Loss after three decade relationship.

It is by far, the worst kind of pain imaginable, losing someone who you loved, still love with all your heart. I'm so sorry for your loss, so sorry we have to "meet" under these circumstances. I have horrible memories in my house too. My husband fell in the guest bathroom, normally a very stoic man, in agony, begging me to help him. It was the first time, in the entire time we were together, that he ever cried out in pain. (No matter what he had to endure, he always said he was okay.) It took a very long time for the ambulance to arrive. When the paramedics arrived, they had a difficult time getting him out of our very small guest bathroom. They tore apart my house, flung open the linen closet door, the door stop flew off the door, and grabbed lots of sheets. They used the sheets to get him out of the bathroom and then brought a large stretcher into the house. My husband died, at 3:45 a.m. the next morning, still in the emergency room.

I was alone the night he fell, the entire time he was in the emergency room. My children don't live anywhere near me, but they managed to get us all on a conference call, they were on the phone the entire time I was in the emergency room, and my daughter remained on the phone with me much longer. The house was trashed. Muddy footprints everywhere. The throw pillows that were on the sofa, tossed on the floor... A chair from the kitchen in the living room (the paramedics first thought there might have been a way to use the chair to get my husband out of the bathroom), but..., the worst!!!, the bathroom, blood, urine, mud covering the floor, grimy fingerprints on the tub, sink... I was the most physically and emotionally drained, exhausted, that I have ever been, over 24 hours with no sleep. My daughter told me to try to sleep, forget about the mess, but I couldn't. My daughter stayed on speaker phone with me while I cleaned up the bathroom. There's so much more to this story, but, like you, my house holds too many bad memories. I haven't been able to leave the bathroom door open since this happened. I think that in the future, I'm going to move. Even though I don't want to be in this house, as of this moment, I don't trust myself to make any big decisions.

Sending lots of hugs your way, wishing you peace, all of us peace.

 

I'm so sorry for your loss. These six words don't adequately express my feelings, they seem so shallow... I don't think there are any words that can express what I truly want to say. Losing the love of your life is way beyond heartbreaking...

One thing you said, hit me hard. Without my husband, being alone, and lonely, in our house, are two of the most painful feelings. It's all the little things, the shared stories about seemingly meaningless things, the things I want so desperately to tell my husband when I get back from running an errand, visiting a neighbor, etc... It's the all encompassing silence... My husband's empty chair at the kitchen table... Looking forward to just staying home, watching a movie together.... Listening to the rain hit the roof, while we're lying together in bed, tired, ready to fall asleep...

It's all these small things and so much more.... The world now seems like a very scary and dark place. I can't imagine my future without my "person," but I know deep in my heart, there is a reason why I'm still here. (I'm getting off track now, so I'll save the rest for another time.)

I lost my train of thought, I haven't been able to sleep much since my husband died (it'll be four months in three days), and lack of sleep makes it hard for me to not only remember what I wanted to say, but to find the right words to say it too. So for now, sending you hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace.

 

Deb, you are an extremely brave woman.
I watched my wife, Linda, fall to the
floor in a rehab unit, where she was
undergoing physical therapy for breast
cancer. I asked her if I could help her.
She said, "I can't talk. Push the button."
Nurse wasn't at her station. I ran down
the hall to get help. My last image of my
wife, Linda, was her favorite nurse & others helping her off the floor. I went
out of the room. Looking at the strange
way Linda fell, I knew it was over.All
hell broke loose. The rescue squad tried
to revive Linda, but her nurse came over
to me & whispered that Linda had no
pulse. A PT woman put her arm around
me while I sobbed uncontrollably. One
ambulance took Linda & they were still
trying to revive her on way to ER. I was
numb, in the ambulance following Linda.
Linda was dead on arrival. I was numb.
The ER doctor & nurses were concerned
about me & suggested a 5 night stay in a
psychiatric unit right before the family
holiday of Thanksgiving. Since I had no
family or friends, I went. It's been a long
climb from extreme bereavement,
loneliness, depression, & suicidal
ideations. Upon discharge, I spoke
with a kind psychiatric nurse practioner.
She suggested Grief in Common, but I
wasn't ready. Thank you for baring your
raw emotions on this safe site. I'm here
for Karen (cjpines), Don Con, Jim (one-man), & others. I'm here for you, Deb,
anytime. Lou (Van Gogh)

 

EMS came as well. He fell in his mancave on top of his motorized chair. He was trapped with it on top of him. He was screaming for help. I could not get him untangled. I need to move for my own sanity. This house was his pride and joy. The walls close in on me. Packing has been very hard. I boxed up his special items and his military to put in storage for a future date.
This house is big, yard and the rest. I needed something smaller. No yard to maintain and its new. I know how hard it is for you. My heart and prayers are with you. Where do you live?

