It is finally setting in.

[JacklessSally]

This week has been rough, it is not an anniversary of anything, or a sadiversary since his death, but a few things this week have triggered me to finally recognize that this HAS happened and he is NOT coming home.

 

Sunday a friend of mine, who had never been out to where we lived, came out to pick me up. She walked inside our room and saw the hodgepodge of Blaine's stuff and my stuff mixed together. She looked down at a shoe rack under the desk and said "are all of these your shoes"

"No, most of them are his"

Then she looked in the closet

"Are those his clothes?"

"Yes..."

"You really need to pack up his shoes and clothes Tiffany"

"I'll get to it when I move out"

 

In hindsight this really hurt my feelings. Where does she get off telling me that I need to pack up his stuff. I live in his room with his stuff because I would not feel right in a room not surrounded by his things..

 

Monday, my company started work on Blaine's headstone. This hit me a lot harder than I thought it was going to. I knew the time would come for them to actually start the cutting and sandblasting. I think the fact that I can walk back there any time I like and see the progress which almost makes it worse. It would be one thing if it was just... done and I didn't "get" to see it from start to finish.

 

Yesterday as I was driving home, I had the thought "I miss having someone who wonders where the hell I am, and why i'm not home yet" I miss having him call me, as much as it annoyed me at the time, RIGHT AFTER I sent him a message saying I was leaving the office.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Driving, didn't I JUST tell you I was leaving the office?"

"Well I just wanted to hear your voice"

I miss those damn phone calls now..

 

He isn't coming home.. He isn't out there somewhere. He is gone, and there is no getting him back.

[widowat33]

I'm sorry you've had a rough week.

I don't really remember when it sunk in for me that he was really gone, but I do remember how hard it was. I still have days that the reality hits me, but it doesn't hit as hard as it used to.

What helps me is to remember that although he is no longer here physically, he will always live on in my memories and in my heart!

Sending you hugs

[Jen]

I can't remember when it sank in that I would never open the living room door and nearly trip over his long legs and ridiculously humongous feet, ever again. That his car was never going to move from its spot in the driveway unless I got in and turned the key. That the Crocs under the computer desk weren't going anywhere until I moved them. By the time I moved-- that was at 9 months-- I had those facts firmly lodged in my brain, and I was able to box his things up without losing it completely-- I even managed to donate a fair chunk of his stuff. But for the longest time, I couldn't leave the lights on at home when I knew I'd be coming home after dark-- it made the place looked too lived in, and I was almost certain that if I opened the door he would be in his usual spot on the couch. It ripped my heart out every time, so I left the lights off.

 

Our brains go through unbelievable contortions to try to process this trauma. There's no rushing it, and it was tactless of your friend to tell you to pack up his things, even if she meant well. I'm so sorry. (((((HUGS)))))

 

I really, really wish there was an all-inclusive mobile plan that offered a connection to whatever comes next. Phone, text, email-- something. Just so we could check in once in awhile, you know? I miss the texts the most, I think-- I never did like talking on the phone much, and in all the time I knew him, getting letters, then emails, out of my Jim was like pulling teeth, even though he was a phenomenal writer. But the texts... I carry my phone all the time, and when it buzzes I grab it like it's a lifeline. I don't hope it's him anymore-- at least, I don't think I do-- but I do remember for a split second what it was like to really matter to someone.

[SoVerySad]

JS, I'm so sorry your friend commented about B's things. Of course, she has no idea how precious those things are as a connection when it is all you have left.

 

My T's death hit me in two stages. First was that he had died. It was sudden and unexpected. Although his health had been failing, it took some time to process that he had actually died. The second stage was realizing what him being dead really meant for my life and our children's lives. That was soooo painful and frankly, still is. It went from a moment in time where he died to a million moments in future forever changed - days on end to miss him, etc. It was a horrendous blow on top of the blow of his death. This stage you've hit is necessary and inevitable, but I'm very sorry you are having to experience it.

 

Sending you tight, tight hugs...

[Lisa]

Big hugs.

