I'm so sorry for your loss. What a love story; together since 1955, together throughout and at the end. May your memories of your life together comfort you in your grief and warm your heart and soul as you move forward.
My sincere condolences for your loss. You and your husband were together since the year I was born. What a life you built. Surrounded by love is how we would all let to go out. May the next part of your life be filled with happy memories and joyful writing. Take good care of yourself.
I cried anyway. For you, for all of us in this humaning situation. Thank you for for sharing the complexities of grief and loss. And the possibility for something new to emerge.
As you say a final farewell to your beloved Ed, and face your new reality with strength and determination, know that our love and care travel with you. ❤️❤️
I hold you in my heart, with a lump in my throat. What a wonderful life you had together. May you journey be filled with endless possibilities and new adventures.
It's a time of healing from your loss. I have never lost a spouse to death but I did lose a child. The pain gets bearable but never forgotten. I wish you well.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear husband, Ramona. May you find comfort in the many loving memories. (My parents met and married in 1955, too!) Take good care of yourself, and keep writing!
Sending so much love. It's hard for me to put into verbal words, but I did a lot of writing during the two years in hospice, and now coming up on one year - April 7. Give yourself time to weep...and sleep. Sleep all you need. That was my first two months. Cry as much as you need... and talk about him as if he were still with you - especially when you are alone. And plan those projects!!! You have a new bucket list. Mine include so many things, and I'm slowly starting. May I recommend The Second Mountain by David Brooks? It's for the "second" part of your life, after your career, but it fits just as well for moving forward after loss. I'm here if you need.
Thank you so much, Linda. I'm so sorry you've had to go through this for so long. Yes, sleep. I've been doing a lot of that! I didn't realize how sleep deprived I'd become, always listening, waiting for...something.
Thank you for the recommendation. I'll look for it. And thank you for caring.
Mar 19, 2022·edited Mar 19, 2022Liked by Ramona Grigg
I'm so sorry for the loss of Ed, Ramona. What a great life you all had together. He sounds like an amazing person. My sister just lost her husband of 30 years in January (pancreatic cancer; it was terrible), so I'm a little familiar with the dynamic. I love how resolute your post was and the great plans you have in store for yourself. I also am glad you have many people - family and friends - who are willing to help you walk this new path. That's important.
Speaking of plans, the blog on the project of matching seniors with younger people sounds terrific! I'm sure you'll have lots of good things to say. I look forward to seeing where you'll go next. I'm sending you strength, comfort, and joy. If ever you want to correspond personally, just look me up in google.
Thank you, Misty. We've been lucky to have friends and family who cherish us and will always be there. What a gift.
I don't know much yet about the new project, but I hope it's something I can do and do well. I've had to try and struggle through so many distractions for so long, it may take a while to get back to focusing on something that requires a little more brain power!
Mar 19, 2022·edited Mar 19, 2022Liked by Ramona Grigg
Dear Ramona,
I know the world you are entering now. Maybe you'll live it more graceful than I. I do wish that for you.
The going forth into that new world, into a new "me," well, yes, it happens, but the scenic drive is a bumpy one.
Sometimes, your soul zooms along at full speed, your consciousness thinking, I've got this. I survived! Then there are days where your soul is pulled over onto the side of the road, your engine out of gas, and they only way it moves even inches is by you pushing the heck out of it.
Most crying - the deep guttural jags - will happen alone. That can't be avoided. And yes, you can't plan them. Mine happened in such weird places and times. And yes, they hurt. Boy, do they really do.
For the next few months, the waking into a new day leaves your gut feeling empty, as the moment you bring your consciousness to the fore, the realization that they are forever gone hits, and nothing fills that void. I only managed to slightly fill mine with a morning cup of coffee, and pure grit to move on.
But time does move.
Your soul car gets going again.
And though you may walk into the future feeling like yourself, you aren't. You do transform into another - battered, bruised, but stronger, wiser.
The little things others moan about no longer phase you. They actually make you smile.
Ramona, from my heart, I will say that it doesn't get better, it gets different.
But different is okay.
I think we have been put here to evolve, however hurtful the transformation.
Growing pains don't stop as a kiddie. We just think they do...
Take care.
Get decent sleeps.
