I am a wreck without my wife

My wife, Denise (nickname Deni), passed away at home on August 18, 2021 from complications of End Stage Renal Disease (ESRD). While we both knew the risk of death was always a possibility, her passing was still unexpected and sudden. She had spent the last ten years fighting the battle through dialysis and was never one to let it get the best of her. She had just finished having a surgical procedure to place a dialysis graft in her right arm and the prognosis was good for this to give a better quality of life from what she had to endure previously. Her ability to find the good in any situation was apparent in her saying that she would be able to take a shower again. She had not been able to shower or bathe in a tub due to external dialysis catheters which could be allowed to get wet. Her only option had been to sponge bathe, but she managed to find ways to make to still be able to wash her hair over the sink. She refused to let ESRD and dialysis rule her life.

And now, almost two months since her death, I am still struggling to handle all daily life without her. She took care of all the bills because that made her feel like she was still able to contribute to our family life. As her disease progressed, she was not able to do much physically and that frustrated her immensely. However, I am getting a handle on the financial issues which are really not a problem. It has been difficult only because she did a lot online and did not leave anything written down regarding website passwords and login names. And she kept a Rolodex with some info, but it didn't reflect any changes she made to the websites. But between help from our beautiful daughter and my minimal computer skills, we have been able to make this a non-issue.

But the worst part of losing Deni is that she was my only true friend for the last thirty-five years. We did everything together; shopping, watching TV, etc. We had both worked for the same hospital system so we were able to talk about our days with total understanding of each others trials and frustrations with work and coworkers. And for the last ten years, I put her care above all things, even my own health, to make sure she was comfortable and happy. She had been forced to retire in 2013 due to being placed on hemodialysis and that was devastating to her because she loved her job. I retired in October 2019 and so we had been constant companions 24/7 since that time.

Now I am all alone in the house that has her memory in every room. Every piece of furniture, lamp, dish, or whatnot triggers memories of her that are overwhelming and heart wrenching. I am lost without her. I have no one to talk with face-to-face when I want to share something I have seen on TV or read in a magazine or heard on the radio. I have talked with family and friends via telephone, but that is not the same as being able to walk into a room and see her smiling face. Or to be able to get and give hugs just for the sake of it. Or a quick kiss as we walked past each other. Or to find her asleep in her chair with the cat sitting on the arm of the chair with her.

I can't leave the house to go shopping or run errands, because we did it together. I spent the first two weeks following her passing at my daughter's home, but even that made me uncomfortable without Deni. So, after her memorial service, I returned to the house on September 1. I have only left the house alone to go to medical appointments or to pay bills in person. Sitting here now, I do not think I have been back to my daughter's but once. The drive to Suffolk is overloaded with memories of Deni, because she loved the drive, because as we neared Suffolk it reminded her of the rural countryside Texas and South Carolina. And of the conversations we had during the ride, of the dreams and plans for our future days to come, despite the looming shadow of ESRD.

I have been doing home improvement projects that I had promised her to be done, but those bring feelings of guilt and shame that I didn't do them for her when she was alive.

I am working with a grief counselor, but that still does not get me past my feelings of loneliness, of failing to be a good husband, or my fear of never being able to live without her.

So in short, I am a total wreck with out Deni. I am useless to myself, my daughter who needs a strong father now that her mother is gone, and even to my cat, Beau, who has to badger me to remember to feed him to the schedule we have.

v/r
Rick

 

Rick, I'm so very sorry for the loss of Deni. I lost my husband Nov 4th to cancer and it's still very hard to get through my days. We were married for 40 years and part of me went with him. Please stay on this forum. I hope the responses will help you to know we all are in this together. Prayer's, Karen

 

I feel you rick - we are a wreck without our partners. No moment goes by believing there are there
You are not alone
Stay Strong

 

Hi Rick,

My wife, Jen, passed Aug 24. I have a lot of the guilt too, of not being a better husband, of not getting some things done around the house. But I try to remember that none of us are perfect. Ofc, most of the time, in my eyes, she was perfect...that's the hard part....thinking she was amazing and I was just a goof. But in reality, looking back, I know that wasn't true. We were both just people with goods and bads, BUT we loved each other deeply and that's what matters.

