How do I give a fuck?

PuckIt

Literotica Guru
Joined
Jul 8, 2017
Posts
2,525
My wife passed away on 10/05/17.

I suppose in one way, it was not a surprise. We'd been classified as disabled from 2010 and become largely housebound. We'd each been told that our life expectancy wasn't great.

But, life went on. We were pretty much pulled over into the slow lane, but it was just keeping on. We gave up our vehicles, and virtually everything else we could figure out that had any value, in an effort to keep our house. And then lost our house.

Day after slow day, we watched as people pulled away, caught up in the speed of their own lives, and we were left alone with each other and our "fur babies" as our only companions. Hours, days, weeks, and months ticked by with only each other for company (other than my forays on here).

Our children are grown. Hell, one of our grandchildren we've barely met is grown enough to have given us a great grandchild we haven't.

The day in question, I wasn't doing anything. Nothing really important anyway.

A while back, I'd discovered Literotica.com and eventually created the user Acktion and hung out here until we lost the house. In the move I'd lost the email and password for that user name. When I got around to getting back on, I created the user Ewobbit. When we lost electricity and internet for awhile, I couldn't get on here. Just this past July, when I was once again able to think about Literotica.com, I had forgotten Ewobbit's username and password. So, I created a new one.

All three times, I've been much more interested in writing (for some definitions of writing) and publishing my stories (for some definitions of story), but I didn't completely ignore the forums. (Except the GB. Made that mistake once, and that was enough.) Mostly, I hung out in the AH and HT and HTCafe.

That fucking day, I was sitting here typing away on what I was hoping might be a story to submit for Halloween in between cruising the threads while I waited for her to wake up and tell me how she wanted to spend our time. I have absolutely no idea what time she faded away. In my ignorance, I was just happy she was finally able to get some rest as she laid there less than three feet away, on her side so that all she would have had to do was open her eyes to see me sitting here. Her favorite sleep position.

It wasn't until six o'clock that evening I thought she needed to eat something and moved to wake her. Only to find her cold and stiff.

It was the exact nightmare I've had for a long time now. That she would fade away, just like she did, and I wouldn't even realize she was gone, just like I didn't.

Not knowing what else to do, I called the emergency services even though I knew she was long past any help. EMS came and left. The police came and stayed. And stayed. And stayed. Two hours later, they wheeled her body by me.

Her son (my stepson) and his wife came the next morning and stayed with me. Helped me to go through the small place we'd washed up in to collect the clothing that was hers and hers alone. To collect knickknacks and keepsakes I knew she would want them to have. They did all the laundry for me, including the sheets and comforter from the bed. They did all the dishes for me. It was good that they did those two things as, frankly, I really can't find it in me to give a shit about it. My method of dealing with the dishes and laundry would be to throw it all in the fucking garbage and do without.

They left on Sunday.

My elderly father and step-mother came to visit me on Monday for the entire afternoon. They shouldn't even be driving. Neither of them are in good health. But, they wanted to be here for me. I want to appreciate it, but the whole time they were here, I just wanted them to leave.

Until finally they did and I wanted them to come back so I wouldn't be here alone with my pain.

I finally slept more than 1-3 hours today for the first time since I found her. Normally, I'm just sitting here doing nothing. I get on the computer and try to find stuff, but close it again unread. I open a book, but even my favorites I often reread I just close and put back on the shelf. Movies and television shows... I can't. When I try, I look to her to make a comment or to see what she thinks and she isn't there.

A lifetime ago, I studied to be a counselor before I changed my mind and went another direction professionally. As part of it, I learned all about the grieving process and how to help someone grieve.

Or so I thought.

Those classes, those professors, those textbooks; all were so full of shit they should have been a world of brown.

Emptiness? God, I could wish to feel an emptiness inside me. All I feel is cold clawing fingers reaching inside me and shredding and squeezing and shredding and squeezing my heart in an alternating rhythm.

The only person who has ever seen beneath every layer of masks I wear and loved me, not despite but because of what she found there, is gone.

Intellectually, I know the answer is time. I know to get up in the morning to feed the dog and three cats. (Magic, the fourth, passed away in... June?) I know that I take the dog outside and scoop the litter box. I know to repeat the process in the evening before I lay down next to where she left me to try to sleep. Maybe that's enough. It doesn't feel like it.

