Because we are the children of older parents and went through dealing with widowed parents and then parental estates at a relatively young age (compared to our peers), we've spent a bit of time thinking about "what happens?"
However, we're both now approaching the ages where our parents died (early-to-mid 70s). Living past that age...well...
I read somewhere that death turns love into grief, and with so many years of love, the grief is bound to be overwhelming at times. I never thought about the solo decision-making aspect of being widowed. We're talking openly about What Comes Next. It'll be 53 years for us soon, and nothing lasts forever. I've told Don that if he goes first, I'll sell this wonderful house and the garden we've worked on together. He's already ratified that decision in advance. What's doable for two will be too much for one. He told me, "Make new memories- assuming you don't get dementia!"
Mona, please don't fret. Every time you write about your grief I think how incredibly generous you are being - to let me (and others) share in your pain while glimpsing our own future. You give us an amazing gift of profound foresight. I have also been incredibly fortunate to have a long, loving partnership. I can see my life in your words. And although sad (tremendously sad), and I have to fight the urge to get in the car and find you so I can give you a strong hug (and probably ask if I can use your bathroom - it's a long drive! ;)...what I do instead is let your words inform my own future. If Clay goes first, this (your writing) is how I will feel. I can ponder and prepare. But mostly I hope I do grief even half as well as you - with dignity and thoughtfulness, and I a courageous willingness to share.
Hi Ramona, If it's any comfort, I know that sheer terror - very well. It is overwhelming sometimes. At first I was afraid to go to the grocery store and making big decisions - well - that's a whole other level of fear. Like you and Ed, Dan and I made those decisions together and now it's all up to me. I've been on my own for three years now - and I do better - somewhat. I tell myself that because we always did things together, I am like a child having to learn all the new, trust myself and my sense of things, and that with practice I'll feel more comfortable, but I'm also not so sure about that either. I have adopted your thinking "we grieve so much because we loved so much. Maybe that is my gift to Dan. Take care!
Wow, your happy place is beautiful, like your words. Thank you for writing about this. Though I don’t know personally the grief of losing a partner who’s been your life and heart for so long, I do know my own version of the fearful grip of knowing it all comes down to you. I can only imagine what that wishing for someone to decide with--when the someone is specific--must be like.
And here you are, raw, real, beautifully you, flaws, fears, and all. May ease find you as the process of learning to adapt unfolds. I'm so sorry, Ramona. This is pain like no other. If it helps at all, I can say with confidence that you are doing everything exactly right.
You are being way too hard on yourself! YOUR STORY is your writing, and we are in it with you! We feel your sadness, your confusion, your fear of the unknown, your loneliness, and all the other emotions that accompany grief…. We lift you up and appreciate your honesty and fully understand.❤️
Ramona, I am wishing you ease and serenity and strength on this anniversary day (how wonderful you had so many years together). I have not (yet) personally experienced the level of grief you are going through, but I know my fears and loss without my husband would be the same. I want to say, too, as someone who also writes about life, and has had to – many times – pause when this life I’m hoping to share is hard or scary or muddled and I can’t find the words… readers who follow me understand when I have to disappear for a time. I imagine your readers need no apologies. We’ll be here, and we are all just wishing you well. Take good care.
I feel your pain to my core. I'm so sorry. I know that place all too well. This helps me, maybe it will help you- when in doubt, do nothing. Just carry on and put the rest aside- for now. The answer will come to you. For today, Happy Anniversary! Celebrate what you did have for so long and wrap yourself in that love with gratitude. You can get back to big decision making when you're ready. It's OK to be wimpy and whiney too. Let it be.......
You continue to be my hero! You so honestly and unabashedly, share your personal story of coming to terms with, and rising above your grief. We have been married for almost 53 years. (together for almost 57 years) and I truly, just cannot imagine my life without Nello. While I suspect that I would be a basket case for the remainder of my life, I will be here to offer you continuing love and support, as you forge your new path forward…and I’ll be taking notes! 😉
Take care of yourself, whatever that looks like.
Many sympathies.
Because we are the children of older parents and went through dealing with widowed parents and then parental estates at a relatively young age (compared to our peers), we've spent a bit of time thinking about "what happens?"
