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(((Dar))) You're so right -- there is no such thing as being prepared. And it won't be the same without your amazing mom. But you will find joy in those everyday moments of beauty. It's such early days for you. Just allow yourself to feel those feelings, and any others that come along. I'm so sorry. Hugs,

Earlier today I was talking to my friend about the giant hole left behind when someone we love is gone. She shared that when she comes to my home, she feels Bill's absence as much as she ever felt his presence. It's so true. It's as if their big, beautiful spirit leaves an immortal footprint that isn't visible, but is always felt. I am nearing the one year mark for losing my Bill, which is simply unbelievable to me. I am only now starting to understand the wisdom some of you imparted when you shared with me that you don't get over grief, you learn to live with it. It becomes part of who you are, and who you will become. And likewise, the hole left behind is never filled in or reduced -- it's just that you learn to live with its presence. You eventually build new elements of your life around it and I imagine it becomes less prominent over time, yet it's always there. Oh, what an immense hole it is! p.s. One of Bill's favorite writers was Charles Dickens (in fact, it is how our Great Dane, Mrs. Dickens got her name!). One of his quotes expresses this so eloquently: "Life is made of ever so many partings welded together."

Dar, I'm so very sorry. Your mom was such a fighter, and I know she was an awesome lady and she must be so proud of you and grateful for how you were there for her. So, so sorry.

Dear Karla, I'm so sorry for the loss of your husband. Please be gentle on yourself during these first days and weeks.

((((Maryanne & Joel))))) I'm so sorry for your loss. My "kitty" Delilah died a few years ago. She was also 19 and had been with me since she was 8 weeks old. It was extremely difficult. She literally waited for Bill and I to return from a trip, and she died in my arms as we were all driving home. I was heartbroken. She was a huge part of our family. For weeks thereafter, I kept thinking I felt her walking around the bed. I still miss her. Hugs,

I had reason to be struck by something yesterday. I realized that I am a survivor. I know it is in large part due to Bill's place in my life, and the things he taught me -- by example, by his past, by his fight with cancer, and by his unbelievable faith and grace and strength in his last days. He taught me many things I will carry on forever, but today I'm thankful that he not only taught me how to survive, but I know now that he always knew I would -- and in that he is still teaching me to believe in myself. Bless him. I was wondering if you all might like to share one big thing you're realizing that your loved ones who are gone taught you. Maybe something you've known all along, maybe something that only just occurred to you.

Sheri, I'm so sorry for your loss and for what you're feeling. I can very much relate to losing the one person on earth who really "gets" you. This isn't easy advice, but for myself I'm realizing that I need to learn to stand on my own. I also need to embrace other people in my life, seek new people out, and allow others to give me some of those elements I'm missing so much. It takes time, effort, discomfort, and openness. It comes in unfamiliar forms that I don't always recognize. Sometimes I'm stubborn and have the, "but I don't WANT to have to rebuild my life" attitude (understandable). But when I realize that's not helping me, I try to feel the feelings, acknowledge the lonliness, and take a little step. And each time I take a little step, I feel stronger and can sometimes even see a new life taking shape -- ever so slowly (and quite often painfully). Perhaps seeing a counselor with your daughter might help tht relationship? Hugs,

I'm late on this one, but just in case you have any doubt... YES, YES, YES, YES -- card, call, invite -- whatever feels natural to you. I can almost guarantee he will be so touched and grateful.

I loved that -- thank you Connie.

Nova, I am so, so sorry to read this sad news. Harry was an amazing man, and I know he fought so hard through this entire time. Please know we are here to help and support you any way we can. These first days are like a fog with so much happening. Allow people to help you. Allow yourself to do whatever it is you need to do to get through. Be gentle on yourself. Much love,

Nick, Thank you for sharing those beautiful thoughts and vivid images. I think your mom is smiling watching you take something she instilled in you and making it your own.

Don't even know what to say, but think of us all having a collective scream for you! I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry about the loss of your wife. We all understand that sadness here. Hope you have some peaceful days ahead. I haven't even hit the 1 year mark yet, but I do understand the part about it seeming like yesterday. (I hope you don't mind me saying that seeing your username startled me a bit -- my Bill's username was bware21 -- it took me aback.)

