Another Anniversary

Despite taking a sleep aid, I'm wide awake. Could be anxiety, could be subconscious memory. It is December 29th. Three years ago today the nightmare began. I guess it began much earlier; who knows when the cancer began eating away at Brian's life? It certainly had been there for some time once it was discovered, but three years ago today was when the symptoms reared their ugly head.

I can't sleep. Despite taking a sleep aid and a pain killer for my eye, I am lying here wide awake. I'm tired and I want the mental vacation of sleep, but it remains elusive. Perhaps it is nervous energy. Perhaps it is because my subconscious knows that it is 12-29-15, the third anniversary of the start of a living nightmare.

Brian had had an unsettled stomach, and thought he had a touch of a stomach flu that was going around. I had an appointment on the morning of 12-29-12, and by the time I got home he was pretty sick. He had already vomited several times. When he vomited again, and I saw how violent it was, I insisted we go to urgent care. There Dr. Charlie suspected a gall bladder problem and ran some blood tests. I was upset that Brian would need surgery. Brian was happy that a simple surgery would fix the problem. He already suspected it was cancer. How I wish it had been his gall bladder! How I wish it was something that could have been fixed!

And so began the nightmare that ended with his death on April 20th, 2013. But it didn't end then for me. For me it went on and on; and while I will always be haunted by what happened and broken by my loss, I am finally starting to come back to life.

Next week I will start a new job at the university. For over twenty years I have wanted an administrative position in higher education, and that wish is finally coming true. I wish Brian was here to share this with me. He would have been so happy and proud. Then later in January I will be moving to a condo and selling our home. This is hard. Brian didn't want me to lose the house, and I didn't. I sold it when I was ready and on my terms. I purchased a condo that will eliminate the need for me to do the outdoor maintenance, simplify my life, and increase my liquid assets. Brian would approve. The condo is nice, and I will be very comfortable there, but selling this home hurts. Brian and I loved every minute of designing, building and decorating this house. It was ours. Now all of my physical links to our life will be gone. I lost him, Tater, My job, Lola, and now I'm selling the house. I have a great new dog who I love completely, but who Brian will never know. I'm starting a job about which I am so excited, but about which Brian will never know. I'm moving to a new house which will be very nice, but in which Brian will never step foot. These are all great things, but as much as they are new beginnings, they are a painful ending.

I miss Brian and the life that we shared. I miss my husband and my best friend. I miss sharing my life with the man who knew me even better than I know myself. I know that because of Brian I have the strength and confidence to make these changes. Because of him I am starting to live on my own terms. Because of him I have survived this devastating loss. I will live and I will again be happy, but there is a gaping hole that will never heal - a wrenching sadness that will never ease.

I'm not working this week, so I need to get all but the basic necessities packed, and get the condo ready for move in. I got a lot done today. Sarah came over to help me, and we made a big dent. My eye is really hurting and I'm physically and emotionally very tired. So maybe I'm awake because of nervous energy and anxiety. Or maybe I'm awake because my mind and body remember that this is the anniversary of the day that Brian and I knew that something was quite wrong. For the next four months I will be anniversarying horrible moments from our life and his death. I will also be experiencing exciting new things. Two sides of the same coin- sorrow and joy, love and loss, endings and beginnings.

Few people understand how difficult it is for me to look to the future with hope while inexperience another ending. Something huge in my life is closing, but there is no closure. Something new is beginning and I am genuinely excited, but that excitement goes hand in hand with a deep sadness. I know that this is good. I know that I am driving my life in the right direction, and even though this is not a route that I have chosen I am making the best of this nerve wracking travel.

I don't know if I will sleep tonight. I don't know how the hope and sadness will meld in the coming months. I do know that I will survive the pain. I will have happiness. I will be ok.

Brian would be so proud.

Hard Day

I don't know why today has been so hard, but it has. I feel overwhelmed by sadness and depression.

Sometimes I wonder if this will ever get easier. No, often I wonder if this will ever get easier. Wasting this life is wrong, I am not entitled to happiness; I have a responsibility to find it, but I feel like if I haven't done it by now I may never.

Happy shouldn't be this hard. Maybe there is something fundamentally wrong with me.

