BEING IN A VERY BAD PLACE

I woke up this morning in a very bad place. I am spent emotionally. I have had two  awful dreams. In one, I was driving. I kept meeting obstacles in the road and had to turn around. I also kept getting lost. Then in another I was angrily ripping apart large pieces of fabric. I was trying to get through something or to change something. I couldn't see clearly what it was. I was angry to be where I was.

I am still angry. My husband and I were so happy. I feel like this goodness and contentment has been ripped away from us. Darkness surrounds me now. My stepson, Dale recently became paralyzed following neck surgery. It is another blow to get through. I am spent trying to help him. I cannot go down this road again, God. This is one too many burdens. Dale and his family face a very uncertain future. I do not know if I have the strength to go through this drastic change. To climb up one more steep hill filled with boulders. I do not want Dale and his family to be abandoned in their struggles. But that is what happens with chronic injury and disability. It is a lonely and isolated road I walked with my late husband.

Can  I climb one more mountain to be there for Dale and his family? Not today. I feel God has finally asked too much of me. Must I now relive some of the emotional horrors and physical obstacles of my son's own death? My late husband's long illness and death six weeks after Chris' death. I keep telling God, I cannot do this again. 

I decided it is a day to go into a dark place for a little while and then hopefully come out the in a better state of mind. This may not seem right to anyone reading this. However, I learned early on, it is better to acknowledge the rain, the clouds, the darkness and the thunder of profound grief. Then, in several hours or a day later, say, "This is it. I am coming out." When I emerge from my exile, I am able to see a day filled with light, beauty and sunshine or a sky filled with sparkling stars. I realize the power of nature and God have not abandoned me. That my life will go on in faith. 

I pray I will feel renewed. I pray my husband and I can get through this enormous challenge with our relationship intact. I need to get over this anger. I had not expected to be brought back to such a painful place with yet another child. I believe what happened is the fault of the neurosurgeon and hospital. I am powerless to change what happened and what will be going forward. All too familiar circumstances and painful emotions to grapple with again and to try to accept.

Two days ago, I had a terrible anxiety attack after my husband and I had a difficult phone conversation with Dale. I had to take some prescribed medication to relieve it. Nothing to this extent has ever happened to me. I thought maybe I was having a heart attack or stroke. The medication helped. My symptoms stopped. I think I was so fearful of now losing the peace and happiness that had eluded me for many years. Help me God to remember and to hold onto your generous blessings of my new husband and my new family.

Yet, I wonder must life be so hard, God? Have I not suffered enough? A little justice for my son, Chris. A little knowledge to stop the ravages of diabetes which killed my husband? A little mercy for my stepson, Dale, that he will walk again. That would be nice and very much appreciated. We are pouring our efforts and faith into the well. We need to see from You, the graces bestowed for our efforts, prayer and faith. Perhaps, tomorrow, I will be filled the knowledge and acceptance that Dale, a new Dale, is with us in sorrow, but in joy, in faith and in hope.

Help us all get through our earthly lives, God. We are all in Your hands.

                                     "I was afraid and thought he had driven me out of His Presence,

                                      But He heard my cry, when I called to Him for help."

                                                                                                                     Psalm 31:  22

Pray for me, my husband and Dale, please. You, dear readers, are always in my prayers and loving thoughts. 

Rosemarie

For anyone feeling or thinking of harming yourself, giving up or killing yourself call 988 for help 24/7.

LOSING A CHILD IN WAR

I chose to write about this topic because lately I have noticed some readers to my blog are from the Ukraine and from Russia. While I do not know anyone's identity, the blog statistics allow me to see what countries readers represent. Due to loss of lives in both countries, loss of lives to the United States and allies from war in the Middle East, I feel this topic is relevant. My blog can be translated into many languages. Just click on the very bottom of the right hand column where it says: May Your Laughter Live: Translate. Then click on "select a language" and choose.

No doubt, war is hell come to earth. Losing your child in battle, in friendly fire or as a civilian casualty brings devastation to you as parents and your family units. Comprehending the evil of leaders, the lust for power and domination, the greed for territory and resources and the denial of freedoms boggles our minds. Man's inhumanity to man. God and history will stand in final judgment to these horrific events.

