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JoniRobertWilson

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Posts posted by JoniRobertWilson


  1. Last night, I was playing a CD with music that was played at Robert's funeral. Alex heard it and asked to watch the "movie" that was played at his funeral. It was actually a collection of photographs that was set to music. We went upstairs, put the DVD in and watched it. It was so painful. Just feeling his little body sob was gut wrenching. He seems to be doing ok, I am glad he let his emotions out and was able to cry. I'm also glad he's able to run around and play and cry. I'm starting his in a program called "Three Trees" for kids whose parents have died. It begins next month. Looking forward to hopefully finding a place where he can have help with all the emotions that must be trapped in the beautiful head of his.

    I wish I could make this all go away.....it's unfair he lost his dad this young.


  2. Before Robert died, I lived in a world where I could leave my front door open and didn't worry about leaving the house to go out of town, or even across town. This week I had to have a security system installed because of this fear that has grown in me and now I want to order new curtains or something so no one can see in my living room. I am running scared from everything, afraid of my own shadow and I don't like it.

    I wonder if this is something any of you wives (or husbands) have felt after you lost your spouse? I have an 8 year old son and along with food, security has moved to the top of the priority pole.


  3. It will be one month tomorrow that Robert passed away. It's unbelievable that he is gone, I can't believe it's already been a month.

    The nights are awful. I've learned to take the anti-anxiety meds early so I don't get hit so hard. I wonder how long I'll have to do this? It's actually gotten worse lately. Reality is sinking in. I want to be good enough that I can talk to him, I want to trade everything in my life to have him back. I want my son to have his dad, I want my best friend. This isn't f... fair. He was 42 years old and a good man. This isn't right.

    This home is empty without him - even if he was always trying to be in the same room as me! (HA) I miss him you guys. I miss him.


  4. Hi,

    Sometimes it's easier for people on the outside looking in to see how we are really behaving, maybe your mom is right. I know exactly what you mean about the sadness vs. depression. I am so sad, so devastated, so exhausted but I don't feel like I'm depressed. Right now though I keep a close eye on it. My signs of depression for me personally are I'm so tired I can't wake up, so very tired but so far that hasn't happened. Just keep your eyes open and take care of yourself like your mom wants you too. Maybe relieve some of her stress and see a doc and let a professional tell you.

    Each caregiver, no matter who the patient, has to be experiencing a wave of all kinds of emotions. In order to serve our "patient" we must take are of ourselves.

    Don't you just love moms?


  5. My husband wrote this to one of our pastors several weeks after he was diagnosed. I wanted to share this with you all. The Last Chance Texaco

    I grew up in the 60’s, and like most Midwesterners of the era, our family loaded up in our first “new” car, which happed to be a light blue 1966 Pontiac Catalina with factory air and real SEAT BELTS which we never used and took the long drive out Route 66 to California. Back in those days, the highways weren’t lined with clean well stocked gas-convenience store-pizza-fried chicken outlets. As you moved west the towns thinned out and what you were left with was the Service Stations. Service Stations sold gas and tires and stale Lance cracker snacks and Coke in small deposit bottles. As you moved into western New Mexico and into the eastern deserts of California even these little squalid oasis became less and less frequent until finally and inevitably one would play their trump card…you’d come onto to a hand painted sign proclaiming GAS-WATER-AIR-PICNIC SUPPLIES AHEAD…LAST CHANCE.

    LAST CHANCE-

    That was in the biggest print. LAST CHANCE. You just had to stop, even if you really didn’t need anything…there it was right there on the sign…it was your LAST CHANCE. Better get out and kick the tires…check the oil…top off the radiator…man you get past that LAST CHANCE station and something goes wrong and you sure will be wishing you stopped and that’s for sure...I mean it was right there on the sign….LAST CHANCE.

    A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with cancer, but get this Todd...God placed my feet on a road that led me to accept Jesus Christ into my life and be baptized just before Christmas. Do you see what I’m saying, I made the stop at the Last Chance service station of Life…I accepted Jesus Christ BEFORE the bad news. You can’t imagine how that makes me feel…I stand in absolute awe of my God, My Savior. This is not an accident.

    It occurs to me that the church should have a large hand painted sign out front…LAST CHANCE- CANCER AHEAD….LAST CHANCE-HEART DISEASE NEXT 100 MILES…LAST CHANCE…SUDDEN UNEXPECTED DEATH JUST AHEAD. You pass up that sign and something goes wrong and you sure will be sorry and that’s for sure…it could be your LAST CHANCE. There ought to be a sign.

    There may not be a sign, but it’s covered in detail in the handy travel guide and roadside gazette otherwise known as The Bible. It’s right there in black and white (and sometimes red). LAST CHANCE…better stop and check things out…make sure you got everything tuned up…make sure you’re square with the man upstairs…you never know when you’re going find yourself in the breakdown lane looking in the rear view mirror. It’s a long walk back.

