I am new here. I wish I weren't. The love of my life died December 28, 2022. I am still in disbelief. I think I am making progress towards acceptance of his death and then my mind tries to convince me it's all a bad dream. I used to visit the alzheimer's association website alz.org when he was diagnosed with alzheimer's. I told myself I could deal with alzheimer's as long as he was alive. I told myself yes he was going to die but I figured it was a long way off. Then he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. I told myself I could deal with cnncer. I told myself that yes he would die but not too soon. He died less than two months after diagnosis of lung cancer. I told myself I could handle his death. What does that even mean? Was does handle mean? I am moving through grief. Sometimes I am moving very slow. I am moving though. I force myself to get up and go to work. I told myself I could deal with this...I told myself I could handle this...and I am and I choose to celebrate the small wins. Today I woke up. Today I showered. Today I went to work. Today I dealt with my feelings. Today I spoke to him on the way to work. Today I heard his answer in the wind. I miss him. I wonder if he misses me too?
Hi Laura, I’m sorry for what you have suffered through. I am new to this site as well. I lost my wife to cancer Jan.6,2023. Thought I would give this site a try. Let me know if I can help, Everyone wants to help but everyone has their opinion on grief and there is no playbook for this. Just people’s experience and experience is a good teacher. It’s what we all decide to draw from with all of our experiences together. Your finding what works for you like I’m finding what works for me, like everyone else on here. Just remember the sun still shines everyday, take it one day at a time, and look for signs - Your husband will leave them!
Hi Laura, and Cdnwidower: You both have my condolences. Like you both, I lost my wife to brain cancer late Sept 2020. So I'm further down the path than either of you. For the first few months, I was honestly like a zombie. Don't really remember that much, just the awful silence of the house and the never ending "what ifs". It does get better, slowly. And you both seem to have the right idea...it's just one day at a time. Sometimes just getting up, or fixing a sandwich, or taking a shower is the best you can do. So you do it, count it as a win, and try to do it again tomorrow.
I'm sorry for what you have suffered through. To hear your story gives me hope. I am grieving for 8 weeks with the loss of my Mother whom I realize now, our lives were intertwined. Death gave me a totally new perspective on life. Unfortunately it's too late to do anything about it, except honor Mom's memory and be the best person that I can be. There are times when I think I should'a, would'a, could'a, done things differently. When these thoughts creep in and devastates my heart I just go through it. Cry it out. As you wrote above, one day at a time. Immerse yourself in books, videos and anything that helps you move through the recovery of yourself.
Hi Jason. I'm going to copy/paste something I wrote a while back. It seems to fit here. To be clear, the "what ifs" never leave. Something brings them up all the time. I just have to remind myself that hindsight is both easy, and usually wrong. I hope it is thought provoking: It would never be "enough". You could never do enough, say enough, love enough, or take care enough. Survivors' guilt is real because hindsight is flawlessly easy. If I had just not gone to Walmart, I wouldn't have had the wreck. It's so simple...why did I get in the car? It's a fallacy; it isn't real. It feels very real because we can put the blame on ourselves - where we believe it rightfully belongs. Hindsight makes you believe you failed, but you didn't. What you did was live and love, and got hurt. You are holding yourself to an impossible standard. I know this because I had 16 years with my wife who had brain cancer. And I was her caregiver for the last 1.5 years of her hardest life. Incontinence, vomiting, paralysis, mental confusion, and much more. I had TIME to do exactly what I should have done, say what I needed to say, go where I needed to go. And in many cases I did. And it still wasn't enough. I feel guilty to this day because my mind wants me to believe there was something, anything, I could have done to make this pain less. But I'm sorry, there isn't. Your pain exists because you loved deeply. Nobody gets this "right" because there is no right way.
I lost my husband April 30 after a long struggle with cancer in and out of hospital and many 911 calls and caregiving at home. We were married for 53 years and both 76 years old. I am getting out with friends but just so so sad especially first thing in morning. Better as day goes on. Each week seems harder than the last and hoping that changes.
Hi Laura, You are doing just fine. Grief moves at its own pace. There is no rush. I believe that your husband is still watching over you. Keep reaching out here. You are in a safe place to share your feelings.
I just lost my beloved mom in January. To say we were soul mates is an understatement. I had a few okay months, then I back slid and have felt horrible for two weeks. I hope I can crawl out of this dark hole I've fallen into. Music, videos, movies- exercise, visiting with friends- whatever helps, do it. Don't drink or do drugs- those just numb the inevitable pain. Best to experience the pain, learn to deal with it and how to cope. Come here often. Always new posts that can help you realize you are not alone.
It will. It takes time. Be kind to yourself- time does heal all wounds, but you have to step back a little and allow it. It is up to us the grievers to ALLOW healing to begin.
I was my wife's caregiver through her stem cell transplant. She was diagnosed with Very High Risk MDS in March of 2022 and we spent the rest of 2022 going to doctors, chemotherapy, tests, blood transfusions, and everything else that days with fighting bone marrow cancer. Through all of that she had times when could do some things but she had to isolate from activities in public and had to give up many of the things she loved. Like gardening and her crafting. On Dec. 30, 2022 she got her stem cell transplant and I picked her up on New Years Eve and we spent two weeks after in a hotel in Boston shuttling back and forth to the cancer hospital. At the end of two weeks we went home to Maine and reunited with our son and our dog at our house. Thankfully we had friends watch both of them. Doris was fine for a month. We went weekly to Boston and she checked out OK. After that she developed many side effects that would eventually doom her. She relapsed to Acute Myeloid Leukemia in August and 7 weeks later died holding my hand. I can relate to you looking for your husband or thinking you hear him. I always think Doris is just away like on a vacation. I haven't grasped the finality of her death yet. We relive every moment of the last few months with our loves and hold on. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Our later life was supposed to be a time to do the things we always wanted to do and fade into the sunset and not jerked into loneliness. It is a bad bargain but it is the only one we have. Sometimes I wonder if living in the past is better than living in the present.
Gladlover, it's absolutely normal that you're feeling this way, it's so soon for you. After so many years together, you are part of each other, you always will be. That special connection you had cannot just be eliminated. Even if she is not here physically, your wife is actually still here with you in a different way, that everlasting bond will continue living in you, giving you strength to go on. Rose
Just lost my wife to brain cancer, after 10 years of no recurrence it suddenly came back and killed her in less than 3 months, and hospice didn't even last 2 weeks. I was her caregiver as well for 10 years, not working at all the last month, taking care of EVERYTHING for her at the end. Almost overnight it took her ability to walk, but most heart-breaking, her ability to talk. So much unsaid, no way to communicate, and I'm left empty and sad and alone and not knowing so much of what she might have wanted me to know. And yeah, the guilt of how things could have maybe gone differently, of what should have been done differently.
