Karen wilgus
New Here
I am so sorry for your loss ..i can feel the pain. I was married to a veteran too. He was my whole world. Now GOD is. That is the good that came. It broke me so bad. Only God could put the pieces back together
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My husband died today
- Post starter NarcSis
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- Post starter
- #1,178
They were the three amigos, my husband, my preceptor and their partner. That partner is participating in a 52km hike this fall to raise funds for a PTSD charity - he also has PTSD. He is dedicating his hike in honour of my husband.
I'm humbled by the gesture. I want to send something with him but I'm not sure what yet - some of hubbys ashes may be a bit heavy handed and tough for him to deal with.
We all shared a special bond in the form of trauma. As a student, we were all involved in a scuffle with a man attempting to murder his wife. Armed with a knife, he stormed the ER before being tackled by my husband. The incident left a nurse with her throat slashed and the lot of us suffering critical incident stress effects.
I always felt bonded to these guys after that. Hubby and I went through a lot together. We saw a lot together but him, far more than me and I've seen A LOT.
Hubby would have been honored.
I'm still so disappointed when I come to bed and he's not somehow miraculously waiting for me. I still expect him to be here when I come home. I still wish he could just come back.
I'm humbled by the gesture. I want to send something with him but I'm not sure what yet - some of hubbys ashes may be a bit heavy handed and tough for him to deal with.
We all shared a special bond in the form of trauma. As a student, we were all involved in a scuffle with a man attempting to murder his wife. Armed with a knife, he stormed the ER before being tackled by my husband. The incident left a nurse with her throat slashed and the lot of us suffering critical incident stress effects.
I always felt bonded to these guys after that. Hubby and I went through a lot together. We saw a lot together but him, far more than me and I've seen A LOT.
Hubby would have been honored.
I'm still so disappointed when I come to bed and he's not somehow miraculously waiting for me. I still expect him to be here when I come home. I still wish he could just come back.
- Post starter
- #1,179
My friend wrote on his fundraiser that my husband shot himself in the heart. That shocked me. I've never heard that before. I don't know if that's truth or rumor. The only way for me to know for sure is to open the coroner's report and I'm not sure I'm ready to do that.
All I know is what was told to me that day, "he has a wound on his right side and an exit wound on his left." I remember that because it didn't make sense to me, my first thought was, "who killed him?" Because I assumed he was stabbed. All I knew at that point was that he was in his car about 100m from me and I wasn't allowed to see him. It made no sense to me that he had wounds straight through him because I was assuming either cut wrists or stab wounds or pills simply because he was an avid knife collector.
All of that thought process took place in a fraction of a second because after a slight pause for breath, the medic said, "there's a gun lying on the seat next to him."
That was when I collapsed to my knees and said, "the guns" and I looked up at him in a haze and feeling like the breath was being knocked out of me, said, "I forgot to check the guns."
He stared at me in shock and said, "what!?" It was in those moments that I conjured up the image of him seated there, eyes open, face pale, cold and dead with a gun leaning haphazardly on the seat beside him. That image gave me such intense fear and pain and it wasn't even real.
I still don't know the truth of his death because it's in a sealed envelope in our filing cabinet.
I know I'd said several times around the time of the funeral and after that I assumed he likely was angry at his heart for being defective so he killed it. 14 months later, I don't know precisely how he died.
14 months. Tomorrow marks 14 months exactly since he died. I'm still expecting the joke to be over and for him to come home.
Hubby's great grampa came home from the war only to die two months later. His great grandma told everyone he'd gone back to war. She was perpetually waiting for him to come back.
I know how that feels now. I used to think "wow, that ol' lady must've been crazy." but now I get it. I totally understand. I still expect him to miraculously be here after I come home from being out. The disappointment of his not being here is fresh and real every single time. It's not like the reality of the situation solidifies, it just gets repeatedly erased by this tiny erroneous hope.
I'm still waiting for him to come home.
All I know is what was told to me that day, "he has a wound on his right side and an exit wound on his left." I remember that because it didn't make sense to me, my first thought was, "who killed him?" Because I assumed he was stabbed. All I knew at that point was that he was in his car about 100m from me and I wasn't allowed to see him. It made no sense to me that he had wounds straight through him because I was assuming either cut wrists or stab wounds or pills simply because he was an avid knife collector.
All of that thought process took place in a fraction of a second because after a slight pause for breath, the medic said, "there's a gun lying on the seat next to him."
That was when I collapsed to my knees and said, "the guns" and I looked up at him in a haze and feeling like the breath was being knocked out of me, said, "I forgot to check the guns."
