Author: Randy Mann

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

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Tomorrow I fly to the place where my wife and I shared 13 years of our 33 years together. It’s a difficult area to go back to because there are so many memories. When we arrived in Idaho, we had only a few friends and no family. We built a tremendous life together in that state, but things are different now.

I’m going back to check on the possibility of a master’s program at one of their colleges. I will also visit the friends who supported me during the worst experience of my life. I wish I could say that I was excited. Instead, I fell like I’m on a new emotional roller-coaster. Seeing these people, despite all the history, will be good. It’s always nice to see friendly faces.

My life in Idaho was awesome. I did everything I wanted to do in my career. I was proud of the accomplishments and enjoyed our life that we both worked so hard to make. Sally’s job at Macy’s was also good. Many people in the community would come to her for cosmetic advise and she definitely knew her stuff. Every day, we would have lunch together as I would make time in the middle of the day just to enjoy another meal with Sally. Also, I wasn’t a fan of cooking meals for myself.

But, as I mentioned in other blogs, I sold my house and left the area. I couldn’t take the familiarity of a place that brought so much, and that she is no longer a part of it. However, it was home for a long time. People respected the work I did and there is a part of me that wants to go back.

I keep wondering, would it be a good idea to return? Or, perhaps I should go to some place that has no connection to our history and just start over. These thoughts constantly race through my head. I don’t question the selling of our home or leaving the area for a while. I do question on where I go from here. We’ve always had some kind of “plan” when we moved to different places.

I know that I’m putting tremendous pressure on myself to resolve my future. Others sense that as well. I understand that the grieving process takes time, but emotionally, sometimes it doesn’t matter. Trying to give myself time is difficult. There are so many days when I feel, “this does not compute,” or, “how do I fix this?”

I hope to get an idea later in this week where the path will start to lead. It will be a strange feeling to be back in the area to where I owe so much, but find it hard to stay. I wish I could make sense of this.

For those who read this, I have a question. When you became widowed, did you make a big change? I realize you’re supposed to wait on big changes, but circumstances may dictate otherwise.

Where Do I Live Now?

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2012-07-13 10.36.21It’s almost hard to believe that over a year ago I lived in a 3,300 square foot home that overlooked a lake. My wife, Sally, loved the home. I literally had to take up many jobs to help pay for the thing, but looking back, it was well worth it.

Once my wife passed away from cancer last May, I immediately put the house up for sale. It was our home, not mine. When Sally left this world, I only spent one additional night in the house. Her co-worker, who became good friends in a short period of time, literally put me up in her and husband’s home until it was time to leave.

I have a lot of admiration and compassion for those two people. They brought in a person who was very sad and did whatever they could to make living conditions as comfortable as possible.

Our home was beautiful, and she was the big reason for that. It was our sanctuary for over 12 years and many memories were made. That was one of the big reasons to sell the place. I just couldn’t bear walking into that house and not see her.

I completely understand that widowed persons will stay in the same house after their loved one has passed. It’s their home. In my case, the memories were too much for me.

So here I am, staying at a relative’s home, because it’s too difficult to be by myself. Still working, but the life I worked so hard to put together, along with my wife, is now gone. I’m trying not to ask for sympathy or pity, but it’s so hard to process on how things can change so quickly.

Looking to the future during this experience is almost impossible. However, I did make the decision to pursue a master’s degree. Where I end up in the long run is anybody’s guess.

It’s interesting that when you’re younger, homes and other possessions seem to be important. I always knew this, but After losing Sally, I realized more than ever that a house is merely four walls. It’s what’s inside that makes it a home.

 

What About That “Eternal Promise”?

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It’s been over 10 months since the passing of my beloved wife, Sally. I look back and find it hard to image that everything I worked for, my home, my way of life and Sally is gone.

For such a long time, it was just me and her. We made some friends on our journeys and when we moved to Vermont and Idaho. But, at the end of the day, it was just us. We never had children as it wasn’t meant to be.