Overwhelmed

Life is hard alone.  Of course, I'm not alone. I have friends and a family that supports me, but I don't have my partner, my love - the man I lived with, the man I planned a life with, the man I discussed everything with.  I miss him.  I spend far too much time alone, and it isn't good for me. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm just weak.  If I were more decisive, more independent, more secure, I would do better.  I'll never know.  I just know that I'm faced with all sorts of life decisions right now, and I'm not managing well.

I need to find a new job. I've been applying and networking, and things are looking promising.  I need to put my house on the market and look to buy a smaller condo.  I don't want to. I hate that I have to, but it is just me and a 20 pound dog. This place is far to big for us and the maintenance, yard work, shoveling, etc is too much for me. I dont' see well, I have to be careful not to re injure my back, and I just can't keep up. This place will sell quickly and my realtor says I should get more for it than I thought I would, but this is home.  This is the house that Brian and I built together. We planned for it, we customized it, we selected paint, and light fixtures, tiles, carpet, fixtures, counter tops, cabinets - everything.  We made this place ours, and we both loved it here. I know it is a just a house, but I love it. It was built with love, and now I have to leave. I know it is the right thing, but leaving here is leaving the last ties to my life with Brian. He is gone. Our pets are gone. I'll be starting a new job he never knew about and working with people he never met.  I hate it.

This house is big, and it is filled with stuff.  I've been working hard getting rid of things. I've gotten rid of over 40 boxes and bags of stuff.  Some of it I don't care about, but some of it is hard. I gave away most of his books. That hurts. Giving away my stuff is easy. Giving away his stuff rips open a wound.

If he were here, we probably wouldn't be moving, but if we did, we would have done it together. We would have gotten the house ready, shopped for a new place, done all the work and the planning together. Now I have to do everything alone. I do have friends that help, but it is all up to me. I have to make all the decisions without having him to talk to.

I find that I wake up in the morning and just can't do it. I can't bear to start working on this process.  Then in the mid afternoon I get busy, and I get a lot done, and before I know it it is dark and the day is done.  No dinner, no break, no social engagement. Just the knowledge that I didn't waste the entire day. At least I can feel like something was accomplished before I go downstairs to eat a small dinner at an hour way to late for dinner, snuggle with my dog that Brian never knew, and go to bed alone.

There has to be more. Life should be more than this - and I know that is why I'm doing it.  I need a new job, I need a more manageable home. The job and the new home will help me practically and financially, and it will make things better. But getting from here to there is horrible. I ache inside and out. I feel so alone.

Struggle

Today is the fifth anniversary of Brian's sister's death. Connie was great. She was self aware, fun loving, and wise. She and Brian were so different in so very many ways, but they were both wonderful people who left behind legacies of love.

They both died far too young of cancer, but their experience with cancer was so different. Connie lived with breast cancer for 14 years. Fourteen years on active chemo. Fourteen years of not letting cancer define who she was, but of incorporating cancer as part of her self - not a favorite part certainly.

Brian was diagnosed and never came back home. He went from the hospital to hospice house and died only 3.5 months after diagnosis. Like Connie, he didn't let cancer define who he was, but the inevitability of his death was more immediate. From the moment he woke from surgery, he never had even a hint of normalcy left.

I don't think one is better than the other. They both suck. Whether you accept life with cancer and all the unpleasantness of controlling it for more than a decade, or whether you suddenly come face to face with mortality without the opportunity to choose the path of your last days, they both ended up leaving this world too soon. They both are gone.

I don't know where I am going with this. I have no words of wisdom. I would like to say that I've learned to embrace all the good and bad in life, and to live it to it's fullest because I've loved others who didn't have that opportunity, but I would be lying. I'm struggling. I'm struggling to accept my losses, and to find happiness despite them. But, I suppose, the fact that I'm struggling means that I am still trying. So many changes have been forced on me, and I'm sad, angry and depressed, but I still have some hope for a good life in the future. Some days it is harder to imagine, but I'm struggling to get there.

Sometimes it is all just too hard, but I think that Brian and Connie would be proud of me. I think that they would understand just how difficult this is.

I miss them both.

More Goodbyes

Life moves on whether we want it to or not. Sometimes it forces us to do things we don't want to do, and it is hard, and it hurts, and time doesn't ease that pain.

