I'm so sorry for your loss. You are in the early stages of this unwanted journey, and to be honest, there aren't any words that will help right now. You're in the raw early stages of disbelief, and will exist in a fog for awhile, until you get a grasp of your new life without her. The fact that you reached out to the members of this community is a very positive first step. We understand what you're going through, we've been there. Cancer killed my wife and best friend, on October 18th 2019, and I'm still grieving. It's a long process. You have to learn to exist on your own without her. You will never lose the gaping hole in your soul, but you will learn (eventually) to live with it. Try to find something that can occupy your mind . For me, it was music and songwriting encouraged by my Hospice Grief Counselor. Keep reaching out to this forum, It helps to talk about your feelings, and eventually, you will start to heal. God be with you. Bill
I am so sorry for the loss of your girlfriend. Your loss is so resent, I know and understand the pain you’re feeling right now. At one week, your mind is still reeling, did this really happen, what now? Eating and sleeping are difficult. Don’t push yourself and please accept any help that’s offered. Just someone to talk to, helps so much. Make lists of things that you want to do so that’s not filling your mind with those thoughts. Take care of you, Drink water and try to eat. I hope you have family and friends offering you support. I lost my husband of 41 years to a sudden and massive heart attack, taken from our beautiful life so fast with no warning, two hours. So yes I do understand how you’re feeling and empty quiet house, the loneliness. Nothing prepares you for the pain that you’re feeling. Visit this site often, read and share stories, it does help a lot. One day, hour or moment at a time. Robin
Thank you so much. No one is ready for this new life. You don’t have to do anything right now, just try to take care of yourself. That’s enough.
Very true that no one is ready for this new life. Even when I knew the end was near I was never ready.
No, can’t prepare for this. My loss had zero warning. But I’ve lost both my parents after illness and wasn’t prepared for the horrible pain. Our hearts are never ready.
This site gets credit for helping me. I didn’t find this site until it was almost a year since Ron passed. I was not in a good place at all. I found this site and wrote about my loss and my loneliness and feeling scared. No one answered for about a week and I felt worse and worse, desperate for a reply. Then someone answered me and with a very long post , they understood everything I was feeling and going through. I cried a river, someone understands. That was the beginning of realizing how much sharing and reading others stories is so important. Afraid that most people in our lives can’t understand what we’re going through. People on here get it. Reaching out or offering support helps more then expected. I believe that this site will help you. But your loss is so very resent, raw however we say it. Your mind and body are still in disbelief, and shock give this site and the people here time to help. I was in shock a very long time. But I wasn’t on this site. You’ll learn you’re not alone and that’s comforting.
Our Story Janet and Bill My Beloved wife Janet lost her earthly battle against brain cancer on October 18th, 2019 at 8:40 in the morning. I was at her side, as I was every minute of every day for over a year. Janet was the bravest, and most caring human being that I have ever known. Despite all the pain and physical challenges she faced every day, she was always more concerned about how I was doing. Are you OK? was always the first thing out of her mouth every morning. She knew she was dying with no hope of recovery, but she always put my welfare first. If, with your permission I can now turn back the clock to January of 2019, I will continue with OUR story. Janet started having problems with her balance early in January and would fall on occasion. After several trips to the emergency room, she was finally examined by an on-duty brain surgeon who ordered an immediate CT-scan. They discovered a rapidly growing tumor near the area of the brain that controls sight. She had been having a lot of problems with her peripheral vision, and they had to be extra careful if any surgeries were planned, because of the risk for blindness. Despite the danger and because of the urgency, surgery was scheduled the next morning. They drilled a hole in the back of Janet’s skull and tried to carefully vacuum out the cancer. They failed to get it all, due to the close proximity of the vision area of the brain and the tumor. They then tried radiation treatments (5 days a week for 16 weeks). At this point we still had a glimmer of hope, which was soon dashed when, after the radiation treatments, we were told there were no other pathways to a successful result, and my beloved Soulmate Janet was going to die... There was nothing we could do now but to accept what they predicted. We were then transferred to hospice care and I assumed the role of full-time caretaker, but she could, at least, stay at home. After a few weeks Doctors decided that Janet should go on 24-hour bedrest with a catheter and all (she hated that catheter) At that point, I had lost 50 pounds, and my clothes no longer fit, but Hospice still allowed me to move into Janet’s room and to sleep in a chair that folded out into a makeshift bed so I could continue to be close to her 24/7. When I was caring for Janet at home, she slept in a recliner in our living room, and I crashed within arm’s length of her on the corner of the couch next to her chair, so I could be available to help her to the bathroom, or if she needed assistance for anything. I never left her side, nor did I want to. Her nearness gave me strength. The Hospice volunteers and staff became our family. I will be forever grateful for their kindness. As time passed, it became more difficult for Janet to chew and swallow her food, so I had to cut up her food and spoon feed her, and eventually, she could only eat pudding or yogurt. I will never forget the grateful look in her eyes when I fed her. That look is one of my most cherished memories. Janet has contacted me since she passed, and I feel her presence often, and her reactions to unseen entities has inspired me to write several songs. She has mentored me from beyond this physical life every single day, and I know I will be with her again when my time on earth is over. The day I first met her was the luckiest day of my life. We listened to music together all the time.” Adagio for Strings” by Samuel Barber and Donny Hathaway’s “A Song for You” played while she died. I love and miss her so much it’s impossible to describe. I have learned to exist without her, but I still grieve the loss of US/WE as a pair. I wouldn’t be writing this if not for music, and the written word which saved me. (Thank you Joanie)
You’re welcome. People here understand. Never any judgement. This is a long bumpy journey and you’re at the very beginning. But sometime down the road her favorite songs, food, and your favorite places will eventually make you smile.
So sorry for your loss. Grief is a long hard journey, but know when you are here you are not alone. My husband of 31 years passed away of cancer 3 years ago. Most days I'm ok, but somedays I feel like I'm back to day 1. There are many post here that I resonate with, there are a lot of people here to listen. We are all going through this thing called grief, it is never ending but it is something we will learn to live with. Take your time, and remember to take care of yourself. ~Mary