On many occasions, we said it would be her and me forever. That was the promise. Now, I’m forced to try to move forward despite the pain.

I realize that I still have a long way to go with the grief and loss. She was the “love of my life” and I believe that no other woman will love me the way she did. Our connection was special and deep. People would notice how we looked at one another, even when we were in our 50s.

As far as happiness in the future, I can only hope at this stage. I’m going to be 55, but making plans to get my master’s degree and resume teaching, a job that I thoroughly enjoyed. I’m doing the best I can. This was not part of the original plan for the rest of my life.

I think that we live by a set of rules that we create for ourselves or, perhaps, instilled in us by others over time. Regardless, my I have either been blessed of cursed with keeping a “promise.” It’s what I do and a rule I live by. Once I make that promise, no matter how big or small, I will do everything in my power to fulfill it.

For those who read this, I’m certain that most will think that all of this will change in time. However, my “programming,” at least at this point, forces me to honor any promise that is made, including an eternal one I made to Sally. I do remember the wedding vows, “til death do you part,” but that does not overrule the “promise.”

I saw a great blog by “Ten Thousand Days” that, in my opinion, hits the point. I’m moving forward, but not moving on.  This situation has become my new normal and I have no choice but to accept this big change. I try to “go with the flow,” but still find myself trying to swim against the current.

Prior to her passing, she told me that it was okay for me to find someone else. I also hear from friends and relatives that she would want me to be happy for the rest of my days. On a logical level, this makes sense, but on an emotional one, that’s another matter. Living the life of solitude is not exactly what I had in mind.

What do you think?

 

Coping With Survivor’s Guilt

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I managed to get through one of the “big dates” of my wife’s passing. March 24 would have been our 34th year together. It feels like you’re standing and cringing as that date approaches. How bad will the first one feel? Who will I get through the day?

The day started off as expected, emotional. But, friends and family came through and helped out, for which I’m extremely grateful. It would have been so easy for me to just stay in bed.

This first wedding anniversary without her made me realize the grief and guilt will not be going away soon. I fully admit that “survivor’s guilt” is a part of the pain and sickness in my gut.

Those two little words, “what if,” still run through my head. A lot of my guilt stems from not forcing my wife, Sally, to go to the doctor, just for annual checkups with she turned 50. I get it when I hear the saying, “you can force a horse to water, but can’t make it drink.” Still, I can’t help but wonder.

For a long time, she was healthier than me. Sally worked out on the elliptical in a room in our house. Her job required her to be on her feet all day long. She ate well, much better than me. Honestly, I set up our insurance and future based on the fact that I would be the one that would leave first. Life threw me and everyone else a massive “blindside.”

The thought that goes through my head is that if I would have been more persistent, this cancer could have been caught early and things would be different. My sister, who is a doctor, tells me that this type of cancer would have likely not made that much difference in terms of the outcome. Logically, I understand. Emotionally, that’s a different story.

I’ll never know if things would have been different. Perhaps not knowing allowed us to live life to its more fullest. We traveled a lot the few years prior to her diagnosis. Maybe her “quality of life” would have been far worse if we did know and went through the long and painful treatments. Regardless, I still wonder “what if.”

This process of grief is relentless. You can run, but you can’t hide. One of the steps I’m trying to work on is “forgiveness,” especially for myself. It’s far from easy. Happiness is something I don’t feel entitled to, at least not now. It’s a matter of trying to be “less sad.”

But, I try to press onward with each day. I try my best to be functional. Making plans for one, two or many months down the road is hard. However, I do make them, just to get some sort of sanity.

Now, I will be bracing for the next two days, her birthday and the one of her passing. I already know the road coming is going to be rough. Again, I’m doing my best.

 

How Necessary Are “Memorial Services”?

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When my darling wife passed away last year, some people wondered why I didn’t have some kind of memorial service. Sally and I did not want funerals and she made a point to tell me that prior to her passing.

We lived for 13 years in the same area. We made some friends, but our families were spread out. We never had children as I think it just wasn’t meant to be. Therefore, I was mostly on my own to handle final arrangements.