Two years ago I lost my Brian; the most horrible thing that I ever experienced. Last September I lost our cat, Tater. When Brian and I met I had two cats and he had one. Tater was ours. The sweet, loving kitty we adopted together. We both loved all of them, but Tater was ours. A week ago I lost our Lola Dog. She was ours. Our sweet, beautiful girl. I was her mommy and Brian was her best friend. She had a rough life before we adopted her, then she lost her best friend. Now I lost her. She was only 7, and her death was sudden and unexpected and horrible. When Lola left I lost all of them; my entire family. The pain was too much. Then a few days later I lost my job. That wasn't so painful, I hated that job. No, actually I liked the job, but the pay was lousy and my boss was abusive. I'm not sad to be out of that unnecessarily stressful atmosphere. But being unemployed now is scary.

My unemployment payment calculation includes the period when I missed so much work before and after my last back surgery. My unemployment compensation will be frighteningly low. I am completely dependent on my parents and my sister, and while I am so grateful to have a family that can help me, I am horrified that I need that help to survive.

For a while now I have been talking to friends about selling my house. I don't want to. I dread it. Brian and I build this house together, and it was a wonderful project for us. We both loved this house. We had so many happy memories in this house. And while those memories will always be with me, leaving this house, this last place where we lived together is heartbreaking. I've thought about it for some time, and always pushed it off. The house is too big for me. I can't keep up with the cleaning and maintenance. With my health problems, but stressful job, and my grief, the work was too much.

Now I'm being forced to get it ready for the market. I'm going out tomorrow with my realtor to look at condo options in town. My husband is gone. Our pets are gone. My finances are in ruin. My health is shabby. And now I am being forced to say goodbye to the house that we both loved.

Perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps I hemmed and hawed for so long that life and all it's losses are forcing me to make the decisions that I couldn't make unemotionally.  Downsizing will make my life more manageable. Downsizing will make my finances much healthier. Downsizing is the right thing to do. But I feel like all the things we loved and shared will be lost. I just adopted a new little doggie named Max. Brian will never know him. I am looking for a job that Brian will never know about. I will be meeting new people that won't know Brian and who Brian never met. I will be living in a new place that was never Brian's. Now it is my dog, my job, my home, my life. Mine, and not ours. If anyone thinks that this is a healthy moving on, they are wrong. This might be the right thing for me to do, and I'm proud of myself for my pragmatism, but while my head is doing the right things, my heart is kicking and screaming. I hate this. I don't want a life without Brian. I don't want new things that he will never know.

Now I have to say goodbye to everything. And while it is the right thing to do, it hurts so very much. I hate this. I never asked for a new life. I don't want this new life, and I can't possibly have the old one back. My spirit feels crushed. My heart is heavy. I hate goodbyes.

When it rains, it pours

So, today I got layed off. As soon as I got to work I knew, but of course they waited eleven hours to tell me. You get to figure out people you work with, so I had several hours to prepare.

Budget constraints. They needed more money so my position was eliminated. Well, you can't get blood from a stone, so I guess it is better to be layed off and look for work full time than to not get paid for time work. Of course if the partners had been better business people they wouldn't be in this position, but, alas.

While I handled the "discussion " professionally, I was seething. I don't think they handled it well. Nobody likes letting people go, but I think you should grow a set and actually look at the person you are sending to the unemployment office. In any cases, it is done. I'm upset because in many regards I feel that I was lied to. I did the right thing when I had to, but good deeds often go rewarded. I know that I worked hard and am leaving that place better than I found it.

It wasn't an easy ride. While employed there I developed an eye condition that damaged my vision and causes chronic pain. I had a doctor tell me that my husband had terminal cancer, and spent every day for the next 3 1/2 months with him in hospital and hospice. Several surgeries, painful wound care, two rounds of chemo. He died in my arms. (During this time my boss was incredibly compassionate.)

Seven months later I had back surgery. Painful, but my parents flew in to help me as I healed. Five months later cataract surgery. Four months later my back went out again. If the first time was painful, the second time was excruciating and immobilizing. By the time I had the surgery the smallest movement left me screaming and crying.  This is around the time my boss started hating me.  Nothing I did was right. My coworkers called her out on her cruelty and she apologized, but after a day or two the hostility was back.  A dear friend took me to the hospital, and I spent two nights there. Then I was sent home alone.