Losing a child in the many circumstances of war and military service leaves parents with many doubts and questions. Answers which are almost impossible to know without the availability if an eye witness. Questions which haunt are: How did my child die? Who killed him/her? Did he or she suffer? Was he/she alone?  Did anyone try to help/him her? Did he/she go to the hospital? What happened at the hospital? Why did no one call us? Where is he/she buried. Will we ever get him/her back to us?

Questions which go round and round in the heads of parents whose children are victims of war. Many questions with few, if any, answers. This is the cruelty and irony of war. Plus, anger, uncertainty, the desire for revenge raise their heads in parents' minds in the aftermath of your children's terrible deaths. How could they not?

Dear Parents, I have not walked the same path as you. My son was not killed in war. But, I do know what it is not to get justice for your child. I know what is is to be lied to by police and politicians. I know he never got the proper emergency care. His care was delayed. I know what it is not to be able to talk to the doctors at the hospital. They never contacted me. I know what it is for the police to come to you in the middle of the night with this awful news. I know what it is like to try to get answers from the police and other officials. I tried every legal resource, but got no answers and no satisfaction.

My son was at least returned to me. I was able to bury him. I am able to visit him at the cemetery.  I know many of you will be denied these small comforts. Like many of your children, my son died far too young----five days past his 23rd birthday. Much too young as your children were as well.

How to go on? In your own way honor your son or daughter's death and life, either privately or publicly, as circumstances allow. If you cannot honor your child in the way you wish, at a later date, you may be able to have a larger memorial service. If you are able, do whatever you can to bring about peace and reason. Protest if you feel the need and you can do so safely. Have compassion for others and compassion will come back to you. Meet and talk with other parents who have lost their children in this war. You can share your common, profound grief and loss. Support one another for all you have been through. No one can make the journey through grief alone.

Tell God the anger and hatred you feel. God sees all and hears all. He knows the evil which has dealt you this terrible loss. God is a just God. Pray for an end to this madness. For the suffering of war to end. Tell yourself, it will get better even if you don't believe it now. Be determined you will survive. Others need you now and in the future. Do not let evil and your awful loss and grief destroy you. Pray for courage and strength. Pray for protection from the evil that surrounds you.

May God be with you. He has not forgotten you. Nor, will I.

Love and prayer, Rosemarie

                                     "Leave your troubles with the Lord, and he will defend you."                                                                                                                                            Psalm 55: 22

DEATH OF A LIFE IN A LIVING PERSON

Today I feel as if someone has stuck a pin in me and drained all of the energy out of me. I have been transported back to many, many very difficult, sad and challenging years. I shall explain this and what may be a confusing title.

One of my stepsons, Dale, had serious neurosurgery to fuse three vertebrae in his neck thirteen days ago. Quite unexpectedly, when he awoke from surgery, he was confused and unable to move his arms and legs. He has regained the use of his arms and hands and his mental clarity, but not his legs. And he remains in pain in his neck and legs even though he cannot move his legs. He is quite overwhelmed, traumatized and depressed. As are we all as his family. This was not the outcome that was expected from this surgery.

As it stands now, the happy, independent, well functioning, and mobile Dale we knew is now gone. We have no idea what the future may hold for him, his wife and young son. This situation has been a terrible shock with many unanswered questions and no explanation for what has happened.

This has dragged me back to the time when I lost my own son Chris. Then followed by his father, Fred's, death six weeks later. I barely had the energy to get out of bed. I woke up this morning feeling okay. The phone rang almost immediately. I spoke with the admissions coordinator from the acute rehab center to which Dale will soon be transferred. As soon as I got off the phone, I felt this tremendous loss of energy and sadness. I feel on the verge of crying, but the tears have not yet come. 

I updated my husband, Dale's father. Then called Dale to update and reassure him so he has an idea of what to expect. I have become the de facto point person with the healthcare personnel. I am the only nurse in the family and have had much experience in neurology and rehabilitation care for spinal injuries. 