Drink orange juice in the sunshine.
And don't force or try to control anything. That just makes your soul car go slower.
Thank you for your powerful words, Barbara. My precious husband has been declining for almost two years. This year was the hardest. An undetected lung tumor must have been what sapped his energy to such a degree that he could only walk with a walker and could only go so far before he was exhausted.
It was never what that dynamic man wanted, and it especially hurt when he saw that I had to take up the slack and do the things he could no longer do.
He hasn't driven for more than a year and a half, for example, and could no longer climb on ladders or lift anything heavy.
That this happened so fast was a blessing. I shudder at the thought of chemo, radiation, all of those efforts to save a life that was never going to go back to what he would have wanted.
Grief and relief go hand in hand sometimes. It seems I've already done a good part of grieving, just watching that decline. The pain has been there for so long. It will strike again, but right now he has been released and I'm grateful he didn't have to linger.
You are such a strong woman, Ramona. I’ve always admired that about you. Life will surely be different, and there will be lonely times for sure. Remember, kids & grandkids aren’t too far away, and we, your loyal readers are always here to comfort you. May your new chapter bring you a different kind of joy in rediscovering yourself. Blessings and condolences, my friend.
Your loss was different than mine. I lost my husband in an ocean accident - no time to say I love you or goodbye.
For your husband, seeing a very manly man slowly disintegrate is so painful. I see the relief you feel. Nobody who was so powerful deserves to disintegrate. I'll bet your husband is hob-knobbing with past war veterans... having a great conversation with General Mac Arthur... lol...where he is now, he's back to the powerful man he once was, and he's very content.
I wish for you, dear Ramona, more contentment than you've had in over a year, and that writing will be an integral part of that feeling.
You sound like such a strong soul. I'm very honoured to know you if even at a distance. You will go forth doing well and your husband WILL be proud of you for that.
I'm so sorry for your loss. What a love story; together since 1955, together throughout and at the end. May your memories of your life together comfort you in your grief and warm your heart and soul as you move forward.
May this new chapter be full of treasures...even as you mourn.
My sincere condolences for your loss. You and your husband were together since the year I was born. What a life you built. Surrounded by love is how we would all let to go out. May the next part of your life be filled with happy memories and joyful writing. Take good care of yourself.
I cried anyway. For you, for all of us in this humaning situation. Thank you for for sharing the complexities of grief and loss. And the possibility for something new to emerge.
As you say a final farewell to your beloved Ed, and face your new reality with strength and determination, know that our love and care travel with you. ❤️❤️
Thank you. I know you're there for me and that means so much.
I hold you in my heart, with a lump in my throat. What a wonderful life you had together. May you journey be filled with endless possibilities and new adventures.
It's a time of healing from your loss. I have never lost a spouse to death but I did lose a child. The pain gets bearable but never forgotten. I wish you well.
💚💚💚💚💚
I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear husband, Ramona. May you find comfort in the many loving memories. (My parents met and married in 1955, too!) Take good care of yourself, and keep writing!
Thank you. Our long marriages are such a gift. And so are the memories.
Life never stops giving us gifts....time, memories, opportunities to learn and grow...I have no doubt you have much to teach us yet.
So well said. Thank you.
Sending so much love. It's hard for me to put into verbal words, but I did a lot of writing during the two years in hospice, and now coming up on one year - April 7. Give yourself time to weep...and sleep. Sleep all you need. That was my first two months. Cry as much as you need... and talk about him as if he were still with you - especially when you are alone. And plan those projects!!! You have a new bucket list. Mine include so many things, and I'm slowly starting. May I recommend The Second Mountain by David Brooks? It's for the "second" part of your life, after your career, but it fits just as well for moving forward after loss. I'm here if you need.
Thank you so much, Linda. I'm so sorry you've had to go through this for so long. Yes, sleep. I've been doing a lot of that! I didn't realize how sleep deprived I'd become, always listening, waiting for...something.
Thank you for the recommendation. I'll look for it. And thank you for caring.
I'm so sorry for the loss of Ed, Ramona. What a great life you all had together. He sounds like an amazing person. My sister just lost her husband of 30 years in January (pancreatic cancer; it was terrible), so I'm a little familiar with the dynamic. I love how resolute your post was and the great plans you have in store for yourself. I also am glad you have many people - family and friends - who are willing to help you walk this new path. That's important.
