One Month Today...
I thought I could stay here in our sanctuary without him , the home we rescued, our pride and joy and be happy with the memories. But they are haunting me, no... they are tearing me apart. Everywhere I look, everywhere I go in the yard, there my husband is. I should be comforted, yes... part of me is. But, part of me is ripped in two. Where is the peace we once shared? How do I mentally move on from this point?
How did you move on?
Physically? Emotionally? Mentally?
I had to let go of the man... do I let go of the home and dream that was such a big part of our lives together? They were one and the same. The man who provided, built, and shared a life with me only to have it taken against every effort we made to save it? I would feel like I failed him if I left it all and yet there is something here that tugs at me, that is unsettling. What is it? Can I really be happy here without him?
Peace to you,
Deb
Comments
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Home
Home, at first, seemed filled with too many memories at times. Now, after about 20 months, it brings me comfort. I have changed some things. I moved some furniture around and bought some new things, but other areas have stayed the same. I still hate coming home to an empty house, but I like being home. We lived here for over 30 years and raised our sons in this house. We remodeled after we retired and finished the remodel just days before Doug passed. He never got to use the new bathroom. Yes, it is different without him here, but it was different when the boys when off to college, too. At times the house feels empty, but at other times it is filled with love, memories and joy. The changing seasons of our lives, I guess. My only thought is that your grief is still very new. Give it time. Don't make any hasty decisions that you might regret later. I have made my home mine now. It will always be ours, too. In fact, I still find myself using the term our house most of the time. We still live here in so many ways. Our bedroom has a new bed, but the art on the wall is the same. His office in the house is now the guest room. His office in the garage is basically the same. That is how I have found my way, one step at a time. Fay0 -
Deb
Its been two months for me and I'm still counting days too. I always thought of my home as our sanctuary too and now it feels like a place of emptiness and sadness. But I know it won't always be. Someone here said about grief...that you can't go around it, you have to go through it. I keep reminding myself of that and for some reason it helps. I have to go through it, I can't escape it, but there will be a day that I realize I've come out the other side. I can't answer for you whether or not you'll be happy in your home with out him...but I think it's too soon to know. One month isn't long at all. Your grief is still new, and raw.
Hugs,
Karen0 -
My First Melt Down
I should have known it was coming... by the way I was writing I should have known something was up? Kind of dark for me. I love my house and where it sits. My husband and I have worked hard over the years, the clearing of bushes and trees to uncover the mess that surrounded it and brought beauty and light graced with sunsets... a sight never to tire of. Why would anyone want to leave this place? Well it's not paid for is one reason. It won't be an easy road to stay here financially but my husband's struggle wasn't easy either. I will do my best to honor that without completely losing myself.
This grief business swallows a person don't you think? Suffocates, smothers you so you can't breath or think. This whole cancer journey from start to end has been like this. My poor daughter doesn't know what to think of me now and she is also grieving the one person who treated her like a father should. "Should I stay, should I go? Does my mother need me?" Her mind is confused but her heart is in the right place. We had a long talk tonight... I hope it cleared the air of expectations for both of us. I certainly am not used to "room mates" just as she is not used to living with her mother any longer and she is not used to the responsibilities that come with owning a home. Two very independent people learning to treat each other like adults and not mother and daughter. Can this work?
Oh, heavy heart...
Bob... where are you? My husband who could do it all?
Thank you for all your support here... I especially need it now.
Peace to all.
Deb0 -
The countdown to what?...karenbeth said:Deb
Its been two months for me and I'm still counting days too. I always thought of my home as our sanctuary too and now it feels like a place of emptiness and sadness. But I know it won't always be. Someone here said about grief...that you can't go around it, you have to go through it. I keep reminding myself of that and for some reason it helps. I have to go through it, I can't escape it, but there will be a day that I realize I've come out the other side. I can't answer for you whether or not you'll be happy in your home with out him...but I think it's too soon to know. One month isn't long at all. Your grief is still new, and raw.
Hugs,
Karen
Deb, my heart grieves with yours. I can sense the anguish you must be feeling. I have never been one to "count" days in the past. Even special times. And I never allowed myself to look at a calender once Dennis was diagnosed. Do you know, it took someone saying that he survived eight months after being diagnosed for me to realize that?
