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Thanks for your ideas. I think the distance makes me feel like I have to actively do something more. And I forget that that same distance might make their grieving process quite different than mine. Katie, you're so right, that what they're doing is probably what they need to be doing to go through it in their own unique way. Okay, I'll stop looking for things to do, and just "be" with them how I can.

Mary Colleen, I'm so sorry to hear that Vic was dealt yet another blow. It's so unfair and I feel for you both. No words of wisdom, just thinking of you.

Hi everyone, I posted about my wonderful step-kids shortly after Bill passed. We shared close family time when I was in England last month (was it only last month?). I'm increasingly feeling like they're "on their own" with it a bit, and always acting like they're fine. They have great family, friends, and church support. But I think they don't have anyone who is actively trying to guide them or help them through their loss (or really looking beyond the surface), and I'm not sure how to do that from a distance. Also, I've not lost my parents -- so although we share the loss of the same wonderful person who we all adored, it's a different loss. Sometimes I'm relating to them on my level, then realize it's different for them and perhaps I'm missing the mark. Sometimes the oddest things strike a cord with me. I was reading an interview with Clint Eastwood's daughter, who has just released her first movie as a director. She was talking about their relationship when she was young -- how he was gone a lot, etc. How now that she's older and they have these things in common, they are so close. This really upset me, because although Bill has always been extremely close with his kids, there was a physical distance between them. Recently as they have become a bit older (Michael is 22 in Nov., Gemma is 24), a new, closer relationship had been developing. One of real friendship and mutual understanding, as well as the parent/child bond. I feel like they were cheated. (As was Bill.) They're both doing exciting things that Bill knew about, but isn't able to share in now. I think of all of those future events that will happen without him. It's hard to imagine. Gemma will readily talk about her feelings, and always wants to share stories about her dad. We talked yesterday and she was going through all of the old pictures of our times together. Michael has a harder time talking about it and really holds it in. He hates when people talk about Bill's illness and especially his death, but can usually enjoy talking about happy memories. I should also say that they both saw him at a very difficult time. Right after a hospital stay, when he was on heavy steroids, and really struggling. Although, even with that, they shared a wonderful time together (this was when Bill was baptized). It was monumentally hard on them -- both the visit and having to leave him, but they were incredibly mature and loving and handled it so well. That's my long-winded introduction to my question of, what can I do? Are there any super good books for younger adults who have lost a parent? Their faith is exceptionally strong and that is where they gather their strength, but that doesn't make them miss their dad any less.

Rochelle, Volunteering would be great, if she's up for that. There is a woman in my grief group who shared that it was only after she lost her husband that she was able to confront her grief from losing her parents. Perhaps that's part of what your mom is going through. She's held in her pain about her son, and now is feeling the full weight of it all. I'm sure she appreciates you being there for her. If your mom doesn't find a grief group and wants someone to talk to, I'll be happy to PM you my email.

I'm grateful that my parents were given the "all clear" this morning to return to their home after the fires, and that they've suffered no damage. I'm mindful of all of those who lost so much.

I can relate too. Particularly during the last few months with Bill, I so learned to just relish any time we spent together. Usually it was just sitting outside talking, or watching something on T.V. together. Seeing the humor within the horror was an awesome gift to us both. Before the diagnosis, I was always wanting to "do" things. After, I was quite content to just "be" together. Since he's been gone, I would give anything to just "be" together for one more minute. I also can remember some of those moments together where I knew I was receiving a gift as I was experiencing them. I'm grateful for those. I've also appreciated my family and friends and how short life is, and I've appreciated my canine companion who keeps our house feeling like a home. I hear you Nova!

Bobby, I too have been thinking of you and am glad to see you post. Everyone does grieve differently. It took me a while to have a real breakdown, and they still happen very infrequently -- but when they come, they really come. And I still don't quite believe it's true, and have been told that may not happen for years. Bill always told me that he never could cry for his mother. He sat with her for two weeks solid as she died of lung cancer. It always bothered him. I don't know why he couldn't cry for her, but I do know that he absolutely adored her. Two things that have been said ring very true -- one, that you've been grieving all along, even if you didn't recognize it as such. And two, you are being protected, because the full weight of the loss is too much. You've been in a constant stage of "fighting" for Bev, then suddenly it's over. There's a sense of shock when that happens as well. Hugs -- we're here,

This Californian is okay. Thanks for checking on us. Parents were evacuated from San Diego and are here with me in L.A. - they're still waiting to go home. We've had smoke all around us here in Woodland Hills, but nothing to be afraid of.

Hi Rochelle, I don't know your mom, but I suspect that her grief probably needs the primary attention before any other positive life style changes will occur. If she isn't currently part of a grief group, perhaps you might help her locate one. Losing her husband will have completely changed her everyday life, her future, etc. Part of her is now gone. I think small steps that help her find new joy in the little things might then help her care about her health. So sorry for your family's loss,

Beth, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. It sounds to me like a very natural, but extremely painful, part of your grieving process. I think it's one of those "he's really gone" moments. I wish I had some wise words -- if it's guilt, it's not the kind of guilt brought on by anything you've done. It's the "guilt" that's brought on by a terrible loss and a wish to be able to bring someone back, or prevent them from leaving in the first place. The only practical thing I can even imagine doing if it were me is to write Bill a letter and explain why you're moving and how you feel about him, how you feel about the move, the "guilt" you're feeling, etc. Perhaps that might provide a kind of release -- I don't know. Hugs,

How sweet and thoughtful, Lillian. My parents were evacuated from San Diego County. Came up here to be in the middle of our Los Angeles County fires! With all that's happening, so far we've suffered no more than inconvenience. Many others have lost so much.

