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Comment by rachel_micele on December 26, 2015 at 5:54pm

Very good insight Hilary. This makes me think about the grief for myself and how it entails so much more than just the loss itself. It happening all in a moment there was nothing to do with that type of medical care. But what maybe can be similar is the loss of control over something/one so important to you, all of your existence hinges on it. I will spare the details here but I never got to physically see or touch the body which was against my wishes. I have struggled so damn hard with this one thing and that may always be the case. Literally the only thing tangible I have directly related to the body to tell my senses this actually happened is the stocking hat he was wearing, his earrings in a small baggie with the medical examiners notings, and a portion of the ashes. Animals benefit from seeing/smelling a deceased body and we are no exception. I may have went on a tangent but I guess my point is, grief is so complex. Our emotional turmoil, I agree, can easily be a pool of multitude horrors to find some bullshit way to make peace with. In August I made a blog itemizing all the things I am grieving. I realize now there are more I could add to the list.  

Comment by morgan on December 26, 2015 at 5:41pm

Yes, Hilary,  the recklessness, the disregard, the the hypocrisy oath, it all was a part and parcel of the dreaded end.  In one hour eastern standard time, three yeara ago, a lifetime it seems, I will be told by the uncaring, callous, embittered surgeon that he did what he could but there was no saving my husband.  And he left me there in a heap, a puddle, a place in time where I can barely stand to be to this day to cry and scream to no one.  To no one.  As they rolled my husband by on his gurney high from the anethesthia and morphine I had to smile.  I had to force myself to pretend that what we had was enough for then but certainly not enough for now.  I am broken.  I am in a million pieces.  I understand suicide.  I know what it feels like to have nothing left.  I know what it feels like to reach for that bag of pills.  It wont be tonight but it is here.  

DO not be frightened.  DO not be worried.  THIS is not the time.  I have promised myself one more thing.  I will keep that promise but the suffering is so great. I read your posts and I see myself reflected in you as my mirror.  We are all in a very fragile stage of life.  Stage, almost like a theater.  The death of war continues unabated while some are pocketing millions of dollars reaping their contaminated monies from the grief of thousands upon thousands.  I have not wanted to bring the politics of death into our discussions but for everyone, everywhere,  the day after death the mea culpas ring hollow.  What if what we are doing is being blown back to people like us who have been chosen to carry the burden of such destruction?  I do not understand this weight. 

I have done way too much meditation and yoga to believe that our lives are an accident of nature.  I believe there is a fundamental energy that is vibrating and is being manifest in all of us because, well, because the universe seeks life and wants relief and balance. Some of us are chosen because our journey into light means carrying individualized burdens.  I am not a Stephen Hawking nor am I Malala, not that kind of burden.  I am wife, lover, best friend and confidant of the only man who reached down deep within me and brought out the best in me.  I am an extension of his light, his energy, his essence of the qualia.  I belong elsewhere but have not reached entropy or so it seems.  I seek to find my center again because for now it has exploded into the ether.  I weep because I must, because it is all I have.  It is all we have. Death, yes, Hilary, death has "cost me my heart and my reason for living."  

Thanks to all for understanding when each of us come here and Mel you hit the target….. "this leaking umbrella of mutual understanding in the middle of a never ending storm of loss that swirls around us.  May those who have yet to know this reality, listen to us, we are the experts and everyone who breathes will one day also be an unthankful expert on just how horrible the pain of losing your soul mate, son, daughter, mother, father. Just how horrible it really is, and may continue to be……"

Comment by Hilary Christene on December 26, 2015 at 1:08pm

Morgan, I feel that you are bearing more than grief. You said "It was like we were forgotten.  We were both so extremely anxious as to what was wrong with him and yet we were left hanging."

An additional component, the monstrously uncaring medical machine, its callous disregard for our beloved treasured other, this I feel is also on your heart, so heavily. Perhaps the doctors could not have saved your dearest one, the cancer having found its way throughout. But their lack of caring, their dismissal of your plight, creates trauma.

Others of us have seen this and the like, and now we have it weighing on our hearts as well. In aspects of my D's medical mismanagement, I feel baffled and powerless. How deeply their carelessness has cost me. It has cost me my heart and my reason for living.

Comment by Mel Royer on December 26, 2015 at 12:46pm

What are we to do..with the years ahead of us? The unstoppable, crushing years that loom ahead. I have just experienced my first Christmas without my soul mate and it was a dark well of emotional duress. I left the tv off, the radio too. I sat and caressed Nancy's hospital gown, I breathed her in, I cried for her, I held her gown so close it was a second skin. And still, the pain of the first Christmas alone became sharper, digging in and reminding me that this was just the beginning. I would have this to look forward to, not just on special holidays but year round...penetrating whatever life I have left, until that glorious day when I see my Nancy again. Dear God, how much of this hell is a human being supposed to endure. Morgan and Anne and John and George and all of us under this leaking umbrella of mutual understanding in the middle of a never ending storm of loss that swirls around us.  May those who have yet to know this reality, listen to us, we are the experts and everyone who breathes will one day also be an unthankful expert on just how horrible the pain of losing your soul mate, son, daughter, mother, father. Just how horrible it really is, and may continue to be. God help us! 