So once more, I am dragged back to the difficult situation of caring for my husband, Fred's, ten year illness. I am sure I don't need to tell you many of you the myriad of difficulties I had dealing with hospitals, doctors, nurses, insurance, case managers and insurance medical directors. I even reached a point where I called Fred's good friend and best man, who was also a good friend to the CEO of our insurance company. His intervention did help with a few problems, but not all.

And here I go, again now, with Dale. Dealing with hospitals and healthcare personnel is no easier now. If anything, it is worse. Trying to be a go between with health care givers and facilities with Dale, his immediate family and extended family. I was not prepared for this. I have thought about having to one day possibly care for my husband as we aged. Yet here I am. Immersed in coordinating caring for a disabled stepson. And thinking what if...? Can I handle this again? Can my husband handle it? And I am totally worn out!

Though Dale is still with us, will he ever be the same Dale? Will he be able to adjust to a disability? How will this affect his wife and son? How will he mange at home? Will he be able to return to his present, small, two story home if he is in a wheelchair? I don't know the answer to these questions and neither does anyone else. 

My husband and I are not near Dale's home or near the hospital. I discussed with my husband the need to be there physically and emotionally for Dale. My husband also experienced, with his late wife, the same difficulties with her illnesses as I did with my late husband. It is difficult, even traumatic, for him to go into a hospital. Neither of us ever wanted to re-marry for fear of having to take care of a very ill spouse again. With the passage of time, this fear lessened. We found each other and love once more.

I also talked to my husband about the pain of losing a child. The many serious complications Dale could face as a result of his being unable to use his legs. I felt I had to tell my husband there were two dark roads he did not want to go down. The first road, "I should have done MORE for him." Second road, "I should have been THERE for him." I told him, these very dark roads are difficult to return from. I hope he understood because there is uncertainty about Dale's future. Many adjustments to be made. Many hurdles to overcome. And some serious pitfalls to be prevented.

As parents who have lost children we are bonded in many cases by the numerous health care difficulties and certainly the profound grief and trauma of losing a child. Navigating a road from this grief to try to come back to a somewhat productive life with family, friends and employment. It takes a lot of faith, courage and perseverance.

We have journeyed down the road of losing our children. A road which never completely ends and has dark tributaries along the way. And I journeyed down the road of losing a spouse. That was delayed because I could not process the loss of my late husband while processing the profound loss of my son. I have faced my own mortality both with complications from surgery and from having breast cancer. 

Now I am called to journey down the road with a dear stepson who has lost the only life he has known. Lost the way his family and friends have always known him. Lost his life without physically dying.

I am doing as much as I can. As always, I turn to prayer and my faith for Dale, his family, my husband and myself. God never deserts us. May He walk with me on another journey. Saint Padre Pio says, "Pray, hope and don't worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer." 

I am hoping and praying for a miracle that Dale will walk again and I can remain strong by his side.

                      "Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." 

                                                                                                              Galatians 6: 2

DEEP and TROUBLED WATERS

I look forward to Autumn every year as a break from what seems, by the end of August, endless heat. Despite this and the other glories of nature Fall presents, it marks a season of sadness for me as well. I feel a sense of dread from the painful memories pulling at me.

September 19th is my son, Chris,' birthday. September 24th is the date of his death. November 2nd is the date of my husband, Fred's, death. Not exactly a season of rejoicing. Many years have passed since, but still, pain has a way of tempering the many beauties of Autumn. I am sure we all have similar seasons.

It has been a tough journey. I know it is for any parent who has lost a child. Many parents reading my words still experience intense, acute grief. We have all traveled or are still traveling a slippery slope of descending darkness and despair. With no visible or palpable relief. With many doubts as to how, or even if, we can go on.  Like wading through deep and troubled waters.

Yet, here we are. I am writing this. You are reading it. We have survived. That is the first step for us. Followed by many other steps, painful and slow as they may be. We have emerged from those dark waters to realize sadly, what has happened cannot be changed. No matter how many tears are shed or how much anguish is felt, we cannot bring our children back to us.

While time may have frozen for us, the world goes on. We wonder how can this be? Don't these people know my kid is dead? Why am I still here? What's the point? What's left for me in this life? I have learned our lives still have value and much meaning. We have to find the answers for ourselves and be willing to get help when needed.