There was one day in the spring that we had someone from the local funeral home come to our home to discuss her wishes.  Sally made her decisions and I went along with them, including not having a funeral. I just couldn’t believe that was happening. I still can’t.

Sally never attended any memorial-type service, including the ones involving close relatives. I went to two of them in my lifetime and found the experiences to be draining and upsetting. I just couldn’t bring myself to put together that type of event, or ask someone else to do it. Perhaps others will differ, even strongly, but I stand by my decisions and respected her wishes.

It was also extremely difficult to go to the funeral home and pick up her ashes. Again, I as on my own for this and even trying to remember that event is a bit of a fog. I also had to set a time and place to spread her ashes. It took about 4 months after her passing for me to go to the spot that she wanted to have this done.

My sister, who is also named Sally, flew down from Oregon to go with me on a 2-hour drive, one way, to the location to spread her ashes. It was one of her favorite spots and I would want my ashes to be spread in the same one when my time comes.

The night before the trip, I wanted to be certain that I can properly open the container. It was sealed too well and I had to literally get a hammer and screw drive to open up the bottom. Someone messed that one up. I don’t want to say this was becoming comical, but I could see Sally laughing as some of the ash “poofed out” and went all over, including on me when we got the thing open.

The small container, which is one she would like, still sits in my room. I know there’s a tiny bit of ash left as it was impossible to get all of it out. No, it wasn’t put in a plastic bag like they supposed to be, but I’m okay with that.

After this experience, I’m even more determined to say that I would not want a funeral or memorial service when my day arrives. I did tell a few people, though, if you want to have a big party with lots of wine, then make it a good one.20171011_125836

The Task of Going Through “Stuff”

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From conversation and personal experience, the most difficult task that a widow or widower must face is going through the “stuff” of their beloved. Shortly after my wife, Sally, passed from rare cancer last year, I made the decision to clean out our house and sell it.

Deciding to sell the house was an easy one for me. I could no longer live in a place that had so many memories. It was also expensive and too big to handle on my own. However, because the home is located in an area that gets snow, I had no choice but to clean it out and get it on the market as soon as possible.

I literally made about 30 trips to the local dump and sold much of the furniture and other possessions. Those things, possessions, clothes and other things are not the same without Sally as we got them “together.”

Going through the majority of this stuff on my own was painstaking and emotionally traumatic, but had to be done. Each item, especially clothing, had a memory attached. I completely understand that they are “things,” but there was still an attachment to my wife.

I’ve talked with many people who still hold on to many possessions of their deceased spouse. I do understand why some of these people do that. It’s so hard to let go of anything. In my case, I gave away all of her clothes. The only thing I wished I would have kept was a beautiful green dress that she would wear on special occasions.

Despite keeping most of her jewelry, I still think about that green dress. Let’s face it, the thing would have been in the closet, but it would have been close by. However, I did make a trip to Atlanta to see my sister. We went to one spot that had a beautiful waterfall. It was a chilly day and she gave me a purple hood to wear. It was chilly enough that I decided to wear it, even though it looked a little feminine.

At the end of the day, after our nice excursion, my sister, Susan told me that purple hood belonged to Sally. I asked to keep it and without hesitation she said yes. That hood sits on top of a 3 by 5 frame with our picture.

I’m not an expert on whether it’s a good idea to keep things or to give them away, sell them or whatever. In my case, I don’t have the green dress, but I do have have the purple hood. You can let me know what you think and what you’ve done as well.

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Trying to Get Through Those “Dates”

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When one loses their significant other, especially when it’s the love of your life, the emotional roller-coaster becomes even tougher. I’m now going on month 10 since my darling wife left this world. However, this month comes with another date, our anniversary.

I used every bit of willpower to get through the holidays. For those in this situation, does it seem that the holidays go on forever? Now comes the date of our wedding anniversary, then her birthday and one-year marker. I don’t know how others handle it, but this part of the journey feels like I’m “bracing” for the hurricane of dates to come and go.

