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We had to say Goodbye :(

Posts: 7
Joined: Jan 2009

Hi all. I wrote for the 1st time around January 15th or so and posted about my husbands journey and battle with cancer.
Unfortunately this wasn't our battle too win. My husband lost his fight with cancer last Sunday February 8th. It has been 1 week today and I just can't believe all that has happened. The week preceeding up to his death went so fast. His health changed from day to day and I feel so robbed of not getting the chance to talk about everything and say our final goodbyes. On Dec. 1st we were told he had 6-12 months to live and we only got 2 months. We weren't ready for this at all. I am happy though that my husband entered hospice in our home on Friday afternoon Feb. 6th and passed early Sunday the 8th. I am glad he didn't have to suffer for a long time in that state and I am glad I was by his side the entire time.
This is going to be the toughest time getting through our 12 1/2 years of marriage and 18 years of life together without him. I am just in a fog and don't want to do anything. I feel like I went from a speedy rollercoaster ride to slamming into a wall and I don't have any focus or direction.
I miss my husband dearly and I missed him so much on V-day. His birthday is this Friday the 20th too. Where does my 6 1/2 year old daughter and I pick up?
Struggling today and probably for a while.

hunpot's picture
Posts: 90
Joined: Nov 2008

My thoughts and prayers are with you during this difficult time. The only thing about cancer is the not knowing how long, they can tell you 6-12 but never really know for sure.
Try to have peace knowing you were there for him everyday through this terrible time and that im sure he found comfort in your support and love. Try to remember the time you two shared and all the love the both of you had for the past 18yrs. The days and months ahead will be hard but take care of yourself and think about what he would want for you and your daughter. He would want you both to be sad but yet try to move on and be happy, safe , healthy and live life to the fullest. Make him proud. Thats how i seem to get by is by saying what my mom would want for me. Its very difficult. My mom passed one month before her 58th bday then came all the holidays, was very hard to celebrate but on her birthday i just went and sat at the grave for hours cried and cried and tried to remember special days of our times together. Give your daughter some special things to remember her dad keep something special aside for when shes older she can remember. My dad passed when i was 11yrs old and i dont remember much about him being so young. I can say i dont have anything to remember my dad by just pictures so if dad had a favorite shirt, collectible, hairbrush, slippers, give her a few items but put a few away(jewerly) because we all know being so young you lose or ruin things and they get lost but if you save something and when she turns older it will be something she will have for her adult life and trust me she will be happy. For now wear his Pjs or shirt to keep him close by and have a favorite picture blown up for the wall to look at and smile and remember. May god be with you during this time and may you find comfort knowing he is no longer suffering and one day you will be with him again for now its time to take care of that precious girl you both brought into this world and make him happy up above while hes watching over the both of you.

Cindy54's picture
Posts: 454
Joined: Aug 2006

I am sorry to hear of this loss for you. No matter how prepared we think we are when we receive a diagnosis of cancer, it is still a shock when the end doesn't turn out to be the one we had hoped for. Mu Mom was given two weeks with a diagnosis of ovarian. They did a surgery and she fought for 18 months. No one really can put a time on cancer. I am sure you said what you needed to say to your husband many times, not just during his illness. Please don't torture yourself thinking you didn't say or do enough. We all have been there.You need to be kind to yourself and your daughter. One hour at a time, one minute at a time if you have to. Maybe on the 20th, you and your daughter could do something special, just the two of you to remember both the husband and the Dad. Do wht feels right to you. One of the best part's of your husband is still with you...your daughter. Hugs to both of you. Cindy

RE's picture
Posts: 4641
Joined: Feb 2004

There just are no words I can say that will ease your pain, that said I truly am sorry for your and your daughters loss. I know it is too soon right now, but perhaps in a week or so you and your little daughter could go somewhere together for the day just to get out and start to rebuild. Life will be different but I am betting with your little one by your side you will find strength you never knew you had. Please know that you will both in my prayers.


MR_SAD's picture
Posts: 91
Joined: Nov 2008

I can understand what you are going thru. Time has been robbed from us. The days are long and lonly. Just know you are not alone on this journey. We are all hear to help each other in any way you may need. You will have to try and be as strong as you can for your daughter. You will always have a part of him in her. If I did not have my boys it would be so much harder for me. I try and focus on them and doing the day to day things that Cahty did to make this place our Home. It doesn't get any easier, I hope in time I will feel like Living again. The holidays are the Hardest and With his Birthday coming it only makes it that much more difficult. Maybe you and your daughter could do something special on the 20th. It will take time to heal, I am getting better each day. Next week will be two months since I lost my Cathy. I stayed in that fog you are in for the first month. It will slowly start to clear and the days will get better for you, It is just going to take some time.
Your Friend

soccerfreaks's picture
Posts: 2801
Joined: Sep 2006

itsallgood, my thoughts are with you. It will indeed be a tough time, for both you and your child.