When we hang in there, painful though it may be, we come to realize we need to re-join life. We all have relationships--a spouse or significant other, living children, supportive friends, older parents, jobs and financial responsibilities. We know there is not the option to collapse and hibernate from society for the rest of our lives.

I won't lie. This moving ahead takes digging down deep inside ourselves for every ounce of courage and resolve we possess. We all need to make the difficult choice to go on. This will be the biggest challenge we will ever have to face in our lives.

We will always carry the pain of our child's loss within our hearts. But beside that pain in our hearts, we can carry the many good memories and joys of having this dear child. No one can take these away from us even on our darkest days. We can still remember our children's smiles, laughter, voices, touch and smell. Hold onto these.

Foreign as this may seem at the moment, we should not discount the possibility of new experiences, blessings and love. It is never a forgone conclusion that our lives are over once we lose a child. I know it feels that way, but it will not be permanent even when we have dark days. Go with the flow of darkness, but know tomorrow will be better.

I carried on with faith in God, devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, extended family, a few close friends and small social outings. One of the things that is not helpful in moving ahead is isolation. Being bitter, angry and solitary for an extended period of time will not bring a child back. But it can bring us, as parents, to helplessness, hopelessness and despair. Don't go down that fork in the road.

I believe there is no way to get through profound loss without focusing on who else and what else remains in our lives. That is another part of the choice we need to make. Be pro-active with prayers for courage, strength and for some measure of peace once again.                                       

                                 "The Lord reached down from above and took hold of me;                                                                                     He pulled me out of deep waters."       Psalm18: 16

                  I appreciate any comments or anyone who would like to follow my blog. Thanks!                                                Be assured of my love, thoughts & prayers for you.                                                                                                                                         Rosemarie

Guilt Is A Cruel Master

  

Not only is guilt a cruel master, but for those of us who have lost a child,  guilt becomes a very unwelcome, constant acquaintance. I felt terrible guilt after my son died. I thought I had committed the greatest sin possible. God had given me this child and I failed to protect him. I literally felt I was walking around with a scarlet letter, "F" on my back because of my enormous failure. I was sure everyone one knew what I had "done."

It took a lot of therapy to cope with this. I felt I could have or should have prevented my son's death. I failed to realize what danger he was in. I should have been able to rescue him somehow. I had told my son, Chris, not to return to see this young woman he had just broken up with.  And not to return at all to the town where she lived. 

I actually told him, "Do not go back there. I feel your life is in danger." He replied, "Don't worry Mom. I can take care of myself." Yet he had told me, "If anything ever happens to me, I have all her cards and letters in my bureau drawer." I have to admit I was not only bewildered, but very distracted. My husband, Chris' father, was quite ill and in a nursing home. He was getting worse and there was no hope for his recovery. I thought after his passing, I would have more time and energy to devote to Chris' needs. Since Chris' involvement with this young woman, he had become secretive with me and for the first time ever, began lying to me. I truly did not know what evil I was up against.

Then it happened. I had had a tremendously busy day in the inner city high school where I worked as a school nurse. I hadn't had time to call Chris. I arrived home to find a note on the kitchen table that he had fed Amber, our dog, and taken her out. No other information. This was shortly after 3pm.

I started calling Chris, but he never returned my calls until about 7:30 pm. I asked him where he was. He said in a nearby town. I didn't believe him. I asked, "For four hours?" I don't remember what he said. I asked him if he would be home by later tonight and he said he would. I thought well, as long as he comes home, he will be all right. We ended the call. A fatal mistake on my part. I was at the nursing home at the time with my husband. I remember telling my husband, "Something is wrong. Chris didn't sound right." He replied not to worry. Chris would be all right. I think I tried to call again, but Chris did not pick up. My mind was not settled, but I didn't keep trying to call him. Another fatal mistake.