Comment by D on December 26, 2015 at 11:26am

I feel I relate to the pain, hurt& sorrow y'all are tlkn about. I lost my love Aug2014& I still find it hard to believe he's gone. There's a hole in me, I don't thk will ever be filled. Together 8 yrs, were gonna marry this yr. But another hurt I carry? Is how I've noticed how people I thought would be there for me since he passed away? Nope, they're not. I don't expect 24 hr on call svc. Life goes on. But more calls would be appreciated, but I'm thankful for the support of a few , tht have bin there fr the day it happened.. My 2nd Xmas without him& I miss him every single day.

Comment by Sammie on December 26, 2015 at 9:54am

Hi everyone , I do read your posts every day I don't write to much I just read yours and cry .. We all have the same pain hoping will end soon . Im happy this Xmas is over but then it's always another day which I have to face with the same pain which will never go away.. I wish every evening to go there where he is but then I still weak up next morning and go thru this painful day doesn't make any difference what day it is pain is there. So I'm gonna continue to read your posts cry with you and just hoping this will end soon . Take card everyone

Comment by Linda Engberg on December 26, 2015 at 5:32am

Morgan,

I can really relate to your post, it was the same for me take my husband to ER at 8PM and had to wait until the next morning 9AM

to see the doctor, they did try to keep him comfortable. I remembering sitting in a chair all that night and next day to find out he had colon cancer. It was a nightmare. 

He fought a tough battle but we had at wonderful woman Doctor at Mayo Clinic in Florida who helped him through his battle with the least amount  of pain. God Bless Her, his fight finally ended on May 5, 2015 at 5:10 AM, my life also ended that day and all I want to do is join him.

Comment by morgan on December 25, 2015 at 11:10pm

 

 

This Xmas has been different.  Yesterday was treacherous.  Yesterday, three years ago today,  was the day I took my husband into the ER.  Today,  Xmas day, three years ago,  we sat waiting for doctors to appear because they were having their Xmas celebrations and my husband being so ill didn’t make them any more excited about treating him.  It was like we were forgotten.  We were both so extremely  anxious as to what was wrong with him and yet we were left hanging.  So all day today all I could remember was how horrendous Xmas three years ago was.  Tomorrow the day after Xmas I will have waited all day until 7pm when they rolled my husband out of the operating room to find out they found Stage 4 cancer throughout his lungs, pancreas, appendix and colon.   He was terminal and no one was there but me.  Just me.  Like now.  Its just me.  And I feel the same way I did then,  devastated, broken, irrepairable.   

I think as children we were meant to be together.  No matter the obstacles getting there we are eternally intertwined.  I am connected to him, him to me.  There is no other.  Never will be, never was.  Some people can find room for others.  My husband and I were two supernovas burst into each other.  Stardust from billions of years ago.  We require each others energy to burn brightly. 

And then I recognize here I am.  Stuck in this small tiny macroscopic world  of physical being.  Experiencing whatever it is that the natural world seems to want to throw at me.  Grief piled on pain, crushing soul, debilitating function and all the while I look as though I am recovered.  I sit hours in my house acting out my part in this tragi-comedy. 

It’s no damn wonder I want out.  Anyone with a half a brain would see this is torture yet I eat and walk and stand up as though nothing has happened to break me in half and disapppear.

Tomorrow I will remember.  And I will cry again.  It will be torture and I will move into another day where time is 24 hours and all I want is to bury myself so I don’t have to endure it. 

If I get sick, a stranger will have to take care of me.  If I am well, I will live my days without happiness.   I never ever imagined that death would have me feel this way.   I always knew the love I had for my husband and he for me was irreversible but I just never followed life to its ultimate end and that would mean loss.  That if he went first that would mean he would disappear without my being able to understand the consequences.  Because that’s what this is.  I am unable to understand the consequences and so I struggle against the tide of not knowing.  Not understanding.  Feeling hollowed out.

Day after day.  Night after night.  Year after year.  It changes but remains the same.  How can it be?  Where are you my love?  Please come get me.

 

Comment by Hilary Christene on December 25, 2015 at 2:26pm

"the emptiness of the future just feels so crushing."

I'll raise a Christmas toast to that.

Comment by D on December 25, 2015 at 1:56pm

Well said John. I wish u the same.

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