But, honest to God, beyond that, I am completely at a loss. I don't even know enough to know what I should be thinking about doing that I'm not. I've had to rely on her for so long to tell me what to do when it was something she couldn't take care of herself as my memory and my mind weakened. The only thing like a job or hobby I had was writing stories or cruising the Lit boards. Other than that, my entire life was taking care of the animals, spending time with her, and doing what she told me needed to be done.

Many, many years ago, I was dual-diagnosed as a sex addict with codependency. (and yes, she knew.) Earlier this evening, I found myself trying to search porn and masturbate in an attempt to escape, just for a little while. It didn't work.

Nothing is working. Even the animals which I do love and know she did, which I will live under an overpass to keep rather than give up, have become almost a resentment to me.

I don't want to talk to anybody. But, I don't want to suffer in silence.
I don't want to see anyone. But, I don't want to be alone.
I don't want to do anything. But, I don't want to sit here and do nothing.

I don't know what I want anymore other than five more fucking minutes with her. And I despise myself for being a selfish son of a bitch for wanting her to continue her life of pain she finally left behind and so peacefully and gracefully, just to comfort me.

Someone. Please tell me. How do I find it in me to give a fuck what happens next? Tell me what it is I should even be thinking about that I've forgotten.
 
My wife passed away on 10/05/17.

I suppose in one way, it was not a surprise. We'd been classified as disabled from 2010 and become largely housebound. We'd each been told that our life expectancy wasn't great.

But, life went on. We were pretty much pulled over into the slow lane, but it was just keeping on. We gave up our vehicles, and virtually everything else we could figure out that had any value, in an effort to keep our house. And then lost our house.

Day after slow day, we watched as people pulled away, caught up in the speed of their own lives, and we were left alone with each other and our "fur babies" as our only companions. Hours, days, weeks, and months ticked by with only each other for company (other than my forays on here).

Our children are grown. Hell, one of our grandchildren we've barely met is grown enough to have given us a great grandchild we haven't.

The day in question, I wasn't doing anything. Nothing really important anyway.

A while back, I'd discovered Literotica.com and eventually created the user Acktion and hung out here until we lost the house. In the move I'd lost the email and password for that user name. When I got around to getting back on, I created the user Ewobbit. When we lost electricity and internet for awhile, I couldn't get on here. Just this past July, when I was once again able to think about Literotica.com, I had forgotten Ewobbit's username and password. So, I created a new one.

All three times, I've been much more interested in writing (for some definitions of writing) and publishing my stories (for some definitions of story), but I didn't completely ignore the forums. (Except the GB. Made that mistake once, and that was enough.) Mostly, I hung out in the AH and HT and HTCafe.

That fucking day, I was sitting here typing away on what I was hoping might be a story to submit for Halloween in between cruising the threads while I waited for her to wake up and tell me how she wanted to spend our time. I have absolutely no idea what time she faded away. In my ignorance, I was just happy she was finally able to get some rest as she laid there less than three feet away, on her side so that all she would have had to do was open her eyes to see me sitting here. Her favorite sleep position.

It wasn't until six o'clock that evening I thought she needed to eat something and moved to wake her. Only to find her cold and stiff.

It was the exact nightmare I've had for a long time now. That she would fade away, just like she did, and I wouldn't even realize she was gone, just like I didn't.

Not knowing what else to do, I called the emergency services even though I knew she was long past any help. EMS came and left. The police came and stayed. And stayed. And stayed. Two hours later, they wheeled her body by me.

Her son (my stepson) and his wife came the next morning and stayed with me. Helped me to go through the small place we'd washed up in to collect the clothing that was hers and hers alone. To collect knickknacks and keepsakes I knew she would want them to have. They did all the laundry for me, including the sheets and comforter from the bed. They did all the dishes for me. It was good that they did those two things as, frankly, I really can't find it in me to give a shit about it. My method of dealing with the dishes and laundry would be to throw it all in the fucking garbage and do without.

They left on Sunday.

My elderly father and step-mother came to visit me on Monday for the entire afternoon. They shouldn't even be driving. Neither of them are in good health. But, they wanted to be here for me. I want to appreciate it, but the whole time they were here, I just wanted them to leave.

Until finally they did and I wanted them to come back so I wouldn't be here alone with my pain.