However, we're both now approaching the ages where our parents died (early-to-mid 70s). Living past that age...well...
Hugs. Hugs.
🤗 ❤️
I read somewhere that death turns love into grief, and with so many years of love, the grief is bound to be overwhelming at times. I never thought about the solo decision-making aspect of being widowed. We're talking openly about What Comes Next. It'll be 53 years for us soon, and nothing lasts forever. I've told Don that if he goes first, I'll sell this wonderful house and the garden we've worked on together. He's already ratified that decision in advance. What's doable for two will be too much for one. He told me, "Make new memories- assuming you don't get dementia!"
Wishing you well Ramona... tomorrow will be tough. HUGS
Mona, please don't fret. Every time you write about your grief I think how incredibly generous you are being - to let me (and others) share in your pain while glimpsing our own future. You give us an amazing gift of profound foresight. I have also been incredibly fortunate to have a long, loving partnership. I can see my life in your words. And although sad (tremendously sad), and I have to fight the urge to get in the car and find you so I can give you a strong hug (and probably ask if I can use your bathroom - it's a long drive! ;)...what I do instead is let your words inform my own future. If Clay goes first, this (your writing) is how I will feel. I can ponder and prepare. But mostly I hope I do grief even half as well as you - with dignity and thoughtfulness, and I a courageous willingness to share.
Hi Ramona, If it's any comfort, I know that sheer terror - very well. It is overwhelming sometimes. At first I was afraid to go to the grocery store and making big decisions - well - that's a whole other level of fear. Like you and Ed, Dan and I made those decisions together and now it's all up to me. I've been on my own for three years now - and I do better - somewhat. I tell myself that because we always did things together, I am like a child having to learn all the new, trust myself and my sense of things, and that with practice I'll feel more comfortable, but I'm also not so sure about that either. I have adopted your thinking "we grieve so much because we loved so much. Maybe that is my gift to Dan. Take care!
A virtual hug coming through the ether, Ramona...
Wow, your happy place is beautiful, like your words. Thank you for writing about this. Though I don’t know personally the grief of losing a partner who’s been your life and heart for so long, I do know my own version of the fearful grip of knowing it all comes down to you. I can only imagine what that wishing for someone to decide with--when the someone is specific--must be like.
🫶
sending ☀️
And here you are, raw, real, beautifully you, flaws, fears, and all. May ease find you as the process of learning to adapt unfolds. I'm so sorry, Ramona. This is pain like no other. If it helps at all, I can say with confidence that you are doing everything exactly right.
I don't know if I should say that 'I truly care'.
You are being way too hard on yourself! YOUR STORY is your writing, and we are in it with you! We feel your sadness, your confusion, your fear of the unknown, your loneliness, and all the other emotions that accompany grief…. We lift you up and appreciate your honesty and fully understand.❤️
Ramona, I am wishing you ease and serenity and strength on this anniversary day (how wonderful you had so many years together). I have not (yet) personally experienced the level of grief you are going through, but I know my fears and loss without my husband would be the same. I want to say, too, as someone who also writes about life, and has had to – many times – pause when this life I’m hoping to share is hard or scary or muddled and I can’t find the words… readers who follow me understand when I have to disappear for a time. I imagine your readers need no apologies. We’ll be here, and we are all just wishing you well. Take good care.
I feel your pain to my core. I'm so sorry. I know that place all too well. This helps me, maybe it will help you- when in doubt, do nothing. Just carry on and put the rest aside- for now. The answer will come to you. For today, Happy Anniversary! Celebrate what you did have for so long and wrap yourself in that love with gratitude. You can get back to big decision making when you're ready. It's OK to be wimpy and whiney too. Let it be.......
Mona,
You continue to be my hero! You so honestly and unabashedly, share your personal story of coming to terms with, and rising above your grief. We have been married for almost 53 years. (together for almost 57 years) and I truly, just cannot imagine my life without Nello. While I suspect that I would be a basket case for the remainder of my life, I will be here to offer you continuing love and support, as you forge your new path forward…and I’ll be taking notes! 😉
🤗❤️