On the eve of 6 months

[Kater]

It is the eve of the 6 month anniversary of the passing of my love, my best friend and partner in this life.  A friend recently suggested that I try not to observe the anniversary every month.  What he does not, and could not understand is there is an uncontrollable physical reaction that comes with the number “29” on the calendar.  You all get that, I know.

 

I follow a couple of other online communities, but one of the things I appreciate about this one is that there is some organization to the forums (of course, I also appreciate all of you and your very helpful comments and insights  ;D).  It has not escaped my notice that there is a different forum for 6 - 12 months.  I understand this is not some dictated time at which things change, and I know it was never intended to be that.  But it has caused me to pause and think a bit about where I am in my own time line -- to reflect on what has happened in the last 6 months, how things have changed in that time, and what do I think about the future now. 

 

6 months ago today, I was in the hospital praying for a literal miracle.  For a heart muscle to spontaneously repair itself.  But just the day before that, I was sitting with my family, enjoying an evening cup of tea, discussing possible travel plans for the upcoming summer – all the things we used to do in our blissful ignorance of what was around the corner.  On the 29th, the doctors recommended that we remove all supports.  His other organs were failing and the prognosis was not good.  We were just getting a few things in order, waiting for his brother to Facetime in, when he decided to go on his own.  I often wonder if he knew what was about to happen and choose to take the burden from me.  It was very much something he would do.

 

After getting home from the hospital without him, my most immediate urge was to phone him to say “you’ll never believe what just happened”.  It was heartbreaking to know I no longer had that someone to share the details of my day with.  And so I decided I would write him a letter every day to tell him those things.  I re-read a number of my entries from the “earlier” days (which is much like a 7 year old talking about when they were young...).  About 3 or 4 weeks in, the tears were easing and I was concerned that I might be “over it” so soon.  HA!  What I would come to know was that it was just a break.  A calm in the storm.  A time to recharge the energy for the long journey ahead.  A sprint, a rest, a marathon.  I am thankful for those writings.  I captured many memories that don’t spring to mind these days, and it is good to look back and see that yes, the grief has softened overall.  But I feel like the next leg of this journey really is upon me. 

 

The last few days have been particularly difficult.  I was away for nearly 4 weeks – a conference, a trip to NYC, and some time with my parents who have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me.  Coming home was hard.  I am off work for another 2 months and am not the most disciplined when there is no forced structure to my day.  It’s late nights, late morning risings, poor eating habits, lack of motivation to do the few things that need to get done (although I did have a pretty productive day today, thank goodness).  I have had crying fits the last few days more intense than ever.  I have thought for quite a while that reality has sunk in – clearly there is a hole in my life - but I’m starting to see that there is a whole other level of “sinking in”.  I don’t know how to describe it.  I know he is not coming home.  I know every one of my senses will be deprived of him for the rest of my days.  But somehow it feels like I don’t really know it yet.  Maybe it is that I have truly not let go of the idea of my old life.  I don’t know.  I wish I had the words to articulate this feeling.  If any of you have them, please do share  

 

As for the future….I’d say that so much has changed, but truthfully, everything has changed.  I’ve often said that I also died on December 29.  There is not one thing in my life that is not up for evaluation.  I don’t have kids so don’t have that to anchor me in any way.  In question is my house, the city I live in, the job I have….everything.  The world is my oyster, I suppose, but I feel like I might drown before I collect it.  I am committed to teaching this upcoming academic year, so won’t be making any big changes for sure before next spring/summer.  Will see how things are at that point.

 

I am thankful to those of you that are 2, 3, 4 years out that still post about your trials and tribulations.  It allows me to give myself permission to chill out and take things as they come.  I am pretty intuitive in knowing what is right and best for me but I am having a hard time being patient with this process.  What I know for sure is this is NOT a one year thing.  Half way through a year and feel like I am just getting started.

 

Wishing everyone peace and love.

Kate

 

 

[TofinoMan]

It is the eve of the 6 month anniversary of the passing of my love, my best friend and partner in this life.  A friend recently suggested that I try not to observe the anniversary every month.  What he does not, and could not understand is there is an uncontrollable physical reaction that comes with the number “29” on the calendar.  You all get that, I know.

