Yes, Joan, bluedaze and I had a great lunch together today. We talked for nearly 2 1/2 hours. Its great to find people who have experienced the same things we have. Thanks Joan and Nora for taking the time to meet me.
Mary, it was great having lunch with you on Monday. Now I've met 3 of Joan's group, Dee a few years ago here in Sarasota, then Jeanette when I was in Holland and she came into Rotterdam and we sat and drank hot chocolate and talked for two hours. Yes, our Alzheimers experience certainly does create a comfortable bond. We can talk about anything.
hasn't been very long since I lost my dear husband, only 3 mos. it feels like a lifetime ago already. I try to remember the best of our lives but get drowned in hardcore grief at very odd times. it comes in waves I have professed. each day gets easier but remembering a persons life isn't easy. how can one compress in a few words a lifetime? not possible. I am also downsizing and will move to a new location when the time is right. very sad to begin a new life alone, but as most of you on this thread, we don't have a choice, do we. Its good to hear so many have made such great progress. divvi*
divvi, it is very sad to begin a new life alone. It has now been 13 months and I do find it easier as the days/weeks pass by. Downsizing is hard too. But we adjust, as we have no choice. Remember the best of times as often as you can and when the bad memories come, let the tears wash them away.
I wish you all the best in setting up your new life. Thank you for all your contributions here. You helped me so much over the years, and I really appreciate all your input. I hope you find happiness in the days ahead.
Well, I got through the six-month anniversary of his death on March 2, and his birthday yesterday, March 7…but just barely. I've been retreating into marathon Netflix watching and general torpor…just feel paralyzed with missing him and the life we shared together. This is not like me, and must stop.
I did go to a meeting of a local singles group the evening of the 5th. They seem like nice people…just normal, neighborhood folks, as I suspected from their website and from the phone call I made to let them know I was coming to the meeting. It is a social group, not a dating group. On the surface, I used all my best social skills and tried not to focus too much on the difficulties (now there's a euphemism for you!) of the past months and years. But on the inside, I was just crying and wishing I wasn't there. When I got home I cried for the first time in a while. I hate it, hate it, hate it that I have to go to a singles group. It just seems to reinforce that he is gone.
elizabeth, Since you have so many interests, I was wondering if you might have luck searching meet-up websites to see if there are any groups in your area that focus on things you like. A group that focus on a specific subject matter might be more interesting (and less awkward) than a group where the only thing people have in common is that they are single. When I was trying to learn French (like you, I was using Pimsleur) I found two French-language meet-up groups, one in the city next to where I live and another in a university town 25 miles away. I was still taking care of my husband at home, though, and couldn't get anyone to cover for me at the times the meetings were held. In addition to conversational French, there might be groups that focus on harp music, fiction writing, or 17th-18th century American history.
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Just had another idea. If there's a university, college, or community college near you, you could find out if they offer courses in conversational French and whether you can sign up. Or if you don't want to sign up now, maybe the instructor knows of an informal group that meets to practice their French. Same goes for fiction-writing, etc.
Sorry for the deep pain you are feeling missing your husband and your life together. Our capacity to love so deeply also feels the deep pain of loss.
My husband has been gone ( in alf) for six months and is in end stage. Although I am not yet a widow, I feel such pain missing him and our life too. I have been home sick with bronchitis all week and have not been able to visit. I know the paralyzed feeling you speak of. Stuck in my chair, doing nothing that needs to be done...crying every so often.
I HATE this disease and what it is doing to my husband. I want him yo go peacefully but then get terrorized at that thought.
I read this thread because I know it will be my next stop. I need to see how you all survive and go forward.
Lorrie-we do survive and go forward. After my husband died I started doing much of the volunteer work he used to do. I even started visiting terminal patients for hospice. Still-when I see an elderly couple walking down the street holding hands or loading groceries into their car I want to run over and tell them how fortunate to be together.
Thank you for continuing to share your strength. I feel the same whenever I see an older couple enjoying the little everyday things we did together. It is Soo lonely to live without a loving spouse.
Thanks, everyone. It's so helpful that people understand, even though I wish we didn't have to.