Nova, Keep up that amazing attitude of yours -- you're awesome and we're all pulling for you guys. Hugs,

No words will do, just a hug... (((((GRACE)))))

Oh Bobby, I am so sorry. I feel so intimately involved with you and Bev, as we "met" when both Bev and Bill had just been diagnosed. You've been an amazing sister. And I know Bev was too. She fought so hard and with such grace and dignity. PM me anytime. With love,

Laurie, I'm so sorry for you and your family. What a lot to deal with all at once. Hugs,

Thought I'd give a little update and maybe some can relate. I keep wanting to post something, then sit down and nothing comes out. It's not that I have nothing to say -- it's that I have TOO much to say. Tomorrow is my last day at work. I was all but sure I'd give notice prior to going on my trip, but knew I needed to once I came back. My workmates have been awesome and I'll miss them. Two of them have joined my team for the upcoming LUNGevity walk. That was a pleasant surprise. I'm nervous about the change and relieved at the same time. There is so much to deal with here at home -- both practical and emotional. Our life was set up for us, not me -- and I'm not yet sure how to tackle that, but I need to. There's also this strong, "I need to do something different" sense as well. Bill and I were such an "us" couple. Even our individual goals were wrapped up in each other. Mine still are and probably will continue to be for some time. What's next? I'm not sure. I've decided to let it unfold for the next few weeks and see what it looks like. Emotionally, I'm still a bit all over the place, but most people don't see that. I've never eaten so poorly in my life, but plan to change that. (When did Reese's peanut butter cups start to count as a meal?) But I do notice that after I have a particularly difficult day, I get stronger. There is a therapy in the tears, especially the uncontrollable kind -- so let them out when they need to come. Having my grief group is extremely helpful. Having it be at church with people I know and trust is just that much better, for me. It's only been a short time, but I've learned a lot about this thing called grief. I've learned that the people in my life can be an amazing support and that I have some awesome family and friends. And that even in my own grief, I can still give back -- that's really important to me. I've learned that I'm a lot stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. I've learned that I'm useless at anything mechanical (I actually already knew that). I've also learned that some people say the dumbest, most insensitive things, but I eventually forgive them. I'm sure I've said my fair share of dumb things to people in pain too. (Bill would say, "that's no excuse!"). There have been way too many new updates in this section -- new people grieving, and that makes me sad. For all of you new people, just know there are some caring and wise saints who have been walking this difficult road here to take your hand and help you over the particularly rough bits. This is a bit convoluted, but just felt like posting today. Hugs to all,

I'm so sorry to hear about your dad. Thinking of you and your family,

Hi Cheri, I'm so sorry about the loss of your mom and the agony that you feel over everything. There ARE walks. I'm doing one here in Los Angeles in November. Oddly enough, when I was searching for it on Google, I found that another lung cancer organization was hosting a walk right in my neighborhood on another upcoming weekend. They're certainly not in the spotlight, but they're out there.

Laurie, I'm so sorry to hear about your sister-in-law. That must also be hard for Bill to hear. I also understand him not wanting to listen to you talking on the phone about him. That was always weird here too. I would be the same, I think. We DO understand. And scan time is SO stressful. Try to relax. The pot roast dinner. Awesome! I know the joy of seeing your loved one enjoy their dinner, particularly after a weight loss. Savor that moment! The eye surgery -- I can't even imagine. He's brave and I hope that sorts the problem out. Thinking of you... Hugs,

Hi T, Just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you and I'm glad to see you post -- stay strong.

Hi Bobby, I didn't know until it was too late that there was such a thing as home palliative care, which I guess is different than hospice. I so wish I would have known that and would have asked for it. I was under the false impression that "hospice" had to mean no further treatment. Yes, I believe any type of home care has to be ordered by the doctor. Again, in hindsight, it would be well worth it to have the name of a great hospice care place so that you don't have to be frantically searching around IF you actually need one. Thinking of you both and wishing Bev much strength -- both physically and spiritually. With love,

Christine, I'm so sorry to hear the news of your dad. I can certainly understand why it's so difficult to feel like he didn't get to fight. You were there for him, and he knew that and still does.

Tina, I'm so sorry for the loss of your dad. I'm happy to read that you spent quality time with him during his final days. So sorry...

Debi, I'm shocked to read your news -- I'm so very sorry. I'm here if you need to "talk." Your Tony seemed like a wonderful man I would have loved to meet. With love,

I have a friend who has the same problem with her husband who she lost just over a year ago. What she's doing is going back through all of their old family pictures and making nice memory books. She said it's really helping her to remember him while healthy and also to focus on some lovely memories rather than the illness. Perhaps something like that might help what you see in your mind when you think of your dad. Hugs,