The following weekend I had been looking forward to attending my niece's wedding. Instead she arranged for her brother to skype the ceremony so I could watch live. A few hours earlier a dear friend, one of Brian's hospice nurses, came over for coffee. Tater, Brian and my cat jumped up to visit, and we immediately knew something was wrong. His eye was sunken and weeping, he had some sort of puss on his fur, and his breath was foul. I couldn't lift him, so Sharon put him in his crate and drove us to the vet. Cancer in his mouth had grown up into his sinus cavity and was pressing on his eye. There was nothing to do for him. I held him and cried as he was "put to sleep".

It was heartbreaking.

That Monday I called my office. My boss, who had read of Taters death on FaceBook didn't offer condolences. Instead she accused me of being a suicidal drug addict and told me not to return to work until I got my act together. I have never been suicidal  nor a drug abuser, and I was shocked and hurt. I healed and returned to work part time. Then one Sunday afternoon I started having horrific back spasms. Friends took me to the ER, where heavy duty muscle relaxers and pain killers eventually calmed things down. It was late evening so I called my boss to tell her I was in the ER and would not be at work the next day. She never asked what happened or if I had an accident or illness. Her only comment was, "if you're not going to be at work tomorrow, you better get a doctors note."

Things never got better. Her hostility continued to get worse. Not one to give anyone any benefit of doubt, she snapped, barked, yelled, or gave her special brand of dagger eyes every chance she got. If anyone in the office did anything wrong, I was blamed. It was daily abuse. I have been looking for a better opportunity, but hadn't nailed down anything yet.

So today I felt angry, then sad, then like a total loser. And then a new way to think about it occurred to me. I started listing my haves and have nots. I don't have my husband, my cat, my sweet dog, my health or my financial security. Frightening! And while I no longer have a salary (did I mentioned how pathetically underpaid I've been?), I also no longer have a job in a toxic environment with an abusive job. I may not have much that is good, but maybe losing a job that sucked the life out of me isn't so bad.

I need a job. I need benefits which she didn't offer. I need to work and have a sense of accomplishment and pride. I need to be in an environment where I don't have to walk on eggshells.

Losing my Lola and my job in the same week has been horrible. Nothing will ever replace Brian, Tater or Lola; but this job.....this job can be replaced with something to much better. It might not happen as fast as I would like, but saying goodbye to the toxicity of that job might be my biggest win in years!

Believe it or not, this was the cliff noes version. I didn't even touch on the racial, anti-Semitic and misogonistic and insensitive comments from the not so silent partner.

Wow. I think that now I might even get a decent night of sleep.

Bad luck

Lonliness wraps itself around your heart like a strangling vine. It possesses you and slowly forces your surrender. I hate my life, but I'm held so tight by the grip of pain so I can't break free.


Bad luck. Was it bad luck that took Brian so young? Was it bad luck that Lola didn't stand a chance?


Is my situation bad luck or the result of poor management, weak skills, or laziness?
My family is gone. My vision is severely limited. My health is uncertain. My finances are unstable.
Is all this my fault, the design of a punitive G-d, or just an unfortunate play of fate.


In any case, I feel beaten down, impotent to create change. I feel like a drifter in a storm. Danger and loss are everywhere. Hope is gone.

exhaustion

I keep looking for Lola.

She is gone and it is so hard to find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. When I walk to the kitchen I look for her. She would always come looking for a treat. The doorbell rang and I jumped because nobody could get near my house without her announcing them.  I look for her everywhere.

I still look for Tater. He was my baby boy. He used to curl up at night and sleep on my head.

Tater and Lola where Brian and my babies.  When we met I had two cats and he had one.  Tater and Lola where ours. We were a family.  Now all three are gone. For the first time in 29 years I live completely alone. It is both heartbreaking and terrifying. My family is gone and I am left alone with my pain, fear, disappointment and anger. My sweet Tater lived a long life, but Brian died at 48 and Lola at 7.

I have chronic pain, and this grief amplifies it. Since Lola died I have had an unbearable headache. Tomorrow I see my doctor to see if we can find some answers about my eye. I know Brian would be so disappointed in me, but I wish I receive a terminal diagnosis. I just don't have the energy for chronic emotional and physical pain.