He stared at me in shock and said, "what!?" It was in those moments that I conjured up the image of him seated there, eyes open, face pale, cold and dead with a gun leaning haphazardly on the seat beside him. That image gave me such intense fear and pain and it wasn't even real.
I still don't know the truth of his death because it's in a sealed envelope in our filing cabinet.
I know I'd said several times around the time of the funeral and after that I assumed he likely was angry at his heart for being defective so he killed it. 14 months later, I don't know precisely how he died.
14 months. Tomorrow marks 14 months exactly since he died. I'm still expecting the joke to be over and for him to come home.
Hubby's great grampa came home from the war only to die two months later. His great grandma told everyone he'd gone back to war. She was perpetually waiting for him to come back.
I know how that feels now. I used to think "wow, that ol' lady must've been crazy." but now I get it. I totally understand. I still expect him to miraculously be here after I come home from being out. The disappointment of his not being here is fresh and real every single time. It's not like the reality of the situation solidifies, it just gets repeatedly erased by this tiny erroneous hope.
I'm still waiting for him to come home.
- Post starter
- #1,180
14 month anniversary today. He's been dead for 14 whole months. It hardly seems like two to me. He was just here. Wasn't he just here?
My sister went home today. The dog and I have not ventured out. This is always the worst day for me, having to deal with the quiet of the house all over again. And yet, it's overwhelmingly loud when she's here that I beg for peace and hate it at the same time. Nothing seems to make me happy anymore. I cried over dinner, my silent dinner with the dog whining and staring at me. I completely breakdown over meals now. If I'm going to cry, it will often be with food in my mouth.
It seems every film / movie that pops up on my netflix has to do with suicide or the afterlife today. Are these messages from him? Like, seriously, all three movies that I chose to watch today!? I'm currently watching a tv series called 13 reasons why, about a highschool girl who commits suicide and the aftermath. It is and isn't triggering at the same time...??? Do I ever make any sense or am I always contradictory?
Confused maybe. Unable to describe how I'm feeling.
My friend doing the hike in September, changed his write up in his hike. After he admits that he has PTSD and it took his job from him, it says in bold letters, "I have never tried to commit suicide." and then he goes on to talk about how my husband killed himself.
It's really burning my butt. The statement alone just promotes stigma. You're not defective because you consider suicide or you attempted suicide. If you have PTSD it is living hell. If you're eventually fired, it is an even worse level of hell. If you consider ending your life or you attempt to kill yourself at some point during that fight, I would never, ever, ever fault anyone for that and I would never judge anyone or make them feel badly because it happened. The statement alone once again, assumes a diagnosis of PTSD in my husband and it places his death in a judgey holier than thou light and that is pure BS in my books.
I've struggled with PTSD for 9 years now. I've tried to strangle myself. I have had repeated bouts of serious suicidal thinking. I fought hard to get out of those periods. Since his death, I've been brave and have never once denied this to anyone. I've encouraged people to talk about it. I don't care what your religion teaches you, I don't care what society says about it, I really don't care. People who commit suicide are not SICK or DEFECTIVE or DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF US, they are people who are HURTING for Christ's sake. Show some f'ing compassion!
Denial only helps keep the stigma of the whole thing alive and makes people ashamed to speak out. If you've never considered suicide throughout your fight, then fine, good on you, that's something to take pride in but it's not actually something to shove in the face of others who may be lost and hurting and will feel judged by it for not knowing how to effectively express their pain!
My husband took a shotgun and shot himself. If that's not lost and hurting, then I don't know what is. He never got help. He didn't even know anything was wrong with him. He didn't have the classic symptoms that single incident traumas generate. He didn't have insomnia and night terrors or constant hypervigilance. He wasn't triggering to every little thing or even to specific things. He didn't have the same symptoms I had. He didn't have the same symptoms that his "friend" had. Does that mean he's open to be judged? He went into crisis, he struggled and seemed to be coming out of it, he left our house and he shot himself. Had he thought of this in the past? I'll never know. No one will ever know.
I mean, you call yourself a friend of his but you preface that with a statement that completely distances yourself from him!? Yep, that's compassion. (eye roll)
It feels good to get that off my chest. I will never have an explanation. Anyone peripheral to us and our life together will only ever be able to speculate about how or why he died. The most I can hope for now is that I continue to survive this "after loss" that I now live in. I get suicidal. I'm not ashamed of it. Sometimes this sh*t gets so hard to deal with on my own. Sometimes I need it to stop eating me alive from the inside out. Sometimes I just need people to understand how I'm thinking and support me and help me to keep going.
