonary embolism three days after his 40th birthday. I was at work-- he texted me at 3:30 to tell me he was going to get the kids from school. At 4:16 my older son called me to say, "He can't breathe and he's turning blue. What do I do?" I told him to call 911, hung up, and raced home. When I got there, the paramedics were already working on him-- he was fighting the oxygen. His heart rate started dropping, and they began coding him for real. They moved him to the ambulance; I think he was already gone by then, but they took him to the emergency room (literally across the street). He was pronounced at 5:26. My life ended along with his that day-- almost 11 months later, I look back and can scarcely believe I've made it this far. I'm still in hell, but finding sunlight peeking in here and there... I found some hope again, and a handful of reasons to live-- mainly thanks to this community.

Unique and Devastating Loss (by WifeLess) With the death of our spouse (which here includes fiance, significant other, partner, etc.), we grieve the loss of so much more than someone we merely loved or were close to, like a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend or pet. We grieve instead the loss of: The one we loved most deeply, cherished and felt the very closest to. The one we swore commitment to in that unique human bond of marriage, which many consider sacred. The one we shared the ultimate partnership with to live as one and perhaps bear children with. The one who embodied our true sense of home. The one who was our best friend and who was to be our companion for life. The one we confided in, depended on and trusted most. The one who really knew, understood and accepted us as we were. The one we felt safe and protected with. The one we shared private moments and intimate feelings with. The one we mated souls with. But it is not just that this most precious person has been torn from our life, as unbearably heartbreaking as that alone is. With the death of our spouse, and only of our spouse, many additional profound losses must be grieved as well. For we also suffer: The loss of who we ourselves were while with them. The loss of the couple we were once half of. The loss of the life partnership we once formed. The loss of the husband or wife role we once embraced. The loss of the life we once lived. The loss of the plans we once made. The loss of the dreams we once shared. The loss of the future we once envisioned. Amidst all this, we are also suddenly confronted with many hardships we never expected to face at this point in our life. Besides financial survival, increased domestic burdens and perhaps single parenting, additional challenges less apparent to others but all too real and terrifying to us. We must now find it within ourselves: To create a new identity. To redefine our role in life. To establish a new connection to the world. To build a new network of social relationships. To discover a new sense of purpose. To formulate a new set of goals. To decide on a new direction for our future. And we must accomplish these without dishonoring our former life, but while suppressing bittersweet memories of that life, so that they not hold us back. Memories of happier times mostly, but also those of our spouse's death, either sudden and shocking or after prolonged illness. We must further endure the feelings of guilt and disloyalty that follow us as we attempt to forget and move forward, but with our heartstrings tied so tightly to the past. And all these tasks must be taken on at the lowest possible point of our life in the worst state imaginable. When we are the weakest, most vulnerable, most insecure, most isolated, most heartbroken and most emotionally exhausted we have ever been. Without that one person we long ago became accustomed to relying on to help get us through life's greatest challenges. The one who, just by being there, would have provided us emotional comfort and moral support to draw upon, as well as the strength and confidence we need to complete those tasks and so much more. But now we face all this alone. Profound indeed is the death of our spouse. Unique and devastating. For nearly all of us, much more catastrophic to our life than the loss of any other. And truly comparable, many of us widows and widowers often feel, to one other death only. Ours.