There are many people who I love, and I have many people who love me. I am great full for them, their love, and their support, but I'm sad, lonely, and exhausted. I can't find anything to feel passionate about. I can't find anything to look forward to. Life isn't going to change for me. I have to change, but I really don't know how. I really want to stop fighting.

Pain and Loss

I guess there are no limits on pain and loss. I would like to think that one might reach a limit after which they could be free of additional loss, but it just isn't so. At one time perhaps I believed that love and joy had no limits. Now I'm afraid to believe anything.

I have lost so much. My husband, my marriage, my partner, my career, my financial security, my health, my confidence, my cat, and my sweet sweet beautiful dog. Nothing is left from my life with Brian except memories, and while there are great memories they are shadowed by painful ones. I will always remember the incredible joy of my marriage, but the incredible pain of Brian's death is right there. I will always remember how happy we were to adopt Tater and then Lola, and now they are both gone too. All three died in my arms.

Every part of me hurts. Every part of me wants to give up.

If one more person tells me how strong I am, I might literally crumble. Fuck strength. Fuck courage. Fuck surviving.  I want to lean on someone. I want to acknowledge all my fears. I want someone to love, comfort, and protect me.  I want to be able to find something to look forward to. I want to do more than survive, but I am terrified that any more loss will leave me paralyzed.

My house is empty. The silence is screaming. I am overcome with pain and fear. I am afraid to want; afraid to hope; afraid to be vulnerable.  I'm done. I surrender.

i hate my life

Two years ago my beloved husband Brian died of cancer in my arms.
Last year our beloved cat Tater died of cancer in my arms.
Today our beloved dog Lola died of cancer in my arms.
My heart is beyond repair. My family is gone.

Hope. Fear.

It seems like forever since I've written here.  It has only been a few months, but they have been long months.  I've wanted to post several times but have had password problems.  I finally got them figured out, so here I am.  How to catch up?


Grief doesn't end.  Two years and four months and the pain is so strong.  I don't know how to approach life.  My grief has to be private - others not in this position can't understand it anymore.  I do have good things in my life, but there is an underlying foundation of wrongness since Brian's death.

I can't share my honest thoughts or fears, and the energy that it takes to appear ok is exhausting.

My job is sucking the life out of me.  I'm not sure when or why my boss started hating me, but it is a reality that is hard to live with.  I spend more time at work than with anyone else, and her behavior is abusive.  She isn't a morning person, and that is not on me, but starting every work day with her snapping or yelling is unbearable.  No matter what I do it is wrong.  She treats me like I am less than human, and I really don't feel that I've done anything to warrant this behavior.  I've been looking for a new job, I really need benefits, but I can't find anything.  I'm overqualified, or under qualified.  I did have great interviews for two jobs.  The first told me that I had the job, but then gave it to someone else.  I need more money.  Even if I made the same salary, having benefits would save me a lot.  I am living beyond my means.   I'm not extravagant with spending, but I can't make ends meet.  My parents are helping to support me, and while I am grateful, the knowledge that I need their support to get by has destroyed my sense of self worth.  I know that I am more than my job title or my salary, but I don't feel it.  I'm no longer a wife.  I'm not anyone's mom.  I'm not important to anyone in the way that Brian and I were important to each other.

My health is more or less ok, but I have worries.  My eye condition seems to be worse lately, and constant pain takes a toll.  I'm seeing some new doctors.  The cause of my eye problem may be a blood condition.  If so, the eye injections I receive are fine, but the systemic medications might be all wrong.  This condition could also cause other more serious problems.  Or not.  The uncertainty is hard to handle alone.

I have friends.  I have people that are important to me, but when it comes to the big stuff I feel very alone.  I've been making an effort to not isolate myself.  I'm trying to reach out and make plans.  I'm trying to find a new job.  I'm trying to find interest in life, but I'm alone and scared and sad.

This is not a life I want, and I don't seem capable of changing that.  I hate not having a true partner. I hate my job.  I hate that I'm no longer financially independent.  I hate that I have health issues.  So much hate!

I love my dog.

Grief changes over time.  It isn't as crushing as it once was.  But life seems more hopeless now, and that only gets worse with time.  I'm so afraid.  Brian would have understood that.