I finally slept more than 1-3 hours today for the first time since I found her. Normally, I'm just sitting here doing nothing. I get on the computer and try to find stuff, but close it again unread. I open a book, but even my favorites I often reread I just close and put back on the shelf. Movies and television shows... I can't. When I try, I look to her to make a comment or to see what she thinks and she isn't there.

A lifetime ago, I studied to be a counselor before I changed my mind and went another direction professionally. As part of it, I learned all about the grieving process and how to help someone grieve.

Or so I thought.

Those classes, those professors, those textbooks; all were so full of shit they should have been a world of brown.

Emptiness? God, I could wish to feel an emptiness inside me. All I feel is cold clawing fingers reaching inside me and shredding and squeezing and shredding and squeezing my heart in an alternating rhythm.

The only person who has ever seen beneath every layer of masks I wear and loved me, not despite but because of what she found there, is gone.

Intellectually, I know the answer is time. I know to get up in the morning to feed the dog and three cats. (Magic, the fourth, passed away in... June?) I know that I take the dog outside and scoop the litter box. I know to repeat the process in the evening before I lay down next to where she left me to try to sleep. Maybe that's enough. It doesn't feel like it.

But, honest to God, beyond that, I am completely at a loss. I don't even know enough to know what I should be thinking about doing that I'm not. I've had to rely on her for so long to tell me what to do when it was something she couldn't take care of herself as my memory and my mind weakened. The only thing like a job or hobby I had was writing stories or cruising the Lit boards. Other than that, my entire life was taking care of the animals, spending time with her, and doing what she told me needed to be done.

Many, many years ago, I was dual-diagnosed as a sex addict with codependency. (and yes, she knew.) Earlier this evening, I found myself trying to search porn and masturbate in an attempt to escape, just for a little while. It didn't work.

Nothing is working. Even the animals which I do love and know she did, which I will live under an overpass to keep rather than give up, have become almost a resentment to me.

I don't want to talk to anybody. But, I don't want to suffer in silence.
I don't want to see anyone. But, I don't want to be alone.
I don't want to do anything. But, I don't want to sit here and do nothing.

I don't know what I want anymore other than five more fucking minutes with her. And I despise myself for being a selfish son of a bitch for wanting her to continue her life of pain she finally left behind and so peacefully and gracefully, just to comfort me.

Someone. Please tell me. How do I find it in me to give a fuck what happens next? Tell me what it is I should even be thinking about that I've forgotten.



I am so deeply sorry for your loss, Acktion. My heart just breaks for you.

I haven’t lost a partner but I have lost a child and grief is now a friend of mine. Though when it is fresh and raw, as you’re feeling it now, it is a fucking dreadful experience and the loneliest of them all, because there is no one that actually knows YOUR grief and it is difficult, if not impossible, to imagine there will ever be a time you will feel less engulfed by its presence and less maimed by your loss. However you are right in that the answer is time, but even in time you feel it - like a pebble in your shoe as you go about your day it’s always there and always hurting, you just kind of get used to the hurt. It becomes part of your story, but you’re a long way from the pebble, and you’re drowning in grief’s waves.

The only thing that really got me through was living moment to moment, wave to wave. It is ok to feel absolutely everything that you’re feeling, let yourself feel it but know it won’t feel like that particular feeling forever or even maybe, five seconds from now. When each wave of grief hits know that it is ok to let it pull you under for a while and know that it will eventually spit you out for some air before the next hit. Time will do it’s work, it always does, but for now all you can do is feel it and, so very sadly, go through it.

I am so sorry for the losses you both have suffered, I can't imagine how awful it must be. I wish I could say more but I have no words.
My heart goes out to you both. :heart::heart::rose::rose:
 
I don't know you. I don't know your story. I've never read your stories or knew any of your old usernames.

I've spent the last several hours grieving for you. Your story here will stay with me for a while.

In your loss I feel a gain. Some deeper understanding of this life and this universe, of a man's love. But your loss is not about me. Your lack of solace, of completion, of purpose... is not something I can fix.

I feel strongly that her last moments we're of watching you, feeling a contentment in seeing you do your thing.

I have no answers to your question. But I have gratitude for you posting, for your words and for your bravery. Even if you feel more desperation than bravery. My words here will probably mean little or nothing to you - I don't expect that they should. However your words here mean a great deal to me.

