And so, another one is lost.

If you know me, you know this hits very close to home.

dsmoen also has her take on this:

* Everyone's grief is different. Don't judge another's process. (Intervene if you believe it necessary to life or sanity, sure.)

* When an outsider might think everything is okay is when it gets really hard. For me, I was in shock for 9 months, and then it got really difficult for another 9. But people thought I should be "over it" then. Ummm, no.

* You're never really over it, you just get better armor with smaller and fewer chinks.

* People grieving may need to express some negative sentiments, such as things they will not miss and things that frustrated them about the deceased. This is normal, and if the person expresses them, it's because they feel it's necessary. It's healing. People don't become saints when they die, and treating the deceased like that automatically means the other party in an argument was wrong or a bad person and it interferes with grieving. Yes, it can be uncomfortable to hear (especially once one gets to the anger stage). Healing first.

* From a friend who'd been both divorced and widowed: she said the primary difference is that, in a divorce, they pack their own stuff. I'd add that, in a divorce, generally there's only two parties arguing over belongings. (My late husband's ex asked for "her" wedding china -- which she'd given up in the divorce -- back. I recognize that she had grief too, but...no.)

* Sometimes the nicest thing you can do for someone is make sure they eat and have someone to be there with, even if they don't say a word.

* Movies can be low stress shared experience because no one feels obligated to talk.

* There's no easy way to crawl up out of grief except one moment at a time. Decide to live for one moment. Try to do something that pleases you for one hour. Thank living through the day. Eventually, it gets better.

* In my case, it permanently changed me. There is no old normal again. There is only a new normal.

* If you are the person who lost a loved one, especially a spouse or life partner, recognize that this is the one time when you might be able to be forgiven for unusual acting out. If you see that from the other end, try to let it slide unless it's actually dangerous.

* Know the symptoms of depression so that you will be able to recognize them. I was going into my doc for something else and read an article about signs. I had none of the primary symptoms and quite a few secondary ones. I started on anti-depressants. In two weeks, I went from being convinced I'd never write another word to writing again. It wasn't great writing, but I was able to have a creative outlet again, which in turn made me even happier.

* A few days before his sudden death, Richard asked me to promise to remarry and be happy if something happened to him. This promise kept me strong in times when I was in a lot of pain, and I think it was a great gift to me at that time.

I'll add a few things.

I don't know if it was a great idea for a mod on an online support group for young widows to have seen me posting a few days after Cliff passed and decided "HAY YOU'RE GREAT YO HERE - YOU MOD NOW BYE BYE" and skedaddled. You know me. Okay. Sure. Thanks for the compliment!

Uh oh.

One of the first things I had to do was shut down group membership sign ups to query-first only - because we were getting spammed with credit card applications and dating trolls. (Hey, we'd all gotten life insurance payouts and HAD to be LONELY. *eyeroll* Slammed that down, yes I did. LOUDLY.)

It's gone very quiet there, and I think I may leave the group myself soon. It's been ten years.

But I got to talk to people who had lost their spouse in car crashes as well as long-term care facilities. There's a key difference: in a sudden death, you have the prep and as well as the cope all at once. It's overwhelming. The aftermath can be something straight out of your worst nightmares, and you face it alone. No warning. Harsh? Oh man. The shock alone will ruin you.

If you have warning (you get a cancer diagnosis, you're dealing with a chronic issue that won't ever get better, or you just wore it out - whatever it was), it changes the landscape a bit.

You can ask. You can get advice. You can get direction.

You can wrap your head around it and start pretending for what will be. Play-act in your head. Try it on.

That's not to say it's easier. Gentler, perhaps. Kinder is relative.

In a lot of ways, it's kind of like someone installing a port into a vein - and moving it on a daily basis to another location TBD. The person dying is doing all the screaming, though. All you feel is the life bleeding out of you. They don't tell you where it will come from. Or where it all goes. It's just gone.

When it ends, all you can do is exhale - grateful that it is over. It gets no worse from here.

Not for them, anyway. And that's been all you've thought about for months. How can you keep it from getting worse...and then, that worry is taken from you.

And the other very wetware effects kick in. If you know what to expect, you warn people.

Don't expect - and don't try - to do more than breathe for 90 days. No, seriously. Don't try to figure out who gets this or that, don't sell the house, give away the pets or sign anything regarding contracts. You will have enough settling the remains - and society has put plenty of very easy-to-follow guidelines with people who know their stuff to help do that. Let them. Have the memorial services. Have the wake, the funeral, the setting free - surround yourself with ritual. They exist for a reason. This is HUGE. They give you time.

Nothing...NOTHING...has to be done right now. I don't care what it is. No, really. Don't do anything. The urge will be there. Fight it down.

Get a pad of paper, a mechanical pencil and carry them with you everywhere you go. Write everything down. Because for the next 45 days, your short-term memory is taking a vacation. You will not retain a damn thing, and there is nothing to do about it - so don't freak out when you notice it happening. This is normal. It will go away.

After the first 90 days are up, the next 45 or so are going to be a lot like a turtle coming out of its shell. You kind of peer out, very slowly, taking stock of what's around you and then you might begin to think about what you're going to do from here. Think about, mind. There is still nothing more with the doing. No, I'm serious. Leave the doing. Pay the bills, keep the plates spinning...but leave the rest for later. There is no hurry now. None whatsoever.

*chuckles* Cliff has been "that little shit" for almost all of the ten years he's been gone.

I didn't do the movie thing, and still don't. When Cliff passed, 'What Dreams May Come' had just come out and Robin Williams movie or not, couldn't see it. Didn't want it. For me, long drives with music and then video games worked better. I brought home a serious amount of stuff from Dave & Busters. Ate a lot of Curry House. Worked a lot of overtime.

They'll tell you the average length of time before you're in another serious relationship - even married - is three years. At the time Cliff passed in 1998, I looked around and went 's'yeah, right' - and then I met Jim in 1999, over a year later. Married in 2001. Um.

I still miss him. I miss the most that nobody around me now knows Cliff - the person I married - at all. (There are a few - very few - people who knew him in his last years. Not the same thing.) I take him with me everywhere I go, every day. I am brave in so many ways because of him. But nobody knows it, or why.

My process is not your process or her process or his process. Grief is a very individual thing, can't be weighed or measured or predicted. The most lasting effect for me is anger. I hated how he had to be told 'this is it' and 'it' was effectively jail in the ground floor of a condo in Ontario with no access to the outside world besides AOL. On dial-up. That's for starters. No trips to wonderful places, no outings into the bright sunshine, no long talks and heartfelt moments. I had to work - and twelve hour days, mind - and people would just shrug and say it would somehow work out. Well, of course it did. It ended!

I tend to get very mulish when I'm forced into anything similar. And I still don't cry much anymore. If I had ever started, I would never have had a reason to stop. And if there was anything I knew well, it was that nobody was coming. If I cried, I would cry alone until I stopped myself. Cliff's caregivers went on with their careers, and damn if I didn't miss them too!

The loss is just the start. You get tripped up by the damndest things. And they take months to show themselves.

I'll go over and drop a note. Hell, I moderated a support group for all those years.

I just wish it wasn't necessary. This just sucks. And I am so, so sorry.

And so, another one is lost.

If you know me, you know this hits very close to home.

dsmoen also has her take on this:

* Everyone's grief is different. Don't judge another's process. (Intervene if you believe it necessary to life or sanity, sure.)

* When an outsider might think everything is okay is when it gets really hard. For me, I was in shock for 9 months, and then it got really difficult for another 9. But people thought I should be "over it" then. Ummm, no.

* You're never really over it, you just get better armor with smaller and fewer chinks.

* People grieving may need to express some negative sentiments, such as things they will not miss and things that frustrated them about the deceased. This is normal, and if the person expresses them, it's because they feel it's necessary. It's healing. People don't become saints when they die, and treating the deceased like that automatically means the other party in an argument was wrong or a bad person and it interferes with grieving. Yes, it can be uncomfortable to hear (especially once one gets to the anger stage). Healing first.

* From a friend who'd been both divorced and widowed: she said the primary difference is that, in a divorce, they pack their own stuff. I'd add that, in a divorce, generally there's only two parties arguing over belongings. (My late husband's ex asked for "her" wedding china -- which she'd given up in the divorce -- back. I recognize that she had grief too, but...no.)

* Sometimes the nicest thing you can do for someone is make sure they eat and have someone to be there with, even if they don't say a word.

* Movies can be low stress shared experience because no one feels obligated to talk.

* There's no easy way to crawl up out of grief except one moment at a time. Decide to live for one moment. Try to do something that pleases you for one hour. Thank living through the day. Eventually, it gets better.

* In my case, it permanently changed me. There is no old normal again. There is only a new normal.

* If you are the person who lost a loved one, especially a spouse or life partner, recognize that this is the one time when you might be able to be forgiven for unusual acting out. If you see that from the other end, try to let it slide unless it's actually dangerous.

* Know the symptoms of depression so that you will be able to recognize them. I was going into my doc for something else and read an article about signs. I had none of the primary symptoms and quite a few secondary ones. I started on anti-depressants. In two weeks, I went from being convinced I'd never write another word to writing again. It wasn't great writing, but I was able to have a creative outlet again, which in turn made me even happier.

* A few days before his sudden death, Richard asked me to promise to remarry and be happy if something happened to him. This promise kept me strong in times when I was in a lot of pain, and I think it was a great gift to me at that time.

I'll add a few things.

I don't know if it was a great idea for a mod on an online support group for young widows to have seen me posting a few days after Cliff passed and decided "HAY YOU'RE GREAT YO HERE - YOU MOD NOW BYE BYE" and skedaddled. You know me. Okay. Sure. Thanks for the compliment!

Uh oh.

One of the first things I had to do was shut down group membership sign ups to query-first only - because we were getting spammed with credit card applications and dating trolls. (Hey, we'd all gotten life insurance payouts and HAD to be LONELY. *eyeroll* Slammed that down, yes I did. LOUDLY.)

It's gone very quiet there, and I think I may leave the group myself soon. It's been ten years.

But I got to talk to people who had lost their spouse in car crashes as well as long-term care facilities. There's a key difference: in a sudden death, you have the prep and as well as the cope all at once. It's overwhelming. The aftermath can be something straight out of your worst nightmares, and you face it alone. No warning. Harsh? Oh man. The shock alone will ruin you.

If you have warning (you get a cancer diagnosis, you're dealing with a chronic issue that won't ever get better, or you just wore it out - whatever it was), it changes the landscape a bit.

You can ask. You can get advice. You can get direction.

You can wrap your head around it and start pretending for what will be. Play-act in your head. Try it on.

That's not to say it's easier. Gentler, perhaps. Kinder is relative.

In a lot of ways, it's kind of like someone installing a port into a vein - and moving it on a daily basis to another location TBD. The person dying is doing all the screaming, though. All you feel is the life bleeding out of you. They don't tell you where it will come from. Or where it all goes. It's just gone.

When it ends, all you can do is exhale - grateful that it is over. It gets no worse from here.

Not for them, anyway. And that's been all you've thought about for months. How can you keep it from getting worse...and then, that worry is taken from you.

And the other very wetware effects kick in. If you know what to expect, you warn people.

Don't expect - and don't try - to do more than breathe for 90 days. No, seriously. Don't try to figure out who gets this or that, don't sell the house, give away the pets or sign anything regarding contracts. You will have enough settling the remains - and society has put plenty of very easy-to-follow guidelines with people who know their stuff to help do that. Let them. Have the memorial services. Have the wake, the funeral, the setting free - surround yourself with ritual. They exist for a reason. This is HUGE. They give you time.

Nothing...NOTHING...has to be done right now. I don't care what it is. No, really. Don't do anything. The urge will be there. Fight it down.

Get a pad of paper, a mechanical pencil and carry them with you everywhere you go. Write everything down. Because for the next 45 days, your short-term memory is taking a vacation. You will not retain a damn thing, and there is nothing to do about it - so don't freak out when you notice it happening. This is normal. It will go away.

After the first 90 days are up, the next 45 or so are going to be a lot like a turtle coming out of its shell. You kind of peer out, very slowly, taking stock of what's around you and then you might begin to think about what you're going to do from here. Think about, mind. There is still nothing more with the doing. No, I'm serious. Leave the doing. Pay the bills, keep the plates spinning...but leave the rest for later. There is no hurry now. None whatsoever.

*chuckles* Cliff has been "that little shit" for almost all of the ten years he's been gone.

I didn't do the movie thing, and still don't. When Cliff passed, 'What Dreams May Come' had just come out and Robin Williams movie or not, couldn't see it. Didn't want it. For me, long drives with music and then video games worked better. I brought home a serious amount of stuff from Dave & Busters. Ate a lot of Curry House. Worked a lot of overtime.

They'll tell you the average length of time before you're in another serious relationship - even married - is three years. At the time Cliff passed in 1998, I looked around and went 's'yeah, right' - and then I met Jim in 1999, over a year later. Married in 2001. Um.

I still miss him. I miss the most that nobody around me now knows Cliff - the person I married - at all. (There are a few - very few - people who knew him in his last years. Not the same thing.) I take him with me everywhere I go, every day. I am brave in so many ways because of him. But nobody knows it, or why.

My process is not your process or her process or his process. Grief is a very individual thing, can't be weighed or measured or predicted. The most lasting effect for me is anger. I hated how he had to be told 'this is it' and 'it' was effectively jail in the ground floor of a condo in Ontario with no access to the outside world besides AOL. On dial-up. That's for starters. No trips to wonderful places, no outings into the bright sunshine, no long talks and heartfelt moments. I had to work - and twelve hour days, mind - and people would just shrug and say it would somehow work out. Well, of course it did. It ended!

I tend to get very mulish when I'm forced into anything similar. And I still don't cry much anymore. If I had ever started, I would never have had a reason to stop. And if there was anything I knew well, it was that nobody was coming. If I cried, I would cry alone until I stopped myself. Cliff's caregivers went on with their careers, and damn if I didn't miss them too!

The loss is just the start. You get tripped up by the damndest things. And they take months to show themselves.

I'll go over and drop a note. Hell, I moderated a support group for all those years.

I just wish it wasn't necessary. This just sucks. And I am so, so sorry.

When I heard about the pancreatic cancer, it was just a big thunk inside. In my experience, you don't survive that one. I hear there is a percentage that do - but I've never met or even heard of one. Not ever. There are only a couple others that are as innately deadly.

People want to say he 'lost the battle.' That's an insult. You aren't given a chance to fight anything - this is something that steals your life, turns everything inside out and then takes your life without asking you so much as a mother-may-I. You *might* survive the treatment for it, you *might* end up cancer-free at some point...but this is hardly what I would call a fair fight, or even a battle of any kind.  Nobody asks you, after all.

I'm certain whatever could have been done, was - for a guy nobody I knew would say a harsh word about, Patrick Swayze.




Hey, Patrick - want to do me a favor?  Go over and give Freddie Mercury my regards?  vixy would like him to get his ass kicked (holy cow, go check mysticfig for details) and that sounds pretty good today.

And if you can get Ray Charles to stop kicking Michael Jackson's ass (maybe he's let John Lennon get a lick or two in by now), you should definitely have a word with him.

Give Bill Bixby a hug from me, and tell everyone I'll see them later.

They profiled BIL's younger brother's case on America's Most Wanted over the weekend.

Folks, that has got to be one of the most sinking feelings I've ever had - nobody should ever have to experience seeing someone you know on that show as a victim, let alone a sibling.

And they don't even have a suspect - the person they're looking for is simply the last person seen alive with him on surveillance tape. Right next to somebody who never meant me harm in nearly thirty years association. Never.

Airdate July 11th - and it's the last story segment in the show.

BIL's assessment? "They did a good job."

So did not deserve that. Neither of them.

They profiled BIL's younger brother's case on America's Most Wanted over the weekend.

Folks, that has got to be one of the most sinking feelings I've ever had - nobody should ever have to experience seeing someone you know on that show as a victim, let alone a sibling.

And they don't even have a suspect - the person they're looking for is simply the last person seen alive with him on surveillance tape. Right next to somebody who never meant me harm in nearly thirty years association. Never.

Airdate July 11th - and it's the last story segment in the show.

BIL's assessment? "They did a good job."

So did not deserve that. Neither of them.

Slept like crap last night. But, I finished the birthday sake! It seemed appropriate to finish off the day with something cherished, rare and singular.

God, I am going to miss that cat. It's another one of those - if I start crying, I won't stop. And what will I get of it?

More tired. So, it's easy to justify not doing it. Long years of practice, folks. And my memory is too good not to forget what crying until exhaustion actually feels like.

I don't have the energy for that right now.

*sighs* Like another bead on the string - another pet has had her time with me and has now moved on.

Do me a favor - anyone fostering kittens or caring for elderly cats, I have some food you can use. It's not suitable for any other purpose and I can't return it. I'll toss it up here first - then I start calling all the cat rescues in the area, and baby - there's a bunch of them. Vet had us buy a whole flat of it. Still do NOT know what she was thinking.

This morning, I actually had enough time to sit and work jigsaw puzzles with Xander and not rush. My nose is just about clear of gunk, and the cough is less. I'll be well soon. And the kitty is fine now. She's just not here anymore.

I may have to hang out at daycare and meet some parents soon - he's making some really good friends down at daycare that we might want to set up playdates with soon.

Which reminds me, I have some calls to make. Will also have to get some perspective soon on the reality that I am really NOT the only one making calls, following up and taking care of stuff.

It just feels that way right now.

Someone bake me a cake?

My vet has a website. And it includes a comment form to 'help them improve their practice.'

Okay.

( Here's what I said. )

*sighs* I also don't mind the money...much. I just wish it didn't feel like my savings account was the bathtub, and someone keeps pulling the drain plug.

And I've been missing her for weeks - I just thought I'd get her back, that's all.

She went quietly, purring - from what Jim said. I'm not one to sit and watch the last moments; I stepped out of the room. She was his kitty after all - and he did a great job.

World, be good to Jim for a while, okay?

And no, I don't want a new cat to take her place. She really was one of a kind.

My vet has a website. And it includes a comment form to 'help them improve their practice.'

Okay.

( Here's what I said. )

*sighs* I also don't mind the money...much. I just wish it didn't feel like my savings account was the bathtub, and someone keeps pulling the drain plug.

And I've been missing her for weeks - I just thought I'd get her back, that's all.

She went quietly, purring - from what Jim said. I'm not one to sit and watch the last moments; I stepped out of the room. She was his kitty after all - and he did a great job.

World, be good to Jim for a while, okay?

And no, I don't want a new cat to take her place. She really was one of a kind.

It's cancer, and it's unfair to consider treating it. That's the consensus of the vet and I this afternoon after the ultrasound.

Ai-chan's not going to make it. And instead of putting her through a course of treatment that would, at best, give her a year? There are hard decisions, and then there are those like this one - painfully easy. Like swallowing broken glass.

We're letting her go. Jim's on his way, we're going together to the vet and be there to say goodbye.

I'm pretty sure Spice will be waiting for her - I think they've missed each other long enough.

I'll miss her. I can almost be grateful for the scars she gave me.



Oh kitty, I wish I could have fixed it for you.

SNARK MODE=ON

I'm more than a bit out of sorts tonight. I'm going to call your attention to two passings of close, dear ones - not of mine, but in my circle. Dear ones of dear ones, as it were.

Shelton Jackson. AIDS.

Jennie Sutton. Cystic Fibrosis.

Half my age. Younger than Cliff when he left.

People mention what fighters they were. How terrible it was they 'lost the battle.'

As if.

Guys, having a disease process? Isn't a matter of a fight - because it's not, and it never will be.

You don't get to fight. This isn't a battle. You don't even get to defend yourself.

You get handed something to endure and deal with. You get something that doesn't care, doesn't even throw a punch at you - before it steals everything in your life, and then takes you life without batting an eye. It's insanity to even consider you will get a fair shot. A fair fight? *laughs*

This drives me nuts, because it implies that if you don't 'win?' You failed. You didn't do something. You didn't get help from the Right People. You were - unlucky. You can fill in the blank. Shoot, go ahead - co-op God. For good or ill. It's done. You know what it sounds like, you've heard it.

Here's your warning. You do this around me, you're going to get it.

You get to work as hard as you ever have - for vanishing returns. Maybe no returns at all, but you do it anyway because you want out of this nightmare and that's the only way that looks promising. You live in an acute awareness of being that is both a curse and a blessing. You wish you could have the day of a lifetime - because it could be your last, and tomorrow could be worse - and have to deal with the reality that this day has more suck (and no money) in it than anything else, and you can't. But you endure it - hoping tomorrow will be different. But today, you enjoy the sunlight. The rain. Whatever you can grab - because this is your time, the only time you are going to get. And you know you must make the most of it. It's all you'll get. Vitally aware.

Vitally aware you're getting the short end, but you make the best of it. It is what it is.

Fight. Fight what? Something that sits on your chest, sucks your blood, kills you from the inside out, short-circuits your nervous system, plays with your body chemistry like some science project from 6th grade, what? Oh yeah, that'll work.

Shelton did something wonderful. He told everyone what it was like. He took it in, hoped for the best and just did what he could. Hope's Voice. Dear God.

There's little braver than enduring a transplant, in my book. To consider it, do it and when it stops working? To consider doing it again? And why?

She failed the saving throw on the genetics. Yeah, I'd give the whole mess the finger. Cliff certainly did often enough.

I remember the absolute smugness Cliff had on his 35th birthday. He'd made it. He wouldn't see two more birthdays - but he'd made it to 35 when everyone said he wouldn't.

Fight. You wish. You manage to endure and survive these things, if you can. That's all.

Let me tell you something. This ain't no dress rehearsal. This is all you're going to get. One day, one hour, one moment at a time - and when it's gone, it's gone for good. It's not coming back for you to try again, this moment. Not ever.

So don't be surprised if I'm willing to do whatever I must to avoid being unhappy a single moment if I don't have to. Regret, sadness, whatever - those things are part of a healthy acceptance of life and its realities. But if depression rolls around? No. I spent too much time there already - and I know too much now to ever go back there. I don't deserve it. Nobody does.

And it's a fucking lie. Test those boundaries, push that envelope - it'll give. Promise. You won't die - of fail, embarrassment or panic. Hang in there, grab on by your fingernails and don't let go. Look for what is true and unchanging - the rest of the world is no more perfect than you are. Things fall down. It's okay. You deal. You move on. Let it be. It'll be okay, really. Trust me. Trust yourself.

I want to live my life in near exhaustion - every day as full as I can make it, curious about what's around the corner and willing to give it a go, even if I fall on my face. Like nobody's watching (and really, who is?). Hard to hit. Always in motion.

I'll never feel sorry for you if I see you need a shove back onto your feet more. Come on - your life is calling, can you hear it? Are you listening for someone else to relay the message instead (don't)? Get up, pay no attention to that bullshit hiding behind the curtain whispering threats. Deal. Cope. Work. (It's all just work, didn't anyone tell you that?)

You don't need anyone to tell you you're awesome. You just are. Accept it, tuck it close to your heart of hearts and never forget it. You're the first one to know this - nobody else can make it stick if you don't hear that from the bottom of your soul.

Strive. Get out in front and make it look like a parade. Fake it. You'll make it, eventually. No other choice - if you keep at it.

But this is IT. No do-overs, no going back to make changes. No rewrites.

Do your best.
Clean up your own messes.
Be aware of your impact on others.

People rock. You rock and you don't even know it yet.

Now get to work.

SNARK MODE=OFF