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Comment by morgan on March 3, 2018 at 1:23pm

Bluebird,

Maybe I should have added more for context.  I believe overall the writer of the blog was saying how she constantly "feels" his presence but in an absent way.  I think she, like me, lives with the reminders of everything that she remembers doing with him and that feeling is ever-present but because she breathes she goes on in silence living beside his ghost because she has to, not because she really wants to.  Or at least when I read the whole thing that is what I got out of it.  

Just wanted to clarify because when I read stuff like this and it expresses how we all are living day to day in the present but that our past has such a strong hold on us it doesnt make me feel quite   as crazy as I feel like my life is.  

I never would have anticipated being this broken and yet appearing to others, now after this long, to look as though I am engaging in a normal life.  There is nothing normal about how I am living and I have to somehow either accept that this is the way it is going to be (because I know it is) or I do something that is unacceptable by "normal' standards.  Haven't really been able to decide and so I keep stumbling along like so many of us.  

Comment by Marjorie Willcox on March 3, 2018 at 5:54am

Also as Morgan, Linda & Bluebird.

Comment by Marjorie Willcox on March 3, 2018 at 5:53am

JenShep I feel exactly the same.

Comment by Linda Engberg on March 3, 2018 at 5:45am

Morgan,

Well here I am, another day without Julian, I will go through the motions again of living but inside I am slowly dying. 

Comment by bluebird on March 2, 2018 at 7:04pm

morgan,

That is lovely, albeit sad.  That woman is lucky that she feels her husband in that way, though. 

Comment by morgan on March 2, 2018 at 4:22pm

I really wish it was any different because I know my husband would not want to see me suffer so.

I read another website alot.  It is one where other widows blog.  Several of them have been doing this for years.  One at six years, another at five, a couple at an earlier time but there is a common thread that runs through them.  

I am going to take the liberty of pasting a small part of one of the writers on this website. I will only paste parts of it.....here it is:

Everything felt surreal. It still does...

because he doesn't 'feel' dead to me. Maybe it's because he is still 'present' in my life. My husband is no longer here physically, but he is 'here' - everywhere - all around me. His arms are still around my life. I can 'feel' him. Now, he is the soft breeze on my back. The warm sunshine - that dries my tears. The blue sky - that helps to ease my mind.......Every morning he is the warmth of my coffee - in my hand. On my way to work he is the big Peterbilt truck that passes by - and roars in my ears. At the market, after work, he is the beautiful red roses - calling my name. And, in the produce aisle, he is the big red radishes - catching my eye...

As I slowly head to the car, with my groceries in hand, he is walking right beside me - when, in fact, there is no one by my side. Once I load the groceries, he takes his spot in the car - I 'feel' him in the seat beside me. I sigh, and I sit for a minute. I feel his eyes fill with tears as I put my head on the steering wheel. He knows that I am broken; and there is nothing he can do to fix it.

Widowing is exhausting. But, like you, I don't have a choice in it. So, I lift up my tired head. I softly whisper to him and start the car. And, then, our song plays on the stereo - it is all he can do to let me know that I am not alone. I smile and thank him as tears stream down my cheeks. ....... Again, he is everywhere, and nowhere all at once.

At home, while I'm making dinner I absently stare into the pot of boiling water. As the water boils the bubbles pop; and, then, disappear. The bubbles turn into nothing, just like he did. Gone. It's like the bubbles were never there... They just disappear. Sometimes, it feels like he was never here either...

The day is slipping away and it's getting dark. After dinner, I stand alone washing the dishes; and, again, he is 'with' me. I 'feel' him. Then, at that very moment, I look out the window and there in the light of dusk is a hummingbird. I know. And, I smile. I'm thankful, really I am. But, in my heart, I feel guilty because deep down, it's not enough. My husband  can't give me what I want. I don't want him to be the soft breeze against my back or a damn hummingbird. I want all of him back - alive. I know that my heart wants, what it can't have. So, I just give in and I finish the dishes in silence. The only thing I can hear is the breaking of my heart.

And, once again, I've lived another day without him. And, like always, when I turn out the lights, I close my eyes and I ask him to lay with me because I still want his arms around me when I lay down in my empty bed.......

I hope the writer on this other blog doesn't mind I passed her thoughts along to all of you.  Today her words just hit me like a speeding freight train and I am not sure how I am going to continue but I still breathe.  Wishing I didnt.

Comment by JenShep on March 2, 2018 at 3:52pm

Linda and Morgan, I feel the same as you both. Every night I state my intention that I will die (an easy death hopefully since Tom's was so horrific) and be with Tom and that we will go on a great adventure together and never have to be apart again. I cannot for the life of me figure out what the point of my still being here is. When there's talk of nuclear weapons I say "please let it get me." I too would take cancer from anyone. Every time I feel a lump or a bump I think - let it be cancer! So many people fighting to stay alive and here I am not wanting to be. Life is so messed up. 

The other night I was thinking about how pathetic I must be that my life is nothing without Tom but that's just the way it is I guess. All I want is to be back with him and I think about how that will be the greatest day of my life. Not sure how much longer I can keep doing this... It really does get worse over time because we've been doing it for too long - the stamina weakens. A year and 4 months for me so far and it's unbearable. 

Comment by bluebird on March 2, 2018 at 3:46pm

morgan, 

Your words could be mine. {{{{{{hugs}}}}}}

Comment by Marjorie Willcox on March 2, 2018 at 3:16pm

Linda and Morgan I hear you!

Comment by Linda Engberg on March 2, 2018 at 3:11pm

Morgan,

Your feelings are exactly like mine, 5 years on May 5 for my sweet man Julian. I think you and I are the only ones who have this problem, I know I will never stop grieving. For every step forward is 10 back. No one understands except you. I pray every night not to wake up in the morning, I hate being alive. So many people out there fighting cancer I would take it from them and give it to me so they can stay alive. You must really have had a soulmate like I did, I AM NOTHING WITHOUT HIM.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, I know I am not alone.

Linda

 

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