You have my most sincere condolences and my most profound gratitude.
 
I'm so sorry, Acktion. I can't even imagine.

From my own personal experiences with grief:
Sometimes it is going to be so intense that curling into a ball and letting it overwhelm you is the only thing you can do. Let it happen, and when it ebbs slightly, uncurl and do what needs done that day, but be easy on yourself. Grief will be in charge for a while. Eventually it will happen less often, but I've found it never goes away completely.

Talk about the person you are missing often, and to everyone who will listen. Talk about what made them special. Share the silly, and the sad, and what drove you crazy about them. There are many of us here who would be more than happy to listen.

Talk to them, or write letters. I still go talk to my parents and they've both been gone over 20 years. Being a massive dork, I keep a bath mat in my trunk, and when I need to, I go sit and chat. I can still hear their voices in my head (more my mother than my dad, but she never let him get in a word edgewise when they were still alive either. )

So I say again, I am so so sorry. Be gentle with yourself. You have lost a piece of your heart. It will keep beating, but it will never be the same, and it will take time to recover. Take it one day at a time, one moment at a time, one breath at at time.
 
My deepest sympathy for your loss. A year ago, my wife of 45 years, just up and left. No reason why. No I'm sorry, but I have to go. She just packed her bags and left. I was crushed. I felt exactly like you do now. I threw myself into my writing. It took months and months, but I finally started to give a fuck about what happened next.

Then, I had a heart attack(my second, but fourteen years apart) and quintuple bypass surgery. That was back in July. I still give a fuck about what happens next.

How I got here, was forcing myself to meet new people. Mostly the doctors and nurses at the hospital to begin with. Then just people that live by me. I still see the nurses at the hospital when I go for my rehab. It picks up my spirits each day.

I do so hope you find yourself. You may want to find a group of people just like yourself, talking helps. It really does.

Again my condolences to you and your family. I'm so sorry you lost a loved one.

Zeb. :rose::heart:
 
So sorry for your loss, PuckIt. Words can never express condolences very well, but I hope it helps to know that people all over the world are thinking of you and feeling for you.
 
I read your post yesterday, and it is still resonating with me...I can't tell you how bad I feel for your loss. Your posting here can be a start to tell your story of your life together, to make it so its never forgotten. I wish I could say something to make it better....we have strengths within us sometimes we don't know about....

Thinking of you,
 
Sigh. :(

I am so sorry for your loss.

Yes, time will pass and the pain will...not so much lessen but move a little further back. I have not lost a partner but my lifelong best friend committed suicide a year ago. I thought I would never draw another deep breath. As the year has passed, I can begin to see beyond, or at least, around the pain. I miss her every day but the clawing, ripping pain has turned into a dull ache that I can live with...maybe someday even that will diminish.

What can you do? Write. You write beautifully. All of us would care about your loss regardless of your eloquence but your post made me FEEL it. Write. Get it out of you. Will it change anything? No. You will still have to put one foot in front of the other as you move through this but maybe purging your feelings, your thoughts...your pain onto paper will give you a little space to breath.

I hope so. You are in my thoughts.
 
I am so sorry this happened to you. I know from experience that this kind of thing is the absolute worst thing that can happen to someone. It can be pure hell that makes every other thing just seem petty and stupid. It never really gets completely better, but it does get better. You just have to survive until that happens.

Just try to survive until you can live again. Please. Trust me. It will happen.
 
Well, October fucking sucked.

As I stated in my original post, I lost my wife on 10/5.

The kids were down that weekend and we cleared out the house. A part of me felt it was too soon to be doing that. But, they had a point. It was painful to see stuff like the sleep shirts she wore all the time. And, she wasn't going to be coming back for it.

The following weekend, they held a wake in their hometown, over five hours away. I am not able to travel like that, and so my Father and Step-mother and some family and friends came here and we held a memorial.

The weekend after that, the kids stopped by on their way to spread her ashes and we had another memorial, just they and I and one friend.

Then, life decided to fuck with me some more. My step-mother died the following Friday, 10/27.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

I couldn't be said to be even remotely dealing with my own grief and now I had to be there to support my 80 year old father through his. My sister summed it up eloquently when I called her since no one else could reach her. "Well, Jehosophat."