 

I follow a couple of other online communities, but one of the things I appreciate about this one is that there is some organization to the forums (of course, I also appreciate all of you and your very helpful comments and insights  ;D).  It has not escaped my notice that there is a different forum for 6 - 12 months.  I understand this is not some dictated time at which things change, and I know it was never intended to be that.  But it has caused me to pause and think a bit about where I am in my own time line -- to reflect on what has happened in the last 6 months, how things have changed in that time, and what do I think about the future now. 

 

6 months ago today, I was in the hospital praying for a literal miracle.  For a heart muscle to spontaneously repair itself.  But just the day before that, I was sitting with my family, enjoying an evening cup of tea, discussing possible travel plans for the upcoming summer – all the things we used to do in our blissful ignorance of what was around the corner.  On the 29th, the doctors recommended that we remove all supports.  His other organs were failing and the prognosis was not good.  We were just getting a few things in order, waiting for his brother to Facetime in, when he decided to go on his own.  I often wonder if he knew what was about to happen and choose to take the burden from me.  It was very much something he would do.

 

After getting home from the hospital without him, my most immediate urge was to phone him to say “you’ll never believe what just happened”.  It was heartbreaking to know I no longer had that someone to share the details of my day with.  And so I decided I would write him a letter every day to tell him those things.  I re-read a number of my entries from the “earlier” days (which is much like a 7 year old talking about when they were young...).  About 3 or 4 weeks in, the tears were easing and I was concerned that I might be “over it” so soon.  HA!  What I would come to know was that it was just a break.  A calm in the storm.  A time to recharge the energy for the long journey ahead.  A sprint, a rest, a marathon.  I am thankful for those writings.  I captured many memories that don’t spring to mind these days, and it is good to look back and see that yes, the grief has softened overall.  But I feel like the next leg of this journey really is upon me. 

 

The last few days have been particularly difficult.  I was away for nearly 4 weeks – a conference, a trip to NYC, and some time with my parents who have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me.  Coming home was hard.  I am off work for another 2 months and am not the most disciplined when there is no forced structure to my day.  It’s late nights, late morning risings, poor eating habits, lack of motivation to do the few things that need to get done (although I did have a pretty productive day today, thank goodness).  I have had crying fits the last few days more intense than ever.  I have thought for quite a while that reality has sunk in – clearly there is a hole in my life - but I’m starting to see that there is a whole other level of “sinking in”.  I don’t know how to describe it.  I know he is not coming home.  I know every one of my senses will be deprived of him for the rest of my days.  But somehow it feels like I don’t really know it yet.  Maybe it is that I have truly not let go of the idea of my old life.  I don’t know.  I wish I had the words to articulate this feeling.  If any of you have them, please do share  

 

As for the future….I’d say that so much has changed, but truthfully, everything has changed.  I’ve often said that I also died on December 29.  There is not one thing in my life that is not up for evaluation.  I don’t have kids so don’t have that to anchor me in any way.  In question is my house, the city I live in, the job I have….everything.  The world is my oyster, I suppose, but I feel like I might drown before I collect it.  I am committed to teaching this upcoming academic year, so won’t be making any big changes for sure before next spring/summer.  Will see how things are at that point.

 

I am thankful to those of you that are 2, 3, 4 years out that still post about your trials and tribulations.  It allows me to give myself permission to chill out and take things as they come.  I am pretty intuitive in knowing what is right and best for me but I am having a hard time being patient with this process.  What I know for sure is this is NOT a one year thing.  Half way through a year and feel like I am just getting started.

 

Wishing everyone peace and love.

Kate

 

Kate.

I'm not wise enough to give you words of wisdom.

I just muddle through day by day myself.

I'm closing in on the 3 month mark since Jenny passed.

I found this site a few weeks ago and read about don't make any big decisions for a while, and guess I am glad i didn't read that earlier.

I was packed and moved to a new town in under 3 weeks.

The house I bought was vacant so got immediate possession.

Renting the house we had in Victoria to some nice people.

I sold a ton of things, and bought lots of new stuff to.

I changed my life radically in the first month.

Heck I let a 4 year old pick which house to buy of the 11 we looked at.....probably not logical but its her new home to....and I have no regrets on the changes.

My daughter even chose the perfect new home for us.

