lcoxwell

Thank you so much, for all of your thoughtful replies. Many of you touched on thoughts I have been having lately, and I appreciate you sharing with me.

I think Trying stated it so much better, than I did. I met New Guy very early on. Initially, he encouraged me to talk about my Kenneth, to share stories, and to be open with my grief. He wanted me to do all the necessary hard work, so that I could be in a healthy place, emotionally, to have a relationship with him. As time goes by, though, he also wants to know that I am ready to move forward and fully commit to him. I don't have to hide that I am grieving or having a bad day, but I also don't want New Guy to have to feel like he is my grief counselor, either. Like Trying said, I can tell him I am having a bad day, without having to tell him all the details. My New Guy understands that I will always love Kenneth. He also understands and knows I love him. While New Guy is open to talking about Kenneth, asking questions and even bringing him up in conversation from time to time, as Trying said, there needs to be a balance and I try to avoid too much talk about Kenneth. New Guy needs to know that I am not spending a majority of my time dwelling in the past and in my life with Kenneth. He needs to know I am ready for a future with him. As New Guy and I spend more time together and develop more shared experiences to discuss, then the topic of Kenneth should naturally come up less often (not that it shouldn't ever come up, but it should be less often). New Guy's reservations haven't been because I grieve. They have been in making sure I have done the necessary work to move beyond active grieving, before I commit to a lifetime of marriage to him, if that makes sense.

Once again, I have a killer migraine to get my evening off to a wonderful start. Thank God for delivery, so I didn't have to cook dinner. I suspect the salt intake from the food I just ate is a little higher than what I am supposed to be taking in, since my mini stroke. I did not go see New Guy this weekend, because I have physical therapy first thing Monday morning. He and I have been texting back and forth, while I sit here with my cuddly four legged critter. I have been thinking how much I love my Pit Bull, Boo, and I appreciate that she is such an affectionate dog. I just wish she did not feel the urge to sit on top of me, pretty much every minute of the day, especially since it is around 90 degrees outside and not much cooler in the house. Warm licks and hot doggie breath is not nearly as much fun as one might expect.

This has become my new motto, and the only way I survive without a mental breakdown, some days.

I wish there was something better I could say than to just tell you I am so very sorry. I do pray, and I will gladly keep you in my prayers.

My heart aches for the two of you, and I am another one, rooting for things to work out, so the two of you can be together. I know how hard it can be to be thousands of miles away from the one you love, and I know how scary and difficult it can be to start over. I wish I had some magical advice or a way to provide a solution for you, but unfortunately, as you well know, there are no easy answers.

I have greatly enjoyed reading through this thread and the many comments that have been made. There are so many thoughtful responses here. My New Guy has never been widowed, but has lost everyone in his family, except his mother and brother, and seems to profoundly understand my widow brain (most of the time). He has said several times that my widowhood status actually drew him to me, initially. As many of you have already commented, he was drawn to me, because I had proven that I am willing to honor those vows of "until death do us part", rather than walking away and getting a divorce, when things get hard (as they inevitably do, from time to time, in any relationship). My loss has made me a better partner in many ways and allowed me to more fully appreciate all the wonderful things about him, to more openly express my love for him, and to just enjoy being together and in the moment, far more than anyone else he has ever been with. I routinely make it a point to tell him how very much I love him and to describe specific things he says or does that I enjoy about him. Many times, he has said that he has always wished others had noticed _____________ about him, and he is thankful that I see those things. I do have fears and phobias I didn't have before, but for the most part, my New Guy finds those endearing and is very considerate and thoughtful and is willing to talk through them, when they arise. BUT.... I am learning that as our relationship progresses, my widowhood status has also been a bit of a stumbling block. He asked me to move closer to him, back before Christmas, which I am preparing to do later this summer. He has talked about wanting to spend his life with me, asking about my preferences in engagement rings and about my ring size, months ago. Yet, he has hesitated to take the next step of asking me to marry him, because he doesn't want to be married to someone else's wife, he wants to be married to HIS wife. He wants to make certain that I am ready to be fully his, before asking me to marry him. If I weren't widowed, I think he would have asked me to marry him months ago. If I weren't widowed, I don't think there would be the hesitation. This means I have to be more mindful, when it comes to sharing my thoughts and feelings, and I have to be more careful about how much I tell him on the bad days, when the grief rears its ugly head. I have to be sure that he knows I truly love him; and I have to reassure him, from time to time, that he isn't in second place, behind my Kenneth. I don't think being widowed necessarily makes us damaged goods or any better or worse to date than anyone else. Our individual personalities and how we approach dating and building a future with a new person is what makes us better or worse. I do, think, though, that we have to be somewhat more thoughtful, because there is a fine line between honoring our deceased spouses/significant others and embracing our futures and allowing our pasts and our loss to overshadow our future happiness.

