Very eloquently expressed.
Excellent post, thank you.
I love your analogies, I will be quoting then when people that have no idea ask how I’m feeling xx
Hello @philfitz. Thanks for your post. I have just finished reading ‘Finding Joy’ by Gary Andrews. What a wonderful, different book. I have laughed and cried whilst reading it and studying the illustrations. So much of the author’s words and emotions, I can recognise in my own grief. He speaks of the ‘Grief Demon’ and yet also inspires hope. Thank you for the recommendation. I haven’t listened to Griefcast because I don’t have Spotify. I’m sure this has been mentioned before on the forum but I can’t remember who, where or when, so I’m glad you’ve brought Gary Andrews to our attention again. Fabulous book. Well worth the read - only £2.99 on Kindle. xx
Hi @Crazy_Kate thank you for the positive response. Found it is possible to listen to the Griefcast episode via Cariad Lloyds own site. (see below)
Just I found this podcast very helpful in feeling I wasn’t going mad. I found it refreshing for example that it’s not uncommon for “dark” humour at your darkest times to appear. Or the weird mournful howls you do, that even your inner voice is shocked at , others have experienced.
These reactions are much better heard discussed than read about. Not something you would find on a U.S. resource. Wished I had found it in the early days.
Our coping mechanisms can’t be predicted or are wrong.
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Thought I would share a couple of pages from the book by Gary Andrews. Hope I’m not breaking any rules.
Gary Andrews posts his drawings on Twitter quite regularly at https://twitter.com/GaryScribbler. I use my Twitter account for browsing mainly - never would have considered having one 15 months ago, sad how life has changed in that time.
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Following on from the post by @philfitz, I am currently reading the book by Jonathan Santlofer. He writes and I quote:
'When I want to write something I usually picture it first, then find the words to describe it.’
A few days ago I decided to try this. I pictured my husband’s face, hands, body - all of him. I took my time and went carefully down from top to bottom, starting with his hair. I wrote down in detail what I could see. I’m telling you now because I found the experience to be extremely therapeutic, cathartic. It felt very private and personal so initially I only told two or three close friends about it but as the days have passed I now feel able to share it with you guys.
Honestly, it was amazing; I could see every line on his face. It was like if I reached out my hand I would be able to touch him. I cried, I smiled, I even laughed. I intend to do it again to see if I missed anything so I shall compare my writings. x
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Hi Trixie1
This is exactly the same for me. Fourteen weeks tomorrow I said goodbye to my Beloved Peter. He was my life and I will never get over losing him. Loneliness and coming back to an empty house is unbearable. Nothing makes any sense, it is so painful. Crying is a permanent feature of my days now, I feel and look a wreck, don’t really want to see and talk face to face with people any more.
Don’t know what we are all going to do throughout the coming Winter months I can’t imagine beyond today.
Hugs and Love
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Hi MoGreg 1
I’ve just returned ‘home’ after 5 weeks away staying with family and already the loneliness is unbearable. I can’t think of it as my home anymore as Ian isn’t there.
I’m sat in the car in one of our favourite haunts, crying. I too look a wreck. The rain is pouring down but I feel closer to Ian here than anywhere. We used to come here with a take away coffee and muffin and that is what I have done.
Ian passed away just over 15 weeks ago now and still the reality of what has happened is so hard to accept. I half expected him to be here when I returned and I dread the thought of the future without him.
I’m finding it just so exhausting trying to stay ‘positive’ as that is what a lot of people expect. At times I’ve wished I could just sleep and never wake up.
I don’t know how we will get through this . Everyone says just one step at a time but that is so hard when all I want is Ian back.
Take care of yourself as best you can,
X Julie
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Hi Trixie1
Looks as if you and I are feeling the same emotions. It feels as if we we are the only people feeling like this but we are not are we?
Love to you, take care
14 weeks today for me, I can definitely assure you , your not the only ones feeling as you do. Today has been extremely hard, yes people do say take one day at a time, I’ve said it myself and to myself, we have no other choice, I know my husband would want me to , so that’s what I’m doing, as hard as it is. Bless you all on this journey, keep on helping each other. X
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I haven’t watched TV for 18 months. I watched the new Endeavour a couple of Sundays back. That seemed OK, I gave myself “permission” to watch that, because I reasoned that it would not be upsetting ( and to be honest - this sounds nuts - disloyal to watch ) because the characters were still the same ones as before, it wasn’t something completely new. “Films or albums coming out that he ( in my case she ) would have loved”. I get it, absolutely. I loathe the idea of seeing something new and great but not being able to share it.
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That sounds like a really good idea. Tell you why : I’m stuck in a kind of 18 month limbo. I can honestly say the early days were easier than now ( sorry, I can’t offer any false hopes about time healing and so on based on my experience so far ) and I reckon that was because a) people in the early days are generally more sympathetic/listening/supportive. It is a fact that people get fed up with hearing the bereaved droning on ( sorry again, but it’s a fact ) .
b) I get sick of hearing myself “droning on”, so shut myself down anyway. c) in the early days it could seem like a possible joke, as if the death wasn’t real, they were just hiding from you. ( that’s not explaining it well at all…) What I think I mean is after 70 weeks or so the acceptance that it hasn’t been and could never have been an elaborate game of hide and seek is absolutely NOT the case, it is FINAL and what you have got is what you have got, and must be dealt with.
I seem to have wandered from the point : point being, while you seem to find the detailed imagining comforting, I am thinking it’s a good idea because it is not necessarily a comfort. It’s confronting it. I avoid photos. I avoid clearing up and throwing out personal things. I avoid “things we used to do” and familiar places. I don’t think it’s healthy. I think I will give this idea of yours a go. Or it might take more guts than I can muster. Only one way to know.
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Crazy kate
This is a wonderful idea, I will give it a try, my minds in a bit of a fog, hopefully it will help to clear it. Thank you for sharing. Hugs. Chrissy3
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For a long time after my husband passed I couldn’t see his face at all. I could picture him in my mind but as soon as I looked for a face it was blank. I could picture him walking up the drive, or sitting in the chair but his face was always missing. Nothing there. The same happened when my mum died but only for a few weeks. With David it was well over a year before I could visualise him. I had to keep on looking at photos just to see him. I knew it would pass because of my mum. So to be able to see hIm now and describe him in my writing was incredible.
I hope you all get something from it. Good luck. x
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One of the wonderful things I have found is how I can vividly see my husband as a young 19year old, every part of him and the feel of touching him. I can recall sadly the look and the feel of his body as he dealt with a short battle with cancer. 50 years of that person being part of me will never be erased. I did capture what I visualised in the early stages of grieving and the heading was ‘What I miss’. It’s something I look at from time to time 
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