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Jen, So glad to hear you're dad is doing great!

Hi Beachnut, I'm sorry for what you're going through, and I do understand. Four months is a critical time. As you said, the numbness starts to go and the pain sets in deeper. That's all so normal. It can almost feel like new pain, or that the loss suddenly hits you. I'm just at 8 months, and it still keeps changing. And it still doesn't feel real much of the time. If you're not in one already, may I suggest a grief group? It doesn't take the pain away, but it does help to be physically around people who understand. I have found it to be a great source of comfort and I'm now involved in 2 -- they're both very different and have their unique things to offer. And of course, people here understand. Hugs,

Last Sunday we sang this song in church. Although I've sung it many times before, it hit me as if it were the first time. Thought I'd post the video and lyrics -- maybe it will comfort you too. Video: Lyrics: Matt Redman - You Never Let Go From the album Passion 06: Everything Glorious Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death Your perfect love is casting out fear And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life I won’t turn back I know You are near And I will fear no evil For my God is with me And if my God is with me Whom then shall I fear? Whom then shall I fear? Chorus: Oh no, You never let go Through the calm and through the storm Oh no, You never let go In every high and every low Oh no, You never let go Lord, You never let go of me And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on A glorious light beyond all compare And there will be an end to these troubles But until that day comes We’ll live to know You here on the earth Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on And there will be an end to these troubles But until that day comes Still I will praise You, still I will praise You

Grateful for your wisdom, Jackie!

Dear Deb and Dave, I'm so sorry for your loss. I am happy to read about Dave and Marty coming together again. That's a beautiful thing and I have no doubt it made all the difference to Marty. Thinking of your family in this difficult time.

Another season fast approaching, and it's hard to believe. I know it doesn't feel like spring all over the country, but here in So Cal we're experiencing some gorgeous weather at the moment. Flowers everywhere, green hillsides, and sunny days. It gives me that "new year" feeling, which I have more in spring time than I do at the real New Year -- I always have. So hard to believe another season will come and go without Bill in it. Easter is early this year. Last Easter we had friends come with us to church, then hosted a beautiful luncheon afterwards. It would be the last time we would host a meal for friends where Bill was fully involved in all the preparations. Bill put all his energy into the day and looked wonderful, but collapsed on the couch once everyone left. No one else realized how bad he was feeling -- everyone thought he was doing fine. He always fooled everyone. Our friends had invited us to Vegas, people were wanting us to go to dinner, etc., and always seemed a little surprised when we had to decline. He was still working hard, writing his book, and taking care of all that he could (which was a lot), but things were changing quickly. I can't say that I miss him now more than other times, because I always miss him immensely. But when I'm working outside and making things look pretty and clean (something we would have done together), smelling the barbecues fired up in the neighborhood, and changing the clocks ahead, I ache for his company and to share one more spring together. And on the bright side, Bill would be thrilled to know that our Mrs. Dickens is taking her "Canine Good Citizen" test this Saturday (which is a miracle in itself). But I also remember how amazing he was, and that's where I'm training my thoughts to go. I remember how just a little over a week before we would lose him, we shared some beautiful "us" moments that I cherish. I remember working on the hill and Bill handing me little Mexican pebbles to decorate an area, 2 and 3 at a time. He insisted on helping me, and he did. I remember us sitting out by our newly painted pool (relatives and friends fixed it for us) and enjoying an evening together. I remember a friend trying to help us fix our air conditioning in the sweltering July heat, and Bill insisted he had a certain tool. He could barely see anything at the time, but he went through three tool boxes and found exactly what he was looking for. All of us just stood there in amazement -- that happened more than once. I remember him insisting on the two of us trying to fix it together before we asked for help, and him wanting to ride with me to the hardware store (this was probably a week before we lost him). He had instructed me on what I needed to buy. I said, "is there some compelling reason you feel you need to come with me?" as it was hard for him to ride in the car by this point. He said, "yes, so I can sit in the bloody air conditioned car!" We both laughed, I gathered up pillows and whatever else to make him comfy, and off we went -- a simple task that we managed to turn into an adventure. And I remember him sitting at the computer to write an email to a church friend we had become close with, telling her of all the miracles God did -- that email took him hours, as he was so weak, but it was important to him to share that with her. As I go through these seasons and weeks learning to live without Bill, I continue to appreciate him more than ever, and know him better and better. Because I can look back, I can marvel at how he spent his last weeks. Once again, I have to say that if he can do that with all that he went through and faced, I can do this. And when I go back over to visit my step-kids and sister-in-law this summer, it will have been over a year since we lost him. That's almost impossible for me to believe. In a hopeful way, it's a year closer until we meet again. For as Bill said in that last email, "my life is but a blip on the radar screen" of the big picture. As this Easter approaches, I have that great hope knowing that we will meet again. Happy Spring,

I can't remember all of the details, but if the company is of a certain size she should be covered under the family leave act, which also covers patients. Not for insurance, but for paid leave. Hoping that it doesn't become an issue for her.