Know that the end of your husband's life does not mean the end of your relationship with the people at this site, if you do not want it to be, as evidenced by the posts above.

Like the others, I am sorry for your loss and offer my condolences. They (my condolences}, like words, mean little to you now.

Your grief, believe it or not, will not last forever, at least not in such a strong way as you feel it now. The impact on your daughter, however, may have lasting implications.

Please be strong, please be there for her, please help her to get through the loss of her dad.

A focus on that is likely to help you as well.

Take care,


angelsbaby's picture
Posts: 1171
Joined: May 2008

I will be where you are now very soon My husband to is dying we fought for almost 2yrs but it wasn't to be for him . He is having it rough vomiting nothing stays down hospice is there to help but it is heartwrenching to watch him suffer no pain but vomits everything he puts in even if its ice chips.I love him so much i will miss him .

I know i have to be strong I hope i can do it.


Posts: 5
Joined: Jan 2009

I lost my husband of 35 years three and a half weeks ago. I miss him something awful. My family won't let me sit around and feel sorry for myself. I have yet to spend a whole day by myself and eat dinner at home alone. I cry in the morning and in the grocery store. All I have to do is see something he would have enjoyed eating and I tear up. This site really does help. I may not write often but just reading that I'm not alone helps. No two of us grieve in the same way. Don't be afraid to ask for help.

terato's picture
Posts: 383
Joined: Apr 2002

The Mask We Wear
by Michael Domingos
As we stumble through our journey of grief, life lessons can come from the most unexpected places. A couple of
years ago I went to see Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Phantom of the Opera. I had always been intrigued by the story, so
seeing the play for the first time was captivating. The Phantom’s name was Erik. He was a man with many talents,
including music, architecture, magic, and science. Yet, despite these gifts, people were afraid of him because of his
disfigured face. To conceal his identity, the Phantom wore a mask and lived beneath the Paris Opera House.
Erik fell in love with an aspiring young singer named Christine and began to share his
musical gift with her. As he played for her beneath the Opera House, Christine crept
behind him to remove the mask. Slowly she reached around him until she felt the cold
texture on his face. Sensing what was about to happen, Erik desperately turned to hide
the horror beneath. But it was too late. Looking into the eyes of the Phantom, it was
impossible to tell who was more frightened.
As I continued watching the play, I began to empathize with the Phantom. I realized
that I had not been that different from him. In the months following my wife’s death, I
would face the mirror each morning and I, too, saw a mask in the reflection. While the Phantom hid behind an
expressionless piece of ceramic, I wore a prosthetic smile to show that I was “okay.” I would clench my teeth as a
display of perseverance, and the muscles in my face would strain from this act. As I continued pretending to be
“okay,” my grief was suffocating underneath. As if trapped under ice on a lake, the emotions frantically looked for
ways to break through. Pieces of my mask began to chip away revealing the pain underneath. Like the Phantom I
was afraid of what others might think when the mask was lifted.
Thankfully, there is a supporting environment where we can express our grief. We can remove the mask of being
“okay” that we wear in our everyday lives. It is a comforting sight to look around the room and see that others have
removed their masks as well. It is this comfort that allows us to share our experiences and affirm our individual
feelings. Through the experiences of others, we realize that we are not alone.
Attending a grief support group also helped me to gain a new perspective on everyday life. After my first visit, I
donned my mask again but with a renewed sense of hope. I knew that I only had to wear it for a few days until the
next support group meeting. The prosthetic smile seemed to fit easier with each passing day. Each visit to the
support group would bring healing oxygen to the wounds beneath the mask. The muscles in my face relaxed from
the twisted knots. An authentic smile overpowered the cosmetic smile that I had been wearing.
The mask had not been violently ripped off my face but gradually removed of my own accord. Although the scars
remained, it felt good to feel the air on my face again. What I learned from this experience is that as a society we
still struggle with the subject of death. Using the analogy of the Phantom of the Opera, imagine the perspective of
Christine as she stood face to face with the Phantom. To look beneath the mask of somebody grieving would be like
seeing our own mortality. Our mask serves as a buffer between society and the fear of death. At the same time, the
anonymity of a mask can protect us while we are grieving as it covers the jagged edges of our emotions.
Although it provides a coping mechanism, the mask will deteriorate and expose what it is underneath. It is our
choice what this reveals. It is by allowing these feelings to breathe that the wounds of grief heal. As for the Phantom
of the Opera, the play ends and life continues. One day I may look in the mirror and see that mask again.
Thankfully, Halloween only comes once a year.


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