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Haunted by regret


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Hi everybody,

 

I've only posted here a couple of times. My sweet sweet husband, Matthew, passed away suddenly at the age of 48 on August 21st. My despair is overwhelming at times. Fortunately I have found a grief therapist who is helping me navigate through this horrendous tragedy. Like everybody here, my thoughts and emotions are all over the place.  I feel regret over many things - whether he knew how much I loved him, the things I wish I had or hadn't done, etc. But there's one regret that tears me apart and that is Matthew's inner pain. Matthew was very sensitive, caring and unique.  He had very definite opinions and marched to the beat of his own drum. His family never really understood him - a fact that bothered me tremendously, as he was a wonderful son and brother. I am haunted by the fact that he might not have known or understood how much people loved and valued him. Tonight, I gave our doorman his holiday tip and told him that it was from me and Matthew - the doorman (who attended Matthew's funeral) burst into tears (Matthew and he often had long conversations - in fact all of the doorman had great fondness for him) Anyway, that demonstration of emotion toward Matthew touched me so much, more so because I know Matthew didn't know his own worth. That's what haunts me and makes me cry bitter tears.  I"m sorry for such a long post, but can anybody relate to my feelings of regret? and if so, how do you deal with it?

 

Thanks for listening,

Kim

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I don't look at it the same way and I make myself look at it positively as I can. When I witness instances or moments where people are sharing how they cared for Josh or I see a true testament of emotion, I don't see it as a thing to haunt me, rather I take as something to give me peace and proof that people cared and loved him as much as I do. I take comfort in that and I try to let it give me some strength. You have to try to find that silver lining and look for the glass is half full, not a gray cloud or a glass is half empty. It takes work and I sit constantly there trying to coach myself through this way of thinking.

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Hi, Kim.

 

I'm awake and read your post and wanted to send big hugs.  Your Matthew sounds like an amazing man.  I also lost my second husband at the age of 51 after just over 3 1/2 years of marriage.  My John was a beautiful soul and I don't really think he knew that until we met.  He had a few friends that understood his complexity, but I doubt his family truly knew him.

 

Matthew may not have known how much others loved him, but I am sure that he knew how much you loved him.  I imagine that you brought him so much light and love...you loved him in his uniqueness...what an awesome gift you were to him.

 

My husband also had a huge impact on the people around him.  He was a wise and brilliant professor.  He would tell me that he thought he was supposed to do something very big in life and he regretted that he had not done something worthy of his gifts.  What he did do, however, was inspire many students and colleagues at the university where he taught and he contributed to the knowledge about the polar ice cap in the Arctic region.

 

Please be assured that your Matthew died knowing great love...the love of a wonderful wife - even though he may not have known his full impact on others.

 

Maureen

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Hugs to you, I completely relate to your feelings of regret. My husband and I were separated when he died and my sons were the ones that found him. I feel that I should have been the one there and spare the kids the horrible sight. I feel like I should have been there, maybe he would still be alive. I'm not sure how to handle that yet, but I can tell you that I feel just like you do. so many things that I feel I could have done different.

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Thank you all for your responses and your hugs....

 

Wheeler - your description of your husband and your observations really touched and soothed me. Your husband also sounds like a remarkable man...and I know we both loved our husbands so much.  I hope, as you said, that Matthew knew how much.

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