lcoxwell

While I have found that everyone is different, what has worked for me (in the nearly two years, since my Kenneth died) has been to generally take a quiet moment alone on the anniversaries. The quiet moment allows me time to reflect on memories, to cry if I need to, or to just remember a few of the good times with him. He was always a private person, anyway, so it just seemed fitting. In the early days, I also took time on the anniversaries to log in to YWBB (an earlier site that many of us here started out on) to read and to post. It helped me to work through many of the emotions I was feeling and the experiences of others allowed me to develop coping skills to help me manage when the hard grieving came crashing down on my head, which was often more likely to occur on the anniversaries.

I have been sick for the last few weeks, and so has New Guy. This means I am not only late in responding to this thread, but I also spent Valentines' Day alone. The two of us met briefly to exchange cards and small gifts a few days later, but were both still feeling so poorly that we decided to just make it a short visit and nothing more. As far as Valentines' Days go, I can honestly say I have experienced far more romantic ones in the past.

Thank you all for sharing for adding your own stories. I think that, far too often, we see the stories of those who just don't get it or who treat widows/widowers in a way that comes across wrong (for a variety of reasons, whether intentional or unintentional). Sometimes, I think it is good to take a moment to recognize those people who bring kindnesses into our lives, whether great or small, and who make our lives just a little better.

I have come to realize that there can sometimes be a really fine line between saying too much and saying too little. If we hold back, if we say too little, then we can begin to feel that a very real part of our lives is being forgotten or is not being acknowledged. If we don't feel that we have a safe place to talk about our spouses, that can complicate our relationships, somewhat. At the same time, if we say too much, our new partners can feel that we are comparing or feel that they are not valued enough. That can lead to hurt feelings are can also complicate new relationships. I also agree that it can seem unfair to have to consciously use "I" instead of "we", particularly when our spouse was such a large part of our lives. If we are to honor our new and future relationships, however, we can't constantly be talking about our past ones. As unfair as it may seem, to be ever focused on the past is not fair to our current or future partners, and they deserve our time and attention, too.

I should warn you people that I am one of those touchy-feely hugger types. If you do not wish to be accosted with a hug, you should let me know in advance, or I might just be hugging on you half the day. You have been warned. ;D

In all honesty, my decision on where to go and what to do came far more easily than I originally thought that it would. When I first met Kenneth, I packed up my things and my children and I moved across the country, leaving all my friends and family behind. I gave up pretty much everything to be with him. The problem is, my whole world was tied to him. Once he was gone, my whole world was empty, and I felt that I had nothing left that was worth living for, anymore. My life felt was completely falling apart. I knew if I stayed in that house and in that town that I had moved into, just to be with him, I would never be able to put my life back together again. My choices were to return to my home town back in NC or to find somewhere new to start over. If I returned to NC, my family would welcome me with open arms; BUT, I would have to take a significant cut in pay and would potentially struggle financially. A move to NC would have also opened up a whole can of worms with two previous exes that were still interested in me, but who also were involved in serious relationships of their own, and who needs those kinds of complications in their lives? I certainly didn't. Soon after Kenneth died, before I even had the chance to really start thinking about where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do, I met New Guy. There was just something special about him, right from the start; and I just KNEW that I wanted to be closer to him. This time, I didn't have people to give up. I had already done that. That made the idea of completely starting over again much, much easier for me. Once I made the decision about where to go, I started looking into what to do, and a teaching job fell right in my lap, which only reinforced the fact that I had made the right decision. I am so happy that I started over, and I am so happy that I chose to move here. I love where I am and what I do. Since I have made the move, I have felt more at peace than I have felt in a very, very long time.

Thank you for checking in, Amor. This month and next month are likely going to be hard. Today was our anniversary, and was another difficult day. Tomorrow, I will hit the 23 month anniversary, since Kenneth's death. Toward the end of this month, I will be reminded of the final visit from my family, just before Kenneth died, and of his last hospital stay. Then comes the first two weeks of March, which includes that last week before his death, his daughter's birthday (his last semi-coherent day), my son's birthday (his last waking hours and the day he slipped into a coma), the day he died (2 days after my son's birthday), his birthday (6 days later), and St. Patrick's Day (the day we buried him). Truthfully, I would love to just bury my head in the sand until March is over, but life keeps moving on and I, apparently, still have to go to work and pay bills.