My husband did not go to your hell. He went to a place where he and I live a comfortable and peaceful existence, together, in love like we are supposed to be. I will join him there one day and that day can't come soon enough. If I happen to lose my battle and also die from suicide, I don't ever want anyone to judge me as weak, or sick, or defective in any way. I want them to know that I was human in all of it's painful, raw and real truth. If I should die from an accident or health issue, I want people to know that I struggled to get there to that point, that I fought hard to get to where I was and dammit, PTSD did not make me a BAD person or a defective person, it made me strong.
I miss my husband so much tonight. I hope he can see me. I hope he is here with me.
My sister went home today. The dog and I have not ventured out. This is always the worst day for me, having to deal with the quiet of the house all over again. And yet, it's overwhelmingly loud when she's here that I beg for peace and hate it at the same time. Nothing seems to make me happy anymore. I cried over dinner, my silent dinner with the dog whining and staring at me. I completely breakdown over meals now. If I'm going to cry, it will often be with food in my mouth.
It seems every film / movie that pops up on my netflix has to do with suicide or the afterlife today. Are these messages from him? Like, seriously, all three movies that I chose to watch today!? I'm currently watching a tv series called 13 reasons why, about a highschool girl who commits suicide and the aftermath. It is and isn't triggering at the same time...??? Do I ever make any sense or am I always contradictory?
Confused maybe. Unable to describe how I'm feeling.
My friend doing the hike in September, changed his write up in his hike. After he admits that he has PTSD and it took his job from him, it says in bold letters, "I have never tried to commit suicide." and then he goes on to talk about how my husband killed himself.
It's really burning my butt. The statement alone just promotes stigma. You're not defective because you consider suicide or you attempted suicide. If you have PTSD it is living hell. If you're eventually fired, it is an even worse level of hell. If you consider ending your life or you attempt to kill yourself at some point during that fight, I would never, ever, ever fault anyone for that and I would never judge anyone or make them feel badly because it happened. The statement alone once again, assumes a diagnosis of PTSD in my husband and it places his death in a judgey holier than thou light and that is pure BS in my books.
I've struggled with PTSD for 9 years now. I've tried to strangle myself. I have had repeated bouts of serious suicidal thinking. I fought hard to get out of those periods. Since his death, I've been brave and have never once denied this to anyone. I've encouraged people to talk about it. I don't care what your religion teaches you, I don't care what society says about it, I really don't care. People who commit suicide are not SICK or DEFECTIVE or DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF US, they are people who are HURTING for Christ's sake. Show some f'ing compassion!
Denial only helps keep the stigma of the whole thing alive and makes people ashamed to speak out. If you've never considered suicide throughout your fight, then fine, good on you, that's something to take pride in but it's not actually something to shove in the face of others who may be lost and hurting and will feel judged by it for not knowing how to effectively express their pain!
My husband took a shotgun and shot himself. If that's not lost and hurting, then I don't know what is. He never got help. He didn't even know anything was wrong with him. He didn't have the classic symptoms that single incident traumas generate. He didn't have insomnia and night terrors or constant hypervigilance. He wasn't triggering to every little thing or even to specific things. He didn't have the same symptoms I had. He didn't have the same symptoms that his "friend" had. Does that mean he's open to be judged? He went into crisis, he struggled and seemed to be coming out of it, he left our house and he shot himself. Had he thought of this in the past? I'll never know. No one will ever know.
I mean, you call yourself a friend of his but you preface that with a statement that completely distances yourself from him!? Yep, that's compassion. (eye roll)
It feels good to get that off my chest. I will never have an explanation. Anyone peripheral to us and our life together will only ever be able to speculate about how or why he died. The most I can hope for now is that I continue to survive this "after loss" that I now live in. I get suicidal. I'm not ashamed of it. Sometimes this sh*t gets so hard to deal with on my own. Sometimes I need it to stop eating me alive from the inside out. Sometimes I just need people to understand how I'm thinking and support me and help me to keep going.
My husband did not go to your hell. He went to a place where he and I live a comfortable and peaceful existence, together, in love like we are supposed to be. I will join him there one day and that day can't come soon enough. If I happen to lose my battle and also die from suicide, I don't ever want anyone to judge me as weak, or sick, or defective in any way. I want them to know that I was human in all of it's painful, raw and real truth. If I should die from an accident or health issue, I want people to know that I struggled to get there to that point, that I fought hard to get to where I was and dammit, PTSD did not make me a BAD person or a defective person, it made me strong.