Having spent 13 years of my life as an extreme caregiver, in which nothing in my life was "normal", I don't think I shall ever quite figure out what normalcy truly is. What I can say, is that I can relate to what you are saying about your relationship now, because I have thought many of these same things about my relationship with New Guy.

I missed this, when it was first posted, but wanted to add that your daughter sounds much like my son. One of his teachers said to me years ago, "I believe he is academically gifted, but does not respond well to the pencil and paper tasks of school." My son is highly intelligent, yet failed nearly every class he ever took in high school. Getting him through to graduation included summer school, night school, and finally, a move to a continuation high school (a move I wish I had made far sooner than I did). I honestly have no answers for you, because I worry about him daily and struggle with how to help him find his way in the world. At 19, he just seems directionless and lost to me. Social anxiety doesn't help his cause, either, I might add. Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that although I have no useful advice, I can understand your worries.

My Kenneth and my New Guy are pretty much polar opposites, in looks and personality, with the exception that they are both around the same height. At first, I thought I wanted someone more like my Kenneth, and I almost walked away from a really good relationship, just because he didn't have Kenneth's brown eyes. Thankfully, I realized how silly that was, and gave New Guy a real chance. Looking back, I am glad he looks so different from my Kenneth, leaving me to appreciate New Guy as a unique individual and not as a replacement for my deceased husband.

This was beautifully written, and I cannot tell you how very much I needed to read this today. It brought tears to my eyes, but in a good way. Thank you, so much for sharing this and for the encouragement that it has brought to me, on a very difficult week, where I am having trouble putting one step in front of the other. (((Hugs)))

I've been away from the board, dealing with my own health issues and a few other things in life, but today, I read through all of this, each and every word. First of all, I am sorry for the loss of your friend and will gladly pray for the family. Secondly, I do not see you as an ingrate, at all. I see you as a person, who had something rare and special and lost it with the drawing of a final breath, and that loss is not something you can just walk away from with a smile on your face. It is easy to tell people they deserve to be happy, and that all they have to do is choose to be happy by doing this or that. For some, that may very well be true. For others, they can do all the "right things", seek therapy, take medications, exercise, join support groups, go to church, develop a solid support system of family/friends, etc., and still not be truly happy, for a variety of reasons. I'm going to make an honest confession here, something that I have never said to anyone, not to family, not to friends, not to my grief counselor, not to anyone, until now. The only reason I am sharing here, is because I hope it will somehow help someone else. On the outside, I appear to be doing pretty good, all things considered. I can put on a really good front. When I sit down at the computer to type responses to others or to share on social media, I can say all kinds of positive things and put an encouraging spin on almost anything. When I walk out my front door, I can put on a smile and pretend that everything is alright better than just about anybody I know. My personality type has always been to look for the good in everything and to always keep a smile on my face, honestly believing that even in the worst of times, things will eventually improve, at least a little. I am a survivor, who has lived through two separate, brutal attacks, one nearly killing me, who managed life as a single parent for several years, and who worked full time while taking care of a terminally ill husband for thirteen years. I figured by now, I could handle anything, and still manage to be happy, but I was wrong. The truth is, most of the time, I am not okay. Since Kenneth's death, I am dealing with nearly crippling anxiety, some days. I am having health problems, serious financial problems, difficulty managing at work, and my house is a mess. There are days, when I am starting to worry that I might be clinically depressed, because I just cannot make myself care or do anything, no matter how much I may need or want to. I go out in the world, and do the bare minimum I need to do to keep my job and a roof over my head, but then I come home and all I want to do is go to bed and pretend the world outside doesn't exist. I've been trying the old "fake it, till you make it" routine for over a year, and I am still just okay. I am not steeped and mired in grief, but I am not happy, either. Each of us has very different circumstances that can affect how quickly we move forward or how much happiness we can attain, but the loss will always be there. I don't think it's being an ingrate to not feel happy or to be bothered by those adds. They bothered me, too. For now, I think just being okay is a stepping stone. Life is full of ups and downs and twists and turns and can bring joy and devastation, sometimes in the course of just one day. For now, I agree with the others. Try not to look too far ahead, and hold on to any measure of joy or happiness or moment of sunshine that you can. I do believe what others say, that eventually, things will get better. That key word, eventually, though, can be a difficult concept to grasp, some days.