I read that most even sell their spouses cars...I plan to keep her car and I drive it occasionally. Jenny always wanted a Lincoln because she had great memories of her grandpa taking her for rides in his.

So for her 32nd birthday i got her a new lincoln.

She was stunned....but she loved it....and it is a fun car to drive.

We do road trips with Stick in the backseat and Kate riding Shotgun.

I gave most of her things to her family or the Salvation army.

I am planning us a trip via boat to the Sea of Cortez in January and returning in March.

Every one says that it is crazy too take my little boat to Mexico...but no one can hive me a good reason not to so we are going.

 

Its your life....as you said the world is your oyster now.

Go enjoy it and really live life....because as you know all to well it could be over  suddenly.

You will always regret the things you didn't do a lot more than the things you did do.

If you find yourself in Mexico mid January to mid march drop me a text.

Come fish with us and swim the warm waters.

We will be the crazy Canadians on the Kingfisher boat, my angel girl, cool black lab/mutt and the captain me....i may change my name to Ron just for this trip.

But whatever you do Kate, do it for you and nobody else, you deserve it.

If you're on the Rock aka Vancouver Island the invitation is open to come by for a visit.

Actually its open to all of you on here.

Man or woman, young or old, stop by the house.

If you are boating past long beach area we are at Chesterman beach.

Look over the heads of the surfers....the log place with blue metal roof and a red helicopter in the yard....its a bit hard to miss really.

We literally live beach front.

The dog won't bite, but he will lick.

Grab a stick and toss it and he will be your pal for life....I didn't name him Stick by accident. Wasted 200 dollars on doggie toys, and all he wants is a free stick to play with.

Just follow your heart and soul on this one.

I'm sure that you can find what makes sense for you if you are open to listening to your own soul.

Blessings Kate.

 

[donswife]

  "Half way through a year and feel like I am just getting started"

 

I remember a little bit about this time ( I am a year and 8 months out)

I seemed to feel the need to have these dates in my head to feel as if I was going forward

it also surprised me that at times it felt like this all just happened

how ever you get through this and how you feel is all ok

"the world is my oyster  but I feel like I might drown before I collect it "

but you haven't drowned yet !!so be gentle with your self

take care

 

 

[robunknown]

I'm a year and 9 months out. I remember where I was mentally at 6 months. What I found I needed was something to look forward to, instead of just replaying the past. I planned a couple vacations 3-4 months out. I think that really helped me.

I also started to notice the moments in which I would start to pile drive myself emotionally into the ground. Early on I tried to "lean in" and go with the pile driving, but I soon realized that it never made me feel better. Now when these moments come up, I acknowledge them, but whatever activity I was doing I stop and do something else to break up the thought process.

I wish you well. Hang in there.

[Mizpah]

After getting home from the hospital without him, my most immediate urge was to phone him to say “you’ll never believe what just happened”.  It was heartbreaking to know I no longer had that someone to share the details of my day with.  And so I decided I would write him a letter every day to tell him those things. 

 

Oh, Kate.  From 5+ years out, so much of what you said brought me right back to where you are now, and where I was for the next year and a half or so of my own "journey" from my own 29th (DH was hit by a car while standing on a sidewalk on the 29th - severe brain injuries - and I knew he was gone on the 30th).  I too was consumed by a need to talk to him about what had happened to him/us.  I too wrote him letters (I also, at the same time, filled other journals with all the memories and unique characteristics about him I could remember).  I too also felt as though I died when he died (as I'm sure we all feel we did).  I too was childless and so had the oyster world you have before you. 

 

I'm really glad for you that you have this next year to protect you in a way from "having to" make big decisions about next steps and big changes.  It's almost as if this summer is a little microcosm of that "empty" or blank time that you have the task and the privilege (albeit a privilege you never wanted) of deciding what to do with your life, your time, your energies, your body.  I hope you'll find some kind of either routine or activity that will bring you solace and a bit of inspiration.  Are you somewhere with good hiking?  It could be awesome to summit some mountaintops and to walk through the woods.  My advice: things that get you out in sunshine and the outdoors and get you some physical exertion are great ideas.