Many people have said that, “it doesn’t get better, it just gets easier.” I’ve heard so many “dates” on how long before you start to feel better, or at least somewhat functional. The majority have said it’s about a year-and-a-half. I’ve also heard the second year is the worst because you start losing your support group. The other ones go out to three years and I’ve heard of those struggling after five years and longer. Perhaps I can get more insight to this one too.

I read where the dates of anniversaries, birthdays, etc., mark the passage of time in this what I would call an unwanted journey. Prior to this last week, I thought that I could get through the rough time a little easier as I try to prepare and brace myself.

A quick lesson learned as you can never prepare, no matter how hard you try. This last week was one the worst. Trying to escape the overwhelming sadness that will blindside you is not possible. There’s a lot of truth to the saying, “you can run, but you can’t hide.” I’ve been running as fast and as hard as I can, but there’s no hiding.

One way I’m trying to cope is to do things “out of the box,” or out of my comfort zone. I am trying to do what I can to ease the pain, but realize I just have to “sit in it.” But, once the big dates have passed for year number one, I’m going to take a two-week cruise around Europe, something I would have not considered prior to all of this. I don’t expect to feel better overall, however it’s a different environment which makes for a distraction.

The month of May is one of the big “dates.” Her birthday was on May 8 and she passed late on the night of the 24th. Looking back, it’s almost hard to believe that one year is almost here.

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Most People “Don’t Get it.”

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When you lose the love of your life, it’s like being in a fog. There a pit in your stomach bigger than the Grand Canyon. I wake up every morning wondering how this could have happened. The center of my world was lost to cancer and I wished it would have been me instead of her.

I’ve had many people “set up” time with me to help ease the pain. Good friends let me stay at their home for 3 months as I couldn’t stay at my house. However, there are those who simply can not handle this type of situation. From my experience, they do not want you, or someone that’s been through this kind of trauma, to rock their happy existence. These people do mean well, but have no idea on what it’s like and will try to avoid you.

I’ve heard a number of comments that cause me to shake my head, or to not deal with that particular person. Less than two months after my wife passed, there was a gathering with friends. Of course, everyone asks the same question, “what are you going to do?” I said that I was trying to figure it out. What I really wanted to say was that I was just going to lay in bed for the next year.

I did mention to one person that I was selling my house and going to travel to get my mind away. He said that “it sounds like you’re going to be in an enviable position.” WHAT? I told him there was nothing enviable about that at all. There have been other comments related to this, but it’s pointless to list the examples.

I’ve been told to go seek psychological help, or asked how long until I’m over this. I will often get question after question on this situation, like I’m in a courtroom. People want you to be your “old self.” Unfortunately, that’s not very likely, at least not in the near future, as a big part of your world is no longer with you.

The best ones to discuss this horrible situation with are the ones who’ve been through it. They understand the tremendous hardships, pain and the journey. I was also warned to be careful on who I open up to about this event. Others have difficulty because they simply “don’t get it.” And, for their sake, I hope they never do.

For those reading this who have been through a similar situation, I’m assuming will have similar stories. Please feel free to share.

Once the Grieving Starts…

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It’s been nearly 9 months since the passing of my adorable wife Sally. They always say that “time heals all wounds.” The pain in my heart may say otherwise.

I had a conversation with my sister, Marylynn, who just celebrated her 75th birthday. I am amazed by the energy she has. However, over the last 7 years, she has lost 2 sons. She recently told me that “once the grieving starts, it never stops.”

After Sally passed, Marylynn literally became my grief counselor. She’s extremely intelligent and became a medical doctor in her 40s. She reminded me of the day I called and said, “we need your help.” Marylynn said that after the passing of her first son, Dan, she felt that her experience and insight would help me. She was right. Many people who observe this say I’m making great progress, but there is an internal war going on inside me and my weight loss of 35 pounds shows it.

Prior to all of this, Marylynn and I only spoke a few times year, if that. Since then, we talk almost every day. My brother and I visit more and even have breakfast every other week. My sister Susan, the one who helped care for Sally, I also owe my deepest gratitude. My other sister, also named Sally, has also been there for me despite other family issues.