To My Friend I have lost the one I love, the one I cherish. My lover, my best friend, my whole life. Either you have stumbled across this because you want to find out how to help me, or I have given this to you. How I am Feeling I am numb. I am in shock. I am emotionally exhausted. I am in pain. A horrible, gut-wrenching, intense, unimaginable, and indescribable pain. My mind is totally occupied with processing my loss. I am trying to understand what has happened. I am attempting to make sense of it all. I am trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. I can't sleep. I want to sleep all day. I am physically exhausted. I can't eat. I can't stop eating. I can't be bothered cooking. I can't be bothered cleaning. I don't want to go shopping. Everything is overwhelming. Small tasks are overwhelming. Small details are overwhelming. I just don't want to know about it right now. Nothing sticks in my mind. I walk out the door without my keys. I forget what I was going to do. I forget everything except that my love has gone. I am going through tidal waves of emotion. One minute I might be laughing, the next I may be in tears. Sometimes I want to talk. Sometimes I need to be alone. Sometimes I need silent company. Sometimes I need all of these things in the space of 5 minutes. Some days I just want to curl up in bed and do nothing. Some days I will keep myself totally occupied in an attempt to escape. Sometimes I will be intense. Sometimes I will be irrational. Sometimes I will be snappy, and often I will be totally lost in myself. Often I may not have a clue as to what I want, but it only takes a moment for me to realize what I don't want. I am hypersensitive and will often be offended by things you say to try and make me feel better. I want to wail. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to just sit. I have no choice how I react. This is coming from deep inside me and intelligence and self control have no effect. It comes from the basal self. Sometimes it so hard for me to respond to phone calls or letters or emails, but I truly appreciate that you are doing it, so please don't stop just because I don't respond. I will not be fully-functional at work for a long time. In fact, I may never work with the same intensity again as my perspectives of what is important and what isn't has been changed permanently. I still want to laugh. I need to laugh. I may suddenly go quiet mid-laugh, when hit by a sudden reminder, but I desperately need to continue to laugh. Emotional Things You Can Do Let me talk about him/her. I want to talk about our love. I want to tell you how we met, our last days, and everything in between. I want to show you his/her picture, tell you how wonderful (s)he was. Let me cry. Your acceptance that I need to cry and your permission to allow me to is one of the best gifts you can give me. Hand me a tissue, and do your best to sit quietly and let me cry. Once you have allowed me to open up or cry, please don't change the subject or try to stop me. I know you feel uncomfortable that I am in pain. Don't. Changing the subject, trying to stop me crying just makes me hold everything inside, and eats away at me. Tell me all your stories of when my love was sweet, courageous, rotten or funny. I need to hear everything about him/her. If you don't know many, find out some from those who are too scared to approach me now. Let me try to tell you what is going on inside me. I won't succeed, but I need to try. You don't have to do anything. Just allowing me to do it, and allowing me to feel what I need to feel means so much. It is really hard for me to tell other people about my loss. I'm working full time to deal with my emotions. Trying to deal with someone else's reaction or discomfort is the last thing I need, so if someone needs to know it would be good if you could explain it to them. What Not To Do Don't tell me you understand how I feel, or that you can imagine the pain I am going through, unless you have lost the love of your life. Trust me, you can't. If I can't, and I am going through it, trust me, you can't ? your mind will just not let you voluntarily imagine this much pain. Don't try to compare my loss to the loss of a parent, or a friend, or an acquaintance or pet, it's not the same. I understand that all of these things are painful, but it is not the same. Don't ask how I'm doing unless you really want to know. I am assuming that as you know, and as you have asked, you truly want to know. Don't try to save me from my feelings or make me feel better. I know you can't bear to see me in so much pain, but I need to go through all of these feelings whether I want to or not. Once you have "given me permission" to talk or cry, please don't try and distract me with small talk. I know it makes you feel better if I appear happy, but my pain is ever-present and it makes me feel like you don't care. Don't tell me everything will be okay. Don't tell me "(s)he's always with you". Don't tell me "(s)he's no longer in pain". Don't tell me "(s)he's looking down on you from heaven". Don't tell me "you're lucky that you had such love, some people don't". Don't tell me "(s)he's in a better place". Don't be surprised, however, if I say these things. Don't ever tell me "you must be strong". If ever there's a time I should be permitted to be weak, this is it. What's more, if I only "need to talk" to you once every few weeks, chances are I have been strong and right now I really need you to understand that I am exhausted and need help. Whatever you do don't tell me "If I were you I'd ..." Until you are in the same situation, you have absolutely no idea what you will do. Your logical brain has absolutely no control. Never try telling me "life goes on", or "(s)he wouldn't want you to cry", or "God will never give you more than you can handle" or any other meaningless platitudes. Don't try to solve my "problem". Unless you can bring him/her back, it can't be "solved". Don't feel the need to fill in silences. I know the silences are hard for you, but if you can accept them, you are helping me immensely. Please don't try and help me find "closure", or tell me I need to find "closure". Closure is an obscene word for me right now, as is "moving on"/"move on". Practical Things You Can Do I understand that a lot of you find it hard to cope with my emotional pain. Hate to see me hurting so. If you can't help me emotionally, you can help me practically. Don't ask me what you can do to help. I have no idea, I am overwhelmed. Bring me some meals that I can just put in the microwave. Find out what sort of bread, milk, toilet paper, etc I use and bring me them to me. I have no idea I need them until I run out, so don't bother asking me if I need anything. If you are an organized person offer to manage my bills. Collect the bills as they come in and let me know when they need to be paid, and make sure I do. Time has no meaning for me right now. It's only when the cut-off notices come that I realize I need to do something. Get copies of photos I don't have from family and friends and put them in an album for me. It will be one of the most precious gifts you could give me. Practical Things I Need To Do I need to surround myself with beauty. Sit in the sun and just soak it up. Enjoy nature. Look at the majesty of mountains, and enjoy the miracle of a blade of grass. Have a massage. Write in a journal. Cry when I need to. Tears are a release. Not make any big decisions for a while. A big enough life change has already taken place. Remember Grief is an emotional injury that requires time to heal. Not a week, not a month, not even a year, it takes as long as it takes. It is similar to major physical injury. You may not be able to see the wounds on the inside, but they are there. Real-life is nothing like TV. I will not "get over it". I will learn to live with my loss and incorporate the lessons into my life. I will get better over time, but I will never forget him/her. The pain ebbs and flows, but never goes completely.

This thread is to share our experience from those early days for those new to this life. There is no one perfect answer but we have recommendations.