Widows & Widowers Support Group
This community is dedicated to those who have lost a husband, wife, or partner. Anything is open for discussion here, with the hope that we can focus on grief, bereavement, life after loss, and continuing on after a great loss.
Hey all. No idea what I want out of this, or what I expect.
Just unloading I guess?
My wife, also in her early 30's, had a complication from a routine(ish) and necessary surgery. That was just three weeks ago--and a week afterwards there was a complication at home that lead to her heart stopping and 12 minutes of resuscitation at the ER.
Her body came back, but the anoxic damage is so severe that I have been grieving since the moment she was admitted to the ICU. It's not a situation that bears any hope, even on the fringes of the most biblical miracles or the most scientific possibilities. It is not even within reasonable realms of science fiction to seriously consider the idea that she will be allowed to skim the edge of even the worst possible cases of disabilities. There's not enough material to push into even minimal consciousness, and it's not at all like a traumatic brain injury that allows the sort of self-repair you read about in the news.
Her eyes open, she convulses and then her eyes eventually close again. Day after day. I stand by and live in the continued degradation of her being (even without withdrawing life support, as we'd always promised each other--who has a will by 31?) as I think about the repercussions otherwise; my daughter needs genuinely tension free relationships with the rest of the family and they can't truly understand my wife's wishes. Of course, the wishes we only told to one other any time we saw an accident or otherwise had something to bring it to mind.
My wife lays quivering with open eyes that never move, supported in all functions, and I am left in the most surreal and lonely funeral function that could be imagined.
I've been left to grieve the loss alone and with a death scene playing out in slow motion day after day. Even when there's a familiar face or two around.
With a little girl who starts school this coming year, and with no family in my city, I can see the struggle and loneliness ahead. I can't leave for anywhere else for a variety of reasons.
I can't even find the paperwork to fill out forms, because she has always been in charge of filing and scheduling, and I laugh about it through the tears. Yesterday I started looking for where she stores our coasters (without any luck) and it sent me weeping uncontrollably.
We were best friends, less than a decade into our commitment . . . but more than far enough along to know what forever was going to look like. She just overcame a lot of personal hurdles in the last year, and was taking the world on with a fierce determination.
We were in the middle of a move, a new job for her and firmly started plans to climb towards an amazing future together. We had ups and downs, but our last night together ended with held hands and some tears as we let each other know how much better a person the other had made us over the last few years. We had no idea how meaningful that would be, but I could not be more grateful.
I cannot reiterate enough that even sparse hope is non-applicable here, and that I have been a widower with no one able to come to a place where I can share in my grief.
I have looked into resources, filed for disability and just want to stop waking up. If it weren't for my (fiercely happy and unable to comprehend) daughter, I probably would. I can't focus on work, playing with my daughter with anything resembling the silly joy she's used to . . . or much of anything else.
I know I'll get past this, but I'm scared of what that looks like. I know I'll find a partner again--it's ridiculous to assume I'll be in this same emotional place years down the road--but I feel a scarring. I feel like I'm never going to be able to fully give everything to everyone. I feel like I lost the one chance I had to have everything I'd always wanted and enjoyed immensely. I feel like everything I do, even just stepping outside, is a betrayal that I can't avoid while she won't see her daughter's fist day of school.
And I know I'll have to make the decision soon enough that lets the fantasy of the impossible fade. I assure you, it's not a lack of fortitude, will or desire that's behind it. Her brain is still in the process of dying; it's unstoppable and it's prolific. "Profound" was the first word the doctor used, before I learned the extent. I was still imagining a life with her being left on the table, in whatever capacity.
I have no idea how to do anything alone. I know I'll learn, and I have been learning, but she was my other half in every way. Everything feels like trying to tie my shoes using only my teeth, and with a timer in the background ready to shout out the next thing I have to get done any second. I feel like I can't breath, and somehow have to fight that no matter how comfortable the thought is.
I watch couples hug and weep about it together, and I can't even turn to the only rock I've ever had to find the comfort they don't recognize they're enjoying while sharing in their own sorrows.
