Another week…

has passed in this journey.  I had a lot of positive feedback from the last post, publicly and privately. I will, at least for now, continue to share some on my blog about this time in my life. Just getting myself up, and getting presentable for work is a monumental task these days.  I perceive grief almost as an illness…what feels like an incurable disease. I am hopeful that the symptoms will ease with time, but I can’t imagine being completely “cured” or “whole” again. At least not now, while the wound is so raw.  I don’t feel “well”. Not physically, mentally or emotionally. Physically, I am exhausted all the time. Some of you may remember a couple of years ago that I was participating in some of the online weight loss groups. I finally gave up on those last pesky ten pounds. I have lost twenty since the beginning of Greg’s illness, til now. I have trouble sleeping through the night, though during the day, I wish I could be back in bed. An acquaintance I bumped into in town this week asked if it was getting better, with the passage of time. Ummmm…no. An innocent question, I know, with only the best of intentions. But, let’s see…it hasn’t even been a month. At this point, if anything, the missing of Greg seems only to be intensifying. You know the saying “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. At this stage, it’s like he has been gone on an extended fishing trip, and it’s time for him to return home. My mind knows that it will never be, but my heart cannot stop longing for it. Nor, for that matter, can my mind. I want some big red, magic “easy” button, like that from the Staples commercials, that I can just push and put my life back the way it was. With Greg here, present with me, in a physical form. I wonder when, at what point, and how…will these feelings begin to diminish. I find that he is constantly on my mind, no matter what I am doing. I go to work, and try to do one task at a time, and anything I manage to accomplish there feels like a small victory of sorts, and I worry that I am leaving something important undone. My concentration level is not at it’s normal level. People frequently comment to me that I am so strong…am I? I have my doubts. This weekend, I have barely been able to move. I don’t want to do much more than lay around and read. I did manage to write a handful of thank you notes, (still so many to get done) and do a couple loads of laundry, but that’s about it. I have been reading some books about grief, and I encourage others going through a loss to do the same, if for no other reason than to know that what you are feeling is not crazy. It’s so easy to feel that way in the midst of this situation.

Something else I feel in overwhelming proportions, is appreciation. Appreciation for all the love and support that has been shown to Greg, me and our family throughout this whole ordeal.  Even though no one can fix this, the love, support, and prayers do help. And, I am so thankful for all of it.  Whether from friends and family locally, or my “cyberspace” friends.  I believe that it will make me a better friend. I am so much more aware now how important it is to let others know you care, or are thinking about them. You never know when your message may have been received at a most needed moment, or what a difference you might have made for that other person. I want to once again thank each and every one of you that has commented, prayed for me, emailed me, and sent me cards. I haven’t been up to responding to each of you individually, ever since this started, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

I have a lot of thoughts running around in my head that I want to write about, but this is all I can manage for today.  Feel free to share your thoughts in my comments section. I love hearing your stories and points of view, as well.


16 thoughts on “Another week…

  1. Randi, you are in my prayers daily. If you haven’t please make an appointment with your physician and tell him/her all you have written here today. Sometimes you need some help to get through the grieving process. Love you and care about you even though you are just a “cyberspace” friend.

  2. Randi, thank you so much for sharing your journey with us. If it would help, I would send you 100 “easy” buttons! The only thing I can offer is the advice to take one day at a time. Hugs…..

  3. Randi – my experience with grief and that of my friends who have also gone through it is that the first year is the hardest. It’s the first everything without him. I know that’s hard to hear but it helped me to hear it – it made me feel that the loss and continued grief and ache was more ‘normal’ that I thought. For a long time I pretended my loved one was on a long trip – just like you are doing. Then I dreamed of him. I still do but now the dreams are happier and more comfortable for me. It’s a long, exhausting, painful, more-than-you-can-stand journey but you will emerge at the end. The fatigue and brain that won’t function and the feeling that something is undone are all part of it, but Freda is right in suggesting you go to your doctor for some medicinal help. I have no words to help you through this other than to listen and share. We finally got through and you will, too. But nobody knows exactly when. I wish I did. Nobody expects a response from you during this time so just keep accepting our prayers and thoughts. I hold you in my heart and think of you often.

  4. Randi, I too, am just a “cyber friend”. But my heart breaks for you. Part of me fears that I may someday face what you’re going through, and I just can’t imagine it. My divorce 20-some years ago left me raw and feeling some of the same things that you described in your post.

    I’m glad that you can feel the many good thoughts and prayers that your friends are sending for you. You are stronger than you know and I echo Margo…one day at a time. Remember God’s manna. He sent enough for one day at a time. His grace each day will be sufficient.

  5. Randi, you are often in my thoughts and prayers. I am at a loss for what to say–just always want you to know I care how you are doing.