 

We all only know our own experiences, and I'll tell you that the thing that brought ME back to life was traveling on my own.  I was in a foreign place, my mind got fed, my imagination got fed, I got a huge influx of vitamin D, I found some admiration for myself - navigating things on my own.  It was a meaningful trip for me, a pilgrimage of sorts - to Israel, where DH was born.  And what I found was that I expected to feel him all around me, but I had never felt further from him than in the city where he was born.  It hit me that I needed to stop searching for him and live within ME, that the closest I could get to him was me, the person he loved and chose.  I suddenly craved a huge change.  And "be careful what you wish for," because I soon got it - had an intense summer fling with a widower that turned into a serious relationship and now we live together (I moved hundreds of miles from NYC to a very very rural village to join him) and are raising our daughter together. 

 

I wasn't mindful in my choices - I took things as they came.  There are great upsides and downsides to this.  You will do what you will do, and no one can learn other people's lessons, but my advice for what it's worth and I'm not saying it's worth a thing: once you find life bearable again and once you find yourself awakening to life and possibilities and your future, really think about what you want from life.  (I just threw myself in to very huge choices - like I said, there are great upsides to this, and maybe THAT's the advice I should be giving you!  Follow your heart!  Follow your gut!  Go where your heart takes you and do wild crazy things without regard for caution!)  We didn't choose what happened to us, but we can, to a certain extent and maybe it's more limited than I currently believe, we can choose what to do with our lives.  Make good choices, not the choices of the lost.  Stand firm within yourself - you are the one he chose, there is nothing greater than you. 

 

I hope you'll keep writing - to him, to yourself.  I hope you find peace and direction, and joy again one day.  I'm thinking of you! 

[Jen]

Gentle hugs to you. This feels all too familiar.

[Mizpah]

Also, Tofinoman: wow! 

[Guest TooSoon]

Hi Kate,

 

If memory serves, you are also a college professor.  My husband died in February, a week after a new semester began.  I took a week off and went back.  I remember nothing from that semester but it served to keep my grief at bay at least for a few months.  When summer came, I was still ok for a while with a trip to Paris with my daughter and colleagues/friends to look forward to and it was super-fun but when I got back (so let's say somewhere around 7-8 months at that point) in July, I crumbled.  I will never, ever forget the night we walked into the empty house and remember being (illogically) shocked that no one was there and thinking, "Whoa.  This is real. I am going to have to do this."  And so it began.....that's why I think "Shock wears off, Reality sets in" is painful but apt and in my case true. 

 

I do not know if any of this will be useful for you but here is what I did.  Some of it was instinctual and subconscious and some of it deliberate.  I spent the rest of that summer sitting.  I mean literally sitting on my porch staring out into my back yard or sitting on my living room couch watching people walk by my house or watching the weather.  I sat and I thought and I did not try to direct my mind in any way.  It always made me feel guilty - the inner voice in my frenetic brain kept saying "You are lazy!  Do something!"  or "Make a list!  Get your shit together!"  But I didn't.  I just sat there and let it sink in.  Looking back, I now know it was work.  The work of grieving as they call it.  My attention span was (and sometimes is) worse than ever.  But I made myself sit.  Sometimes I walked, sometimes I did yoga but in the times when I didn't have to perform at activities and events for my child, that's what I did.

 

My loss was not sudden but nevertheless, I felt a complete loss of my identity.  An utter inability to understand the idea of a self - of me as an autonomous person again - without him.  Add years of internal conflict about career and parenting on top of caregiving and grief and I felt like a shell, an imposter, a failure.  It has taken me a long time to sort some of this out and begin to rebuild not my life but the person I am going to be in the life I lead.  It has been exhausting but also liberating. 

 

ANother thing I wanted to mention is that I found that I'd have one good, productive day and think "OK!  Now we're getting somewhere!"  and then I would just crash for one, two, three days.  It seems like something many people experience.  Also, grieving is exhausting.  It's been nearly 3.5 years (or maybe it already is, I lost count) but at the end of the semester, a colleague was saying something about me always being tired and I just looked at her and said, "This is not 'I had a bad night of sleep' tired; this is deep down in my soul exhaustion.'"  And its gotten better but I am still tired.  It is a sensation that is very hard for people to understand if they haven't gone through it. 