Myrtle, I am keeping my eyes open for something like what you are suggesting. And fortunately the weather is moderating. I should be able to get back into the park for a daily walk without freezing to death. One thing I know is that even a half-hour per day of fresh air and exercise makes such a difference in mental and physical well-being. Our mothers were right--children need to get outside and play. And so do we. I should be getting back up to New York the weekend of the 21st and 22nd, assuming we don't have freezing rain or some such thing--I'm cautiously looking forward to that.
I think it was his birthday that threw me so badly. I don't know why--we always celebrated each others birthdays with a cake and a card…usually a small gift or a dinner out. But we didn't go crazy. I guess it was just that, looking back, it was the first March 7 in twenty years that we weren't together. Thank goodness that I am doing that free trial of Netflix. I marathon-watched Last Tango in Halifax (two seasons), the first season of Broadchurch, and lots of Star Trek, The Original Series. I just jumped around and watched the best episodes, or some of my personal favorites. (I'm probably the only person who likes "Spock's Brain." OK, it's terrible…but it's so bad that it's almost good.)
Anyway, I'm back to normal today…or what passes for normal. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Trying, trying, trying.
Achh nooo lassie, I remember Spock's Brain, and the Gorn, Landry's Will, Kirk and Ohura kissing (first interracial kiss on american television), the Sulu sword fight, no icecream for you take me home Kathleen - these are just off the top of my head someone stop me.
Edit - actually I just had a breakthrough of my own. I've been humming this stage number for weeks and weeks and I refused to look it up. I thought it was in the pajama game but I can't be sure. I kept replaying "you can take my heart, you can take my soul, but not my key!" and finally I started getting some of the rhythms. Ba-ba. Ba-ba. Ba-ba-ba-ba. Ba-ba ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba.
There is. A place. Where we can go! And finally this morning - Fernando's Hideaway!
I kept getting it mixed up with "The minute you walked in the joint. Boom boom. I could see you were a man of distinction. Hey! Big Spender! Speeeennnd a littttle timmme with me...
Hee hee hee. I compute the probability that that will be playing in someone's head in the next say 48 hours at about 99%. Of course it helps if you've actually heard that song. I tried just reading it and you do get that it's a song by the end but if you know it I wonder if you can get past the Hey! without actually playing Big Spender! in your head exactly the way it's meant.
I have an idea for a new superhero comic. The Rockettes. When bad guys happen the Rockettes come up and you do not want to be kicked by the Rockettes. Needs work and is 70 years out of time. But it sets up the bit nicely that they also hire out to straighten out turncoat friends "Who has feelings? We have feelings!" You can paint the rest of that picture yourself.
Which just goes to show what no one once said that even the dullest mind is a Michaelangelo and the only difference is making an ear come to life and sticking your finger in your ear in life. If you want, you can stick your finger into Michaelangelo's like-an-ear and find out it's cold. I did and was promptly arrested but that's not important.
What is important? That these little nubby things that used to be my feelings actually grow and that I help them. And that the awful family that moved in these last years move out. Deborah Depression, Andy Anxiety, Lolita Lonliness and her snot-nosed little brother Phineas Fear, their dog Guilt and their foulmouthed and annoying parrot Humperdink (try calling that out in the neighborhood).
Last night I had another dream and Dianne was in the best shape I've seen in years. In this room of mirrors in this house of chinese walls in whatever is beyond that, I'm coming for you and no disease will stand between us in my heart.
Wolf I am so happy about your dream, dear sweet Dianne what a guy you had.
As to the nubby things, I had one huge nubby "before", a nubby called anger and despair, and it grew in to a giant humperdink, and I wanted to yell at those people that made it grow, HUMPERDINK THIS YOU!! Now, that nubby has almost dissapeared, and a new one is growing, and it is like a kind old lady, that forgives and loves. Yes most of the nubby things retreated, and new lovely ones emerged. I love your analogy...and their names..
This morning Mim and I met for coffee at a neighborhood Panera…what a nice visit. We had so much to talk about--lots in common--the two hours just flew by. She had to get back to Dan, and I had a pot roast to do something with--but I know we will get together again. Many of us here at Joan's are far apart geographically, but for any of you who can meet each other "on the ground" so to speak, it can be really fun.
Elizabeth and Mim... So glad you were able to connect. So great to be able to put a face with the name and stories we all share.