Until I read this post, I had never really thought about it, but I have had the sudden realization that I feel much the same way. As SimiRed mentioned, I can empathize, but my ability to sympathize is directly related to the level of grief and widow hardship I am facing on any given day and the amount of energy I am having to expend to just put one step in front of the other and make it through the next hour.

I am so happy that read this and to see that you have found the strength to take those first steps toward getting your life back. You are doing what must be done for you, and for your son. You both deserve so much better. Having taken a similar step in my past, I won't lie to you. It isn't going to be easy, and times may get hard; but inside, you will KNOW that you have done the right thing. That knowledge, and the strength you gained from taking the first few steps, will carry you through. I can promise you, that no matter how hard things may get, though, you will be better off than you were with this man. Please try to remember, no looking back. As others have said, he will try to apologize and manipulate in order to get you back. Don't give in. You have a group of people here, who care very much about you, and who are willing to support you and encourage you, any time you need.

If ever I get to missing my foul-mouthed, one-legged, rough-around-the-edges hubby, I can pop in on this thread, and smile, just a little, knowing that he would have loved all the posts here (though the reasons people come here to post sometimes sadden me). My Kenneth sure did love dropping the f-bomb, and coming here, even though I do not use foul language personally, helps me feel closer to him, as odd as that may seem. Curse on, my widow/widower friends, curse on.

It is so good to hear from you, and congratulations on the job! Personally, I cannot tell you about my moving experience, as I am in your shoes, at the moment, and find myself in the position of planning an upcoming move. Honestly, I shall be eagerly reading the responses you get here, as you have asked the very questions I wanted to ask.

You and I are on a very similar timeline, and I have been struggling a bit my own self, lately. Much of what you said rings true for me, as well. I, too, feel lost and like things are spiraling out of control, and I can echo your gratitude for this site and the people here, who have been such a lifeline, since the loss of my Kenneth. I'm sorry that you are struggling, right now. Please, come here as often as you feel comfortable, and post as often as you need to. You don't have to express things perfectly, just write from your heart. I promise, someone here will be able to read and understand.

I'm truly wishing I had seen this sooner, so that I could have been praying at the time, you requested. I have bad a burden for you, since the first moment I read parts of your story. Having been in a volatile, dangerous relationship in my long ago past, and knowing how hard it was to extricate myself from the situation, I have already been lifting you up in prayer, sweet lady, and shall continue to pray for you and your son, until you no longer need the prayers. ((((Hugs)))) I would also like to join in with the others to thank you, Maureen, for the updates.

If there is one thing I have learned, since my Kenneth's death, it is that things in this life that shouldn't be trivial are, and the things that may seem "trivial" to others are monumental to us. I know it doesn't make it easier, but I do sympathize.

Safe travels, dear lady! May you and your niece have a wonderful trip, making beautiful memories to cherish in the future.

Congratulations! I am so happy to see good news.

I had heard this once before, but it has been a while. Thank you for sharing, and for the reminder that each of us has value.

I have not had a chance to read through this, until now. I am so very sorry, for all you have been through, and for all that you are having to deal with currently. I wish there was more I could say or do from this distance, than to say you are important to us and that I am "listening". ((((Big cyber hugs to you))))

I am sorry I haven't had a chance to read and respond to this earlier. This is such a heartbreaking situation. I will be praying, for the family, that they will have strength and comfort and peace, no matter what the outcome is.

About a year before my Kenneth died, he had lost so much weight, that his ring fell off on the way home from the hospital, on one of our many hospital trips over the years. He was so bothered by the loss of his ring, that I took mine off, so he wouldn't feel quite so bad about it, every time he held my hand. In the last year of his life, I only wore the rings a few times. I haven't worn them again, since his death. For me, the rings would be too painful of a reminder of all I have lost.