Jen was also my only real friend. I have a couple buddies at work, but I haven't really done anything outside of work with anyone even before covid. It was me and Jen vs the world, as I tell people. I get the impression, a lot of couples are like that. We don't have any kids, just 3 cats. They are okay, but not the same as a person. This is my first time living on my own too. I lived with my parents until they divorced when I was 15. Then I lived with my dad until 22 when I finished college. Then i moved in with Jen and lived with her for 25 years this Dec. It's strange. I feel this sense of freedom that I get to make all the decisions and don't have to check with her, but I am so used to checking with her that there's this void floating there whenever I do something now. At the same time, she had been running her body down for a few years now and she slept a lot in the end, so I was doing a lot on my own anyway. I guess that makes the transition a little easier. Ofc, it makes the grieving tough, because I realize, we didn't really have a life together for long before she passed. Can't remember the last time I was happy.

OK, I gotta stop. I was trying to help you by sharing, and now tears are coming.

Hang in there, Rick. Our wives wouldn't want us to give up...even if it seems tough atm.

 

Thank you for your supporting and kind words. I am sorry for the loss of your husband. I will try to check in on this forum as much as possible, but trying to do everything alone without her is so time consuming now. Plus I find my self sitting and staring off into space, numb to the world around me. I do know I am not the only one in this situation. We lost my dad in December 2019 and my mom says she still has days where she can only sit and cry over some little memory triggered by a TV show, a song, or a personal item from him. And she too lives alone in Texas. She was devastated when I told her of Denise's passing; my mother loved her so much. She and my mother enjoyed a lot of the same hobbies and could spend hours together talking about them. So again, thank you for your support.

 

Thank you for you supporting words.

 

Rick,

I'm so sorry for your loss. I hate saying this because words seem so shallow, but since all I have are words, I hope you know how truly sorry I am. My husband, Bob passed away in April of this year. October 11th will be the sixth month anniversary of his death. Beginning in 2018, I became Bob's full time caregiver. He had many chronic health issues, the first was diagnosed in 2005. By the time I became his full time caregiver, he had a specialist for just about every body part. It was so difficult watching him, slowly fall apart in front of me, little by little. Once years ago, when we shared our first apartment, we both wanted a dog, but weren't allowed to have any pets. One day, I bought him a beautiful blue betta fish. No matter what we did, the betta fish seemed to be slowly withering away. One day, Bob said it was time to put the poor fish out of it's misery. He flushed him down the toilet, said he was giving him a "burial at sea." Watching my once strong, proud, independent, stoic husband, slowly become weaker, gradually losing his ability to walk more than a few feet, barely able to feed himself, was so painful... He reminded me of that once beautiful blue betta fish.

I'm way too mentally and physically exhausted to write much more tonight. So for now, I just want to let you know how glad I am that you found us, but how sorry I am you had to. All of us here understand the total heartbreak of losing someone who we loved, who we still love, with all our hearts... Although I can't take away any of your pain, I hope you will find a bit of comfort when you visit us, read our stories, find out what is helping us survive during the darkest days of our lives, and even sometimes, share a few laughs. I hope you'll stick around. I'm looking forward to getting to "know" you better.

Sending you hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB

 

24181"]Rick,

I'm so sorry for your loss. I hate saying this because words seem so shallow, but since all I have are words, I hope you know how truly sorry I am. My husband, Bob passed away in April of this year. October 11th will be the sixth month anniversary of his death. Beginning in 2018, I became Bob's full time caregiver. He had many chronic health issues, the first was diagnosed in 2005. By the time I became his full time caregiver, he had a specialist for just about every body part. It was so difficult watching him, slowly fall apart in front of me, little by little. Once years ago, when we shared our first apartment, we both wanted a dog, but weren't allowed to have any pets. One day, I bought him a beautiful blue betta fish. No matter what we did, the betta fish seemed to be slowly withering away. One day, Bob said it was time to put the poor fish out of it's misery. He flushed him down the toilet, said he was giving him a "burial at sea." Watching my once strong, proud, independent, stoic husband, slowly become weaker, gradually losing his ability to walk more than a few feet, barely able to feed himself, was so painful... He reminded me of that once beautiful blue betta fish.