I miss my husband so much tonight. I hope he can see me. I hope he is here with me.
- Post starter
- #1,181
The dog and I did a marathon hike today - I had to go slow for him! He's 7 which in human years is essentially my age but I'm thinking he spent 6 of those years inside a house not getting much exercise. Since I've had him he's developed some insane definition in his leg muscles. He looks like he could kick butt....but I forget that he still fatigues easily.
Our journey today was 2, 1/2 hours long and I'm not sure how far but if I were to hazard a guess id say maybe 10 -12 kilometers.
I was proud of myself but as we rounded the final turn toward the main roadway, I thought, "You and I could have done that walk, husband. You would have loved it." Then the reality hit me, he could barely make the 45min around the pond without having pain. Even if he were still alive, he never would have done that hike with me. He couldn't do those anymore. Not since his neck injury.
If he were still alive I would have never done that hike. I never would have pushed myself as hard as I'm pushing right now just to feel alive in some tiny way, no matter how hard it is or how much it kills, it makes me feel alive inside for brief moments.
He needed that. He needed to feel alive inside again but no one could give that to him, he had to find it and work for it himself. I knew how to do it for me. I tried to show him how but maybe my alive moments were not his - maybe his were somewhere else, we just needed to find it.
We never got the chance.
Kid on the tv show today made me cry. Trigger warning there is a graphic suicide scene in that tv show. I guess it was more a PTSD trigger than a grief trigger - blood in water, water spilling across a floor? Yeah, trauma trigger. I knew my cry was different...more shakey, panic like.
It was a sad but interesting show. I can't see it being renewed. It just made me wish for his reasons but in the show the girl thought out her suicide, she had a plan. His was not a drawn out process. His happened so quickly. Any thinking he did, he did in the basement with the gun.
I still wish that I'd find a note, a recording, a message that tells me he loved me. I don't like that I doubt that now.
I cried as I sat looking at the front door today. I said to the house, "Why can't you just open that door and be home? Why can't you just be at work right now? I want you to just come home from work again, please!?"
I miss him so much.
Our journey today was 2, 1/2 hours long and I'm not sure how far but if I were to hazard a guess id say maybe 10 -12 kilometers.
I was proud of myself but as we rounded the final turn toward the main roadway, I thought, "You and I could have done that walk, husband. You would have loved it." Then the reality hit me, he could barely make the 45min around the pond without having pain. Even if he were still alive, he never would have done that hike with me. He couldn't do those anymore. Not since his neck injury.
If he were still alive I would have never done that hike. I never would have pushed myself as hard as I'm pushing right now just to feel alive in some tiny way, no matter how hard it is or how much it kills, it makes me feel alive inside for brief moments.
He needed that. He needed to feel alive inside again but no one could give that to him, he had to find it and work for it himself. I knew how to do it for me. I tried to show him how but maybe my alive moments were not his - maybe his were somewhere else, we just needed to find it.
We never got the chance.
Kid on the tv show today made me cry. Trigger warning there is a graphic suicide scene in that tv show. I guess it was more a PTSD trigger than a grief trigger - blood in water, water spilling across a floor? Yeah, trauma trigger. I knew my cry was different...more shakey, panic like.
It was a sad but interesting show. I can't see it being renewed. It just made me wish for his reasons but in the show the girl thought out her suicide, she had a plan. His was not a drawn out process. His happened so quickly. Any thinking he did, he did in the basement with the gun.
I still wish that I'd find a note, a recording, a message that tells me he loved me. I don't like that I doubt that now.
I cried as I sat looking at the front door today. I said to the house, "Why can't you just open that door and be home? Why can't you just be at work right now? I want you to just come home from work again, please!?"
I miss him so much.
- Post starter
- #1,182
I'm extremely anxious right now and I don't know how to calm down.
I had to tell the neighbor kids off today because they were bouncing a ball against my house and agitating not only me but the dog.
The dog was so wound up he startled on the stairs and crashed down them into a potted plant I have on the landing. Thank god he didn't hurt himself.
I tried to calm him and ignore it but the sound kept reminding me of distant gunshots. Finally I had to go out and tell them off. I was met with denial, I was so shocked, I'd seen them throw the ball! I said, "please don't lie to me, I saw you throw the ball, I just saw it!" That's when the smallest one admitted it and politely apologized. I thanked him and went back inside - terrified and shaking.