I thought it might be posting when I'm feeling good for a change, instead of when I'm not. If for no other reason than to say, there will be joyful moments. They don't last forever, but when they happen, I cherish them and am thankful for them. This weekend was the best weekend I've had in a very long time. My good friends invited me to join their family at a family camp over on Catalina Island, which is a small island off the coast of So Cal. They had other friends there that I didn't know (yet). I had the best time. They were so great, making me feel completely part of their group. The weather was awful, but we went hiking and horseback riding and just enjoyed each other's company and the beautiful location. The camp was awesome. We sang silly campfire songs and ate bad camp food and slept in sleeping bags. I loved it! I'm going back with them over Labor Day! These friends have been wonderful to me -- it's probably the one friendship that hasn't changed a bit, except we've become much closer. I told their 13 year old daughter that I felt like they had adopted me for the weekend. She laughed and started calling me by their last name! I expected to come home and feel very "down" afterwards. This time I didn't. I was just happy to come back to my dog, who I missed so! I thought about Bill the entire time I was there. I felt sad sometimes. But it felt so "alive" and I loved that part of it. Of course I wished he was there to share it. But it was one of those things he wasn't really keen on doing. I suppose that's part of why I could enjoy it so much. I know Bill would have been so pleased too.

I think men in general move into new relationships much more quickly than women. In most of the things I've read, they really caution not to do that. It's a way to escape the lonliness, but I think it probably hinders the grief process for most people. A woman in my widows group is in another grief group, and she had the same experience -- listening to a couple men in the group talking about their new girlfriends just months after losing their wives, and it really upset her. People are just different. About the decisions. I've come to the conclusion for myself that if I keep changing my mind about a decision, I just don't make it yet. I've come up with all sorts of things I think I should do -- from work on the house, to going back to school, to changing my car, to booking a big vacation -- on and on and on. They're all distractions at this point, and I realize that what I really need is to just focus on today. If I need to do something to my house or really know that I want to do something, then I move on it. Otherwise, I set it aside for another day. Enjoy your new dogs! I live alone too, and wouldn't know what to do without my giant puppy beside me! They're a great source of company and comfort. Hugs,

Randy, You're definitely an honorary "sister" here (don't take that the wrong way ) Seriously though, I think it's probably very difficult for men to find other men to talk to the way we women do. There are two spouse loss groups going on the night I have mine -- between the two groups, there is only one man. I went to a good friend's birthday dinner last night. I had met one of the women recently and just assumed my friend had told her about Bill. So when I was asked if I was married...well, that was the first time that has happened. I think I handled it well. I think she handled it well. I'm not looking forward to the next time though... Hugs to all my sisters (that means you too, Randy)...

Thank you all for your insight and "I can relate" responses. It really does help, although I wish none of us were going through this. Did I mention that it took me nearly 30 minutes to choose a toothbrush holder, and even then I considered it "temporary?" Oy.

That's great news, Rochelle.

Tk, I'm glad that you posted. It really does help. It's great to read other people's posts, but you do feel support when people respond to you personally. (At least I do.) I'm so sorry for your loss. There are many of us here who understand this new path that you're on, and we're here to help each other through. Grief is so unique to each person, yet there are certain things that we all seem to experience and it helps to know that we're not alone in that. Please let people know when something specific is really getting to you, because inevidably someone here has been there too. I consider myself to be very early on in this process, but I do remember that the first few months were very surreal. I was completely manic for a few months; other people are the opposite -- I think both states are pretty normal. Do you have supportive people around you? Hugs,

The books call them “secondary losses.” I’m talking about all of the changes that have come with losing Bill. Specifically relationships -- family, friends, social status, anyone really. And also the new responsibilities I must take on that feel so foreign and difficult, that Bill seemed to handle with ease. And the way I question every decision I make. I’m finding that Bill was my gatekeeper to the world. When something went wrong, he fixed it – or helped me to. He brought my own family closer together. He was the glue that connected his own family. He was a person who would spontaneously invite his entire company over for a barbecue! His personality was so big, that it affected everyone around us. Now those awkward family communication issues are back. I somehow feel less of an adult than I did. Things I thought I had gotten over years ago are creeping back to the surface. I never really worried about anything before, because nothing seemed too big for Bill to handle or for us to handle as a team. I became a part of him and now I’m going through the, “who the heck am I?” stage. I realize now that I trusted his voice more than my own. He gave me such a sense of identity. My own voice now gets lost in the chorus coming from all sides. I talked about this in my widows group last night, and though there were only three of us there, the other two women felt exactly the same way. I was shocked because all this time I thought it was just me. Anyone else???