I'm way too mentally and physically exhausted to write much more tonight. So for now, I just want to let you know how glad I am that you found us, but how sorry I am you had to. All of us here understand the total heartbreak of losing someone who we loved, who we still love, with all our hearts... Although I can't take away any of your pain, I hope you will find a bit of comfort when you visit us, read our stories, find out what is helping us survive during the darkest days of our lives, and even sometimes, share a few laughs. I hope you'll stick around. I'm looking forward to getting to "know" you better.

Sending you hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB[/QUOTE]

Deb, when I woke up at 6:30 am this
morning, I saw your kind welcome to
Rick (Rick B) after his long, gutwrenching
story about his wife, Demi. After I "talk"
to you, I will reach out to Rick, bc we have
so much in common. I didn't hear from
George yesterday. We had been "talking",
and even joking about how we were
similar in some ways, and that his wife,
Valerie, and Linda, were similar, also. I
hope he's OK. Hope you have a good day.
Try not to be envious, but we have another
sunny, 70 degree day today, so my spirits
are lifted, & I want to go down to the
Neck. Also, I heard that people at the
Shack missed me last Friday (!), and want
me to come tomorrow. I think "The
Godfather" ( me) will make an appearance.
Lou

 

Deb, when I woke up at 6:30 am this
morning, I saw your kind welcome to
Rick (Rick B) after his long, gutwrenching
story about his wife, Demi. After I "talk"
to you, I will reach out to Rick, bc we have
so much in common. I didn't hear from
George yesterday. We had been "talking",
and even joking about how we were
similar in some ways, and that his wife,
Valerie, and Linda, were similar, also. I
hope he's OK. Hope you have a good day.
Try not to be envious, but we have another
sunny, 70 degree day today, so my spirits
are lifted, & I want to go down to the
Neck. Also, I heard that people at the
Shack missed me last Friday (!), and want
me to come tomorrow. I think "The
Godfather" ( me) will make an appearance.
Lou[/QUOTE]

P.S. Correction: Deni, not "Demi". I'm glad
Rick said her name.

 

Hello Jeff K,

I now exactly what you mean. But I have realized this is the first time I have truly been alone. I have always had someone around to talk with and or just be in the physical area so that I did not feel so alone. With my first and second divorces, I was in the Navy and always had people around to interact with each day. But now it is just me and the cat in a big house that seems to be smothering me. While not physically here, she is in every room because for the last 19 years, this was OUR home. I miss her impromptu hugs and smooches just because we were near each other. In the last two years we did everything together. I miss her strong spirit that helped her not let the ESRD get her down. She never lost her smile or her positivity. She didn't dwell on the negative, but continued to plan for our future years together. She could always find the good in everything. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and with her, lots of great things happened for both of us.

I know it will take a long time for me to get through the grieving process and even then, she will always be with me in my heart and memories. But talking about her and my feelings around her passing helps to make it along that path. And yes, the tears still come, like Monday, all day. But for now, emotions are raw and memories make my heart hurt. So that is why I am on here; to find support and an outlet for those times I need to talk with others that understand. I got tired of the phone calls from friends and family asking if there was anything they could do to help. The only thing that I wanted or needed was for her to still be with me.

I am not ready to give up for Denise's sake. She would not if the roles were reversed, that I know without a doubt. It would/is hard to keep living without your soulmate, but it can and has to be done because there are others (children, grandchildren, family) who still need and want me around. No, I am not suicidal, it is just hard living with a broken heart, for now.

Thanks again for your sharing and support.

 

Hello Deb,

I am sorry for your loss as well. Yes, it is sad that we are here, but I am glad I found others that I can "talk" with and share my thoughts and feelings without hollow words of consolation, but that come from their own experiences of heartbreak and pain of losing a loved one. Your situation with your husband, Bob, sounds very similar to what I experienced with Deni. And yes, I have found some solace since coming here and don't plan to leave anytime soon. This is going to be a long journey for the rest of my life and having someone to talk with is very helpful.