  6. Randi, grieving was the hardest work I ever did in my life. In 1999 I lost my father to cancer after a long and painful battle. Two days before he died, we moved our son into his college dorm. and within a week many of my friends and coworkers lost their jobs when our offices were moved to a new location. It was just too many good-byes all at once. What you are expressing is exactly how I felt for a long time. It seamed like every time I found myself alone – in the car, in the shower- I would cry. Most times, I couldn’t even tell what specifically I was crying about, I just had to cry. I tried medication (they gave me Buspar), but it just made me numb – I had no emotion at all. I wasn’t sad anymore, but I couldn’t find the little joys in life either. I lost all emotion. After a month I decided it wasn’t for me. What really helped me and my Mom was a program on grief that the funeral home offered. It was a free six week program run by a licenced counselor and it really was fantastic. I think we did this about 3-4 months after my Dad passed. Everyone there was working through the same issues in one form or another. There was a 13 year old and a 94 year old and all ages in between, both men and women. It was a great support group and I highly recommend this to anyone. One of the things I remember someone saying was – when you break your arm or your leg, you wear a cast and everyone can see that you are hurt. When you are grieving, there is no outward sign that you are hurt, and the world goes on. For me and my Mom, being in that support group was like a reflection in the mirror – being able to recognize other faces of grief and knowing that we were not alone. Just take it a day at a time, have patience with yourself and know that your friends are all here to hold your hand and walk by your side.

  7. You are strong, even though you doubt it. You have been through two different, and highly emotional events. You worked so hard to stay upbeat while your husband was hospitalized and now you have the very difficult time of acute grief to deal with while being exhausted from the earlier time. You are doing great just to get up and go to work each day. You are doing what you need to do and don’t need to worry about doing more, at this time. The next diffucult event will come when your life begins to feel normal and you feel guilt about it. But all of this is the process of healing. Don’t try to rush through it and don’t try to keep it from happening. Your strength will see you through, as will your family, your friends, and your God. Bless you.

  8. I think the way in which you speak of grief as a wound is very real and while that wound will change and heal over time, as to the rawness and newness of the wound, yet for deep wounds there is a scar…sometimes we can over time, almost forget it is there and then another day it will be very fresh and real. It is a journey. Each grief journey is unique and personal.
    I lost my ability to have chn in ’72, that changed things in my life. I lost my Father in ’74 after uprooting my life and moving 300 miles away to nurse him. I married in ’79 and my ex left me in ’82 with mental issues in his life. I felt such shame to be divorced in the culture I had grown up in, so it was a mad mixture of grief and shame for a long time. Then I lost my health and needed to take ill health retirement from teaching at the end of ’91. I cared for and nursed my Mother until she died in ’03. Mixed in with all this were health issues and hip/knee bilateral replacements. I had no siblings, so no close relatives and at times it seemed loss was lurking in every corner. I found a horrible cynical poem I wrote when things were fairly low….but then I was able to write a poem called lace…….where I could see the holes in my life as having a God given pattern that I can only see by faith…..a little like the dark places in a quilt which if not there take away the impact of the whole.
    I am content at this time, although the loss of an 11 yr old Moggie hit me harder than I expected, even if I have her little replacement sister in my arms as I write this. But It reminds me that grief is a many layered journey…and the timing is different for each of us.
    God bless you and be with you as you Journey through…..and it is always through…..we do progress…..little by little at times, bigger steps at other times. Allow the time of rest, take care of your health as that honors the one who loved you so much and would not want to see you not taking care of you.; Hugs

  9. I can only imagine what you are going through. I’ve lost my Dad and then later my Mom. I still miss them but it can not compare to the grief in the loss of a spouse. I pray for God to give you peace in the midst of this storm and that you will be able to call on Him to supply those needs that only He can meet. I will continue to pray for you to have the energy to meet each day and that God will give you something each day that will bring you a moment of joy.

  10. Many prayers and hugs your way. A month is such a short time – like a blink of an eye. Time does help, but the amount of time needed to begin life again is different for each of us and in reality part of your healing is learning to live your life differently – you will always grieve for your soul-mate, but the intensity of the grief will mellow and be easier to live with. Let yourself grieve so that you can heal. Give yourself time for this process. I know that when my daughter passed away, it was a year before “I woke up”. I still miss her so much but I am no longer consumed with missing her. Over the years, my grief has changed from sadness to thoughts of all the good things she brought to my life and the knowledge that she remains in my heart – she is always with me – my little angel. I wish the same for you.

  11. Randi – I also think of you often. I don’t think any of us expect an individualized reply. We write because we just want you to know you are not alone. We realize you are missing a very large portion of your life, your very being, and we seek to fill just a small part of that. Put one foot in front of the other. Life keeps happening no matter what we do. There will be times when it is hard to join the stream of life going on around you. Just dip your toes in when you are ready. When you feel the need to draw back for awhile, that’s okay too. Like we all say when we’re learning quilting – fake it till you make it. Participate in what you can. It will be difficult, but in time it will be easier to go through the paces. Big hugs.

  12. Randi, I’m keeping you in prayers. The grief journey can be so hard at times. Ages ago, people wore black for a year of mourning. Maybe it served to remind others in thier lives, that although their life went on, the mourner’s has not in so many ways. That crazy feeling when you wake up of, “how can the world still be ok, when mine is gone?” Take care of yourself, be gentle whenever you can, and just know, others are sending love and prayers your way.

  13. I feel for you, your pain is so very real and it hurts so much. I cannot imagine what it is really like. I very nearly lost my husband last year and that fear nearly touched me. You don’t have to be strong, you just need to get through it. I know with other grief I have experienced, every morning for a split second I would wake up momentarily forgeting the loss, then it would hit me full in the face over and over again.
    My love to you,

  14. Randi, I send you hugs and prayers. Take the best care of yourself as you can and allow yourself to work through your grief on your one timetable, no one elses.

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