[Carey]

"Our brains go through unbelievable contortions to try to process this trauma."

 

I don't think I've heard it more succinctly put.  I think it's just SO unfathomable to our minds , the permanence of it, that we literally can't wrap our brains around the finality.  How can that man smiling in that photo that was there for so long just vanish? GONE in an instant.  It's beyond our comprehension and maybe it has to sink in in pieces. It hasn't for me ... not yet. Pictures are what get me the most. I'll pick up one in a frame that has our whole family in it and it's just unreal. He can't just be GONE. Does trauma have an end? I don't think so.  It might dull at times but it only takes an instant for all that pain and fear to be right there, so real it's tangible. JS my heart goes out to you and I'm right there with you.

[SimiRed]

{{Hugs}}  I'm sure she didn't intend to hurt your feelings, but she did.  You will take care of things in your own time, don't let anyone tell you when to do it.  I saved his Navy dress uniforms, special shirts, and just things that were special to me.

 

OMG... the shoes!  That for me was so hard, it just felt so bad to just get rid of them.  Just shoes...NO, his shoes, his feet were in them, he walked to me in them, his shoes  

 

In your own time, and when YOU want to! 

 

SoVerySad, so true, "he died to a million moments in future forever changed ".  We all lost our "Someday"... Someday we'll do this, or we'll go here, or we'll sit on the front porch in our rocking chairs...  Our somedays have changed or are now an unknown.

 

More Hugs!

[the_master]

I'm coming up on week 10 on Thursday... My wife died 2/19/15.

 

Sometimes, it's real and sometimes, it's impossible to believe that she is gone, forever. It makes me crazy, the attack of emotions. I used to be a pretty logical guy.

 

She went to bed with me, normal on 2/18. Next morning, she was just gone.

[Justin]

I'm coming up on week 10 on Thursday... My wife died 2/19/15.

 

Sometimes, it's real and sometimes, it's impossible to believe that she is gone, forever. It makes me crazy, the attack of emotions. I used to be a pretty logical guy.

 

She went to bed with me, normal on 2/18. Next morning, she was just gone.

 

So sorry that you had to come find us, but glad that you did. My wife died in her sleep; she had some minor health issues, but in no way did we expect her to leave us at age 39. I am at 9.5 months out, now.

 

I remember the initial shock starting to wear off in the second and third months, and I felt pretty crazy too: going from despair and hopelessness, to sadness, to anger and all shades between every day. Right around my third-month anniversary, my daughter and I took a long road trip and I was able to start getting a little bit of clarity - getting on the road really helped. Over the next month, the daily craziness began to ease some and I could even feel sane again for some whole days.

 

Hang on, my friend. This storm of emotions will ease instead of battering you every single day. They will become the exception - things will get better.

[the_master]

I'm coming up on week 10 on Thursday... My wife died 2/19/15.

 

Sometimes, it's real and sometimes, it's impossible to believe that she is gone, forever. It makes me crazy, the attack of emotions. I used to be a pretty logical guy.

 

She went to bed with me, normal on 2/18. Next morning, she was just gone.

 

So sorry that you had to come find us, but glad that you did. My wife died in her sleep; she had some minor health issues, but in no way did we expect her to leave us at age 39. I am at 9.5 months out, now.

 

I remember the initial shock starting to wear off in the second and third months, and I felt pretty crazy too: going from despair and hopelessness, to sadness, to anger and all shades between every day. Right around my third-month anniversary, my daughter and I took a long road trip and I was able to start getting a little bit of clarity - getting on the road really helped. Over the next month, the daily craziness began to ease some and I could even feel sane again for some whole days.

 

Hang on, my friend. This storm of emotions will ease instead of battering you every single day. They will become the exception - things will get better.

 

I sure hope so.

[mixelated]

yes and yes... I will literally stand in front of his pictures, which I've arranged on his desk, and ask him, "Where are you?" My head won't process it. I mean, his urn is standing on his desk, too, so the answer's there, but it still seems as though he will come home at some point. His hat on the hook by the door, his shoes in the closet.