Life Goes On

Time does not heal all wounds.  Life goes on; I'm alive.  I have friends, I experience happiness, I have fun, but so much is still missing.  Not the pain, the pain remains.  Sometimes it hides in the shadows, but it is always there.  You can't experience such a profound loss and expect to heal.  You survive.  And by many accounts, I'm surviving well, but the pain is always there.  When there is joy to celebrate, but he isn't there to celebrate with.  When there is sadness, and he isn't there for comfort. In the little things, and in the big things.  When something is interesting, horrifying, or absurd, he isn't there.  I have friends, I have so much, but so much is gone, The loss is always there.  The "new normal" doesn't feel normal - it feels like a compromise.

How to hold on, how to let go.  How to carry the love and the loss.  What to keep, and what to dispose of.  How to process things alone. How to not feel alone.  How to allow others in, and how to realize that they can't possibly understand the level of the loss.  How to allow yourself to be happy, and how to deal with all that is missing.

I wan't joy, laughter and passion.  I want purpose and permission to not have purpose.  I wan't intention. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, but I don't want them to confuse survival with strength.  I want permission to be weak.  I want to breakdown and have someone there who isn't made uncomfortable by it.  I wan't to incorporate my grieving and my sadness into a life that is purposeful and happy.  I want to feel good about myself.  I want to feel proud of my accomplishments.  I wan't not to feel defeated by my failure.

I want to understand how Brian is gone, even if I'll never understand why he is gone.  I want to maintain my faith in humanity and in G-d without anger.  I want to find the strength to accept my anger.  I want someone to know me the way Brian knew me, and to love me despite all ,my faults and frailty.

I want, I want, I want, but I don't know how to make it happen.  I don't know how to move on.  I don't know how to feel complete.

I'm not the first person to lose the love of their life.  The world is full of grieving widows, widowers, parents, children, sibling, friends - people who miss someone desperately, and most of us move on. But to lose your life partner before their time.  To watch a good, decent, kind, intelligent man die at 48 just because a cancer cell divided and divided and ate him from the inside - how do you live with that without doubt?  Can life ever be more than just ok again?

Memory

I no longer feel qualified to write about life. I don't know if I remember how it feels to live. There has to be more.

Done

Bad news begets bad news. Bad luck begets bad luck. Bad karma begets bad karma. Eventually it just starts to feel like nothing good will ever again happen. It is too dangerous to hope or to want. I'm done.

Two Years

Tonight I lit a yaretzeit candle.  Two years ago tonight was Brian's last night.  Two years ago early tomorrow Brian died in my arms.  He died peacefully.  He didn't appear to be in any pain.  I think he knew that I was there.  He squeezed my hand before he took his last two breathes.

For me, it was horrible.  The last two nights were excruciating.  I knew he was going - that was no surprise, but I didn't know what he felt.  I didn't know if he was scared.  He couldn't communicate, and I didn't know how to help him.

I knew that that last night, when I hit the morphine button, it was for more than to alleviate his pain.  I hit that button again and again, to end his pain.  I didn't kill him; I would never have done anything to hurt him, but if the morphine could speed the horrific process of dying, I wanted to do that for him.  I wanted to fix him, to bring him back to health, to spend the rest of my life with him; but the cancer ate him from the inside out.  Death was imminent, and I wanted it to be peaceful for him.  I didn't want him to suffer.  I didn't want him to feel pain.  I didn't want him to die, but I couldn't bear watching him live in the state that he was in. He couldn't communicate, he couldn't get out of bed, he couldn't control his body. He couldn't be Brian.

Two years later, and those memories are still so hard.  Two years later, and I still miss him so much.  I know he is gone.  I know he won't come back.  I know that my life has and is moving away from our life together.  I have to live; and living without him means meeting people, doing things, experiencing life in a way that he will never be able.  How can I be meeting people that he will never know?  How can I be going places that he will never see.  How can I be getting older when he had barely turned 48 when he was told that he was dying?

Brian and I did not make a decision to end our marriage.  If he could be here, he would be.  He didn't want to die.  He didn't want to leave me.  But he is gone, and he won't be back.  Our dreams of getting old together were dashed.  I need to live without him.  I need to do new things without him.  I need to plan for a life without him.