My newest uneasy: I received the payments on 2 life insurance policies. The last one came yesterday. Did anyone else have the guilt factor? I feel like he was robbed of so much and tortured so badly by his disease. Now I get a payment for all that??? My head knows that this is rubbish but my heart feels like there is something so incredibly unfair about this! Perhaps if he had been taken in an accident or any other disease process, I wouldn't feel this way. It just seems like blood money from a monstrous and horrible disease. I think we all have at least a small degree of crazy and PTSD even though we are the survivors!
Aunt B, you have nothing to feel guilty about. It's apples and oranges--the money is not connected to the Alzheimers. You would have got it no matter what his final illness was, and I'm sure he wanted and expected you to have it. It's just a business kind of thing…family finance.
I get what you're saying Aunt B, and yeah...I do feel like my husband was cheated out of his comfortable old age, and I realize that he left me in an ok state, financially. But it's like everything about this process--he wouldn't have wished poverty on you. Just as he wouldn't have wished deprivation from enjoying life on you.
Hi Aunt B, Insurance is not something to feel guilty about. The payments you received are not for Alzheimer’s. They are meant to compensate you for the economic hardships caused by your husband's death. It does not matter what he died from, whether Alzheimer’s or a stroke of lightning. The money is owed to you whether he suffered or not. Your husband paid good money for those policies. The fact that he bought them shows he was thinking about your welfare.
I have two friends whose husbands learned they had terminal cancer, one in his 50s and one is his 70s. Each man sat his wife down, went over their finances, and in the words of one man said, Don’t worry, You’ll be all right.” Sad as it was, I think both men got great satisfaction from knowing that their wives would “be all right.” I’ll bet the insurance payments would have made you husband feel good about your welfare, if he had known about them.
Aunt B, the life insurance payments is your husband's way of taking care for you. Accept the money in that spirit and don't feel guilty. It does not make up for living with dementia and the losses associated with it.
Thanks guys...my brain really knows all that. Something inside me just feels uneasy about it. I AM financially ok because we never lived beyond our means. I was able to pay off our mortgage with the spend down and we have never had credit card debt. Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad if I had debt to worry about. Just another thing to wrap my head around as the adjustments to him not being here continue. I would much rather be spending it on the "us" that we used to be. The "big empty" sometimes just takes my breath away when I least expect it. I know you all get it!
Aunt B* try to see the positive in it if you can. like maybe a final gift for all you did for your dear husband. they would want us to do something enjoyable with that gift in the end just for us. no need for guilt.
I think I am making progress. Today is the 8 month anniversary of his passing and it didn't even come to my mind until after lunch. Next month will be different because the 24th is my birthday.
I feel strange writing on this board, as my husband is still alive. He is in the process of "transitioning" as Hospice puts it. I can't imagine life without him, and I'm not sure I want to. I am writing here as you are the group who would understand best. After years of grieving, a fresh round is in the cards shortly, it appears. A world without him in it seems impossible. I know you understand.
We do understand, Joni. I grieved for my DH the last 10 years of his life -each time he progressed further into the ALZ pit. When he did pass, most of my grieving was done. Oh, I had my bad days but it wasn't a continuous grief pattern. I had already come to grips with it as best I will ever be able to do. It marks you for life - but you can go on living and, hopefully, have a happy and fulfilling life. Hugs to you.
The New York trip was great--it was my first time ever at Lincoln Center, and while I'm not really an opera buff, the singing was so incredible. The next day my friend, Phyllis, and I went upstate to the New York Museum in Albany…another interesting place. I spent $2.00 up there on a couple small pamphlets that contained more detailed information on NY colonial history than I've found in big textbooks. And of course all the eating out…yum. (Oink).
I've had an irritating thing happen that points up the vulnerability of widowhood and shows me how I have to be very careful about setting new boundaries in my life. As I was driving up the NY Thruway to Albany, I got an anguished phone call on my cell from a cousin in the Heartland who needed a place to stay…long backstory here…anyway, I told her she could stay in my house, and how to get in. Well, when I got home I realized that, while I love her dearly and we go back a long way together, that she has serious psychological issues going on…more than I can help her with…and that she had moved in tons of "stuff", clearly planning to stay indefinitely. After a couple days of her issues, I had to set some boundaries and very nicely but firmly tell her that she can stay through Easter Sunday, but then must be out.