Two years ago, Kenneth and I celebrated our very last anniversary together. We celebrated our very last anniversary at an Outback Steakhouse that was located near one of the hospitals, stopping for lunch on our way home from yet another outpatient surgery. That celebration was a bittersweet day, because I knew that it would be our last one together. Just a few short weeks later, Kenneth was gone. Now that I live too far away to visit his grave, I wanted to do something special to mark the day, so I decided to go to the local Outback Steakhouse. It isn't the one Kenneth and I went to, but I figured it would be close enough, given the circumstances. At the time, it seemed like a BRILLIANT idea, just to take a little time to remember him. Little did I know, when I walked through the restaurant door that I would end up a blubbering mess, right there in the middle of the restaurant. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I made a serious spectacle of myself and drew quite a bit of attention with my public crying, embarrassing myself to the point that I was almost ready to just leave and go home. ALMOST. Then something amazing happened. A waitress came by to check on me. As I was apologizing for bawling on her, I mentioned that it was my anniversary and that my husband had died and couldn't be there to celebrate with me. Without skipping a beat, she told me not to worry about it and asked me what his favorite drink was. After I told her, she brought one to the table and placed it there as a remembrance and in honor of him. Of course, this made me cry more, but I was grateful for her thoughtfulness. A minute or two later, one of the waiters came by to tell me that the people at a nearby table wanted to buy me a dessert. They had seen me crying and had overheard the waitress talking to me. I went over to thank them. The man spoke a few words of encouragement and shook my hand; but his wife gave me a huge hug, right there in the middle of the restaurant. She just held on to me for the longest time, and it was just what I needed. About that time, the two women at the table next to me got up to leave. They had seen and heard all that had transpired. Both women stopped to hug me and to tell me that they would be praying for me. All these people, who were complete strangers, just completely opened their hearts and made a hard day for me just a little bit lighter. I am so touched; and once again, I am reminded just how very blessed I am, even though I have experienced such pain and horrific loss. Have any of you had spontaneous outpourings of kindness from strangers that you would also like to share? I would love to hear about them, if you have.

My children are young adults (18 & 20, respectively) and living in other states. They met New Guy for the first time at about 6 months after he and I had first started seeing each other. At the time, my daughter and her then fiance had come into town for a pre-wedding reception dinner, with their friends and family in CA, before moving to NC for their wedding. Since my in-laws were supposed to come to the reception, but backed out at the last minute, seriously disappointing my daughter, it was nice to have New Guy there and made for a good first impression. He has since met my son one other time, right before my son followed his sister and also moved to NC a few months ago. New Guy has not met any of my step-children, who are all in other states, as well.

My New Guy and I met very early on in the grieving process for me, and he can be credited with helping me with some of the hard work that needed to be done along the way. Right from the start, he encouraged me to talk about Kenneth, he asked questions, and he held me when I cried. Over time, though, as he and I drew closer and started building our own memories and experiences together, there was less of a need to talk about Kenneth. Now, one of us may bring him up, from time to time, usually when talking about the kids, but most of our conversations are about other people and things. I am glad that New Guy is secure enough that I can bring up Kenneth, without New Guy feeling that I am clinging to my past or making comparisons. I am also glad that he is comfortable enough to bring Kenneth up in conversation, as well. More than that, though, I am glad that New Guy and I have our own separate relationship, with our own unique life experiences to share and to discuss and to enjoy.

I am currently taking an online course to get an authorization in Autism added to my current Education Instruction Specialist teaching credential. I am also giving some consideration to starting courses in the near future towards getting a Master's Degree in Instructional Technology. At one point in time, my Kenneth had been pushing me to get a Master's Degree in either Special Education or Administration. I was even on the fast track toward becoming an administrator; however, I came to the decision that I loved being in the classroom far too much to give up teaching and to move into a principal or other district office position. Then, Kenneth's health got so bad, that I had to give up any thoughts of continuing my education. Even if I had wanted to, there was no money and no time for it. Nearly two years after his death, I am finally in a position where I can actually give serious consideration to going back to work on my Master's Degree, and I can pursue something that I am truly interested in. Since I moved from NC to CA, I would have to go back and take entry level classes to get my Master's Degree in Special Education from a CA college. Now that I am in my 16th year of teaching, that seems a bit ridiculous. Since I know I have no interest in administration, that doesn't seem fitting, either. With the influx of technology and the drive toward including technology in our instruction, it seems like getting a Master's in Instructional Technology would be the way to go. I would be learning something new, so I would not be bored to tears; and I could take what I learned and actually use it in the classroom. The whole idea of becoming a student again really excites me, but I worry about the time commitment and the stress of having to add another thing to my busy schedule. In the end, I think it would be worth it, though.