We've spent the week dealing with that including a full funeral on Wednesday.

I grew up in a small town, population 2k+. Everybody and their dogs knows my father who worked for the school and attended the First Baptist Church. And, by extension, me. For hours I had people walking up to me and asking me if I knew who they were. Which, with very few exceptions, I did not. And, of course, they were expressing their condolences to Dad for his wife and then me for mine.

Alfred Lord Tennyson was a dick.

Alright, maybe not. But, I'm getting really fucking sick of that quote.

And can somebody please fucking explain to me how these morons can claim on the one hand that God has a plan, but on the other every time they pray they sound like Beavis and Butthead "This sucks! Change it!" What happened to his plans being for the best? I may not be the brightest Crayola in the box, but something just doesn't quite gibe.

At any rate, I didn't intend to spout off again. I just happened by and saw the kind words you all have left here and wanted to give a word of thanks for the condolences and thoughts expressed here.

From the bottom of what remains of my heart, thank you.
 
As I stated in my original post, I lost my wife on 10/5.

The kids were down that weekend and we cleared out the house. A part of me felt it was too soon to be doing that. But, they had a point. It was painful to see stuff like the sleep shirts she wore all the time. And, she wasn't going to be coming back for it.

The following weekend, they held a wake in their hometown, over five hours away. I am not able to travel like that, and so my Father and Step-mother and some family and friends came here and we held a memorial.

The weekend after that, the kids stopped by on their way to spread her ashes and we had another memorial, just they and I and one friend.

Then, life decided to fuck with me some more. My step-mother died the following Friday, 10/27.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

I couldn't be said to be even remotely dealing with my own grief and now I had to be there to support my 80 year old father through his. My sister summed it up eloquently when I called her since no one else could reach her. "Well, Jehosophat."

We've spent the week dealing with that including a full funeral on Wednesday.

I grew up in a small town, population 2k+. Everybody and their dogs knows my father who worked for the school and attended the First Baptist Church. And, by extension, me. For hours I had people walking up to me and asking me if I knew who they were. Which, with very few exceptions, I did not. And, of course, they were expressing their condolences to Dad for his wife and then me for mine.

Alfred Lord Tennyson was a dick.

Alright, maybe not. But, I'm getting really fucking sick of that quote.

And can somebody please fucking explain to me how these morons can claim on the one hand that God has a plan, but on the other every time they pray they sound like Beavis and Butthead "This sucks! Change it!" What happened to his plans being for the best? I may not be the brightest Crayola in the box, but something just doesn't quite gibe.

At any rate, I didn't intend to spout off again. I just happened by and saw the kind words you all have left here and wanted to give a word of thanks for the condolences and thoughts expressed here.

From the bottom of what remains of my heart, thank you.

(((((((((((((((((((Puckit)))))))))))))))))))))

((((((((((((((((((Puckit)))))))))))))))))))))

((((((((((((((((((Puckit))))))))))))))))))))

All I can do is give you a virtual hug of support, you've been through so much! I can't believe how much you've been through. You must know people care, and that we are here for you. Talk to someone if you need to...we're all here for you :)

One more (((((((((((Puckit))))))))


Please keep posting, let us know how you are doing...share whatever it is you're feeling...we're here...
 
I’m really sorry for your loss, I wish I could say something to help, but honestly all I can do is say I understand. I am currently in a very similar situation. I woke up one morning and discovered my mother’s stiff body in her bed. I also knew it was too late and called for an ambulance, I even performed CPR, and the way the air sounded as it whooshed into and out of her body... well everything just screamed at me that she was gone, and I didn’t stop until the paramedics stepped in and made me stop.

I went back to work the next day. Like you, I was completely devoid of emotion, and didn’t give a fuck about anything. My doctor said I was suffering from shock. I continued to overwork, and still do now, working six days a week. I hate feeling so alone with all of this, but I also can’t bring myself to talk to anyone about it. All I do is work, and any time I try to stop or reduce my hours I struggle and start it all up again.

I wish I could say something comforting or helpful, but hopefully showing I understand helps even just a little. It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through, and I’ve been through a lot.

Just keep going. That’s all you have to do for now, get up and go. I know how hard that is at this time, but for now, that’s enough, and all you should be expecting from yourself.

Take care
 
"How do I give a fuck?"