These were the types of "confrontation" that hubby used to handle for me because of how I react now to the slightest things. And here I was, reacting to it almost immediately. I went to the couch to sit down, a minute later I was hyperventilating, physically shaking and crying helplessly. I've been hyperaroused since then. I keep expecting some form of retaliation like I'll find my windows broken or something. I'm terrified someone will try to break in. I've "barred the doors" and tried to do things to make me feel safer but I'm not feeling very safe.
I know it's the PTSD. I know this but of logic could fix it then I'd still be employed and happy...maybe hubby would still be alive.
It's sh*t like this that makes me angry. If this didn't happen to me so often and so intensely then he wouldn't have had to be a caregiver 24/7. We could've had a normal happy life.
I'm never going to have that. We're not going to get old together. I'm going to eventually die alone. Scared.
He took care of things around here. He took care of me. He made me feel safe. He protected me. I can't function properly when I'm scared. God, I'm afraid to go to bed right now!
I'd barely even classify that as confrontation but geez it did a number on me.
The whole thing makes me miss him so intensely so there's also that pain rolling around inside me now too. I cried out of utter loneliness for almost a whole hour. I was on the floor curled in a ball silently screaming and rocking back and forth.
I feel exhausted numb.i just want to sit and stare at a single spot and "go away" for a while. It's black sadness. Dull, dark, ominous and threatening to swallow me whole. I'm tired but I can't settle.
I need him so bad right now. I need to feel his body next to me. I need to sense his strength, feel his power and calm by the sound of his heart beating.
He used to hold me tight and I'd listen to his heart beating. I had permission to let go and calm when he'd hold me. He's not here to do that anymore.
I'm scared. I'm alone. I just have to get through this night. It will be okay tomorrow. I can get hold of this. I've done it before. No one is going to try to hurt me. It's going to be okay. I can sleep. I just need to sleep.
I wish he could just come home! :(
I had to tell the neighbor kids off today because they were bouncing a ball against my house and agitating not only me but the dog.
The dog was so wound up he startled on the stairs and crashed down them into a potted plant I have on the landing. Thank god he didn't hurt himself.
I tried to calm him and ignore it but the sound kept reminding me of distant gunshots. Finally I had to go out and tell them off. I was met with denial, I was so shocked, I'd seen them throw the ball! I said, "please don't lie to me, I saw you throw the ball, I just saw it!" That's when the smallest one admitted it and politely apologized. I thanked him and went back inside - terrified and shaking.
These were the types of "confrontation" that hubby used to handle for me because of how I react now to the slightest things. And here I was, reacting to it almost immediately. I went to the couch to sit down, a minute later I was hyperventilating, physically shaking and crying helplessly. I've been hyperaroused since then. I keep expecting some form of retaliation like I'll find my windows broken or something. I'm terrified someone will try to break in. I've "barred the doors" and tried to do things to make me feel safer but I'm not feeling very safe.
I know it's the PTSD. I know this but of logic could fix it then I'd still be employed and happy...maybe hubby would still be alive.
It's sh*t like this that makes me angry. If this didn't happen to me so often and so intensely then he wouldn't have had to be a caregiver 24/7. We could've had a normal happy life.
I'm never going to have that. We're not going to get old together. I'm going to eventually die alone. Scared.
He took care of things around here. He took care of me. He made me feel safe. He protected me. I can't function properly when I'm scared. God, I'm afraid to go to bed right now!
I'd barely even classify that as confrontation but geez it did a number on me.
The whole thing makes me miss him so intensely so there's also that pain rolling around inside me now too. I cried out of utter loneliness for almost a whole hour. I was on the floor curled in a ball silently screaming and rocking back and forth.
I feel exhausted numb.i just want to sit and stare at a single spot and "go away" for a while. It's black sadness. Dull, dark, ominous and threatening to swallow me whole. I'm tired but I can't settle.
I need him so bad right now. I need to feel his body next to me. I need to sense his strength, feel his power and calm by the sound of his heart beating.
He used to hold me tight and I'd listen to his heart beating. I had permission to let go and calm when he'd hold me. He's not here to do that anymore.
I'm scared. I'm alone. I just have to get through this night. It will be okay tomorrow. I can get hold of this. I've done it before. No one is going to try to hurt me. It's going to be okay. I can sleep. I just need to sleep.
I wish he could just come home! :(
- Post starter
- #1,183
Uggh, sometimes this hurt and pain just wells up out of nowhere and threatens to swallow you. It is a deep and dark pit of depression. I get so damned lonely. There are days when the sound of the television is just not enough to satisfy this loneliness inside. The dog looks at me like I'm the most boring person in the world and yet, when I take him out, he tires easily and starts walking so slowly directly behind me. Or is it just me? Am I no fun for him? I don't know how to play, he doesn't seem to know how to play and I can't show him.