I agree with Ry, if appropriate, join the class action suit. You had no way of knowing any of this. And if there was wrong doing, the company should be held responsible. How else will it ever change? I guess answer to the "ifs," we'll never know. Ultimately, most of them probably don't matter (I'm talking "big scheme of things" here -- I don't mean that in a flippant way). But it's hard for us here, especially if we feel in any way responsible -- I so understand, because I have lots of "ifs" myself. I was lamenting over some "ifs" to my counselor, and she steered me back to the love and all that I was able to do for Bill, and how the ifs paled in comparison. She suggested that those true and loving things are what he took with him, not any mistakes I think I made. In the big picture, I believe that. You did your best for Deb, and you're doing amazing things in her memory that she will ever be proud of. Hugs,

Grateful for the energy yesterday to tackle some much needed outdoor tasks. Grateful it's Sunday, so I get to go to church.

Hi Mary, I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. I'm glad you found the site and hope that you find it helpful. You're just in-between the age of my step-son and step-daughter -- much too young to lose a parent. There are people here who will understand, and it's a safe place to get anything off your chest.

Oh Pat, It's so hard to know what someone else needs, as we're all walking our individual paths. But when I'm at my lowest and feeling the most "alone" is the time I really need to reach out to those who are still here with me. Sometimes it takes a while to do it, but I think God does his greatest work through other people. Even if that means reaching out to someone you don't know that well yet. A neighbor, someone at church, a close relative, a "not so close" relative you wish you knew better, someone who needs your help, etc. People who have been through so much pain as you have also have the greatest things to give back, and I think that's when you find yourself again. Just this week I started in a class/small group called Grief Share. It's a faith-based, nation-wide program. I think it's going to be well worth attending. The web site has many resources, and also allows you to check for groups in your location: http://www.griefshare.org/ You have so much love and respect from those here -- these dark days will pass. Please let people help you through.

taalia, I'm so sorry for the loss of your father. There are many people here who understand your loss who will want to help you, and can relate to where you are.

Thanks for your quotes, Jackie! Grateful today that I found a Grief Share group I could attend. Something different about this class and it seems to be what I need. http://www.griefshare.org/

Thinking of you and keeping you in prayer, Pat.

Thankfully Bill never had to deal with this, but he did worry about it changing. I found a couple web pages with legal/financial resources that might be helpful: http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/life ... t/page9#h2 http://www.angelsofhope.net/patient.html

Becky, That's wonderful news -- you keep right on beating those odds!

Will, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. One month is a very short time. It truly is a "one day at a time" situation. Sometimes it's one hour at a time, especially those first couple months. You wake up and think things are normal again -- if even for that one split second, then the pain of the reality comes sweeping in. And the quiet house -- for the first couple months I had the T.V. on constantly, just for noise. I'd turn it to a show that I knew Bill would like to watch. I don't need to do that anymore. There are no rules to grieving. Much of it depends on our personalities. You're right, you are a different person. My best advice -- especially so early on -- is to not have any expectations from yourself. Just do what you need to do each day. Also, to be around people who love you as much as you can. If your dog is anything like mine, she/he is a great comfort too. And talk about your wife as much as you want to. I still talk about (and to) Bill constantly. I've noticed as time goes on that some things get better, and other things get more difficult. But they do change. As much as we all hate to be fed cliches, some of them are true. We're not sick, but we are wounded -- as deeply as you can be. Torn in two. Please come here as often as you need -- there are people here who understand. Hugs,

(((Sue))) I'm so sorry. I'm glad you're able to let in the good memories.

Julia, I can't even begin to express how deeply sorry I am. You have both shown amazing strength and grace throughout. Aaron had a special place in so many hearts here, with his wonderful attitude and spirit. And so did you. He was truly a "one of a kind" who touched so many. I know my Bill felt the same way. What a sad day. I'm so, so sorry.

I like the quote, Jackie. How true that is. Grateful for new chances, grateful for strong memories.

Hawkeye, There are many of us who know the pain and aloneness you are feeling right now. There is a "shock" that occurs for the first several weeks too. Try not to expect too much of yourself during this time. If you have things to keep you busy, that's great. This is a time to let other people help you and to seek out other people in your life, as it sounds like you've been doing. I'm so sorry for your loss. You will find much support and understanding here.

Welcome Back Jackie. You were missed!

I'm sorry, Tina.

(((Barb))) I understand and I'm sorry for what you're going through. Forgive me if I've said this before, but have you looked into grief groups in your area? It does help, if only to allow you to be in a space for a short time where what you're going through is "normal." Things will go up and down, and all over the place. You'll have strong days, and then days that just hit you like a brick. Sometimes phases will last hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks. It's very unpredictable. I can't say it makes it easier, but just knowing that and not expecting things to be the same from one day to the next has helped me weather some of the worst days. Of course that doesn't protect you from the expectations of those around you who have no clue what you're going through. I still have no answer for that one. I still get frustrated with it. I went back to work part-time relatively quickly too. In the end, I decided it was too much and that I needed a break. Had it been a different situation, it might have been helpful. But I relate to what you said about learning something new. I couldn't learn anything new or even read more than a paragraph on a page without losing focus for probably 4 or 5 months. Slowly, I noticed it changing. Another "normal" thing. It doesn't surprise me that you're hitting an especially tough point, being around the 3 month mark. Hang in there. Hugs,

I'm so sorry -- thinking of you on this sad day.