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Permalink Reply by Cynthia Horacek on August 6, 2011 at 11:11am

The coast guard has gone somewhere else and left us to find our way out on our own.  I don't mean to sound sarcastic; but truly, the only way out of this fog is to slowly work our way towards shore.  Sometimes we make it to shore, and breathe a sigh of relief that we made it to safety, and it's all going to be okay, and then a big ol' wave comes along and washes us out to sea again.  And we have to, once more, work through that thick fog to find our way back to shore, but this time maybe the shore is a little closer, and the work is a little bit easier.  I was doing okay, finally, and felt that I was finally grounded and anchored and I know my Don is with me, but then that f---g wave came along and picked me up and there I was, floating and unanchored and ungrounded, and I spent a few days in the fog, unable to even make sense of where my body was.  S---t happens.  Yes, the powers that be will have their way, no matter what.  When it's time to go, it's time to go.   I know sometimes that I have to sink back down before I can climb back up, but when I climb back up, maybe I'll be a little bit higher on the mountain than I was before.  Each time I sink, it's not quite as deep as the last time, and each time I feel grounded, it's a little bit more than before.  We will all make it back to shore, each of us in our own time, at our own rate of speed.  

Maura, I really like your coast guard analogy.  It says it so well.  Thank you. 

Permalink Reply by anna l. on August 6, 2011 at 12:15pm

I guess with a ton of hard work I can paddle my way to "a shore", but it will not be the one Im used to.  It will be a foreign land where I dont speak the language.  Where I dont share the same culture or traditions.  I have to learn how to do everything differently and I dont want to!  I want to go home!!!!!!!!!  I want my old life back!!!!!  I want the man I loved for 34 years to come home and hold me and help paddle when I get tired just like always before.  Heck, I know I have to get on with it.  Do the things that need doing or at least figure out what they are and ask for help to get it done.  But it will never be the same, ever ever again.  It will be whatever I make it.  It might be good one day again, but it will never again be the way it was and since I didnt have any choice in that, the cancer chose, it will never be really "HOME" to me, no matter what it ends up being. 

Permalink Reply by Maura Simms on August 6, 2011 at 4:36pm

There's no rules to this journey and no one says you can't bring "home" with you; its all in your heart and memories and I'm taking it with me everywhere and anywhere I go.  I even have "portable Ricky" (ashes in a little wooden box); he's going more places now that he did in life (he was rather a home-body).  I am just bogged down with all the baggage; so many files, clothes, scraps of paper he wrote on I don't want to throw away; I won't wash the pillow case he died on; I broke down crying at work because I remembered I never saved any of his voice messages and I just want to hear his voice once more.

Permalink Reply by Cynthia Horacek on August 6, 2011 at 4:49pm

Dear Maura -

Every thing you said here I can totally relate to.  In the first months I did the same thing.  Except I did wash his pillow case, but he wore a wool cap each night because his head always got cold; that had is still in my bed, between our pillows.  I hold it every night before I fall asleep.  

Don's ashes have been spread all over the place; whenever someone I know travels, I ask them to take some of his ashes.  He's in the Pacific and the Atlantic; he is in Denmark and Israel; he's in about 5 or 6 U.S. states.... and he's on my mantle, but no matter where his ashes go, he is always in my heart.  Thank you for starting this page.

Permalink Reply by Cynthia Horacek on August 6, 2011 at 12:16pm

Anna - I know.