How does one do it? How does one finally get over the untimely death of a cherished spouse and life partner? Does it ever even come close to happening?
It's getting to be an all-too-vicious cycle: I think I'm finally doing O.K., life goes on, tomorrow is another day, gotta devote myself to working in order to make ends meet, gotta make sure I'm taking care of the kids right, other stuff to do, then I'll hear something or see something that will remind me of "Stacey" (not easy to avoid while still living in the same home we shared for so many years and where we raised our children), and then it's a downward spiral; biting and overwhelming grief and self-pity over my heart-wrenching loss. Eventually I start to feel better again, but then . . .
I don't have to make it all the way to the peak; if I could just get back up close to the base and stay there for a long while, that's all I'd ask for.
This is such a different thing than getting over a breakup where one or both parties make mistakes and then more or less go on with their lives, or at least I'm told it's like this (fortunately I've never experienced a permanent breakup, unfortunately because I never even had a real girlfriend before Stacey). This, this scourge brain cancer, which cruelly saps away so much of what you are before it snuffs out your life, there was absolutely nothing either of us could have done to bring it on in the first place, and when it struck us nothing much we could do to reverse it and its effects. And how I so would like to roll back time to when my Stacey was her true lovely self.
Sorry, I don't mean to be a Donny Downer; this can't be fun for anybody reading and hardly what you come here for. But please feel free to comment, anyone; I'd appreciate your thoughts.
It's getting to be an all-too-vicious cycle: I think I'm finally doing O.K., life goes on, tomorrow is another day, gotta devote myself to working in order to make ends meet, gotta make sure I'm taking care of the kids right, other stuff to do, then I'll hear something or see something that will remind me of "Stacey" (not easy to avoid while still living in the same home we shared for so many years and where we raised our children), and then it's a downward spiral; biting and overwhelming grief and self-pity over my heart-wrenching loss. Eventually I start to feel better again, but then . . .
I don't have to make it all the way to the peak; if I could just get back up close to the base and stay there for a long while, that's all I'd ask for.
This is such a different thing than getting over a breakup where one or both parties make mistakes and then more or less go on with their lives, or at least I'm told it's like this (fortunately I've never experienced a permanent breakup, unfortunately because I never even had a real girlfriend before Stacey). This, this scourge brain cancer, which cruelly saps away so much of what you are before it snuffs out your life, there was absolutely nothing either of us could have done to bring it on in the first place, and when it struck us nothing much we could do to reverse it and its effects. And how I so would like to roll back time to when my Stacey was her true lovely self.
Sorry, I don't mean to be a Donny Downer; this can't be fun for anybody reading and hardly what you come here for. But please feel free to comment, anyone; I'd appreciate your thoughts.