Such high words of praise. I am touched.

I have been in bed with my PJs on all day, binge watching various TV shows on my computer. Thanks to having a miserable cold, my nose is runny, I have a horrible sinus headache, and I feel yucky. I must admit, this is not such a sexy Saturday night for me, but I. am enjoying the TV shows.

I need to start checking this thread more often. I always seem to miss the bumps, until hours or days later. :-\

What a beautiful and thoughtful post, sojourner! Something about your words just really resonated with me. It is true that I needed to take some time to acknowledge and process a few things, and I think I needed the catharsis, as well. Kenneth and I were together for 13 years, and married for just over 12. I have been Mrs. Coxwell (or Mrs. C) for nearly 14 years, which covers almost my entire teaching career and nearly 1/3 of my life. In just a few short months, I will no longer be Mrs. Coxwell. I am overjoyed about the idea of marrying my New Guy, but I am also saddened, just a bit, at the idea of losing a part of my identity. So much of my life, so much of the person I am today, is because 14 years ago I married a man, who loved me; and I have been proud to carry his name all these years. As I am approaching Kenneth's and my anniversary, it is beginning to hit me that this will be the very last year in which I will be sharing his last name. Lately, it feels like each and every day, I am losing more and more of Kenneth, and I am caught in this strange limbo between the incredible love and joy that my future promises and the deep sadness and sorrow of letting go. It's a strange place to be.

Amor, my Alaskan cruise honeymoon is going to take me from Seattle, Washington up to Ketchican, Tracy Arm Fjord, Juneau, and Skagway in Alaska, and then will take me back down to Victoria, British Columbia, before returning me to Seattle. Then in August, I will be visiting the mountains of NC, in a little town that is over near Asheville.

It looks like you and I both had difficult days, yesterday. My day was a little better today, and I hope yours was, too. I know I am only a few months farther along than you are, but it still amazes me how certain days can be so much harder than others. Hugs to you, dear one.

Since I teach and will have the summer off, and since July 21st falls between my June honeymoon cruise to Alaska and my August trip to NC for the arrival of my Nutmeg's (aka my daughter's) very first baby, I am all in for this. Can I say how excited I am that this is beginning to come together? After the difficult day that I have had today, I needed this bit of happiness in my life, right now! ;D

There is so much to your story that I can relate to. My Kenneth was diagnosed as terminal with a life expectancy of less than a year, when he and I decided to get married. He spent 13 long years, beating the odds. During those 13 years, I raised 3 of his 4 children (one was an adult) and my two young children, practically alone. I spent more hours than I can count driving him to see just about every kind of specialist known to man, and we made so many trips to the hospital, I was on a first name basis with half the hospital staff at three different hospitals. In the last five years of his life, Kenneth was in and out of the ICU, had surgery after surgery, and was literally losing himself one piece at a time through multiple amputations. I used to spend the night with him at the hospital, getting up every time he moved or needed anything. Then I would get out of the "bed" (aka the chair that passes for a bed in most hospitals) and drive two hours to spend the day teaching. As soon as school was out, I would drive by the house to check on the dogs and the kids, then return to the hospital for the rest of the night. I cannot tell you the guilt that I feel that my youngest son practically had to raise himself as a teenager, because his dad spent so much time in the hospital during his Sophomore - Senior years in high school. In the last few months of his life, my Kenneth could not even roll over in the bed, without my help. He relied on me to feed him, bathe him, clothe him, take him to the bathroom, transfer him in and out of the wheelchair, etc. When you said, "I visited EVERY single day, I changed diapers, I dealt with every fluid known to man", my first thought was, "This was me!" I could also completely relate to what you said about being alone for so long, even before your husband died. The truth is, my Kenneth's illness took his mind from him long before it took his body, and I was alone for a very, very long time, even when he was right there in the room with me. Though I have had my own significant health problems, both before and after Kenneth's death, I cannot even begin to imagine what you must have gone through, having to take care of your husband and your children, while facing your own cancer diagnosis and treatment. I am sorry you have had to face so much, and I hope you can find some peace and comfort here. (((Hugs)))

