Devastated and heartbroken
The other day (Tuesday, July 24, 2012) it looked like I might get through the day without crying.
Yesterday (Thursday, July 26, 2012) it also looked like I might get through the day without crying.
I work out Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Canandaigua YMCA, a distraction from the fact my wife died.
But I ended up crying both days.
Over three months have passed since my wife died.
Relatives are beginning to think I should just get over it, snap out of it.
Can’t be done!
You don’t just push aside 44 years of dedicated marriage, and being so attached.
I’m devastated and heartbroken.
Way more than I expected to be.
I’m told this grief may go on over two years.
At first everything seemed unreal. Things made no sense, similar to right after my stroke.
I was so stunned it seemed like her death hadn’t happened.
I couldn’t assimilate it, even though it was factually obvious.
Now things make sense, although I can still be devastated and heartbroken.
And I still feel she will return some day, despite my being alone over three months.
Me and the dog, that is, although it’s just me and the dog.
The dog is happy I’m still around, but probably wonders what happened to mommy.
And why I cry all the time.
The dog is just one more distraction from my hurt.
Feed the dog, and walk her as much as I can.
But she’s not enough; I still feel devastated and heartbroken.
And so alone, just me and the dog.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named their “Wellness-Center,” usually two-three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
• My beloved wife of 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. She was 68. I miss her dearly.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.
• My current dog is “Scarlett” (as in “Scarlett O’Hara”) a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder]. By getting a rescue-dog, I avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)
Yesterday (Thursday, July 26, 2012) it also looked like I might get through the day without crying.
I work out Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Canandaigua YMCA, a distraction from the fact my wife died.
But I ended up crying both days.
Over three months have passed since my wife died.
Relatives are beginning to think I should just get over it, snap out of it.
Can’t be done!
You don’t just push aside 44 years of dedicated marriage, and being so attached.
I’m devastated and heartbroken.
Way more than I expected to be.
I’m told this grief may go on over two years.
At first everything seemed unreal. Things made no sense, similar to right after my stroke.
I was so stunned it seemed like her death hadn’t happened.
I couldn’t assimilate it, even though it was factually obvious.
Now things make sense, although I can still be devastated and heartbroken.
And I still feel she will return some day, despite my being alone over three months.
Me and the dog, that is, although it’s just me and the dog.
The dog is happy I’m still around, but probably wonders what happened to mommy.
And why I cry all the time.
The dog is just one more distraction from my hurt.
Feed the dog, and walk her as much as I can.
But she’s not enough; I still feel devastated and heartbroken.
And so alone, just me and the dog.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named their “Wellness-Center,” usually two-three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
• My beloved wife of 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. She was 68. I miss her dearly.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.
• My current dog is “Scarlett” (as in “Scarlett O’Hara”) a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder]. By getting a rescue-dog, I avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)
Labels: grief-share
posted by BobbaLew at 9:35 AM
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