Speaking of plans, the blog on the project of matching seniors with younger people sounds terrific! I'm sure you'll have lots of good things to say. I look forward to seeing where you'll go next. I'm sending you strength, comfort, and joy. If ever you want to correspond personally, just look me up in google.
Thank you, Misty. We've been lucky to have friends and family who cherish us and will always be there. What a gift.
I don't know much yet about the new project, but I hope it's something I can do and do well. I've had to try and struggle through so many distractions for so long, it may take a while to get back to focusing on something that requires a little more brain power!
Dear Ramona,
I know the world you are entering now. Maybe you'll live it more graceful than I. I do wish that for you.
The going forth into that new world, into a new "me," well, yes, it happens, but the scenic drive is a bumpy one.
Sometimes, your soul zooms along at full speed, your consciousness thinking, I've got this. I survived! Then there are days where your soul is pulled over onto the side of the road, your engine out of gas, and they only way it moves even inches is by you pushing the heck out of it.
Most crying - the deep guttural jags - will happen alone. That can't be avoided. And yes, you can't plan them. Mine happened in such weird places and times. And yes, they hurt. Boy, do they really do.
For the next few months, the waking into a new day leaves your gut feeling empty, as the moment you bring your consciousness to the fore, the realization that they are forever gone hits, and nothing fills that void. I only managed to slightly fill mine with a morning cup of coffee, and pure grit to move on.
But time does move.
Your soul car gets going again.
And though you may walk into the future feeling like yourself, you aren't. You do transform into another - battered, bruised, but stronger, wiser.
The little things others moan about no longer phase you. They actually make you smile.
Ramona, from my heart, I will say that it doesn't get better, it gets different.
But different is okay.
I think we have been put here to evolve, however hurtful the transformation.
Growing pains don't stop as a kiddie. We just think they do...
Take care.
Get decent sleeps.
Drink orange juice in the sunshine.
And don't force or try to control anything. That just makes your soul car go slower.
Xs & Os
Barbara, a stranger, but a close soul friend.
Thank you for your powerful words, Barbara. My precious husband has been declining for almost two years. This year was the hardest. An undetected lung tumor must have been what sapped his energy to such a degree that he could only walk with a walker and could only go so far before he was exhausted.
It was never what that dynamic man wanted, and it especially hurt when he saw that I had to take up the slack and do the things he could no longer do.
He hasn't driven for more than a year and a half, for example, and could no longer climb on ladders or lift anything heavy.
That this happened so fast was a blessing. I shudder at the thought of chemo, radiation, all of those efforts to save a life that was never going to go back to what he would have wanted.
Grief and relief go hand in hand sometimes. It seems I've already done a good part of grieving, just watching that decline. The pain has been there for so long. It will strike again, but right now he has been released and I'm grateful he didn't have to linger.
You are such a strong woman, Ramona. I’ve always admired that about you. Life will surely be different, and there will be lonely times for sure. Remember, kids & grandkids aren’t too far away, and we, your loyal readers are always here to comfort you. May your new chapter bring you a different kind of joy in rediscovering yourself. Blessings and condolences, my friend.
Thank you so much, Annie. Thank you for being here.
I’m so sorry for your loss. May your new adventure be full of stories which I can’t wait to read.
Yes, Ramona. You have already grieved.
Your loss was different than mine. I lost my husband in an ocean accident - no time to say I love you or goodbye.
For your husband, seeing a very manly man slowly disintegrate is so painful. I see the relief you feel. Nobody who was so powerful deserves to disintegrate. I'll bet your husband is hob-knobbing with past war veterans... having a great conversation with General Mac Arthur... lol...where he is now, he's back to the powerful man he once was, and he's very content.
I wish for you, dear Ramona, more contentment than you've had in over a year, and that writing will be an integral part of that feeling.
You sound like such a strong soul. I'm very honoured to know you if even at a distance. You will go forth doing well and your husband WILL be proud of you for that.
Losing your husband that way had to be terrible. I'm so sorry. I loved what you said about him hobnobbing with the vets. LOL. He would love that.