It does feel pretty good to lay it all out though. Just releasing it anonymously seems to take a small bite out of it, no matter how insignificant.
Just unloading I guess?
My wife, also in her early 30's, had a complication from a routine(ish) and necessary surgery. That was just three weeks ago--and a week afterwards there was a complication at home that lead to her heart stopping and 12 minutes of resuscitation at the ER.
Her body came back, but the anoxic damage is so severe that I have been grieving since the moment she was admitted to the ICU. It's not a situation that bears any hope, even on the fringes of the most biblical miracles or the most scientific possibilities. It is not even within reasonable realms of science fiction to seriously consider the idea that she will be allowed to skim the edge of even the worst possible cases of disabilities. There's not enough material to push into even minimal consciousness, and it's not at all like a traumatic brain injury that allows the sort of self-repair you read about in the news.
Her eyes open, she convulses and then her eyes eventually close again. Day after day. I stand by and live in the continued degradation of her being (even without withdrawing life support, as we'd always promised each other--who has a will by 31?) as I think about the repercussions otherwise; my daughter needs genuinely tension free relationships with the rest of the family and they can't truly understand my wife's wishes. Of course, the wishes we only told to one other any time we saw an accident or otherwise had something to bring it to mind.
My wife lays quivering with open eyes that never move, supported in all functions, and I am left in the most surreal and lonely funeral function that could be imagined.
I've been left to grieve the loss alone and with a death scene playing out in slow motion day after day. Even when there's a familiar face or two around.
With a little girl who starts school this coming year, and with no family in my city, I can see the struggle and loneliness ahead. I can't leave for anywhere else for a variety of reasons.
I can't even find the paperwork to fill out forms, because she has always been in charge of filing and scheduling, and I laugh about it through the tears. Yesterday I started looking for where she stores our coasters (without any luck) and it sent me weeping uncontrollably.
We were best friends, less than a decade into our commitment . . . but more than far enough along to know what forever was going to look like. She just overcame a lot of personal hurdles in the last year, and was taking the world on with a fierce determination.
We were in the middle of a move, a new job for her and firmly started plans to climb towards an amazing future together. We had ups and downs, but our last night together ended with held hands and some tears as we let each other know how much better a person the other had made us over the last few years. We had no idea how meaningful that would be, but I could not be more grateful.
I cannot reiterate enough that even sparse hope is non-applicable here, and that I have been a widower with no one able to come to a place where I can share in my grief.
I have looked into resources, filed for disability and just want to stop waking up. If it weren't for my (fiercely happy and unable to comprehend) daughter, I probably would. I can't focus on work, playing with my daughter with anything resembling the silly joy she's used to . . . or much of anything else.
I know I'll get past this, but I'm scared of what that looks like. I know I'll find a partner again--it's ridiculous to assume I'll be in this same emotional place years down the road--but I feel a scarring. I feel like I'm never going to be able to fully give everything to everyone. I feel like I lost the one chance I had to have everything I'd always wanted and enjoyed immensely. I feel like everything I do, even just stepping outside, is a betrayal that I can't avoid while she won't see her daughter's fist day of school.
And I know I'll have to make the decision soon enough that lets the fantasy of the impossible fade. I assure you, it's not a lack of fortitude, will or desire that's behind it. Her brain is still in the process of dying; it's unstoppable and it's prolific. "Profound" was the first word the doctor used, before I learned the extent. I was still imagining a life with her being left on the table, in whatever capacity.
I have no idea how to do anything alone. I know I'll learn, and I have been learning, but she was my other half in every way. Everything feels like trying to tie my shoes using only my teeth, and with a timer in the background ready to shout out the next thing I have to get done any second. I feel like I can't breath, and somehow have to fight that no matter how comfortable the thought is.
I watch couples hug and weep about it together, and I can't even turn to the only rock I've ever had to find the comfort they don't recognize they're enjoying while sharing in their own sorrows.
It does feel pretty good to lay it all out though. Just releasing it anonymously seems to take a small bite out of it, no matter how insignificant.