((((Barb)))) I'm so sorry I haven't responded to your post earlier. I've been without Internet for several days. The six month mark was extremely difficult for me. I've found that my most intense grieving episodes come in 3 month intervals. My six month mark (which also coincided with our wedding anniversary) is the only time so far in this process I would have truly classed myself as "depressed." I felt overwhelmed, like I was drowning, and that it really was too much. That's when I decided I needed to see a counselor. I think the six month mark was so awful because the reality became inescapable. Bill really wasn't on a trip. Seeing his car in the driveway did not mean he was home. I really would never see him again as he was here. I really do have to do all this without him. It’s real. The other thing I think happens around six months is that most other people become less aware of what you're going through. Life around you starts to move on, and people aren't focused on your grief. It's not their fault, it's just the way it is. Other people start to expect us to function "normally." And we expect it of ourselves. But we’re not there yet. I agree with so much of what was said already. I’m sorry to hear your grief group has not worked out well. Is there anyone in there that you might share one-on-one time with? I agree with Connie about the need to have someone you can just experience joy with, even if it’s just for an afternoon. Laughter is so important. It’s good medicine, it gives us hope, and it lifts our moods. The other thing that can help is journaling. Write to yourself, to Rod, to God, to people you’re mad at – anything to get the feelings and anxiety out in the open – even if it’s just to yourself. One day at a time, Barb. Remember that those darkest of hours will not go on forever. They seem like they will, but they won’t. I don’t know if it works this way for everyone, but every time I go through one of my super intense grieving times, I come out of it just a little bit lighter and stronger. It’s like a little bit of grief gets left behind for good, and I have that much less to carry with me. The more difficult the episode, the bigger the chunk. Allow yourself to feel, allow yourself to cry, and allow yourself to laugh too. (And ditch the crazy lady asap!) Many hugs,

We all have them -- those "this time last year" moments. I got ambushed by that this weekend. I was visiting my parents, where we were celebrating my dad's 70th birthday and Mother's Day. Let me tell you, this board has helped me appreciate my parents being in my life. I was quite happy as I left for their house Saturday morning and was looking forward to the weekend, but had an attack of anxiety and grief the moment I arrived, which didn't end until well after I returned home yesterday afternoon. I kept downplaying the significance, but the reality is that last Mother's Day was the last time Bill was able to make the 2 hour trip down to my parent's house. He really enjoyed going there, because it's rural and relaxing. I felt so alone and missed him ever so much. It was like the void he left had just magnified by 10 times. I looked through our medical calendar last night to see what I already knew. This is the time last year when things really started to take a down-turn. By early June we heard the news about massive brain mets, and by mid-July we lost him. I've just booked tickets to go see Bill's family (my family!) over in England and Spain at the end of July. It's just so unreal to me that by that time he will have been gone a full year. How can that be?

I believe a "thinking of you" card and a phone call would be much appreciated. You can always ask him if he'd like company or invite him to talk. I personally wanted to spend the day by myself, and I actually planned it out to a degree -- I let everyone know that and they respected my wishes. It's such an individual thing -- you almost have to ask. It's very kind of you to think of him, and I think he'd appreciate knowing that you remember and care about him.

((((Grace)))) Happy Birthday, Carlton. Grace, wishing you and the girls beautiful memories

((((Barb)))) Yes, I understand. Different conversation, perhaps, but yes. I think Rod understood exactly what was happening. You were put on the spot and you didn't want to answer for him, so you asked him. Bill had no problems talking about his LC or his feelings about death in general -- when he was the one initiating it. But there were touchy subjects that I took his lead on. Even earlier on in the illness, I know I said some things that may have come across insensitive or cavalier. Of course, I didn't mean them too. I was trying to handle this ginormous thing myself, as were you. Rod knew that, whether or not it was something you openly discussed. I so understand the "replay" of conversation and events. I have found that it helps to put them out there, as you've just done, rather than mull them over alone. Hugs,