    While we have never spoken, you have had a tremendous influence on my life. You are among a small group of people who through what I truly believe to be a grand and glorious miracle, have led me to my savior. Thank you. Like I said, I’m a new Christian. God is using this experience to teach me about faith, and trust, and love, and so many other things. Please pray for me, that I might grow in our Lord. All part of the miracle. Maybe I’ll write the whole thing down sometime.

    Regards,

    Robert Wilson


  6. It seems like you have more than you can take at the moment. doesn't it always seem like it would be easier to play like an ostrich than to face the trials ahead of you?

    It's just that it is is just one breath at a time darling. You have to deal with what is immediate. Nothing too far ahead of tomorrow. Not anything. This is an awful time. There is nothing "romantic" like in the movies. There isn't a theme song playing, no credits rolling at the end of the movie. No great anything, just hurt and pain but somewhere in there is the joy of knowing we have someone in our lives that we live dearly.

    I hope you can find the strength to deal with the pain. We are here for you.


  7. I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling. I'm going to try. I hope this doesn't seem offensive to anyone, I don't mean it that way at all. Just trying to sort out my emotions.

    first, after Robert died, I felt like it was the "best" thing. Robert was in so much pain, couldn't walk, had that da.. chest tube in for 1 1/2 MONTHS. Walked around with that stupid thing hooked up to him all the time collecting all the vile fluid that frickin cancer caused. He couldn't leave the basement of our home. I just couldn't take it, not seeing this wonderful active man reduced to a person sitting in a chair not being able to do anything for himself except suffer. I was relieved he didn't have to suffer anymore. After I went through that grieving process I realized I not only lost that man that who in the last 4 months had cancer I lost the man before that too. It's just that man was taken from me day by day, gradually. Pieces of him had eroded out of each horrible conversation with a doctor who would tell us the unthinkable. I now can see the "whole" picture of our life before cancer and how I felt so safe, so loved, plus our lives were filled with laughter. Once I retrieved that complete picture back into my brain and heart and real pain has hit. The finality of everything the complete absurdity of it all. He was 42. He was so loved. Now, I make it through the days keeping busy but as soon as dinner time hits my anxiety increases, my heart pounds almost out of my chest and it feels like my brain will explode within my head.

    I will go forward because I have to. I have Alex who will have a mother who willl put him first and will do everyting for him. I am resolved to that issue. I did realize though that my pain will go on forever, probably at different levels but it's a party of me now as much as my wedding night, the birth of Alex. This one though, I don't want.


  8. Hello friends,

    Alex and I have returned from our escape. First, let me say, you can run but you can't hide. Alex (8) had a wonderful time and I enjoyed being with him so much, away from the phone, computer, mail, etc...and I feel so blessed to have been able to take that trip with him to give him a break from reality.

    So sorry to hear about the losses in our LC families.


  9. We too juggled with all the information given to us by doctors on how long, how long, how long...It is just different for everyone. I just have to say enjoy each day, keep negative feelings down if you can. Say whatever you want to say TODAY. I always wish for one more day with Robert to finish the thoughts but then I realize one more day just isn't enough.

    The nurse came in to check on Robert about 5 minutes before died and she didn't say a word about it. He went when we was ready, not when they said he was leaving.

    Just try and love your mom as much as you can.

    Best of luck and God bless


  10. Ok everyone, I'm officially checking out for a week. Alex and I are heading off to be alone for a few days and to get away from the phone, the phone, the phone. It never stops ringing. I feel so loved - the outpouring of love and support is incredible but I'm on an emtional overload and need a break. I'm probably going to be swamped tomorrow cleaning house for the house sitter and finishing up some packing but wanted to make sure I checked out "officially". I went AWOL in June, not knowing the proper protocol...ha.

    I've said this countless times but I'm grateful for you people. So grateful, you'll never know. I love being able to share my story and I love you all sharing yours.

    Again, a standing ovation for each of you!

    Take care and please pray that Alex and I have a safe trip. He's never flown before and I hate flying...what was I thinking?


  11. Karen,

    elaine had a good suggestion about anti-anxiety or depression meds. Can you believe a good idea from Wichita, Kansas (ha ha Elaine! To those who don't know, Elaine and I are both here in Wichita) but

    seriously good idea...

    As far as taking Faith away, I'm not so sure about that being a good idea. I just don't know. Alex was here most of the time (spent quite a few nights at grandma/pa's house) but I don't know what the right thing is. I think you should listen to your "mama gut" if you know what I mean.

    Hugs to both of you.