I am having enough trouble trying to adjust to Larry's loss and push the re-set button on my own life, without taking on another person and her problems right now. Not my responsibility, not my issues, and I'm not enabling someone to avoid the treatment she needs by holing up in my house and taking advantage of my good nature. So my point is, for all of us who have lost our spouses and perhaps have space in our homes for another person…we have to be very careful about who we let in there…if anyone. In our loneliness and bereavement fogginess…with our new lives not fully formulated…we are vulnerable, I think.
In my former life, I would welcome people to stay with me but right now, with my husband in LTC, I need my house all to myself. An old friend who lives out West called me last month and suggested that he come here and visit me, and I had to tell him no. I said that I had some surgeries scheduled (which is not true - I'm supposed to have knee surgery and some minor eye surgery but I haven't scheduled either one). The truth is that I'm still struggling with living apart from my husband and it's all I can manage each day to get some office work done and visit him. But at least my friend proposed a short visit. He didn't plan on moving in!
I was told today that my husband will die in about 3 to 4 days. Thank God, two of my sisters and my niece are coming out to support me and to say goodbye to him. I seriously don't think I can do this. I can't eat or sleep, I'm nauseous all the time. I'll be okay and suddenly sink to the floor sobbing and it feels like my heart is being squeezed by Superman. And he isn't dead yet. I don't think I can go on without him, but I can't keep him here. This is horrible. Thank you for listening.
Joni, you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers. Your love will get you through this. You can do this, and you will do this, and he is blessed to have you. I'm glad family members will be with you, too.
I know how terrible this is for you. It does feel as if your heart is being ripped right from your chest. I hope you find some comfort with the support of your family. It certainly is one of the most difficult things you will ever endure. I will keep your husband and you in my thoughts and prayers. Try to stay strong.
Joni thinking of you while you endure this last step with your beloved. Somewhere deep inside us all lives the strength to get us thru the pain and loss. You will find your way. Hugs divvi*
My beloved husband passed away today, which is his 80th birthday. I was with him and holding his hand until his last breath, which was very peaceful. He was the love of my life, and I cannot imagine how to live without him. The strength you all show me tells me I can do it, even though everything in me tells me I cannot. Joni
I am so sorry for your great loss. My deepest sympathy to you and your family. I am glad you found the strength to be with him at the end. My prayers are with you.
Thank you for your sweet condolences, everyone. It means so much coming from those who truly understand.
My experience so far has been that the grief I have felt over the past year, watching his decline, placing him in long term care, and watching him decline more, was much more intense than what I am experiencing now. It makes a world of difference knowing that my grief now is uncomplicated by worry for him, and the constant anxiety of whether he will fall, or break any bones, or get hit by another residence, or get a terrible UTI or have a bad reaction to new medication. It sounds like a cliché, but he is truly past all suffering now. And that lack of worry is a tremendous relief.
Now there is just the bottomless sadness and loneliness.
Sorry Joni! I understand exactly what you are saying. Don't you just feel as if you should be doing something??? We have been consumed by care giving and worry for so long that it is difficult to come to terms with the fact that there is nothing more to do. Care giving takes up so much energy and time that I just don't know what to do with myself now. You are still in the deepest pit and for that I am sorry. Just do your best to rest and regain some of your energy. I actually feel a spring in my step now. A welcomed realization!
It was kind of a rough weekend emotionally. It wasn't just because it was the first Easter without him. Last Easter was the day he was discharged from that week in the hospital to the 20 days in Rehab. before coming home to Hospice. I remember going to the Rehab. with my uncle after Larry had been transferred over, and how it hurt seeing him so agitated and confused…well, not that that was anything new. But it was Easter, and I remember thinking that this new reality was so different from the previous Easters we had had together. And then this year, with him not here at all…But in church Sunday morning all that talk about renewal and new life was comforting. I felt as I sometimes do that Larry was very close to me. And walking in the park and watching the sun go down in a blaze of light behind the ashy-gray clouds with the trees etched in front of them, I had a feeling that Larry was up there somewhere, and happy.