You don't.

You muddle through each day, going through the motions, all the while wishing under your breath that you go naturally in your sleep that night and not wake up the next day to have to do it all over again.

It becomes a slightly different version of Groundhog Day.

Don't ask me how I know.
 
Six Weeks

I was talking with a friend of my father and she wanted to know how I'm doing. I'm really not sure how to answer that. So, when in doubt, tell the truth. If for no other reason than it's easier to remember.

For the last two years of her life, my wife was virtually bedridden. She could go to the bathroom on her own and fix her own coffee, but that was about it before she had to lay back down to take the pressure off her back.

I pointed out to this friend that I spend my days lost and confused without her here to tell me what needs to be done or give me an idea of how to spend my time. But, what is worse, every time I leave the bedroom, when I come back, I'm automatically looking for her to be there. When I lay down, the only way I can get some sleep is to have the covers and pillows bunched up behind me as if she were still lying there.

This friend told me it will be that way for about six months or more. Or at least that's what happened when she went through a divorce. She went on to tell me what I need to do is recognize whether I wanted it or not, I've got my freedom. The freedom to spend my time however I want.

It's probably just as well we were having this conversation over the phone. If it had been face to face, I'm not sure I could have kept from punching her.

ALL I ever wanted to do with my time was spend it with my wife. It used to make her furious that she would ask what I wanted to do and I would respond I didn't really care so long as it was with her. But, it was the truth. Given my choice, if she were in the mood, it would be exploring each other's bodies. But, a close second was just being near her. The last couple of years, exploring each other's bodies was off the table (except for a spot between her shoulder blades and another on her left cheek), but that was okay because she was still there. Even if she was watching television and I was pecking away on the computer, she was still there.

And here this friend of my father was saying "now you can do whatever you feel like, so go do it."

I feel like knocking you down and shoving my cane up your rectum. Would that be alright?

Of course, I didn't say it. I guess I do give enough of a fuck that my temper not cause a problem between my father and his friend.

Speaking of dear old Dad, I guess we were worried about the wrong person. He's still getting up every day, taking his meds, and churning out over four miles on the recumbent bike. He's driven himself to a couple of doctor appointments and a meeting with his financial advisor that I know of. I've been calling him just about every day just to check up on him, and we have yet to speak on the phone that we aren't interrupted at least once by someone calling him on another line or coming to the house.

I, on the other hand, have tried to work on a story to post on here for the holiday contest and scrapped it twelve times now. I've only slept through the dog trying to get me up so she could go outside to pee once. I've seen one person twice in the last week, but other than that, I think I glimpsed a neighbor walking past to take out their trash or something. And the person who has been by to check on me is giving me all kinds of grief about my eating habits, but I can only choke down one cup o' noodles per day.

But, I'm still here. Still looking after the dog and three cats as best I know how right now. Still trying to write a story in between lurking the forums. Beyond that, though, still zero fucks to give.

Thank you, though, to everyone who has read and responded either here, in PM, or through my email. I guess at the end of the day, just waking up, getting up, and doing something for a little bit is the best I can do yet.
 
Keep posting, keep writing if not on here, then journaling. Its very theraputic. Its the memory of her that will keep you alive and doing things she would have wanted you to do.

Thinking of you :rose:
 
"How do I give a fuck?"

You don't.

You muddle through each day, going through the motions, all the while wishing under your breath that you go naturally in your sleep that night and not wake up the next day to have to do it all over again.

It becomes a slightly different version of Groundhog Day.

Don't ask me how I know.

This is probably the closest answer that I found hit home the most. I myself lost my spouse and better half three years ago. That first year was numb and I felt betrayed every morning when the sun rose and life went on for others. And like you, I had divorced people comparing their pain and/or loneliness to mine. You know they mean well, but it's not the same AT ALL. There were so many times I too wanted to hit someone or hang up on them for even making that analogy. Divorce involves separation voluntarily from one side or the other and that ex-spouse is still in existence so even if you wanted to do nothing more than pick up the phone and curse at them, you could. Death is final. It's not voluntary (most of the time) and the other person would absolutely hate knowing the pain that you are left with enduring. That I knew for sure. If he could have come back and stopped the pain for me, I know he would have.

