I had a phone call from my parents-in-law today. Dad is 99 years old and very fragile and Mum has early stages of Dementia. It always breaks my heart to speak to them. They already lost their son a few years ago, he was 52 years old. I always pull myself together when we are on the phone but I am crying afterwards after finishing the phone call. Dad has a similar voice to my beloved husband and I do miss our visits to his parents with him. I cannot visit them because it would take me over two hours (one way) to travel to them and I know that we just would cry the whole time and I just cannot face it - I know I’m a coward and feel terrible about it. It is such a horrible situation we are all in. Sending love and hugs to everyone.
You are not being a coward. You are protecting yourself. The fact that you keep intouch with them is brilliant and sounds comforting for you all, even though it might be emotional. Sending you positive thoughts and strength. Keep taking care of yourself
@Annaessex we have to do things to protect our own mental health and you have been in a fragile place recently. At least you survived your birthday. Xx.
I recently lost my wife at 68 and like all of you I am finding it very hard to come to terms with her passing. The oddest things can trigger a meltdown. The worst thing it that only 18 months before she passed away we moved into a house that was to be our retirement project. The house and gardens were a total mess and we had just got to the point that they no longer looked like a disaster area and we could once again move into the main rooms of the house. My biggest regret, and the one that makes me feel vey guilty, is that she will never see the finished result. I also miss her intimacy, we always held hands and had a cuddle when we went to bed. I have to speak to her, to tell her I love her ever night when i finally go to bed.
Everyone I have contacted or spoken to says it get easier with time but never fully goes away and to be honest our love for each other was that strong that I don’t want the ache to totally go away.
I don’t think you’re ache will totally go away, and as you said you don’t want it to. Your journey through grief is entirely yours, no one can relate to how you are feeling. It’s your journey. You may begin to feel a little lighter with the ache in 12 months, 24 months or you may feel it for the rest of your life. We all deal with grief differently. From what I’ve read, our grief stays the same, but we grow around the grief, if that makes sense? So we forge ahead and find new ways to accommodate ourselves in life; trying to find a purpose again, a little happiness in whatever way we can. I’m sure she will be looking down and seeing the improvements you are hopefully still making to the home and be proud of what you can hopefully achieve. She’ll never leave your heart. xx
Feeling really depressed and lost this morning. It all seems a bit pointless. All I want to do is cry.
I’ve not get as bad as this since my wife died.
It is amazing how grief ebbs and flows. We just have to survive the really bad days and stock up on tissues. I find it best just to cry when I need to but then again I have no one around to see or to be affected by it. The good days are generally when I have helped someone else. Today should be ok. I have just heard from my neighbour that some lotion my husband had for his contact dermatitis has helped her clear up a skin eruption of unknown cause. I am also going to show her how to use online shopping as she is a technophobe. I do hope you get through today and tomorrow is better. Love and hugs. Sandra
Thank you for your kind guidance.
I have my son staying with me at the moment, which is both a help and a hindrance, as I don’t won’t to load yet more grief on him.
I have a cousin coming over later which should hopefully lift my spirits.
I’m trying to sew a button onto a pair of trousers and failing miserably at the moment.
Everyday tasks become so difficult. I worked in IT for 35 years and then had trouble paying in a cheque on the app. It’s this brain fog that descends. I am so glad you will have company today. Hopefully your cousin will help you. Xx.
I to get the brain fog since my Maureen passed away. I was always a bit forgetful but it’s much worse at present.
So many different emotions occur each day and they are so unpredictable.
Talking about it does help, whilst thinking about it definitely doesn’t.
I know we all work our way through it, in our own way and time.
My late husband’s Dad, Ken, lost his wife, Derek’s Mum, 10 years previously. I found talking with him actually helped me, as he’d never got over losing his wife he had no expectations of my grief subsiding, he really understood. He also loved going through the old family photos & I loved seeing Derek as a child growing up. No parent should have to bury a child & I think we helped each other a lot. Sadly he also passed away in 2021& I do miss that connection to my Derek. My Mum, also a widow of 18 years, unfortunately has Dementia so although I can talk to her she doesn’t really relate to my grief as sadly (or fortunately) she doesn’t remember.
I met a lady at the churchyard where my husband is buried, she lost her husband a year after mine & talking to someone going through the same thing has been helpful. We’ve become friends & meet up a few times a month. Most of our friends still have their partners & it’s difficult for them to really understand.
Sending love & strength xx
Feeling very low this morning.
I can’t think ahead or plan anything.
It gets better as the day goes on but each morning is a struggle.
I am so sorry you feel so low this morning. Is it just the thought of another day without your soul mate? I do hope it gets better for you throughout the day. At least the sun is shining.
Yes another day with out her.
I know I should be strong for my children and grandchildren but it’s very hard.
I know that feeling but don’t have children or grandchildren to be strong for. It has been the longest and most miserable 3 months of my life.
That is so sad.
We all need to focus on the good stuff and try not to keep thinking of what we have lost.
Easier said than done.