 

I am so sorry…. Words do not ever express what we feel when we lose our “other half.” Items I see, rooms in the house, music on the radio, a store we visited all makes me cry. No one knows until they experience themselves… one thing we have is each other from different parts of the country united in loss of our loved one.

 

Don Con, may I ask your 1st name &
your husband's? It helps me to say
Linda's name, bc her spirit is with me.
My name is Lou. I chose Van Gogh, bc
he's my favorite painter. The poor man
was a tortured soul, who never knew
how famous he'd be after his death. Lou

 

My name is Connie, my husband Don…

 

It seems that words are hard to find that would adequately express what one wants to say. The feelings of loss go beyond the limits of words.

The small things, picking a loaf of bread, watching the snow fall, those things are the things that make this life. Sharing those small things is what is so important.
I know how it feels to sit at the table and be the only person there. Missing that kind of moment. Every time.

How does one find the comfort to sleep at night after the end of a 30 year relationship? I'm not sure. When the comfort and consistent company of that special person is no longer there, it is difficult. We were usually routine when going to bed, and waking up. I have tried to maintain the same routine over the past six weeks. It hasn't worked. She isn't there when I go to bed. There is a certain amount of tossing and turning. In the morning I have to almost force myself to get out of bed. This is not like me, to be this way.
I hope you and the rest of us are able to somehow get the rest each of us needs. Somehow.
The void is hard to understand.

 

No, they are not here on earth any longer. We have remained. It is for us to find a way to carry on. Our loss and others is a shock to our everyday existence. Our life as we knew it is gone. The night my husband died I told my granddaughter my life has forever been changed. I left him to be cremated and me to head home without him. I have to find a way somehow to carry on. Each day I say I have survived 10 days, 23 now days. My thoughts are with you and thank you for sharing your heartfelt loss…

 

Yes, we did. He was honeybear and I was called Connie bear. We had a sign in his man cave . A bear that stated, “a bear lives here with his honey.”

 

You were an amazing couple. Linda called
me "sweetie". I was embarrassed once
bc a cab driver said to her, " Thanks for
calling me sweetie". I found it difficult
to call her a name like that, so I simply
said, " My love". L

 

Yes, they are no longer here. And the life we had is gone.
Yes, each of us has to find a new life. It will not be easy. At some point I will say, "Okay, my life has changed. What do I want in this life?"
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

 

Lou,

Your story has left me teary eyed... I'm so very sorry, actually speechless, "listening" to what you had to endure. I can't imagine in my wildest dreams anything worse than being totally unprepared, no warning, watching the love of your life, your "person," die right in front of you... I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone. No one should have to be alone when a loved one dies. Although my children couldn't be with me physically, at least they were there emotionally for me, even if it was just by phone. Although they were on the phone the entire time, I needed to be hugged, to have my family wrap our arms around each other, to cry together... I can't even begin to imagine how alone you must have felt, with absolutely no one to comfort you, except medical staff... My heart goes out to you...

Reading your story, I think you're not only a very brave person, but also a very strong person too. You've been through so much, and have climbed your way out of the darkest, deepest hole, and are now back on your grief journey... doing everything you can to get to the end of this miserable path, full of detours, sadness, but with hope that once you've made it to the end, you will find some sort of happiness again (although it will never be the same without Linda by your side), a purpose, contentment, and peace.

Thank you for being here for me. It's such a relief to have a "safe" place to express my feelings, to feel understood, and to make new friends who truly "get it." I want you to know I'm here for you too. Sending you lots of hugs, wishing you peace, all of us peace.

 

DonCon,

Thank you so much. I really appreciate the prayers and you being here for me. I feel like I have PTSD. My husband will have been gone four months this Wednesday. I can't get the pictures from the last night he was in our house out of my mind. I can't get the sound of his voice begging me to help him out of my mind. I can't forget how horrible I felt, how powerless I felt, when I couldn't help him. I'm so sorry you had a similar experience to mine. There are no words to describe the pain of having to watch the love of your life, suffer in agony, and know there is nothing you can do to help him. My heart goes out to you...