 

I found and listened to an audio recording of him yesterday, and that was both a huge relief ('THERE he is!') and a terrible anguish. That recording will never change... he will always say the same thing. The same for those pictures. Frozen images.

 

... How can that man smiling in that photo that was there for so long just vanish? ... Pictures are what get me the most. I'll pick up one in a frame that has our whole family in it and it's just unreal. He can't just be GONE. ...

[sdarrah1130]

It will be 11 weeks on Thursday.    I think I'm at some type of turning point and am not handling it well.  I don't know where I am today, yesterday, this weekend, tomorrow.  I have had a rough one.  Nothing specifically has triggered me and it is frustrating.

 

I had a melt down over cutting the grass.  Not that I didn't want to do it, it is that E is supposed to help me.....  he trims while I cut.  We tag team. 

 

Cleaning my house is the same way.  Tag team.  E dusts the bedroom while I clean the bathroom.  E does the dishes and I wash the floor.  I just don't even want to do it if he's not helping me. 

 

3 weeks ago this type of stuff would have been done because I don't have a choice in the matter, "it Needs to be done"

[Jen]

So many hugs...

[PalomaQueNoPuedeVolar]

This week has been rough, it is not an anniversary of anything, or a sadiversary since his death, but a few things this week have triggered me to finally recognize that this HAS happened and he is NOT coming home.

 

Sunday a friend of mine, who had never been out to where we lived, came out to pick me up. She walked inside our room and saw the hodgepodge of Blaine's stuff and my stuff mixed together. She looked down at a shoe rack under the desk and said "are all of these your shoes"

"No, most of them are his"

Then she looked in the closet

"Are those his clothes?"

"Yes..."

"You really need to pack up his shoes and clothes Tiffany"

"I'll get to it when I move out"

 

In hindsight this really hurt my feelings. Where does she get off telling me that I need to pack up his stuff. I live in his room with his stuff because I would not feel right in a room not surrounded by his things..

 

Monday, my company started work on Blaine's headstone. This hit me a lot harder than I thought it was going to. I knew the time would come for them to actually start the cutting and sandblasting. I think the fact that I can walk back there any time I like and see the progress which almost makes it worse. It would be one thing if it was just... done and I didn't "get" to see it from start to finish.

 

Yesterday as I was driving home, I had the thought "I miss having someone who wonders where the hell I am, and why i'm not home yet" I miss having him call me, as much as it annoyed me at the time, RIGHT AFTER I sent him a message saying I was leaving the office.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Driving, didn't I JUST tell you I was leaving the office?"

"Well I just wanted to hear your voice"

I miss those damn phone calls now..

 

He isn't coming home.. He isn't out there somewhere. He is gone, and there is no getting him back.

 

This post reminds me a lot of the first year without my husband. It's strange that there's no one to answer to. It's strange that when I get home, there's nobody to talk to about my day. It's strange that now that I took of my ring (it's on my neck), men try to hit on me.

 

I moved like 4 days after he died so his things were packed and put away right away. I moved because I was horrified thT he had died and I was scared and wanted to move close to my mom, right away. I wasn't thinking right, although it was the right move. If I had stated in our apartment, I'm sure that his things would be in the same place as he left them. I'm sure of it.

 

Don't move anything unless you're sure you want to. Don't let anyone tell you how to grieve.

 

Now I just have a box in my room full of his things. And a stack of his shirts in my closet because I wear them to bed. And also. His deodorant in my shower. I have it there because that's where I smell it and cry.

 

Everyone's going to do things their own day. It's so strange. Life is strange now, but that's the way it is. Don't let anyone tell you how to live it.

[donswife]

today has had a huge rush of those feeling you are having

that its finally settling in that they are not coming back

not sure why , think it has something to do all the yard work

I had to rush home after work to mow , Don loved to mow , called it his zen

to me its just another thing I have to get done and it reminds me like a punch in the chest that he is not here

I also have most of his things around ...his slippers havent been moved an inch

I still sometimes use his soap(irish spring ) just to smell it in the air

and yes those phone calls everyday seeing where you are so missed