  12. The journey your dad is on needs to be led by him. Does that make sense? I don't know how else to put it. It's pretty much the same advice everyone else has had but I'm just looking at it from a different angle as my husband has already lost his battle. I know looking back we let him lead us. I was lucky in the sense that he wanted it that way too. He rarely, rarely, rarely wanted to talk about my fears. This was a man who ALWAYS had put me first but the minute I would talk about him possibly not being around he shut down. His inner pain and fears were too much already and I learned early on not to let him carry my pain also. I found others to discuss my fears with and although there were times we cried together I could not add to his burden.

    I realize you have the added stress of being away - that seems unbearable but like the others have said the docs/nurses will talk to you if your dad approves it.

    All I can say is be there for him and do the best you can do. It may not be the same as being there but you will find a way to help him, I know you will.

    God Bless your heart/


  13. Curtis,

    You can answer the question yourself as to whether or not Becky is looking down and proud of you. I can tell you as a mother that if you are loving your daughter like I think you are, she is thrilled with you and forever grateful. Becky would want you to continue to remember her but to continue to live and love Katie.

    I tell myself all these things when I think about me and my son. I tell myself this countless times a day. It's ridiculous that we have to go through this, losing spouses who were truly wonderful people and great parents. As my friend Julie says, it's my journey, I have to live it.

    Good luck tomorrow and Happy birthday.


  14. Sometimes, I'm "fine", then all of a sudden, I get knocked back by the realization that Robert is gone. It's like waves of the ocean, rolling in and out, sometimes pushing farther, sometimes gentler. The evenings are the worst. That's when we finally would sit down together and chat about the day. Robert would always let me watch whatever on TV and he'd sit in his chair reading or acting interested in "e" or entertainment tonight, whatever stupid show I would watch. I miss those times. The simple times. I miss him standing in the door frame of the bathroom when I would get ready. He was great and I miss him for me and Alex . Alex and I are going away for a few days soon and I am hoping that I'll be able to relax so the memories flood in. I love being surrounded by his stuff - his books, tools, etc but I think being away from everything will let the emotions come in. I've felt his presence several times and I keep trying to think of what he would want me to do. I know the answer to that - whatever would make me and Alex happy. Ok, I know the answer to that too, I want him back. I miss you Robert.


  15. It is amazing how quickly our lives change isn't it? 16 weeks is such a short time, too short. I am sorry for your loss. I'm sure it is difficult being away from your mom but don't feel like you're not helping - some of the most comfort I get is over the phone because people aren't looking at me....weird I know but it's true.

    Your mom is lucky to have someone that she still cry with. Unfortunately some people don't want to hear anyone else's grief. Good child.

    Bless your heart and your moms.


  16. Thank, thank you for your words. I've read them and wrapped them tightly around my brain. I will refer back to them as needed but I honestly don't think I'll forget what you each shared.

    You all are amazing friends.

    God Bless


  17. Hello,

    Well, it was one week ago tonight that Robert died. I'm having a hard time tonight for a lot of reasons. Can someone explain to me why I can get up and make the bed? Or how I can talk to people on the phone about my husband and not even cry? How can I even think about eating? I just don't know what is going on with my head. Is it because the last 4 months have been so hard and I'm exhausted? Is it because I have no soul? Everyone o nthe board talks about being devastated and I guess in my minds eye I pictured that I wouldn't be able to walk. Does that make sense? Am I losing my mind.

    I just have been getting up each day with a huge list of things to accomplish like writing the thank you's, calling the Boeing library to donate Robert's engineering books so they don't go to waste...

    am I awful?


  18. Hi, my husband had a pleural effusion but not after surgery. He was not a candidate for surgery with his cancer. He had fluid drained once and then the fluid returned. They performed a talc procedure where they put a type of talc after the fluid was drained to see if it would help adhere the lung to the chest wall to stop the fluid. The path came back on the fluid as non malignant but the surgeon said sometimes it does come back indicating no cancer. Robert's pleural effusion never cleared up though. He ended up having a chest tube in for over 1 1/2 months before he passed away.

    I've read a lot from other people here though that their pleural effusion did clear up.

    Best of luck to you.


  19. We are having Robert's funeral today. I think it will be beautiful. His boy scout troop is bringing in the flags - all of the boys parents allowed them to be a part of the service which really amazed me. All of those little boys who enjoyed nothing better than running around an pinching each other butts saying "chunkie chunkie" are going to pay their respects to a a gentle giant who was their leader. My sister made a beautiful DVD filled with pictures of Robert and his family, set to music entiteld "Who am I". The words are something like this - Who Am I, that the Lord of all the Earth, would care to know my name, would care to know my hurt? Who Am I that the bright and shinning star would choose to light my way...it is beautiful. A quartet of men are singing I Can Only Imagine. I don't know why I'm writing all this except that I so desperately want his funeral to be a beautiful expression of love from me to him. Do you think he'll konw, do you thynk he'll know that alex and I miss him so much, and that we're ready for him to come home to us now. Do you think he'll know that the phone hasn't stopped ringing and that the house has been filled with people missing him?

    I love him. Miss him.

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