May God bless you and heal your heart with love and peace. RICK

 

P.S. Correction: Deni, not "Demi". I'm glad
Rick said her name.[/QUOTE]

Hello Van Gogh,

I am finding I have a lot in common with others here. I am glad I am not the only one that considered my story long and gut wrenching LOL. But I find that once I start talking about her, I can't seem to stop telling how great she was and how much in love we were. I just feel like I never told her enough how wonderful she was for me and how much I truly did love her. But we did get to tell each other that we love one another before things took a turn for the worse.

So feel free to reach out to me. RICK

 

Rick,

I've read your replies and being all alone, and feeling lonely, are two of the worst feelings imaginable. I find myself talking to Bob as though he were still here, with me. The worst times are the mornings and evenings, or when it's miserable outside, the kind of weather I just want to cuddle up next to him on the couch. I'm getting used to living alone, and being lonely, but I hate it!!! It truly SUCKS!!!

Like Deni, Bob always found the good in everything. No matter how much pain he was in, he enjoyed life the best he could. As long as he was "on the right side of the dirt," as he used to say, "it was a good day." Life is a gift. I know guilt is a useless emotion, but I feel guilty that I'm still here, not enjoying my life, knowing that Bob would have done anything possible to still be here, on this earth. I want Bob to be proud of me. This keeps me going when I feel like I can't handle being alone..., feeling so lonely..., without Bob, my "person," the one true love of my life.

I find adding structure to my day helps me deal with the total heartbreak of losing Bob. Before I get out of bed in the morning, I always find at least one thing I'm grateful for. I make lists every day of things I want to accomplish. After getting up, I always make my bed, get dressed, wash up, and have breakfast. These simple things, that I used to do automatically, are always on my list. On bad days, I might not have anything else on it. But most days, when the weather is nice, I like to take long walks. I find that being outside, getting some fresh air, and sunshine, always makes me feel at least a little bit better.

Today is one of those gray, miserable days. I didn't walk this morning, so I'm cleaning my house, with exception of the guest bathroom and guest bedroom, the two rooms I still can't go into. (A story for another time.) Today I'm struggling. Everything in this house reminds me of Bob. Everything seems to trigger a memory from what has now become my past life. I can't stop the memories from invading my brain. They randomly pop in and out of my head. Whether they're happy or sad, all of them have me in tears... I hate this seemingly endless roller coaster ride of emotions.

I need to do something to help make it easier to get through today. Later this afternoon, I'm going to call two of my closest friends from "home." (I'm not originally from where I live now.) I know I'm moving forward in this miserable journey, because it wasn't too long ago, that I wasn't able to laugh. I know that when I call my friends, we'll share some laughs, and for a short time, I'll feel better. Being able to laugh again, even if it's followed by tears, has given me hope that someday I will find some kind of happiness again. I believe that we're still here for a reason. I don't believe that the reason we're still here is just to be miserable. I'm still struggling to find my purpose in life, now that Bob is no longer here. I'm getting off subject, and starting to ramble, so this will have to be one of those TBC's...

I've totally lost my train of thought. I've been reaching for those tissues as I'm "talking" to you, so stopping here.

As you said, "this is going to be a long journey for the rest of your life." I'm glad you're planning on sticking around ,and sharing your journey with us.

Sending you hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB

 

Hello Van Gogh,

I am finding I have a lot in common with others here. I am glad I am not the only one that considered my story long and gut wrenching LOL. But I find that once I start talking about her, I can't seem to stop telling how great she was and how much in love we were. I just feel like I never told her enough how wonderful she was for me and how much I truly did love her. But we did get to tell each other that we love one another before things took a turn for the worse.