I dreamed about hubby last night. We were talking, going somewhere together. I don't really remember it all. I wish I could remember. I miss him so much. I just crave to feel him beside me. I want to feel his warmth. I want to put my head on his chest and hear his heart beating. In the dream, at one point we were in a car driving by a lake, it was dark, it started to turn into a nightmare, he told me to go away for a bit if I was scared - I woke up. I was upset because I wanted to be with him so badly and I'd barely spent any time with him in the dream. I fell asleep again later, into another dream, we were walking somewhere together, I was holding his hand. I can't remember what we were talking about but I remember feeling so sad and he squeezed my hand. There were people in front of us, one of them a girl I grew up with, it was a dirt road below a major paved roadway. A car lost control on the roadway and a tractor trailer started to jack-knife coming toward us off the roadway. Hubby grabbed me and pulled me out of the way, but the girl I grew up with got crushed by the trailer. My sister was standing there screaming and screaming as this girl died. Hubby hugged me and said, "How come this always happens to you?"
I don't know. I don't know why my dreams always go bad. What I would give just to have one night of happy, nice dreams where I'm with him and we're in a peaceful place together.
God I miss him. I was looking for him while I was walking by the river again today. We came home and I found myself wondering how work was going - like he was just at work. I wish so hard some days that he was just at work. I'm wearing his ring. This is proof that he no longer exists, that thing NEVER came off his finger, he never would have willingly taken that ring off of his finger.
God, I just wish he could come home. This life can't pass by fast enough. I wish there was a guarantee that I will see him when I die. What if I die and end up alone again?
My sister was joking that my long-time friend that my hubby was always so jealous of is probably getting married soon. I laughed, it was funny, it would be nice but she just wouldn't let it go, like she was trying to get a rise out of me. Yes, I had a crush on him when I was WAY younger before I met my husband, whoopee. We've been good friends all this time. I'm happy he's finally found someone to settle down with - only took him over 50 years, but still, it's hard on me to see him wanting to join someone else's life when my happy perfect relationship ended with my husband up and killing himself. So yeah, seeing his happiness makes me pretty f'ing sad and angry at the universe. Why didn't I deserve to grow old with someone?
Hubby once joked that if he died, my friend would probably swoop in and take up with me right away - ummm, as though I would go for that! I always denied that when he'd say it because I actually have a say in my life and quite frankly,I loved my husband, whether he believed that or not! Honestly, my friend actually did come right away after hubby died and he seemed to be evaluating the worth of everything in this house!!! It kind of p'd me off. He was here to see what I was worth, not to comfort me or care about my feelings.
There is never going to be anyone in this world who will ever make me feel more safe and cared for than my husband did. I miss him.
I dreamed about hubby last night. We were talking, going somewhere together. I don't really remember it all. I wish I could remember. I miss him so much. I just crave to feel him beside me. I want to feel his warmth. I want to put my head on his chest and hear his heart beating. In the dream, at one point we were in a car driving by a lake, it was dark, it started to turn into a nightmare, he told me to go away for a bit if I was scared - I woke up. I was upset because I wanted to be with him so badly and I'd barely spent any time with him in the dream. I fell asleep again later, into another dream, we were walking somewhere together, I was holding his hand. I can't remember what we were talking about but I remember feeling so sad and he squeezed my hand. There were people in front of us, one of them a girl I grew up with, it was a dirt road below a major paved roadway. A car lost control on the roadway and a tractor trailer started to jack-knife coming toward us off the roadway. Hubby grabbed me and pulled me out of the way, but the girl I grew up with got crushed by the trailer. My sister was standing there screaming and screaming as this girl died. Hubby hugged me and said, "How come this always happens to you?"
I don't know. I don't know why my dreams always go bad. What I would give just to have one night of happy, nice dreams where I'm with him and we're in a peaceful place together.
God I miss him. I was looking for him while I was walking by the river again today. We came home and I found myself wondering how work was going - like he was just at work. I wish so hard some days that he was just at work. I'm wearing his ring. This is proof that he no longer exists, that thing NEVER came off his finger, he never would have willingly taken that ring off of his finger.
God, I just wish he could come home. This life can't pass by fast enough. I wish there was a guarantee that I will see him when I die. What if I die and end up alone again?