For two years I have been stagnant.  Wanting to live, wanting to be happy, but not wanting to move away from the life we had together.  But to really live, I need to make changes for myself.  I need to leave behind things that don't enhance my life, and welcome new experiences, people and opportunities that can bring me happiness.  I need to make changes in my life without being able to talk to Brian about them.  I need to experience things that he will never know about.  I need to go places that he has never seen.  I need to move forward, but that means moving further away from the life that we had; a life that I loved.

It is lonely.  It is terrifying.  It is heartbreaking.  I don't understand how I can want better things for myself, but be terrified of those opportunities because they move me away from my life with Brian.

Brian wanted me to live and to be happy.  He would be so proud of me for risking change on my own. He believed in me.  He knew that I could do anything I set my mind to.

I need to set my mind to living a life that is fulfilling without Brian.  I need to set my mind to making changes that will enhance my life.  I need to move away from the past and towards a meaningful life.  I take him with me in my head and my heart, but he can't come with me into the future.  I need to accept that memory is all that I have left.

I see the flickering of the candle, and I need to believe that his light is glowing in me.  That I carry him into the future by living the best life that I can.  I need to believe that my best is not in my past.  I don't know how to believe that.  I don't know how to look forward with excitement and anticipation.  I need to figure that out.  I need to start to do it now.

Grief

It has been almost two years since I lost Brian, and while the grief feels different, it still feels fresh.  I am anniversarying  the last two weeks of his life, and the memories are painful.  In the end, the decline was rapid.  We had the chance to say goodbye, but it was too quick, too soon, too hard.

I miss him every day.  I miss the life we shared.  I miss the love we shared.  I miss my best friend.  Life goes on, but nothing is the same.  It is hard every day.

This week I heard the horrible news of an online friend who just lost her infant son.  He was a twin.  They are now enjoying their beautiful baby girl, while mourning their beautiful baby boy.  I can't imagine their pain.  I know my pain.  I know that Brian died far too young.  How does one deal with the death of an infant?  How does anything in life make sense. 

I am heartbroken.  For them, for myself, for Brian. It hurts too much.  Every day is too hard.  I need to find a way to be happy again, but I don't know how. 

Sadness

I'm really struggling with sadness.  I have had some good times, but I really haven't felt joy since Brian's diagnosis.  Life has been hard, and I hate being alone. I miss the laughter that was a daily part of our life.

There is so much bad news every day.  Today a plane crash in Switzerland took the lives of 150 people including 16 high school kids.  Today my friend Margaret shared her sadness that one of her newborn twins has become unresponsive and they don't know what is wrong. 

There seems to be no good news. Everyone around me is struggling with stress. 


  

Inertia

I feel like I'm in a state of total inertia, and I hate it.

I lost my husband; I spend too much time alone; I'm in a dead end job with pay that doesn't cover my bills; I'm not keeping up with housework; I can't seem to get some health issues managed.  There is so much I should or could do - housework, yardwork, cleaning out some of Brian's things, divesting myself of my own "stuff" in the knowledge that I should downsize into a smaller home to reduce my expenses.  I'm just not doing any of those things.  I do the minimum to get by.  Laundry, bills.  Even preparing meals is often too much of an effort.  Who wants to cook for one?  Eat alone? Eat the same thing all week? 

Some things have gotten better, certainly, but there is an overwhelming sense of sadness and loneliness that overshadows everything else in my life.  I know that there is a lot of good still out there for me, but I also know that my best years are behind me.  I know that if I had a desire to look for it, there might even be a new relationship out there for me, but I believe that the perfect partnership is behind me and that no other could be as perfect, as all encompassing, as fulfilling as my relationship with Brian.

I had a visit with my doctor this week, and he injected an implant into my eye.  I've had more injections in my eye that I can count at this point.  This time I was terrified.  This was something new - a larger needle, and not just a medication, but an implant being placed into my eye.  I was fighting to hold back tears because I just wanted Brian to hold my hand. I hate having to pretend to be strong when I don't feel strong.  I hate having to face these fears alone.  I hate that my life is moving on without him.  I've met people and been to places that Brian never knew.  I've experienced good things and bad things that Brian hasn't experienced.  I've created new memories that he is not a part of.  It hurts. 