So feel free to reach out to me. RICK[/QUOTE]
Thank you, Rick. Our emails just crossed.
"Great minds think alike", as I tell my
good friend, Deb, here. You can call me
Lou. Van Gogh was my user name bc he
was a tortured soul, with ups & downs.
His gift & outlet was painting great
works, which I love. My outlet, though
not as creative, is writing. I think you,
Deb, and I could be in a "contest" for the
longest emails, but no one would judge us.
I am so glad you answered Jeff. I used to
"talk " with him, but thought he left the
group. I will reply to him, too. It's a sunny,
70 degree day here , on the North Shore
of Massachusetts, but I can't seem to walk
outside yet, bc of the many messages this
morning. I see by your extensive (!)
"information" that you live in Virginia,
but you have 2 daughters & a son in Ma.
Being a retired Navy man, I hope you live
by the water! Lou

Rick, my heart goes out to you for your
unbearable grief over the death of your
beloved wife and soulmate, Denise. Your
eloquent words to Jeff, brought tears to
my eyes, bc I know only too well the
loneliness and heartache I feel.
My wife, Linda, died suddenly in front of
me, at 68, from a pulmonary embolism.
I had PTSD & suicidal ideations, so I went
to a psychiatric nurse practioner. who
recommended Grief in Common, which
has been a great comfort to me. I check in
with my friends here, Deb (Deb 321) and
Robin (RLC) every morning and every
night, and we help each other. There are
other widows who "drop in" from time to
time. I also just welcomed George
(eyepilot 13) and Gary (Gary 166). As I
did with others here, I highly recommend
The Widower's Notebook, a memoir,
by Jonathan Santlofer. His story about his
long , 40 year marriage to his wife, Joy, is
so like ours. I have his book on my
night table, and reread some of the
chapters. It is an honest, sometimes
funny, portrayal of a marriage. Welcome,
Rick. Lou

 

OK, DEB, ENOUGH! I feel like Michael
Corleone ( Al Pacino) in Godfather,
Part III, when he said just when he thought he was out ( of the family crime
business), he was "sucked back in"! I'll
never get out of here today, if I don't get
off this merry go round of responding to
messages. I just write one to you, telling
you that I was falling in love with you.
Don't make me take it back! Just kidding!
Lou

 

That is so much like me and Valerie! Best friends in Everything for 34 years! She was my whole life

 

George, it's so good to see you reaching
out to our new member, Rick. I just replied
to him. Therrvhave been a LOT of
messages today, as I told our good friend,
Deb! I feel exactly the same way as you,
Rick, & others, about not having our best
( & in some cases, only) friends, taken
away from us physically, though they may
be with us in our hearts and minds. I better stop now, before this gets too
overwhelming. Lou

 

I have been such amess. I'm glad to know all of you are still here sounds like a dumb thing to say I feel particularly doltish lately... and out of it!

 

Hi Rick, my heartfelt condolences am
lifting you in prayer.
I am thankful we all have GIC it
helps us all to be able to have a
support group like this, amongst
others whom understand.
I lost my husband after many years of
Parkinsons, totally cared for him 24-7
his last nine years. God guided
and helped me to give my dear husband
the best care that I knew how or
could, HE was my strength.
I really haven't been able to open up
and talk about those years, I pray
one day I can.
Blessings, Patti

 

Lou,

BTW, The Godfather was one of those movies I could watch more than once. Aside from a few favorite Christmas movies, well maybe a couple others too, once I know what's going to happen, I usually get bored and can't watch it again. Bob loved to watch his favorite movies over and over and over again. I don't know how he could do this. But, when it came to the Godfather, I was able to watch right along with him. Al Pacino was great in that movie..., so was Marlon Brando, and so many others...

Backing up a bit, thanks for getting me to laugh. I've been having a really tough day, missing Bob big time...

I hope you finally made it out the door...

As always, sending you hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace. DEB

P.S. The sun has been making very brief appearances this afternoon, but... while I wish this was a sign of a much nicer day tomorrow, the forecast says otherwise. However, I never trust the weather reports, so I'm going to remain optimistic...

P.S.S. You made me blush... I think I'm at a loss for words.... Seriously though, if I'm ever emotionally strong enough to visit friends from "home," maybe we could meet in person. I never thought I would ever make friends on line... The world is such a different place from when I was growing up, but, stopping here, before I begin another book. Besides, now I'm beginning to sound like my parents.