Maybe it is because mine and Kenneth's anniversary is less than a week away and the two-year anniversary of his death is quickly approaching, but today has been such a rough day. First of all, I woke up in the early morning hours, then drifted off to sleep again in the hour before I had to get up to go to work. In that time, I dreamt about him and woke up missing him. Then, I got in the truck and accidentally hit the button to switch from the radio to the CD player. Wouldn't you know it, I still had one of Kenneth's favorite CDs in the player? All day today, there have been reminders of him, everywhere I go. Some have been subtle, such as one of my students saying something that he would have said and in a way that he would have said it. Others have been overt, such as Facebook memories popping up to remind me of the very last time his son, daughter-in-law, and their children visited him before he died. And just in case the universe hasn't tortured me enough, I thought it would be a good idea to lean into my grief for a little while, to listen to the music that made me think of him, to look at the few pictures I have of him, and to allow myself to reminisce a little bit. WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS I THINKING!?! I think I have cried more today than I have cried in months, and I have missed him more than I have missed him in a very long time. Today, I am YEARNING to just be able to hear his voice or see his smile. I would give just about anything to have another argument with him or to walk into the room to find him smoking one of his smelly cigarettes. God, I miss that man!

For those of you, who are new to the site and haven't had the opportunity to get to know me, I am quickly approaching the two year anniversary of my Kenneth's death. Under normal circumstances, I try to make it a point to go through and personally greet each new person whenever I log on. It meant so much to me, when other widows and widowers reached out to me in my early days, and I know how much those connections can mean in the first few months of grieving. Today, though, I am having a really hard day, and I just can't bring myself to read through your stories. It is just too painful, tonight. Some time in the near future, I will return and greet you properly, I promise. In the meantime, I wanted to share this with you. One thing I have learned in this process is that there was a time, when I thought I would never find hope or happiness or the will to get out of bed, ever again. But I did. I thought I would never stop crying. But I did. I never thought I would ever be able to carry on without my Kenneth. But I did. I won't lie to you, or sugar coat it. There is nothing about this that is easy. In the next few weeks and months, you will feel a thousand different emotions, and you should know that everything you are feeling is perfectly normal. You should also know that however you choose to deal with this storm that has fallen upon your head is perfectly okay. As long as you are not a danger to yourself or others, there truly is no right or wrong way to navigate your way through being a widow/widower. There will be days when you will feel that your whole world has completely fallen apart, when you will wonder how it is humanly possible to shed that many tears or bear that much sorrow, when you will wish that you were the one that died; however, you will learn to live again. It may not be the life that you had planned or wanted, but you will find a way to carry on. There will never be a day, in which you do not think about your love, but those thoughts won't always hurt so intensely and may even bring comfort or joy in the future. Though everyone is different, and this may not be true for all, many of us that are farther out eventually reach a point, where there are more good days, than bad. Personally, I have a pretty good life, now. I have reasons to smile, and I have found peace, once again. Don't get me wrong. I will always love and miss my Kenneth. And, I still have days like today. Days in which I miss him so intensely, I can barely breathe. But, at nearly two years out, I have learned that it is okay to have those bad days. It is normal. And when they come, it is okay to turn on those sad songs that remind me of him, to pull out the photo album, to bring out the tissues, and to have myself a good old crying spell.

I made the mistake of memorializing my Kenneth's Facebook page, but I sincerely wish that I had just left it as it was. It was my understanding that his page would show that he was married to me, once I memorialized the page, but it didn't. Now his page just says married, but doesn't say to whom. It kills me every time I see it, and with our anniversary coming up in less than a week, it is bothering me far more than it did before. Had I left his Facebook page alone, without memorializing it, I could have gone in and set his status the way I wanted it, to show he was my husband.

I am so very sorry to hear about this. There seems to be so much sadness and sorrow, and it is normal to want to protect our children from the pain. Crying for your daughter and the loss that she will face isn't selfish, at all. In my opinion, it just shows what a wonderful, loving, and caring mother you are. (((Hugs)))

I have tried multiple times over the past several months to get into chat and have not been able to find anyone there, or haven't been able to connect at all. Is chat still up and running? Honestly, chat was such a life saver in my early days, and there have been times lately, when I really, REALLY could have used someone there to talk to. Tonight would have been one of those nights. :'(

Jazzy, I am so sorry for your loss. My Kenneth died, after 13 long years of battling a terminal illness. I cannot imagine what it must be like to suddenly lose a spouse, but I imagine the pain must be horrific. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise you that you are not the only widow to cry in the produce department of the grocery store. I know I completely broke down in the produce aisle a number of times. Right now, even the smallest of tasks may seem overwhelming, and you may find it difficult to complete the simplest things. That is normal, and you should be proud that you tried.