The second year was worse for me than the first and from what I have read, that seems to be common. During the first year, I still expected to see him walk through the door. Or have him make his daily call to me at work to see how my day was going. The second year........that hope flickers out and you realize the finality of it all. I sincerely hope this doesn't happen to you, but if it does.....know you aren't alone. The good part about the second year was that I was finally able to start reading again. I am an avid reader but without having him to share and compare the novels with, it seemed a useless task. And I HATED that. I had always loved reading but that had been something we really enjoyed sharing.

This third year has been better. Grief still hits you without rhyme or reason. I can absolutely be having a wonderful day and then it hits me in the chest again. But overall it's so much better and I have hope again. Hope was something I had lost along the way and I am generally a very upbeat but cynical person (quite the combination I know). So I if I can give you any piece of advice it is this......

Hold on. If all you can do is just exist through the day in a kind of numb phase, then do it. Don't let ANYONE tell you what timetable your grief should be on. I had those helpful hints from people too. No one can feel what you are feeling and no one but the two of you knew what you had. Just know that you are not alone. I along with others in this thread are here if you need us. I of course am speaking for them but I feel like if they were kind enough to answer you, then they care.

Having pets does help and my dog is sometimes the only reason I smile. But she does make me smile and that's the important part. Just take any pleasure like that where you can and please keep us posted.
 
^^^^^ this touched me. It proves to me that the world is not as fucked up as it seems.
 
Thanksgiving

Spent the day alone, holed up in the apartment, and trying to write a story for the Holiday competition. Why? Because Mom didn't really approve of my wife for a variety of reasons I'd prefer not to go into. But, the two of them agreed about one thing, Thanksgiving was their favorite holiday.

We lost Mom back in 2010. This was my first Thanksgiving without either of them.

Ironically, the story I've been working on is a Thanksgiving story. But, it's completely fictionalized from the characters all the way down to the setting. Mainly because I didn't want to think about any real past Thanksgivings. Selfish as that may be.

I did pull my head out long enough to call Dad and check on him. A friend, the same one who ticked me off telling me to enjoy my freedom, took him a plate from their dinner. So, at least he wasn't alone and ate something. I did have to walk him through where to find the football game. Funny since I haven't watched football since the strike in 87 (bring back the scabs!), but I knew which channel it would most likely be on.

At any rate, I've got a bit of a headache and am stuck on a plot point in the story, so dropped by to check the forums to give myself a bit of a break.

Thank you to those who have reached out to me since my last visit. It actually does help. If nothing else, I know that others have been down this road further than where I stand now and I am not as alone as I often feel.
 
I hope that you can find the inspiration to continue writing your story. I wish that I could give you loads of help, as you always seem to give such thoughtful replies.

So, I would just like to say that I appreciate your thorough responses to threads, it means a lot when you take the time and answer someone's question with such detail and experiences. I have had a few where you have done that and I appreciate that very much.

Good luck to you again and you do have lots of support here.
 
2 months and 1 day

Yesterday was two months exactly. And, yeah, I curled up in a ball had held a pity party.

However, I did, just today, manage to complete and submit a story (for some definitions of story) for the holiday contest. Truthfully, I don't think it was that great. However, just this once, I think the goal was just to do something rather than curl up in a ball and wish the world away.

The pup and cats (despite making writing a contact sport) have been a reason to get up and go on. Mainly because I know she would kick my ass if I neglected them. But, the writing did give me something to focus on when they didn't need me to step and fetch for them.

Admittedly, I may not have taken the healthiest approach since I fell into the habit of writing through the night and wee hours of the morning with the lights out so I could pretend, for just a while, that lump of covers glimpsed from the corner of my eye was her watching me while I worked as she used to.

At any rate, I did want to check in here and thank all of you for the caring and support and advice you have offered. I have listened. And it is helping me to find my balance, if only imperfectly. Sincerely, thank you.

Now, I think I will curl up in that ball for just a little bit. Until a cold nose pokes under the covers at least.

But, I'll be back to haunting the place when I can. Until then, thanks again. :rose::cool:
 
Day by day....its you who is getting stronger, you who is reaching out to a lot of people offering their hands. But you have been taking small steps and it looks like those small steps have taken you to a little bit better place. Keep on taking those small steps until you can take that leap into life again.

Congratulations on the story!

LOL = Language of Love
 
Back
Top