Ah, yes, our homes. Every corner, every room reminders of the past together. Reminders of a future without them. This home was our dream fulfilled! I knew I would not leave it. Many family and friends worried, how could I stay here all alone in the country? How could I live surrounded by the memories?
For me there was no other choice, as this was my dream also. I could not let that go. We both put so much of ourselves into this home.
Yes, at first everything reminded me of him, and I would break down crying. But in the six months,eight days and one hour I have come to a place inside of me where I can now see his things and smile. For instance, I redid the front room in a western style. His beautiful black western Stetson hat is proudly displayed! His beautiful black boots sit on the hearth.
It wasn't easy at first, but with each day that passes, it gets better.
I pray for you dear one, may your broken heart begin to heal. May you be protected and provided for. That you remember that some of the dreams where yours, also, and that one day soon you will be strong enough to continue with those dreams.
Lucy0 -
my two centslovingwifedeb said:My First Melt Down
I should have known it was coming... by the way I was writing I should have known something was up? Kind of dark for me. I love my house and where it sits. My husband and I have worked hard over the years, the clearing of bushes and trees to uncover the mess that surrounded it and brought beauty and light graced with sunsets... a sight never to tire of. Why would anyone want to leave this place? Well it's not paid for is one reason. It won't be an easy road to stay here financially but my husband's struggle wasn't easy either. I will do my best to honor that without completely losing myself.
This grief business swallows a person don't you think? Suffocates, smothers you so you can't breath or think. This whole cancer journey from start to end has been like this. My poor daughter doesn't know what to think of me now and she is also grieving the one person who treated her like a father should. "Should I stay, should I go? Does my mother need me?" Her mind is confused but her heart is in the right place. We had a long talk tonight... I hope it cleared the air of expectations for both of us. I certainly am not used to "room mates" just as she is not used to living with her mother any longer and she is not used to the responsibilities that come with owning a home. Two very independent people learning to treat each other like adults and not mother and daughter. Can this work?
Oh, heavy heart...
Bob... where are you? My husband who could do it all?
Thank you for all your support here... I especially need it now.
Peace to all.
Deb
There is a place in my home, where I can look 15 feet one way through to the garden and see where Steve and I were married, and 15 feet in another direction, to the room where he passed last month. This is my home, that one moment makes me feel so raw and in agony at the thoughts of the future we did not have,my reason for being in this country even and in another moment so comforting and privileged to have such major life experiences so close to me. I am not talking mere bricks and mortar- I mean *home*, like you and Bob- hard long days where we planned and worked on the property and then enjoyed the sunset.
There have been days where I have cried out loud *Steve-where are you?* as though I might hear his voice, if I plead long and hard enough-as though he will step out into my vision, the well not the sick Steve and its all been one long nightmare since August- and the truthful answer is of course *all around you Lyndsey*.
Sending you a big Hug,knowing your pain only too well and knowing in my heart, that so many people here have walked the same path as you and I in these early days.
Lyndsey0 -
not looking forward to this dayUKLady said:my two cents
There is a place in my home, where I can look 15 feet one way through to the garden and see where Steve and I were married, and 15 feet in another direction, to the room where he passed last month. This is my home, that one moment makes me feel so raw and in agony at the thoughts of the future we did not have,my reason for being in this country even and in another moment so comforting and privileged to have such major life experiences so close to me. I am not talking mere bricks and mortar- I mean *home*, like you and Bob- hard long days where we planned and worked on the property and then enjoyed the sunset.
There have been days where I have cried out loud *Steve-where are you?* as though I might hear his voice, if I plead long and hard enough-as though he will step out into my vision, the well not the sick Steve and its all been one long nightmare since August- and the truthful answer is of course *all around you Lyndsey*.
Sending you a big Hug,knowing your pain only too well and knowing in my heart, that so many people here have walked the same path as you and I in these early days.
Lyndsey
I am not looking forward to the day I lose my Markie! I know it is inevitable. Seeing these posts by you all has brought tears to my eyes knowing that I will be in your shoes soon enough.
May God's love and peace be with you in this time of sorrow and heartache.
~Kelly0
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