 

Finally, I don't know if you live in a city or near a city, but I started - probably around a year - to go on outings.  I met up with widows in NYC, Philadelphia and Baltimore.  I took myself to concerts and museums and out to dinner and stayed in hotels just to get out of my house, my head and away from everyone knowing me and my story.  The time with widows was a priceless gift (we laughed!  a lot!  and that felt reassuring) and the anonymity of getting out of this town helped me feel safe and autonomous.  I would say for me grief presented as fear more than anything else.  I was terrified, vulnerable and unable to trust in anything let alone myself and those were new and very uncomfortable, unfamiliar sensations for me.  But doing those things helped. 

 

Anyway, all of this by way of lending support.  Please feel free to PM me as the new school year approaches or for any other reason.  Hugs. 

[Kater]

Thank you everyone.  Boy, there is a lot of wisdom and compassion here  

 

TooSoon - yes, that's right.  I teach at a University.  You're also right about the summer.  Funeral was January 8.  Back to the classroom on January 11.  So I did push a lot aside just to make it through the term, and some of the grieving and "stuff" is just happening now for sure.  I do agree that there is tremendous value in just being (someone once reminded me that we are human "beings" not human "doings").  For me, a balance between enough time to think and too much is needed.  I actually am doing more than came across in my post.  There is a meetup group in my city.  We get together every couple of weeks and the people there are awesome.  I have a lot of friends - way more than I ever realized - for coffee, lunches, etc.  I seemed to be doing more of that when I was in a rhythm of work and getting out of the house, although to be fair, I've been gone for a month so need to reach out again.  And...I did decide to go ahead with a golf tournament in hubby's memory so that is going to keep me occupied whether I want it to or not  :-\

 

TofinoMan - love your sense of adventure and just going for it.  Maybe I'll get there one day.  I'm an accountant (OK, well now a teacher of accounting, but still an accountant)....adventure is not something typically associated with those of my profession LOL.  Too many calculations of risk to be done first   Oh, and I think you have just as much wisdom as any of us.

 

Donswife, Robunknown, Mizpah, Jen - always good to know others have felt all this before and are still moving through life.  Thanks for the thoughts and comments.

 

This is such a crazy journey.  I am thankful for everyone in this community helping each other to navigate our ways through it.

 

K.

[mmg19]

Just sending a virtual hug.

[Dean47]

These were all wonderful to read! I am at a little over 4 months...so I can relate to many of the reflections from those looking back and those that are actually in this first 6 month journey. It seems, as I read these, that the saying that grief is a personal journey is more true than ever. Everyone seems to find something that works for them. I have worked hard at this...continuing with personal therapy, support groups, reading and continuing to expand my cyber community and resources everyday...and each thing seems to help a little. For me, I really beleive the shock wore off a little while ago...and I'm really grinding in the new reality that my sweet Nicole is surely gone and I'm on this island trying to figure out how to survive. Thankfully I have survived to this point and I read somewhere that 50% of folks start to feel better at around 6 months...but this as with everything in grief is not a guarantee...and others find that it takes years. With this in mind, I really recommend that the 6 month moniker "shock wears off, and reality sets in" be re-branded...of course this sucks and will not magically get better post 6 months...but for some the shock has worn off and they are living in the new reality already...further, for many things actually do get better post 6 months...in other words the label doesn't fit for all and finally the label is just plain discouraging. I mentioned to my therapist that I was really dreading what comes next in part based on this label...and she very much agreed. The real reality is that everyone here knows this sucks and will for the rest of our lives to some degree...but to label the rest of our lives "reality has set in and the rest of your life may not be so good" is not what we need to hear. What about "6 months and 50% of people actually begin to feel better"?....positivity is so critical to this and your mental outlook plays such a huge role in getting better.

[Wheelerswife]

I hear what you are saying, Dean47, but I don't read this title the same way you are reading it. Reality sets in, sometimes repeatedly, that life as we knew it has changed. It will never be the same that it was. That does not mean it will never be good again. Life can become wonderful again and many of us have experienced just that. Like you said, this is different for everyone. I experienced great joy again after the death of my first husband. Because of that experience and the experience of some widowed friends, I keep hope that in time, I will experience a life full of happiness and good things again.

 

That being said, shock does wear off and we all are left to face the reality that our spouses are really gone from this life we knew and we have to continue to make adjustments to our lives to cope with the changes.

 

Best wishes to you,

 

Maureen