My mother and stepfather, Rich, let me stay with them to help get through this. In my 54 years of life, I’ve never been alone. I met Sally when I was 20 and we were together ever since.

I must confess, I don’t think I would have survived this without them too. Rich lost his first wife due to a car accident about 50 years ago, so there is an unspoken bond. He’s been very understanding and very helpful as I have received a lot of wisdom and insight. My mom also makes me feel cared for. Most of my other family members have stepped up for me, and I am grateful and lucky. But, it’s very hard to feel that way, especially since my entire life has changed.

After this experience and talking with others who have shared this unwanted journey, I’m realizing that there is no timeline to this process. I have been told of people who still struggle after decades of losing a loved one. I remember talking with a woman who lost her husband about 3 years ago. When I told her that Sally had passed 6 months prior, she told that this experience for me was still “raw.” I knew exactly what she meant.

Another one of the sayings I’ve heard is that, “is doesn’t get better, but it gets easier.” I’m not a doctor or any kind of expert, but have I’ve already had too much knowledge about this subject. As time passes, I’m learning to live with the pain, which hasn’t subsided in the last 9 months.

For those who begin this awful phase, it’s like getting on a huge roller-coaster that never stops. I’ve had a number of days when things are looking a little better. Then, out of nowhere, the grief overwhelms, and the sadness consumes. I wake up every morning wondering how this could have happened.

I realize that I have a long way to go. It does feel like every time I take a few steps forward, I will take one-and-a-half back, sometimes more. It’s just day-by-day.

There Will Never Be Another Sally

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Sally’s final days were handled with pure dignity and grace. Her attitude was amazing. Her best friend, Donna, flew in from Oregon for a last visit. Other co-workers came by the house. My two other sisters, Sally, Marylynn and her husband Loo also came out. The picture below shows them all.20170507_142230 She was well enough to celebrate her birthday on May 8. That one-year anniversary for me will be here soon and I know it’s not going to be easy.

My sister, Susan, helped out with the cooking and other household chores, plus taking care of Sally and looking over me. She stayed for three weeks and I told her to go back home, especially when I knew it was getting close. Susan refused to go home as my wife Sally asked her to stay.

The pain was getting worse for Sally as morphine doses had to be increased. Hospice was called in for occasional visits and check-ups at the house. On May 20, Sally told me that it wasn’t going to be long. We decided to take her to the Hospice House, a facility often used for the terminally ill, in Idaho as we were no longer capable of providing her with the best care. This became so real that I couldn’t ride in the ambulance to the Hospice House, something I still regret.

I spent her final 5 days in the room. I never left her side and let me know how I felt. She had visitors, but Sally went almost comatose due to the medication. However, the Hospice people said that they “can hear you” in that state. I always took conversations outside that related to Sally and that situation. I only wanted her to hear the positive.

My sister Susan was exhausted and emotionally strained. Neither one of us had been through anything like this. In one sense, it felt like a long funeral. On the early morning of May 25, my wife, partner, and great love passed on. Susan was at my house and I was with the doctors when it happened. I was in the middle of doing a project on my computer.

When it happened, I went and sat back down at my computer, completely emotionless. Some say that is normal, but I don’t have an idea of normal is. Susan drove over from my house and took me home, which would be the last night I would ever sleep in that house. The following day, Susan flew me to her home in Georgia.

Sally and I had many discussions, and nothing was left unsaid. She told me that it was ok to eventually find someone else. I quickly said, “there will never be another Sally.” I once heard that George Burns say, “there will never be another Gracie,” and he never remarried. I completely get it. We took a lot of trips, especially in the past few years. We both agreed, “it was a great run.” But, I never counted on it ending like this and so soon.

Writing all of this down is very tough, but maybe it will help someone else. But I have to say, the Hospice people are amazing and wonderful. My good friend’s sister works at Hospice and I don’t know how they do it. They are indeed special people.