I have amazing friends who support me and love me, but in so many things in my life I am completely alone, and it breaks my heart.  I am lonely.  I am not good with my own company.  I see me friends, and I have good times, and I laugh and enjoy some things in my life, but at the end of the day I go home alone.  I climb into bed alone.  I go to sleep alone.  I wake up alone.  None of this was my choice.  None of this was the plan.

It has been a year, ten months and eight days since he has been gone, and I still can't wrap my brain around what has happened.  How does a 48 year old man go in for exploratory surgery and never come home?  How does someone stop breathing and cease to exist?  How do I as his wife learn to live in a world without him?

Maybe I could and should be doing more to have a better life without Brian, but I'm stuck.  I can't push past the inertia.  I can't process the pain.

Fury

I've been so incredibly angry lately.  I'm not sure how long my mind and body can sustain such intense anger.  I have memories and flashbacks that send me into panic.  I have no answers or explanations.  I'm incredibly angry at how unfair life can be.  How the hell could Brian have died?  He had only just turned 48.  How the hell did my life become a series of losses and failures.  A failed marriage.  A stolen marriage.  A tanked career.  I did what everyone told me I should do.  I went to the school that everyone insisted I go to to get the right opportunities - and where has that left me?  I was "good"; I always played it safe and towed the line because that was what I was supposed to do - and what did that earn me?  The one and only decision that I made for purely selfish reasons - despite my families objections - was to marry Brian, and that was the one and only decision that clearly was the right thing to do.  To follow my heart and to allow myself to love, be loved, and be happy.

Now he's dead.  I'm stuck in a dead end job after a failed career.  I'm broke.  I have unmanaged health issues.  I can't get the drugs I need because of the bureaucracy of the insurance business.  I can't afford the only meds that relieve my pain.  My boss is an unstable rage-aholic.   I work long days and come home to being the sole caretaker of our dog, the sole keeper of the house, the sole payer of the bills.  I don't have the time, energy or money to manage things. 

Brian is dead, my life is out of control, and I'm alone in this hell that nobody can understand and that if few, if any, even know that I'm in. 

My life feels like it's not even about me.  It's about pleasing my boss, and trying to take care of responsibilities.  There is nothing to plan for.  Nothing to look forward to.  I'm no longer a student planning my life.  I'm no longer a career person planning advancement.  I'm no longer a wife.  I'm nobody's mother.  I'm just a sad, lonely, incredibly angry person who really needs a break. 

I go to work everyday, and do my best to get things under control, but like everyone else in the office, I'm only as relevant as my last mistake.  The boss has no understanding of business or how to behave in a business relationship.  I used to think that she just hated me, but she lashes out at everyone - always assuming the worst.  She never gives an employee the benefit of the doubt.  She never asks why something didn't happen as we had hoped or planned.  She just makes it clear that she thinks that everyone who works for her are lazy, incompetent idiots.  Truth be told, right now we have a strong staff, and given the lousy pay she offers, she is blessed to have such a devoted group.  Heaven forbid she every thank any of the staff or show any appreciation. 

I work in this hostile environment, and then come home to a messy house, laundry that needs to be washed and folded, things that need to be cleaned.  There are bills that need to be paid, and not enough money to pay them.  There is rarely a well stocked kitchen, and even if there were, I'm unlikely to cook dinner for one at 8pm. 

This was our home together.  Our refuge from the bullshit of the work day, from the craziness of a broken world where people hate, and kill, and suffer.  This was a home that wasn't always neat, and wasn't always clean, but was always bursting with love and laughter.  This was a place where all the outside bullshit didn't matter so much because what we had in this home was so much more important than anything else.

Now this is just a house.  Just a building making more demands on my time and bank account.  I don't feel a refuge here.  I don't come home to that love and laughter.  I come home to my anger at knowing that the things that were truly great are gone, and that now, while there are still moments of joy and laughter, there are more of pain and lonliness.

I miss Brian.  I miss our life.  I miss his love and support.  I miss the foundation of my life.  I am so angry.  This is a private hell.

Change, Loss

Two years ago today my life changed.  Two years ago today was Brian's surgery and the horrific declaration from the doctor that he was dying.

After that he never came home.  After that he, we, never did so many things.

Today there were some horribly painful memories.  Today there were some awful moments.  There were also some good ones.

It still hurts.  It will always hurt.  But I need to live with the pain and loss and still be happy.  And I have to somehow figure it all out.