Im struggling with the sudden waves of exhaustion and anxiety that has hit me after the death of my mum 5 months ago,
I know its normal to feel like this but I find it so hard to deal with,
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Hi Nikki, it is normal to feel like that. You are not alone. Please just try to be kind to yourself. Take care, Matt x
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Thankyou, im trying my hardest
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I lost my Mum nearly 20 years ago now and my wife in 2022. Trust me, it does not get easier, but you can take some solace from knowing others have been through the same experience. Just try to remember you are the most important thing in your life. Try to be kind to yourself and take heart from the little joys that life has to offer. Take care, Matt x
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Thanks for taking the time to reply, appreciate it,x
Hi Nikki, you are most welcome. It is my genuine pleasure 
This is such a good and wholesome community and has helped me a lot. It would be remiss of me, not to try to help someone else. No one can possibly understand what we have been through, unless they have lived through the same. Take care and be kind to yourself, Matt x
So sorry for your loss @NIKKI12
I posted this last year and I thought it might give you some comfort.
You’ve made it to this moment; you’ve survived everything life has thrown at you so far. You’ve endured unimaginable pain and somehow you’re still here and that means you’re stronger than you realise. Pain doesn’t mean you’re weak; struggling doesn’t mean you’re failing. They mean you’re alive, and as long as you’re alive, there’s still room for something beautiful to come into your life. Right now, it doesn’t feel that way. Right now, it feels impossible, but the day will come when you’ll look back at this moment and realise you made it through. You survived the days you thought you wouldn’t. You kept going even when everything inside you told you to stop. That is strength and no one can take that away from you.
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Thankyou so much,really kind of you, its great that this group is available, so much easier when youre feelings are understood,
Many thanks x
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Really appreciate your reply, good days,bad days, many thanks x
So much for being a roughty, toughty man, Matt! I read your post, Wilson and just burst into tears 
3 years since my wife passed now, you would think it gets easier, but, I still find the smallest thing can set me off and those words rang so true to me. Sure, I can hide it from my kids, my friends, my colleagues at work (stiff upper lip and all that) but I am actually trying to hide from myself. The worst part is I know it and I know you cannot hide from yourself. Putting a brave face on for the world is relatively easy, but, you cannot escape your own mind, when you lay in that empty bed at night and your heart breaks all over again, knowing you have lost the best part of yourself and can never, ever replace it 
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I feel for you Matt! I lost my wife 18 months ago. We were together for almost 51 years. I still feel the pain but I’m learning to live with it.
This is an extract by Simon Sinek called How grief transforms a man. I think it will resonate with you. It might even give you a different perspective on grief.
Death ends a life not a relationship. When someone we love dies, the world wants us to believe it’s over; that the chapter has closed, that the story has ended and now it’s time to move on. But anyone who has ever truly loved someone knows that’s not how it works. Their body may be gone, their voice may no longer echo in the room, but the relationship lives on in ways people can’t see. Love doesn’t follow the rules of time or space. It isn’t confined to a physical presence. When you build a life with someone, the dreams, arguments, laughter, routines you shared don’t just disappear because they stopped breathing. Their imprint remains, stitched into the very fabric of your everyday life. You still hear them in your thoughts, you still feel them in certain moments, you still reach for them without thinking. That’s not denial; that’s connection.
For a husband who loses his wife, this truth becomes his lifeline. At first everything feels hollow; the bed feels too big and the meals feel too quiet. He turns to speak to her and remembers she’s not there. But, over time, he begins to realise that the relationship didn’t end; it just changed form. He finds himself making decisions based on what she would say. He carries her voice in his mind like a compass, he sees her in their children’s eyes, hears her in their laughter and feels her in the moments of stillness when everything slows down and the noise fades. This ongoing connection is not about refusing to accept the loss; it’s about refusing to let love die just because a heartbeat stopped. Because true love doesn’t end; it evolves. It shifts from physical to emotional, from presence to legacy. The strength of that relationship shows up in the choices he makes, in how he treats others with the same kindness she did, in how he picks up the causes she cared about, in how he keeps the traditions she started, in how he chooses to honour her, not just with grief, but with growth. People may wonder why he speaks about her in the present tense, why her photo still stands beside his bed, why he still talks to her on long drives. What they don’t understand is that those rituals aren’t signs of being stuck, they’re signs of deep ongoing love. They are the ways he keeps her close, not to avoid the pain, but to honour the beauty of what they shared.
Death ends a life, it stops a heartbeat, it silences a voice, but it does not erase the bond built between two souls who chose each other. That love, if nurtured, becomes a quiet source of strength, a reminder of what was real and a reason to keep going. And maybe that’s the greatest legacy anyone can leave behind. A love so true that not even death can fully take it away. A relationship that continues quietly, powerfully, beautifully long after the last goodbye.
Let me know what you think.
I’m here for you if you ever need to chat.
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Wilson, you are correct, those words resonated deeply with me. I don’t wish to hijack this post, because it is not about me, this is Nikki’s and I would hate to lessen her loss with my own. None the less, I thank you kindly, Sir. My heart goes out to you, I had 25 good years with my wife. I cannot imagine the depth of your pain after 51! I salute you and offer my very best wishes. I think this speaks so highly of the community on this site. You have indeed helped me and I feel sure your legacy will help others in more need than I. Kindest regards, Matt x
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You’re right Matt. I got a little carried away. My apologies to @NIKKI12 if she feels her post has been hijacked.
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Gosh not at all,its been lovely having you all chat,
X
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Thanks for your post @Matt9 .
I hear what you’re saying but, from my perspective, I feel a deep sense of gratitude that we had 51 years together in good health. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I was in your position.
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Hi @NIKKI12.
I just wanted to let you know that it’s 18 months since I lost my wife and there are times when I still feel exhausted. Not as much as I used to though. It’s just a self-protection mechanism reminding you that you’re overloaded and you need to rest. Don’t ignore it.
Remember not to take advice from family and friends who haven’t been through this ordeal. You know more about grief than they do. They think they’re helping by offering words of comfort like, you’ll get over it, time’s a great healer, everything happens for a reason, at least they had a good life, they are in a better place or at least you had the time you did. What they don’t realise is that your wounds are so deep that words can’t reach them. Words of comfort, no matter how well intentioned, are empty. They don’t make the pain go away. Nothing fills the space that person held in your life. The only words you want to hear are, I don’t know what to say, I don’t have the words, I don’t even know if there are any right words. I don’t know what your path is going to be like, but I do know you’re not going to walk it alone. I’m going to be here with you. If you want to be angry, be angry. If you want to be sad, be sad. If you want to be stuck, be stuck. I’m here with you.
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Thanks for finding the time to message, appreciate it,
Really kind of you
Hi @Wilson9 Thank you for responding directly. I am so glad you had those long years together to remember her with the reverence you clearly have for her. My 25 years with my wife are held to me in just the same regard. I also know no matter what the future holds for me, I can never repeat that time spent loving someone with all my heart. Please don’t detract from your own pain, good sir. I empathize with your statement of how grateful you are for the time you had, but it is still utterly soul rending to lose the very best part of yourself, knowing that is never to be found again in the time we have left on this world of ours. Take care. Matt x
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I understand Nikki. I lost my Dad in July, he was on diagnosed in May. Its like I’m lost not whole anymore. Never a day I dont think about him. Cry most days when I’m alone, make others feel better when I’m not. It’s surreal. I feel your pain 
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