How do you do it?

[auntAgonist]

So many of you have experienced such great grief in your lives. How do you go on. How do you put one foot in front of the other and find meaning in your lives?

I have not gone through the trauma that some of you here have. I have experienced loss. Some days the grief overwhelms me and I just can't and don't function. I cry for 'no reason' some days. I feel empty and lost and I don't know why that is.

My hat's off and my heart goes out to all of you. Thank you for sharing your losses and gains.

kesha.

[orleans]

1. there are days when i feel like *i'm* the ghost in this house

but i don't feel that way nearly as often as i did the last number of months.

[Paper Roses]

2. Some days when I get up, I wish it was time to go to bed for the day.

There are days when I can cope if I have a major project but the daily grind sometimes is so blank.
I don't want to cook or eat. I do a lot of "make busy" work just to keep my mind from other things.

I talk in terms of 'we' all the time. I cannot use the first person singular. After 45 years, there seems to be no first person.

I am anxious for my kids to settle in their new house so I can give then some of the furniture I have. I feel too encumbered and would rather be in a spartan environment. Too many memories around my accumulated things.

At least it is spring--almost anyway. I want to work on a garden but it has been so cold. Not yet time for veggies to go in.

Friends and neighbors have been helpful but many of my friends are now gone and the neighbors are young. As long as these weary old bones hold up, I'll get through this. If my health goes, I've got some serious thinking to do.

Little things tick me off. I paid for perpetual care at the cemetery where my husband's ashes are buried. It is a terrace and the level below has overgrown bushes that cover my husbands marker. I have spoken to the cemetery personnel but nothing is being done to cut back things a little. This is at the point that I may go do it myself. I have all the tools in the car, just do not have the courage yet. It is not my right to cut back someone else's bushes but no-one else seems to care.

I find the evening when I get into bet so difficult. I move the 2 pillows aside because I use a different soft one. Ever talk to pillows? I say good night every evening.

[DollyM]

3. After my son's death . . .

After my son's death, my mom made a pillow out of one of his favorite shirts. For many months I held it at night and cried on it, telling my son how much I miss him. Now I have put the pillow aside but I still talk to him and I know that he hears me.

[tango-tee]

5. What a beautiful, thoughtful gift your mom made!

I can imagine the solace it provided for you, holding it tight at night while shedding your tears. Dear DollyM, please accept my hugs coming to you from across the Atlantic.

[tango-tee]

4. I haven't suffered the loss of a spouse or child,

which must be devastating. Sharing so many years... and then this beloved person is simply gone from one's life.

After my dad's death, I kept a cap which he loved to wear. Every so often I hold it to my face and take a whiff of the scent which used to be "Dad", one of a kind. Over these past five years since his death, this scent has become ever so much fainter, and when I think about this, there are conflicting emotions.

On the one hand, it is as though his physical presence, which was manifested by this particular scent, will be completely gone in perhaps another year. On the other hand, whenever I simply hold this old beat-up cap, he is right next to me, ruffling my hair.

So close and yet so far. I understand.

[ceveritt]

6. Cope?

Some of us don't.

My wife died in her sleep, right next to me, almost two years ago (May 30).

I'm still badly crippled up. No job, no prospects, nothing.

I often wake up and wonder why I did. Why can't I just fucking die?

[DollyM]

7. I know that feeling all too well . . .

Why does a 19 year old kid get taken away who is just starting his life, starting his first real job the next week, while my husband and I have been looking for decent work for nearly 2 years. It has been such a struggle just to keep going because our son was THE REASON i kept going. But, next week, I start my first full time job in years after thinking I had no hope and no prospects. Now I keep going because I think it it what my son would want me to do and I figure I am still here because I still have things to accomplish. It is hard to see that on my darkest days but ultimately I know it is true. You are still here because you also have things to accomplish. Just keep on going one step at a time because you know your wife would want that for you and she is still part of your life, just like my son will always be a part of my life. I want to honor his memory by being or becoming the best person I can be.

[ceveritt]

8. DollyM

Well, thanks for that.

But I no longer know what anyone wants.

Still, I'm particularly low, because today is the two-year anniversary.

I miss her so. She was my reason for living. I have never loved someone so, nor have I ever been so loved.

Gotta go. Can't see the monitor anymore for the tears.

[RevCheesehead]

9. ceveritt,

First of all, I am so glad that you found our group here. It has been a tremendous source of comfort for all of us who have suffered the pain of losing our loved ones. Thank you for coming here, and having the courage to share with us. I hope you feel welcome here.
I am so very, very sorry for your loss. Losing a loved one is hard, but losing a soul-mate must be excruciatingly painful. I don't have any magical words to make you whole again (oh how I wish I did!), but I do want you to know that I will remember you in my thoughts and prayers. I also hope that you are (or will be) able to feel your wife's presence surrounding you. That kind of love that you shared is so very rare, and so very special. It never ends, and it cannot be separated, even by death. Perhaps in time, as you heal from your deep wound, you will know that she is still with you, loving you, and watching and waiting.
May deep peace surround you, and may your grief subside.
Ruth

[ceveritt]

10. @ Ruth

Thank you for your kind words. Yes, certainly I feel welcome here. Everyone who has replied to me has been quite gracious.

Likewise, many thanks for placing me in your thoughts and prayers. That's above and beyond.

I sometimes feel ... something ... that I can only hope is my partner. With no job, I spend a lot of time in this chair, in front of the computer. Many times, late at night, usually, I can feel a slight pressure in the chair cushion behind me. It is similar to when one of the cats jumps up behind me. But it's not them.

I hope it is her. I often ask who it is, or if it is her, or just say hello. But there's no other sensation, or any sort of communication, if you will. Just those slight pressures on the seat cushion.

I really do not know what to believe anymore. Life has been pretty much intolerable for two years now. As I've said, I wake up each day wishing I had not, and wondering why the torment and excruciating pain must persist. I've lost everything that had meaning. Grief has no end. The last verses of Stephen Stills' "4 + 20" and Kottke's "From the Cradle to the Grave" seem most fitting. But it all won't end.

Having said that, I wish you the very best in your new union with Andy. I hope you have the happiest of lives together.

Sorry. I gotta go again. Eyes are burning.

[RevCheesehead]

11. Thanks for your response.

I have a couple of friends who are able to know when the deceased are with us and around us. My friend Julie told me that often it can be something with electrical energy, like a light flickering, or static on the TV, or a watch alarm that suddenly goes off. This happened to me:
On the day my Mom died, I had to drive a few hours to get there. When Dad and I met, and went to Mom's side, we were overcome with grief. Just then, the stereo in her room went on, and the song "Unforgettable" came on the CD player. There is no way it was on a timer, it just happened.... and I knew without a doubt that she was there, letting us know that she still lives.
She is there. She is with you. Even if you can't see her, or don't know for sure, just go ahead and talk to her. (For a while, I used to pick up the telephone without turning it on, and have conversations with my mom. For some reason, I felt a lot closer when I did that.)

Bless you, Everett. :hug::hug::hug: