Everyday is hard without my wife but Sundays are especially hard because that was always our stay at home day. When we were both working we had Sundays to look forward to because we would usually just stay home, be with each other, catch up on chores, watch TV together and just be together. Now my Sundays are filled with emptiness, loneliness and sadness. I miss her so much, I'd give anything to have her back.

The only motivation for me to live is the belief that I will get to unite with my partner again. However the shock of this loss is making me lose faith in everything and everyone including the faith in afterlife.
What is the point of living after all..what if this is all a lie

I lost my boyfriend on September 1st. the amount of grief I have experienced is smothering me slowly. where I once accepted death as a part of life after I lost the love of my life, I now daydream and feel warm at the idea of dying. I’m feel I’m at a point thinking about the people I love no longer matters anymore. I just have no interest in continuing this life. I was robbed. I don’t know if I even plan to read any feedback from this post. nor am I saying I have a plan and this is goodbye. I just don’t know where to place these feelings.

Everybody kept saying it’s not my fault. That there’s nothing I could have done. That I can’t bring him back. But honestly I can’t shake this feeling of guilt.

I was not the kindest to him on his last days when I still thought he had beat the cancer, not knowing I would never get the chance to speak with him again. I wasn’t nice to him, I took distance when walking with him because I was upset even though he wanted me close to catch him because he wasn’t feeling good. I barely talked to him when I got home from work. I took a second part time job behind his back, even though he had expressed before he didn’t want me to because he’d see me less often. I didn’t listen to him when he didn’t want to store food in the freezer.

Now he’s gone. But I’ll be with him once I fulfilled all the promises I made. He will never be alone.

His photo came up just now in my phone feed. Whenever it does, I blow the pic a kiss. I was so lucky to be with someone who loved me so much.

Sometimes I'm angry at losing him too. And sometimes mopey because I feel ignored and alone. He would hate to see me so blue.

Since he used to drive our shared car primarily, when it was only me, I made a few missteps and the car has scrapes and minor dents. Instead of being ashamed of my overfamiliarity with the pole in our parking space, I look at those as evidence that I loved him.

Sometimes I need that reassurance because I haven't cried much even these almost three years (and I am a crier). Somehow my body is holding on, not willing to acknowledge his loss. Doesn't that sound crazy?

Oh how he loved to sing. He sang decades ago when we first met. Won a ton of karaoke contests over the years. Even when he wasn't feeling well he would belt out a beautiful song. He always sang at night before bed. I can't think of how many nights I fell asleep listening to that beautiful voice. Now the house is QUIET, OH SO QUIET. I have plenty of his songs on my phone and more I will get off of his computer.

But I feel like I torture myself listening to him sing - I put on the headphones, pick out a song and the next thing you know I am crying those body heaving sobs that are so hard to stop. It always starts with me missing him, so I load up a song and then I hear his voice and my body just has this visceral reaction of pain deep in my chest. That's when the crying starts.

Will I ever be able to listen to him say, "I love you Mary, this song is for you" without breaking down? I would think they would provide me with comfort but it hurts so fucking bad. I had 29 years with him and it wasn't enough. It never is enough for any of us I am sure. I cried so hard tonight I gave myself a headache. So now my head hurts, my eyes are raw and my chest aches for him so badly.

My husband wanted to start acting after he had his first cardiac arrest. His first time happened when he was 46 - that time his heart stopped for 29 minutes. They were doing everything thing they could to bring him back. I remember being in the room as they shocked him again and again and nothing happened. I had to leave the room. Finally they told me they got a thready heart beat and couldn't even load him in the ambulance until they got him stabilized. When I got to the hospital they told me that he had no brain function and he was on life support. They immediately did that procedure where they froze his body for 24 hours and then gradually warmed him up in an attempt to save his brain function. It worked!! He had long term and short term memory loss but that got better with time. When he turned 52 he started taking some acting classes. He still had problems with his short term memory but he said the acting would help him as he would have to memorize lines and that was good for his brain. After he took all those classes, he was cast in a movie that was out on Netflix. I can sit down and watch the movie any time I want but it doesn't bring me comfort, only pain. After that first movie he was in several cop shows (he just looked like a cop to the core, he wasn't one) and in a few of shows where it was simply re-enactments. He was so happy - finally someone flew us out to LA for him to be in a another movie. I'll never forget it - he was soooo sick on the way home. I had to push him in a wheelchair at the airport. His heart just wasn't in good enough shape. That was the last acting he did and it broke his heart but he had to tell his agent he just couldn't do it any more.

Shortly after getting back from LA we were getting ready for bed. Suddenly his pacemaker/defibrillator went off. I called 911 and this time it wasn't like the first time I had to call when I couldn't even think of our street address - this time I was spitting facts to get him help as soon as possible. He was in the background saying, " Mary I'm gonna die this time, I love you please remember that I love you" and then he would start screaming in pain again. It was constant. When we got to the hospital they read his device and told us the reason it was so relentless was because his heart would stop, he would get shocked, it would start up again and then instantly stop. Seven times at home his heart stopped, seven times he was brought back. The 8th time was in the ambulance and the 9th in the hospital. He needed an emergency bypass and got one. His recovery was a little shaky, it took him a bit longer to be released from the hospital but I was so happy he survived.

He was released from the hospital on December 22nd, by the 24th I was calling 911 again. He had collapsed. I get to the hospital and they have him on advanced life saving measures again. They said his heart bypass was considered a failure and he needed an emergency heart transplant. His ejection fraction was 5 yes 5 and they put an aortic balloon pump in and that made his EF 10. The next few days were a whirlwind of test and procedures and they told us on 12/29 that he was approved and on the top of the list. On New Years Eve (my birthday) I got the best gift ever - they had found a heart for him!!!

On New Years Day he got his new heart. I really thought things would be so much better for him. I was wrong. The first time I saw him post surgery his chest was still wide open Apparently it is not unusual for the transplanted heart to swell due to the trauma it goes through in the transplant. 24 hours later they were able to go back in and close him up.

The hospital had a extra bed/sofa and TV behind a curtain in his room so I was allowed to stay with him. On the 3rd of January his new heart stopped. Jesus Christ - they were doing CPR on him again. My world was falling apart. They got his new heart beating again and I was so relieved. That was until it stopped again on the 5th and I watched them doing CPR again. His poor chest. He still had had staples in his chest from the bypass when he got the heart transplant. They just popped off the staples and went back in. That is so much trauma for a body to go through. They figured out what it was - the new heart had 3rd degree heart block. That is where the top of the heart doesn't send electric signal (communicate) with the bottom of the heart. They had a fix for that - they put a pacer on his new heart and said that should more or less "jump start" the process. It didn't jump start it, but it did fix the problem. They had to go back in and put a pacer on the other side of his heart because if not, one side would have had to do a lot more then the other side and that wasn't good.

I was so relieved - they fixed the problem. Unfortunately, he soon developed kidney problems in his normally healthy kidneys and he went on dialysis. That was a real bad time - I started wondering if he would ever survive this. He finally came off the dialysis and that is when I just knew he was going to survive. I was so relieved. The next morning we were talking and I noticed his breathing seemed off. Well the doctors noticed it also and they told me that he had caught COVID in the Transplant ICU and that both of his lungs collapsed and he needed to go on a ventilator. Couldn't he catch a break? Well he was on the ventilator and had to get a tracheotomy but ultimately survived that scare.

All in all he was in the hospital for 8 months before he was finally released. I was with him for every night of that 8 months. He was so much weaker then he had ever been. Rail thin and he had to learn how to walk again - his muscles had wasted from him being in bed for so long. My husband was muscular -- when he was younger he had been in body building contests and even though he stopped going to the gym decades before that residual muscle was always there. Another thing that happened? His hair was jet black when he went in. When he woke up his hair was white - and he had a white beard. He said he felt like Rip Van Winkle. The nurses said they had seen it happen to other patients before although it was pretty rare.

I would like to say it was smooth sailing from there, but it wasn't. For the next three years he was in and out of the hospital numerous times but always bounced back. So If you are counting my husbands heart had stopped 12 times since this had all started. That is a whole lot of luck, and skill and divine intervention. He would joke and say that the Grim Reaper was scared of him because he came for him so many times and he just refused to die.

In August we went to the hospital so he could get a thorough check up. They tested everything, did his labs, sonogram and this time they even biopsied three pieces of this heart instead of the normal one. He got his results back - he passed everything with flying colors. We were so happy. When he first got released from the hospital I was scared to leave him alone and I wouldn't for the first 2 years. If I had to go ANYWHERE I made sure one of our kids was with him so I could grocery shop, etc.

Finally at the start of the 3rd year I relaxed some. l would leave him alone while I went to the store and then I started going over to our kids house on Sundays (they share a house because - cost of living) . They had taken a back burner while I focused on him and so I was giving our kids some much needed TLC on Sundays. We would hang out, watch Netflix, cook meals, talk and just have a good time. He would stay home with our dogs while I went there. He insisted I go because he knew how much I looked forward to it.

So a few Sundays ago I went over for the night as usual. He had a 3pm doctors appointment (One thing anyone who has had experience with a transplant will know is that the new normal is tons of doctor visits) the next day. I stayed at the kids house a bit later then normal that day - I was doing some work on my laptop. I texted him when I was on my way home to make sure he didn't forget about the appointment but I didn't get an answer. I figured he was in the shower or something.

I came in and the house was quiet, but our dogs were going crazy and jumping all over me and whining. I went down the hallway to talk to him and walked right by the office (his singing studio) to drop my stuff down in our bedroom and noticed he had fallen asleep in his chair. I went in to give him a kiss and my baby was dead. There was no missing it. He was relaxed, his hands were on the armrests in a relaxed posture. His eyes were closed. HIs face looked peaceful. There was no groping at his chest, grimacing, etc. WHY THE HELL DID I LEAVE HIM ALONE? Why did he go through all of that and then just die??

Every time things went south I was always on hand to call 911. How could he have just died when he always beat the odds? You know the night I left we were talking beforehand. He said, "I can't believe I am going to be 60 next year!" Then he said, "Hey that's our 30th anniversary too - next year is going to be a better year for us!" Next year will not be better. They asked me if I wanted an autopsy. I said no, they have already cut on him way to much and never again! I know it had to have been his heart but I don't understand how all of his test results had come back just fine.

He fought so hard to live. He went through hell and back to stay alive. I can't believe that he is gone. I miss him so damn much. My songbird has been silenced.

She died five weeks ago and I haven’t remembered any dreams until last night when she showed up. I was sleeping in our bed, as I always do.

Suddenly, she walks into the room and to her cupboards where she keeps her clothes, talking to me like nothing has happened.

I talk with her and the only part of the conversation I remember is myself saying to her “I know you aren’t really there cause you’re dead”.

The odd thing about it, was that it didn’t make me sad, it felt like I saw her again and brought me the absolute smallest amount of happiness possible when you are so new to this.

I wonder if some of her is still out there, I am not a religious person at all, but I have made a conscious decision to believe she’ll be on the other side when I arrive.

I send my condolences to all those who are here with me, I’m glad I’ve found you.

I’m 53, she was 51, it was a vicious year post cancer diagnosis.

This year has been especially difficult. I can't form real connections to people. I wonder if I'm stuck in my grief. I still have a couple of pictures in my apartment of him. And I notice that I'm avoiding mentioning him to friends or I feel like I should be over it... I know we won't ever get over the love of our life or anyone who meant so much to us. I know it and I would tell other people to not hold back. But for me... I feel like I'm stuck.

I'm at a time in my life where I have to accept that I won't have children. And it was never really my plan to have them. But my body is telling me that that's over. Which is fine by me. It just reminds me of the short timeframe that I wanted to have "our" child. A "product" of our love.

I only have memories left of him and they get more blurry and feel more unreal each day. Growing older while he will always stay 26. His second niece was born this year and I'm so grateful to still be part of the family, but at the same time it keeps me stuck in the past, in my grief. It reminds me of all that I've lost.

I genuinely appreciate those who have taken the time to open up and share how they are navigating their grief, loss, and pain.
Thirteen months ago, I came home and found my best friend, my soulmate, my everything—my wife of more than 25 incredible, unpredictable, and oh-so-memorable years. She had reached a point where she simply couldn't go on and took her own life.
I have yet to go through any of her belongings. Our home remains exactly as it was when she was here. I still sleep on my side of our bed, even though it’s now just my bed.
I feel stuck, and I honestly don't know what's normal anymore. How do you even begin?
Her purse is still sitting on her nightstand, zipped closed, exactly where she left it. Throughout our marriage, I never looked through her purse. It was a matter of respect, a value I always held. And even now, something about opening it feels like crossing a boundary.
But I've decided that opening her purse will be my first step toward slowly letting go of some of the physical attachments I've held on to.
Mentally, I've finally accepted that she's not coming back. Emotionally, however, accepting that reality and going through the things she left behind are two very different challenges.
I'm not looking to erase her presence from our home or my life. I'm simply trying to figure out how to move forward without feeling like I'm leaving her behind.
I would genuinely appreciate hearing from others who have experienced something similar. How did you begin? What helped you take those first steps? And how did you know when you were ready?
Thank you for allowing me to share a little of my journey and for sharing yours. It helps more than you might realize.
Strength, Love, and Peace. ❤️

I lost my wife of 39 years on the 3rd of this month, following a protracted illness. She was 63, I am 65.

I'm not a boo-hoo mourner, but I have been dealing with it by being busy with cleanups and legalities. Probably the worst was the first three nights when I couldn't sleep because my mind was racing trying to figure out what needed to be done.

Y'all will get more of my story in the coming weeks, so I won't play all my cards right now.

Mostly saying hello for now.

I just lost my partner 22th september... he died of a brain abces very unexpectedly. He was a very healthy person only 41 years old. He was a runner, he even had run marathons but suddenly developed a brain abces from a tooth infection that became fatal. He was complaining about headeaches for like a month and also had tooth pain. Eventually he had an appointment to let his tooth fixed but he never made it to the appointment. There was nothing to see on the outside, no swollen jaw, no fever etc. It was a rooth canal that needed to be fixed. But it never happened, cause he collapsed in front of the door after complaining about a very strong headache that day. He was taken to the IC they operated his head and gave him all the antibiotics they could. But they couldent safe him. He died only 2 days later. He had been to the doctors in the weeks before but they told him to get his tooth fixed and the headache was from that, i didnt understand why they didnt make a scan of his head. Instead they gave him antibiotics. I try to figure out if they failed him or if he also had a big part in this himself by waiting to go to dentist sooner. It is all very traumatic and hard to believe. Doctors told me a brain abces is very rare and especially in people that have no underlying disease but it does happen. His GP called me and told me they are all very shocked and wanted to have a conversation about this when i want somewhere in the future. I am in deep grief and try to find energy and courage to face them and have the conversation to understand the timeline of the weeks before the fatal brain abcess. It makes even grieving at this moment very hard, cause i feel i need answers why they didnt make a scan of his head although he had so severe headache painkillers didnt really work. I wish i was with him at the docters appointment that day so i would have insisted that they make a scan, all this time i felt something was very wrong in his head. But they sended him home with antibiotics and that was it. I feel they made mistakes and he himself made the mistake to wait to see the dentist. Its all very much to process. I miss him very much we are the same age i am only 2 weeks older then him. We had no children. Its so hearthbreaking at this moment, every morning waking up still not believing he is really gone.

Everything seems to be going better in my life. Finally. My job has become almost perfect. I feel like I'm really thriving in it now.

I finally have some tiny amount of money to my name, so I can finally address those issues causing me pain throughout my life.

The apartment has had a renovation and I haven't had issues in a while. I'm spending more time than ever before with my friends. Trying hard to keep everyone happy.

Yet a part of me still thinks my entire life was a mistake. That I'm a mistake. That if only he had a better partner.... Someone who could afford to get him to a real surgeon and not the butcherer who murdered him. Someone that would have taken the time off, so the nurses couldn't ignore him to death because Christmas was around the corner, he needed extra care, and they wanted that time off....

My whole life has been spent with two feet. One in the grave and the other just wanting to try to see what life is about before both feet must meet. It's so difficult and no one really truly understands. I still can't understand it. He was a larger-than-life sorta person. It's hard to really describe the absence. It's hard to describe my life without him in it. It's been nearly three years and nothing really truly feels "better." It just feels like I'm trying to distract myself until I'm dead, too. It still feels like I've lived far too long already. I just don't enjoy life anymore, no matter how hard I still try.

The title of this post comes from a Billy Joel song called "Piano Man" where he uses this descriptive phrase to talk about an older man, looking back at his life, thinking about the time years back when he was a younger man. Now, at 80 years of age, I sometimes think about when I wore a younger man's clothes.

Lately, I've been thinking of life passing as if we are all on a train heading into the future with some of us getting off at a station when our time on earth is up and others coming onto the train when their journey has just begun. My own station is somewhere down the tracks but I don't know yet at which train station I, and others of my fellow passengers, will disembark.

But back to when I wore a younger man's clothes. I was about half the age I am now when, wanting to become more involved in my home town, I ran for the school board. (P.S., I did not win!) I was at a candidate's night where all the candidates had to answer questions from the audience and this particular question was why we wanted to be elected and serve time on the school board.

I said I had spent my life as a university professor helping students figure out what they wanted to do with their lives and facilitating the beginning of their journey. I then stole a quote from one of my faculty colleagues, Neil Pistman, that our children are our message to a future that we will never see. When I think of my children continuing their life journey after mine has come to an end. I think of that quote. And if my message to the future is a good one, then I guess whatever else I have or have not done in my life is of little consequence and I will be happy.

Today I took a stroll through the park where I began working through my grief almost two years ago. I watched it change from fall to winter and finally into spring.

It's fall once again, and I'm preparing to leave for the winter. It's such a bittersweet time, because I have to say temporary goodbyes to the people who have helped me cope, and even thrive, during this time.

The next couple of weeks will likely be an emotional roller coaster as I deal with grief, the looming absence of the friends I've made here, and the joy of beginning another journey as I head somewhere warmer.

How do you handle the goodbyes of the new people in your lives?

Did anyone else struggle deeply with unanswered prayers? We are always taught that faith, prayer, fasting, and miracles will bring healing, but when your person isn't healed and you're left behind, it shakes everything to its core.

​How did you process that heartbreak and hold onto your faith (or find your way through the anger and confusion)? I could really use some perspective from others who understand.

20 weeks 140 days and if you give me a moment I would probably count the minutes.

You're with me, I see you in my dreams, I can smell you sometimes and it means everything to me.

I find myself trying not to think of you so I can keep it together, but in the dark quiet moments you cross my mind and the pain crushes me. You left a cavity in my world that's too deep and wide to cross, so I'm stuck with but you visit me, so I'm taking that as a sign that this is okay. I love you more than anything and you're still my favourite human. I miss you aren't strong enough words and I love you had never been adequate. Yet it's all I have. I love you baby and I miss you

1 year today the angels took you away.

I love you forever and i miss you.

I will see you soon my love 💔💜

Since my wife passed 2 months ago i find myself questioning everything over our 25 years together. We were extremely happy, but, especially over the past 3 years where she was ill, I question everything we did, even the fun stuff. More recently I'm even questioning trivial stuff from over 15 years ago. Anyone else do this? I guess it's my brain's way of trying to process the grief I'm going through.

My fiancé died in August. We had just gotten engaged in May. He went into the hospital for a various smattering of symptoms in mid July only for us to discover he had a heart attack weeks ago if not longer. He was on dialysis and in need of a kidney and was always some flavor of unwell for duration of our relationship.

The process of him dying was hell. He had cardiac arrest multiple times and was on a ventilator, pacemaker for over a week before they had to operate on his abdomen (distended) and they determined nothing else could be done. I’ll never forgive his evangelical Christian mother for saying unhelpful things in the hospital; “my therapist is God” (invalidating my own therapy) “God will see him through this or will take him if He’s ready” (a horrid thing to say.) etc. She shared with me in the hospital that she didn’t approve of his “lifestyle” but only wanted to see him happy. The pastor she got for the funeral didn’t invite me to speak or even acknowledge our relationship. I skipped the burial because I couldn’t deal with bullshit theology.

I’ve been trying so hard to stay positive and keep going…and admittedly I think I’ve been doing a decent job. But this month I’ve found I’m losing my patience and have called in my therapist for additional sessions.

I’m left to grieve the loss of someone I loved, the relationship we had, the future I hope we would have, and how things just fell apart like sand out of fist at the end. I’m angry because he was increasingly passive aggressive even before he went into the hospital, and his mother encouraged it. I took it on the chin instead of standing up for myself because I knew he was hurting. I’m angry because I feel like shit and just have to live with it. I’m sad because I go to text him and realize I can’t. I’m sad because even in the struggle I think we could’ve figured it out…or at least I hope we would. We weren’t perfect but damn I just had so much hope. It’s just so complicated.

Cherry on top…one of my cousins got married today. Thankfully everyone understood why I passed on it but I’ve started to get more internally snarky anytime I see anything wedding related online.

Ugh…thank you for reading.

I feel lonely and want the intimacy

I know he loved me deeply, but he caused me a lot of emotional pain by being such a passive person. He let his ex interfere in our lives, and it felt like a thankless love. Now I am dealing with his passing while remembering all the hurt and trauma I went through during our relationship... I am scared because I feel he is the love of my life, but he was so incapable of resolving conflicts and always left me to handle almost everything. I feel like anyone with basic emotional responsibility will outshine him, and I don't want anyone to replace him. I want him to be the one for the rest of my life, even if he is no longer here...

Sometimes in my mind at the end of the day, I imagine our review and discussion. I imagine your values, wehe, always you had stronger comfort than me to assert something.

I wonder is natural if we married someone, naturally our values align. But I always still find my self resorting to what I know my husband felt was right or wrong too, in my life, in how I see things.

Is very subtle sometimes. Because most people is not marry someone really opposed.

But I wonder for other's too, do you hear your husband or wife, as a form of moral voice when you err or when you discern things too, do you still think and try to imagine, how they would say about it?

I really hope it's okay to post this here.

My Mum very recently passed leaving my Father a widow at 62, they'd been married nearly 40 years.

I moved home from out of state to live with him for a few months but I'm really not sure what I can do. He's a very kind but introverted man (Mum was always the social one), doesn't have many if any friends or close family or hobbies and its very clear that he's depressed but he refuses to speak about his feelings and has no idea what to do from here.

What can I do to support him?

On socials I saw that you can talk to an ai which can clone the voice of anyone. I am going to be honest. I am thinking about it quite a lot but can’t form an opinion about it. What do you think about grief and the use of ai ?