My sister was joking that my long-time friend that my hubby was always so jealous of is probably getting married soon. I laughed, it was funny, it would be nice but she just wouldn't let it go, like she was trying to get a rise out of me. Yes, I had a crush on him when I was WAY younger before I met my husband, whoopee. We've been good friends all this time. I'm happy he's finally found someone to settle down with - only took him over 50 years, but still, it's hard on me to see him wanting to join someone else's life when my happy perfect relationship ended with my husband up and killing himself. So yeah, seeing his happiness makes me pretty f'ing sad and angry at the universe. Why didn't I deserve to grow old with someone?
Hubby once joked that if he died, my friend would probably swoop in and take up with me right away - ummm, as though I would go for that! I always denied that when he'd say it because I actually have a say in my life and quite frankly,I loved my husband, whether he believed that or not! Honestly, my friend actually did come right away after hubby died and he seemed to be evaluating the worth of everything in this house!!! It kind of p'd me off. He was here to see what I was worth, not to comfort me or care about my feelings.
There is never going to be anyone in this world who will ever make me feel more safe and cared for than my husband did. I miss him.
- Post starter
- #1,185
The "buff" dog and I went for an hour and a half hike today in a new trail zone. Every time I do a new hike in unfamiliar territory I think of how hubby will never see them and I will never be able to share it with him.
I come home, a bit more settled inside and wanting to tell him the tale of my day. I think, "He'll be home from work eventually. I'll see him again."
Sometimes I even think it could seriously be possible and I have to remind myself that I wear his ring and my sister has his house keys - he is gone, even if he was still alive somewhere he wouldn't be able to get into our house.
I've been dreaming of him every night this week. I'm so glad for it. I wake up to take care of the dog in the early morning and then we come back to bed so I can dream some more. I can feel his hand in mine. His arms around me. His voice is so familiar and comforting. I feel so safe when he's near me but it's always a tenuous safety; I'm afraid to lose it almost constantly....the dreams turn bad then, like a self fulfilling prophecy.
Even if they go bad, I still am anxious to get back to sleep so I can be with him again. I woke up holding his "hand" last night - the end of his shirt sleeve. Despite it being a warmer day yesterday and last evening, his side of the bed was so cold when I woke up last night. I put my arm over his shirt to "warm him" and then, like I used to do, I placed half of my covers over "him" and snuggled in close. How many times over the years had I done that for him? He was always so susceptible to the cold.
I was thinking about our first date this morning when I woke up. We were going to a movie but it was sold out, so we went to dinner instead. We went to The Texas Lonestar Bar and Grill. I think I had chicken and he had a steak. We both ordered coke to drink - bad habit. We ended up going to a late movie, then he took me to walk in the park along the river at midnight. It was so magical, river sparkling, a sky full of stars and me with my back up wondering if he was going to try something. I wasn't used to "dating", I'd never really been on one.
So long ago but I remember like it was yesterday. Our entire life together went by way too fast. He wasn't supposed to be gone yet; it's like two realities somehow got accidentally crossed. This wasn't supposed to happen in this lifetime. It feels so wrong and out of place to me. It still makes no sense.
I was thinking about the spontaneous decision I'd made today to take the dog on a hike. I couldn't do those things while he was alive. It's so strange now to be "free". It makes me feel contented yet guilty. He couldn't have gone with me on those hikes anyway, his injuries always prevented him from pushing himself too hard. I can push myself as hard as I want now. I can hike myself into a coma if I want. I can go anywhere at anytime and I no longer have to consider him in any of those decisions. I'm free and I both like it and hate it. I'd rather have him healthy and vibrant by my side - like he used to be.
In five years will I still be doing these hikes? Will I be doing way more? Or will I be as limited as he was at the age of 50?
I want to get in better shape. I want to be in the best shape I've ever been in. I want to do that before I die. I want to live before I die.
I'm trying not to die like he did. I'm pushing myself to hold on.
I miss him so much.
I come home, a bit more settled inside and wanting to tell him the tale of my day. I think, "He'll be home from work eventually. I'll see him again."
Sometimes I even think it could seriously be possible and I have to remind myself that I wear his ring and my sister has his house keys - he is gone, even if he was still alive somewhere he wouldn't be able to get into our house.
I've been dreaming of him every night this week. I'm so glad for it. I wake up to take care of the dog in the early morning and then we come back to bed so I can dream some more. I can feel his hand in mine. His arms around me. His voice is so familiar and comforting. I feel so safe when he's near me but it's always a tenuous safety; I'm afraid to lose it almost constantly....the dreams turn bad then, like a self fulfilling prophecy.
Even if they go bad, I still am anxious to get back to sleep so I can be with him again. I woke up holding his "hand" last night - the end of his shirt sleeve. Despite it being a warmer day yesterday and last evening, his side of the bed was so cold when I woke up last night. I put my arm over his shirt to "warm him" and then, like I used to do, I placed half of my covers over "him" and snuggled in close. How many times over the years had I done that for him? He was always so susceptible to the cold.
I was thinking about our first date this morning when I woke up. We were going to a movie but it was sold out, so we went to dinner instead. We went to The Texas Lonestar Bar and Grill. I think I had chicken and he had a steak. We both ordered coke to drink - bad habit. We ended up going to a late movie, then he took me to walk in the park along the river at midnight. It was so magical, river sparkling, a sky full of stars and me with my back up wondering if he was going to try something. I wasn't used to "dating", I'd never really been on one.
So long ago but I remember like it was yesterday. Our entire life together went by way too fast. He wasn't supposed to be gone yet; it's like two realities somehow got accidentally crossed. This wasn't supposed to happen in this lifetime. It feels so wrong and out of place to me. It still makes no sense.
I was thinking about the spontaneous decision I'd made today to take the dog on a hike. I couldn't do those things while he was alive. It's so strange now to be "free". It makes me feel contented yet guilty. He couldn't have gone with me on those hikes anyway, his injuries always prevented him from pushing himself too hard. I can push myself as hard as I want now. I can hike myself into a coma if I want. I can go anywhere at anytime and I no longer have to consider him in any of those decisions. I'm free and I both like it and hate it. I'd rather have him healthy and vibrant by my side - like he used to be.
In five years will I still be doing these hikes? Will I be doing way more? Or will I be as limited as he was at the age of 50?
I want to get in better shape. I want to be in the best shape I've ever been in. I want to do that before I die. I want to live before I die.
I'm trying not to die like he did. I'm pushing myself to hold on.
I miss him so much.
Journeyman
Bronze Member
when did he do it?
Journeyman
Bronze Member
it sounds like you are learning a lot, even though you miss him so much. You want to be healthy, to live. As much as I read the pain and I feel your sadness; I see so much beauty in it all. You encourage me because you love him. I hear so much about the cruel things that people have done to one another, but even then, "you're two lives got crossed", and love is real. Thank you for sharing your heart with me
- Post starter
- #1,188
I'm at my sisters for the weekend. It's the usual ups and downs; I'm on her turf now so it really doesn't matter what I want, but I'm made to feel bad for not voicing any plans - oh well, all is as expected. When I reduce the expectations, it's actually kinda fun.
Been thinking of him a lot. Used to worry about him every second I was away. We used to text each other almost constantly. He would get lonely without me and my sister would always roll her eyes and say, "Guys need guy time." He didn't. He said so. He told me he wasn't relaxed without me around. I knew that because I was never fully comfortable being without him.
The sad thing is, near the end, I was "without him" a lot and learning to live alone anyway.
I keep wondering, if I'd only just caved and kept speaking to him to fill the silence between us, would he have survived? If I just nattered on about my boring days and filled the silent gaps with "the minutia of my days" which before that always seemed to bother him, would he have felt connected to me still and have not wanted to leave me?
I hate that he proved a point though - life always figures itself out. Whether you end up on social assistance in a crap apartment or in a shelter, everything seems to work out one way or another.
I found cash sources. I can afford to keep what we had. I'll never be able to afford more but things are at an even keel and I'm surviving.
Life always finds a way.
Did he have to die to prove that? Why couldn't we have tried to prove that with his illusionary heart condition?
Sigh. I miss him today. I miss him very much.
Been thinking of him a lot. Used to worry about him every second I was away. We used to text each other almost constantly. He would get lonely without me and my sister would always roll her eyes and say, "Guys need guy time." He didn't. He said so. He told me he wasn't relaxed without me around. I knew that because I was never fully comfortable being without him.
The sad thing is, near the end, I was "without him" a lot and learning to live alone anyway.
I keep wondering, if I'd only just caved and kept speaking to him to fill the silence between us, would he have survived? If I just nattered on about my boring days and filled the silent gaps with "the minutia of my days" which before that always seemed to bother him, would he have felt connected to me still and have not wanted to leave me?
I hate that he proved a point though - life always figures itself out. Whether you end up on social assistance in a crap apartment or in a shelter, everything seems to work out one way or another.
I found cash sources. I can afford to keep what we had. I'll never be able to afford more but things are at an even keel and I'm surviving.
Life always finds a way.
Did he have to die to prove that? Why couldn't we have tried to prove that with his illusionary heart condition?
Sigh. I miss him today. I miss him very much.
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