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Old Hillbilly Wisdom:Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.Keep skunks, bankers, and politicians at a distance.Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.Words that soak into your ears are whispered, not yelled.The best sermons are lived, not preached.If you don't take the time to do it right, you'll find the...
I also had very little hope. Some days were good. Some days she took another turn for the worse, crushing hope. Nevertheless, the nature of miracles is that they overcome incredible odds. Perhaps that will happen for you, but if not, be aware that you aren't alone in this.
Prayers for a miracle and prayers for you.
The next thing I think you should know, is that you will go through a time where you will wonder why it was that YOU survived, what is your purpose in life now? You will see the answer to that every time you look at that little girl. The last thing I did before I removed my wife's life support, was to promise her that our grandkids would all know her through me, especially the 3-year-old who will not remember her. By then, she didn't even have any EKG readings, and she didn't physically hear that promise. But I know that her Spirit heard it...because every time I am around any of our 9 grandkids...it is the voice of that Spirit I hear in my ear, reminding me of that promise.
Lastly, you have come to the right place here. Unfortunately, everybody here has something in common...and anything you want to say, any time, needs no justification. I am so sorry for what you are going through. God Keep you and your family always...Dave
You and your family are in my prayers.
Darrell
It's hard not having a place to truly belong. It's surreal, mostly because at my age this doesn't happen--minus those who soldier etc. and have some level of preparation and support waiting for loved ones.
I mean, I know it happens, clearly it happens, but I've never met anyone else in this situation before. Even finding one is hard, most people get a good long life full of memories first and get to make at least one or two of their dreams come true.
I dunno, maybe I'm being selfish in all of that thought. I can't always tell one emotion from another as of late. But thanks again.
Right now you have a little girl who needs you. You are both Mommy and Daddy. You will need to hold her hand, and be strong. Walk her through each day and learn together how to figure things out. She needs you, and you need her.
You are not alone.
I didn't mean to so abruptly state that you will get through this in your own time. But, you will. Don't think about future partners. You aren't there yet. You still need to end this chapter of your life. It will be tough, but with your daughter you will figure it out. One day at a time.
God bless.
When a persons mother passes away, her picture stays on a mantle. Her memories expected to surface, then shared as they do. Everyone understands. If her favorite ring is worn, or should a particular habit of hers find itself respected, everyone understands. Everyone finds respect in that respect.
When a spouse dies, their picture allowed on a wall with no intention of being removed, it is often remarked as a failure to let go. I know this because I looked into what my life is likely going to look like, and read the journals of other people who were exactly as sad, just more experienced at that sadness.
One thing stands out as both confusing and disheartening. The idea that letting go is healthy. Release is healthy, acceptance is healthy and moving forward is healthy. Letting go is what you do when you feel like youve made a mistake, but you cant quite stop beating yourself up for it.
Family is a part of you, and family is never forgotten. Family should never be forgotten. A wife or husband who can no longer share themselves with the world is no different than a father, sister, cousin or grandmother. They deserve the same revered, and powerful, echo of their time with us.
We dont take their pictures down, and we certainly dont avoid talking about them.
A lack of prior shared lineage, and love that required acquiring should be more respected. There was effort, commitment and an immutable trust required to make that happen. Family speaks of blood, an immutable value. A partnership, a selected bond, speaks of sweat and effort. It speaks of recognition and investment.
We remember those who deserve it, those that held us up and pushed us forward. Spouses play a role in only the future tense; they are family that never seeks a moment to sit and commend efforts put into someones ability to seek their own path. Spouses seek the moment thats always out of reach, feeling every failure and success as their own, and they are family.
Sometimes we dont get to watch the rest of life play out with them, but we certainly get to play out the rest of life having shared it with them.
A family may grow and change, but anyone allowed to find themselves a part of it understands that their addition to a whole isnt an increase in value, but a continuation of it. Its a different sort of lineage, a bit more ethereal than a surname, but a great deal more meaningful than anything of the sort.