I went home, changed into my nightgown. Amber and I fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. We were awakened by the doorbell ringing at 1:00 am. I said to Amber, "Who could that be? Chrissy must have forgotten his key." I opened the door and to my shock, two police officers were standing there along with one of my neighbors. They all came in and one officer gave me the terrible news. Chris was dead. I couldn't believe what they were telling me. It seemed all wrong. I kept thinking how could I possibly tell mu very ill husband?

A lot of time has passed since that fateful night. No one was ever charged with Chris' death. I still wonder if I could have done more? If I should have done more? Why I didn't realize how distraught he really was? How much danger he was in? And what extent would this young woman's father go with his political influence to protect her? The whole thing happened about six hours away from where I lived. My husband would get in a terrible state if I didn't visit him daily. And I didn't know what evil and corruption I was up against because of this young woman's father. Chris died because of her. Chris never got any justice. This has been a very bitter pill to swallow. I am sure many of you can sadly relate. 

I would say I was in a fog for several years. I could not listen to any music in the house because it reminded me of Chris playing the guitar. It took one to two years to get over that.  I was also in a fog because of all the morphine I was taking due to the pain of my radical cancer surgery and a previous cervical fusion. I was taking the morphine as it was prescribed. I eventually had to conclude on my own that this was a very high and unsustainable amount of morphine. It frightened me. This cancer hospital knew about managing pain, but nothing about addiction. 

After prayer, I found a drug rehab center in the yellow pages. Who knew they had phone books in heaven? To make a long story short, I checked myself into drug rehab in Palm Beach Florida for a month. I was astounded to learn that I had the equivalent of a $200 dollar a day heroin habit. This upset me. I called the hospital pain clinic to inform them of my situation. My primary care physician was very angry. In every letter the Pain Clinic sent him, they reported I was doing well on the medication and showed no signs of abuse. Well, I wasn't abusing it, but I was still addicted. 

I will just say, my drug rehab was a very profound experience. I became addicted and it opened up a whole new learning experience. I knew nothing about addiction lifestyles and this whole new world. I thanked God that I had had a life and would not be returning to a world where all my associates would be doing drugs. This saved me from a  life of destruction. I also realized, that addiction is a symptom of a deeper psychological problem or trauma. Which is why people relapse. Because by the time addicts come to this realization, they are out of treatment time---usually 28 to 30 days. When insurance runs out, addicts are suddenly "cured." Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I think the drug rehab experience brought me to the point of accepting what had happened to Chris. That I was powerless to change the events of what happened. That it is not possible to control the actions of an adult child. That a parent could intervene, but control and decisions are up to our adult children. I came to a point of acceptance. This may seem impossible to many of you at this time. But we have to come to terms with what has happened. We have to work through the the guilt and anger to come to acceptance.

 Acceptance is the key to moving forward on the very challenging grief journey. No amount of guilt and anger will bring our children back. What guilt and anger does is destroy us as parents, as a person, as a spouse, as a parent to our living children and all the others living around us. We have to take a look and see who and what we have left in our lives. This does not negate the absence of our deceased children, but it allows us to keep living. This is a conscious choice and decision all of us must make: destruction or a life. It is not an easy decision. It is not an easy path back to a life. We must weigh our alternatives.

Acceptance helped my guilt and anger. But I still wonder what I might have done differently. But the difference is now I can live with these questions without overwhelming, even destructive, feelings of guilt and anger. I have prayed to Chris to forgive my shortcomings as a parent. I know he has. Chris knows above all things, he was always loved and we were there for him as parents. That is all we can possibly do in our human existence.

I see this young woman's picture on facebook. She has not aged well. She looks like she is abusing alcohol. That would not surprise me. God forgive me, I take a perverse pleasure in seeing how she went from a very pretty young woman to a puffy faced, overweight, middle-aged woman. She is unrecognizable from who she once was. I suppose secrets, evil and lies can do that to a person. I messaged her on facebook and advised her she needed to get her life right with God. Frankly, I believe she has suffered because she knows what she did resulted in Chris' death. IMO, she deserves to suffer for her lack of remorse. 

I don't know if I have forgiven her, but I am not the one who needs to forgive her. God does. Which is what I told her. She has escaped earthly justice. No one escapes divine justice. She should bear the guilt, not me.

