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Topics - 1wabbit1

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Main / It's been almost a year
« on: June 20, 2010, 08:55:48 PM »
Hello everyone. Last July 10th I lost my husband, Fred. When  his death was still fresh, I came here and the wonderful people knew just what to say to make me feel less alone in my grief and pain. They, like few in my life, understood how I was feeling. For the past 11 months I've been wallowing in self pity for the most part, and just not being help to anyone else. I came here, and still come, to read and learn and silently send up a prayer to give everyone a little bit of peace. I just haven't been able to take part. Maybe I'm ready now?

Please bear with me, while I relive some of those months since I was last here, and some history. I think I need to purge.

Fred had been suffering for years with emphysema and had been on 24/7 oxygen. We'd had several close calls where no one expected him to come home again from the hospital. Without going into detail, the Drs took him off the breathing machine and I  held his hand as he took his last breath. As I'm typing this I'm reliving it all over again. (tears)He was seriously sedated, so I'm not sure he heard me tell him how much I love  him and how I was giving him permission to finally rest. I hope he heard me.

Fred and I had many times talked about how he didn't want life support of any kind. It would only delay the inevitable. But all I wanted those last moments was to put that tube right back down his throat and have him with me just a few more minutes.

That was almost a year ago, but feels like only days, hours, minutes.

In this year I've gotten stronger, have tried to move on with my life, and on the outside appear to have succeeded. Inside, not quite. Every step I've taken forward I've had to FORCE. I took almost a month off from work. I'm lucky I have a job that permitted me to do that with full pay.

Fred and I had only been together 13 years. He had no children and I have 3 (with 4 grandkids). My grown children loved Fred more than their own father, and Fred had been better to them than the sperm donor (:-)

We didn't have a funeral, but did have a "get-together" a week later. A cousin came to spend that first week with me, and he was a God-send. He listened when I needed to talk and hugged me when I needed a hug. I also have a very dear friend who had lost her dad a couple of years earlier and was still suffering. She just instinctively knew what I needed. She came with me to pick up Fred's ashes.

A little about that....

I hadn't known that I had to identify Fred's body before they cremated him. I think that was the most eye-opening experience I've ever had. My friend came with me with a book and told me she would wait as long as she needed to. To take my time. I took about 3 minutes. What I found was NOT my Fred. It was an empty shell. It was so evident that Fred was no longer there. I had written a note and slipped it gingerly inside his shirt and walked out. I was so angry. Not that it wasn't Fred any more. I suspected that would happen, but it angered me to think how the Funeral Home put their hands in my pocket, took a bundle of money, convincing me that Fred would be in those ashes I was to pick up, and that every penny was worth knowing that Fred would be with me. They got me in the weakest moment.

When I went to get the ashes, they were busy with several other funerals/wakes they didn't even have a spare room or office or closet. They just handed me the ashes in the boxes I chose. Those boxes were in cloth shopping bags stamped with the funeral home's name. ADVERTISING!!!!

OK, thank you for letting me vent. I've waited a long time to do that. I hope I made sense.

After I came home from the hospital, after Fred's death, I immediately started emptying his closets. I don't know why. Something just drove me to do it. I had piles all over the house. Things to give to relatives, things to toss, things to keep. In just three days I was done. (ironically I still have the bags I was sending to relatives, can't seem to get myself to get rid of them, although they're still in the storage room.)

When I was done sorting clothes, I started cleaning the house. Top to bottom. Side to side. Fred's room stayed the same, but it was spotlessly clean. Nothing in drawers or cupboards was touched. All those things were too personal and I couldn't stand to part with anything. I touched things, smelled things, used things, cried over everything!

-to be continued-

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Main / I'm new here
« on: August 02, 2009, 08:58:25 PM »
Hello, my name is Suzanna and I lost my husband July 10th. Feels like yesterday, and then again 10 years from now.

For a couple of days I've been coming here and reading.... and crying... and reading more. You all seem so compassionate and understanding. We're all in the same boat I guess. Thank you for letting me join you and please excuse me if I'm totally dis-jointed. I can't seem to think straight some of the time.

It's been three weeks and 2 days. I miss him so much it hurts. My chest is empty, my heart went with Fred. The emotions, the roller-coaster ride, are so hard to bear. Fred was the light of my life, my strength, my reason to smile.  I don't know what I'll do without him. I have family that is there to support me and  I'm very close with his family, his two sisters (who live 2000 miles away). I have friends, too. But, as so many of you have said before me, everyone gets tired of hearing about and dealing with our grief.

All I want to do is talk about it, but can't get myself to call anyone to come listen to me, to lend me their shoulder to cry on. I can't stand the thought of depressing them also, or further scaring them away. I'm so lonely.

I had a couple of pretty good days. Didn't cry much and when I did it only lasted  a few seconds with a long time between bouts. I felt guilty for not being more upset, like I'm abandoning Fred too early.

Now I want to eat my words. All day I've been empty and crying and waling and pounding on anything that's within reach. I look at his picture and tears well in my eyes and my throat closes up.

Fred and I were only together 12 years. 12 short years. Not nearly long enough. I wanted more. I still want more.

My children loved Fred from the moment they met him. Who wouldn't. He was a gentle bear of a man. And we loved each other so much.

I'm sorry, I can't go on now. I'll come back when I can. Thank you for listening.


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