You are stronger than I am. Not only do I have to stay away from the guest bathroom, but also I can't go into the room where my husband's hospital bed was. I can't even begin to imagine having to pack, to go through everything that's in the closet in that room. So many boxes, filled with pictures, our first date, our wedding album, special Christmas ornaments, some from the time when Hallmark used to let you personalize them. I used to give my husband and each one of my children a special ornament every year. We used to talk about all the beautiful memories the ornaments brought back, while we decorated our tree. Stopping here, I'm getting off track, but I know you understand...

Although my house is small, like you, I don't want to have to take care of the yard. Although I prefer to live in a house, I want to purchase a condo or townhouse, with very little maintenance. Although my husband will always be the one love of my life, and will always have a huge place in my heart, I need to make a fresh start, move to an area where everything in it, doesn't remind me of him. Like you, I need to move to preserve my sanity.

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

 

My husband will have been gone four months on Wednesday. Even though he wasn't able to sleep in our bed for almost a year before he died, I still can't sleep alone at night, without him next to me. I have to take melatonin about an hour before I go to bed in order to fall asleep. I can't stay asleep. I wake up frequently during the night, sometimes I can fall back asleep, but other times, memories, some good, some bad, pop in and out of my mind, and keep me awake. I wake up crying, wanting so much just to be able to cuddle up next to my husband, fall asleep in his arms...

I still have to force myself to get out of bed most mornings. My husband is my motivation for getting up. No matter how much pain he was in, he always found something to be grateful for each and every day. He wasn't ready to die. He didn't want hospice. He used to always say that everyday he was "on the right side of the dirt," was a good day. I want my husband to be proud of me. While I don't understand why he was taken from me, why he had to suffer so much, I do believe things happen for a reason. I know there is a reason why I am still on this earth. I know my husband would want me to be happy. I want to make my husband proud of me. While at this moment, I can't imagine being happy again, I hope that someday, I will find my purpose, find contentment, find some sort of happiness again (although it will never be the same without my husband with me), and peace. I pray for this for all of us.

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

 

Dear Deb, my friend in grief. I went to bed
at 9:30pm, so I missed your long message
to me. I happened to wake up at midnight
& checked my emails. You are so kind to
call me brave, and to wish me peace. I
feel that way about you, Deb, & the others
here. I've become more spiritual since
Linda's death. I'm grateful she was able to
travel to Eutope, with friends, when she
was in her early 20s. I never went. When
I turned 40, before I met Linda, I went
with a group to Israel. At one point, I
walked away from the group, and sat on
a stone wall on a shady street in the
holy, unique city of Jerusalem. I felt the
presence of God. Now, I walk down to the
ocean, in my small town, and watch the
changing tides. I feel God's presence
again when I sit on the same bench that
Linda & I say on, when we looked out to
sea, together. Today, I went alone to a
music festival in a lush green meadow.
When I went 2 years ago, I cried bc I
missed Linda so much & felt so alone.
I didn't cry today. I felt grateful to be
alive in a place I can finally call home.
An older man, in a cowboy hat, in a
motorized wheelchair, sang softly in
front of me. 2 women way in the back
demanded that he sing louder. I looked
into his eyes, & said the women could
move their lawn chairs & get closer to
him. He smiled & sang in a pleasing
Southern accent. I told him about Linda.
The man looked at me, & quietly nodded,
and said, this next song is for Lou about
Linda. He sang "Amazing Grace" & moved
me to tears. I grew up in the Jewish faith,
and my wife was Catholic. But, holy
music, like Christmas carols or Ave
Maria, sung by Pavarotti, have always
touched Linda's heart and mind. I told
the mysterious stranger that God sent him
to me today, so that I wouldn't feel so
alone. A younger friend showed up
later, & I pointed out the man, & recounted
the events of the day. My friend had seen
Linda's memorial, with her name, ( her
ashes inside, at my apartment. When I
told him the story of the kind older
man dedicating his song to Linda and me,
he had tears in his eyes. You are right that
I feel stronger. My belief in God & in the
"kindness of strangers" like you, Deb,
keeps me going. Thank you & God
Bless You. Lou

 

Correction: Because I'm bleary eyed, I
made errors. I meant to say, I sat on a bench with Linda. Also, the holy music
touched Linda's heart and MINE. Now, I
can go back to sleep and look forward
to future emails from you and other
friends here. L