                  Serenity Prayer: God give me the courage to change the things I can. To accept the                                      things I cannot change. And the wisdom to know the difference.

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HELL COMES TO BREAKFAST

Hell comes to breakfast. That is the reality for those of us who have lost children. Everyday brings the same reality. Another devastating day in hell has come because we are still without our child. This came to me when I was watching an old Clint Eastwood western, "Josey Wales." Josey had come to rescue his friends from some evil marauders. One of Josey's friends upon seeing him, remarked, "Hell has come for breakfast." They were rescued. We, unfortunately, are not. No quick fixes in real life.

I thought how appropriate was this for many of our days. Another day awakening in a hell with so many questions swirling in our heads making our pain worse. How did this happen? Why did no one save my child? Could he or she have lived if they had gotten help? Why didn't the doctors save him/her? Why didn't I know? Why didn't I protect my child. Why didn't I do more? Why didn't I know he/she was in trouble. Who would do something so evil? Why aren't the police doing something. Why wasn't I there?

Many questions swirling in our heads. Some questions will eventually be answered. Some will not. Having to live with doubts and guilt making our pain worse are very bitter pills to swallow. It is like a big black cloud hanging over us.

We cannot go back to change the time or events leading to our children's deaths. We can raise public awareness to keep something similar from happening again. We can file lawsuits on behalf of our children. We can memorialize our children in a way that recognizes his or her life so they will not be forgotten.

Coming done to the bare facts, what we must do most, is find a way of dealing with our kids' deaths so we can have some measure of strength and acceptance. So, I repeat, it is not possible to change what has happened. This means at some point we must accept what has happened.

Acceptance does not mean we must forgive the persons who may be responsible for our children's deaths. Acknowledge they did what they did. They are responsible, not us. Accept there was little if anything we could have done to prevent what happened. If we believe we could have done more, we may find it helpful to ask our child's forgiveness and God's forgiveness or speak with a spiritual counselor. We need to come face to face with the reality that we are not perfect. We live an imperfect, even evil, world. We must take only those actions that are within the law and that will help us. Understand no amount of money or publicity can bring our children back to life.

What is comes down to is a choice. It is very basic. Do I want to get through this terrible loss or let it destroy me? Do I want to go through the rest of my life as a bitter, angry person and alienate my living family and friends. Instead, is there something I can do so another parent does not suffer this same loss? Is there something else I can do to help other parents in my same circumstance. Should I get help coping with this journey called grief from a support group or counselor?

Grief, especially for a child, is a narrow, but winding road. There is no straight course or highway. There are stops. There are steps forward, but then steps backwards. Hold on tight. Faith and prayer have helped me to hold onto hope and strength. They can lead to acceptance and some measure of peace at last. It can happen.

People speak of closure. I am not sure what closure is. Perhaps psychobabble. I have not experienced it despite the losses of both parents, a husband and a son. How is it possible to close the book on any life? The loss of our children is like an unfinished book with many missing chapters. Closure does not happen.

We need to focus on God and who and what we have left in our lives. Even if we have never gone to church or never prayed, now would be a good time to start. We need to reach out to God in faith and hope to get us through our tragedies. He has our children now. We may not understand this. We may be angry at God because our children died. This is normal. Pray anyway. God hears you. God loves you. He knows your pain. God will help you to find strength, resolve, acceptance and peace at last. That has been my experience. I hope and pray it helps other parents. 

Hell can come for breakfast, but does not have to stay.  Love, Rosemarie

                               "Comfort, O comfort my people" says your God.   Isaiah 40: 1

FATHER'S DAY BRINGS PAINFUL MEMORIES

 

Time can dull the pain of losing a child, but nothing can erase painful memories. This came to me yesterday on Father's Day as I painfully recalled the death of my late husband, Fred. He died six weeks after our son, Chris, was tragically killed. Fred had been ill for a long time. He had all the major complications of Type1 diabetes. He was only 57, but had been diabetic from a young age.

He was quite visually oriented as he had been an art school graduate and graphic designer. Then a a VP at a small advertising agency and finally, a corporate  Executive Art Director. He was probably one of the most respected art directors in the large city in which he worked. He had won many awards. He treated his employees well. In an an industry known to have its share of verbal abuse and sexual harassment. He was extremely social, funny and ethical in an industry also known to have its share of kickbacks from vendors anxious to land advertising projects. Plus, an industry with a lot of stress which I believe adversely affected his diabetes.

Life is perverse. By the time he died, he could hardly see, was on kidney dialysis three times a week, had lost both legs and three fingers. He was pretty much helpless. And abandoned by most of his family, most of his co-workers and all but three friends. Life is hard and unjust when you suffer with a long term, chronic illness. There are people we come across in life we don't wish harm, but if something happens to them, we are not terribly sorry. Fred was definitely not in that category. I remember thinking at Fred's funeral, where is so and so and this one and that one. The things we remember. Fred was truly a good man, a good husband and good father. I am crying while writing this. Of all people, Fred never deserved to suffer. Life is truly not fair.

About a week after Chris died, Fred asked me to take him back to the cemetery. I had purchased three graves and was planning to purchase one headstone with our three names on it. Fred asked me what grave he would be in. I told him the middle one. He seemed satisfied with that and said, "Let's go." I knew then he would die soon because he wasn't so much giving up as letting go. He had been through thick and thin, but now finally was at peace, knowing that Chris was at peace. I believed and he knew his time was at hand.

When Chris laid in his coffin, I held his hand at the funeral home before visitors arrived. I told Chris how I loved him, how much I missed him, but he had a job to do. I told Chris his job now was to bring Dad home to heaven. And Chris did. He helped bring Dad to peace at last. His suffering was finally over. My Aunt told me she had a vision of heaven. Chris was playing the guitar Fred was in front of an easel and painting.

Fred died on November 2nd. That is a significant holy day in Catholicism. It is when we pray for all the deceased souls to enter paradise. Perhaps, it was God's message to me that he knew Fred was a good man. And now he was at peace with his son. Their suffering was over. Mine would go on for some time yet. I was 53 and both a bereaved parent and widow. Yes, life is indeed hard. We take our blows with our bows.

I was so overwhelmed by Chris's death that it was impossible for me to grieve over Fred. I would think of Fred and say to myself, "Fred died." Then go back to grieving over Chris. Fred's death was like a blip on the radar screen. I couldn't process it until two years later when a good friend suddenly lost her husband. Somehow, I felt the time was right. I took her to the bereavement support I went to when Chris died. I finally was able to open up about Fred.

I think today, while writing this, was the hardest I ever cried over Fred. Perhaps, because I have been in terrible physical pain for the last five months from trigeminal neuralgia and a cervical fusion from several years ago which never fully fused or solidified. I have been praying to Chris and Fred to get me through this and guide my treatment decisions. Maybe, I can finally let go because I am happy with my new kind, loving and supportive husband.

I know he has the same painful memories of caring for his very ill wife. She was even on a ventilator. He found himself alone as well when caring for her. Family and friends said, "Let me know if I can help." We both experienced that. When we called, they were suddenly "busy" or little, if any, help if they did manage to show up. It is hard for either of use to talk about these painful memories. It cannot change what happened. His late wife was good and kind woman. They raised six children together. I know he loved her as I loved my Fred. We both understand what the other has been through. We both honor commitment. We are no longer alone in our distress. I believe, we have a deep and abiding love which has been enhanced by loss. Maybe, if we have loss in love, we love harder. 

I think we both understand each other's past without words. There is no point in hashing out the details. We listen empathetically to each other if this topic does comes up, but neither of us wants to dwell on it. We accept if either of us wants to go to the cemetery, has sad moments or days and keeps old photos. Our pasts will always be our pasts. We cannot erase memories and walk away from love. We will both always have feelings for our late spouses. The is the cycle of life---old, new and renewed. God bless.

                        Love is patient; love is kind.....Love never ends.  1  Corinthians 13:4-8

If you are a bereaved parent who wants to join your deceased child or thinks your spouse would be better off without you, please get HELP immediately from your doctor, 911 or the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 800-273-TALK (8255) 24/7.

Love, Rosemarie