An Invisible Hurt: Widowed and Childless

Today started out pretty much like any other day.
Except that it isn’t.
It is Mothers Day.

Generally speaking, being a widowed person, Mothers Day normally doesn’t land in the Top 3 “very difficult” days for me. Those would be July 13th (the day of my husband’s sudden death), October 27th (our wedding day), and Christmas. In a close tie for second place would include both of our birthdays, the day of his funeral, followed by many other holidays and important days. Hell, who am I kidding? Every day is difficult. It’s just that holidays and “special” days usually put a ginormous exclamation point right on top of the pain.

But Mothers Day is different. I am not supposed to be in pain on Mothers Day, right? I have an amazing mom, and she is alive and well, and incredibly supportive and wonderful to me. Mothers Day is supposed to be difficult and painful for people that lost their mom long ago or recently, and they are missing them greatly. Or women who are divorced, or single, and are raising their child alone. Or women that have lost a baby or lost a child. Or women and couples who are facing infertility, and are unable to have a child at all. Or widowed parents; the solo dads who have to also be the mom, or the solo mom who now has to double as the dad. But not me. Why should I feel hurt and depressed on Mothers Day?

I am a childless widow. My husband was suddenly taken from me, early on in our marriage, before we got the chance to have a family together. His massive heart-attack, which had no symptoms and no warning, happened just 4 months shy of our 5 year wedding anniversary. I was working part-time as an Adjunct Professor, and he was a paramedic. He had picked up a second job, stocking shelves at the local Petsmart. He also volunteered there, helping out with animal adoptions at their rescue shelter. We had just begun talking, over that last couple years or so, about a possible timeline for our future plans, which included having children. Don wanted us to be in a much better place financially, and so did I. We were going to save up some money from his second job to buy a better car, and eventually, move into a less crappy apartment or condo. I was 35 years old when we got married, and he was 42. By the time our discussions of future kids became serious, I was around 38 years old. We agreed that we would either attempt to have biological children before I turned 40, (because the idea of being too much over 40 and pregnant didn’t really thrill me), or that we would choose the adoption route instead. My husband always loved the idea of giving a child that is already here in the world, a home and a family. I loved the idea of having a family with my husband, however that ended up happening. Just like I never sat around fantasizing about my wedding day or pictured myself getting married, until I met Don – I also never pictured myself having kids, until I met the man that made me crave and need the honor of creating our family together. Love changes everything.

boo brian me

There were many nights those last couple of years where my husband and I sat awake in bed, dreaming out loud and laughing and making silly predictions about our future children. The arrival of my brothers first child, Brian, in 2009, is what really made our talks of kids go from “maybe someday” to “let’s see how we can make this happen for us.” For me, seeing how amazing and loving my husband was with our little nephew, was inspiring and beautiful. It made me long to see him as a dad – the dad he never got to have in his own childhood. It made me really want a family with my wonderful husband. So we talked about it, and he did some research online about adoption, just to get a head-start on what the process might be like. The actual happening of us possibly having kids of our own was still far away for us, but the idea was in the center of our hearts, like a happy little secret that we kept between us and daydreamed about often.

Then on July 13, 2011, my husband went and died on me.
Love changes everything. So does death.

Most of the time, in my “after” life without my husband here on earth with me, I am able to stay in pretty good denial about feeling the pain associated with our family that never existed. Most of the time, I can shove the hurt and the stabbing somewhere far away, and just pretend it isn’t there. This is something I have gotten really good at – because there are so many other parts of losing my husband that I need to grieve, and somehow, invisible children fall by the wayside. It is a very confusing state of mind to be in. There are so many questions to ask, such as: Can you really grieve something that you never had in the first place? Is it really possible to hold so much hurt and pain, over a family that only existed in your hearts and imaginations? Do I have a right to feel robbed of what never was, and what will never be, and can I find a way to process and grieve for that very specific loss, which is seperate; yet attached to; the loss of my husband?

Yes.
Hell, yes.
The answers are all yes.

The reason that I feel the need to even ask these questions, is because this type of loss is not recognized or acknowledged by anyone. Not ever. Not really. Nobody comprehends that days like Mothers Day might hurt like hell for someone who not only lost their life partner, but also lost the dreams of their future together – the family they had in their mind. There is no support group or counseling for people that never actually became parents, because the opportunity was ripped away by death. Whenever I dare mention my very real pain over this topic, I get comments such as: “Well, did you two even want kids anyway?”, or “You could still adopt or be a mom if you wanted to!”, or “Maybe you will meet somebody and have kids later on!” I could spend an entire seperate blog-post explaining why each of these comments is totally off-base and hurtful, but I won’t. Instead, I will add that the widowed community, in general, is geared toward widowed people with children. Us widowed folk who are childless, happen to be the minority. This is just the way it is, probably because we are a parent-heavy society as it is. We focus a lot of our attention on families and people with children. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard the comment from a total stranger, upon finding out I am a widow: “Oh, well it’s a good thing you didn’t have children.” Or, they ask directly: “Did you have children?” When I say no, it is as if my pain is no longer quite as valid as it was just three seconds ago. There is a general overall attitude and tone toward widowed people without kids, that seems to say: “You’re young. You’ll be fine. You weren’t a real family. You don’t need help. Figure it out.” Even amongst other widowed people, I often find myself “going silent”, the minute they all begin talking about their kids. They havent done anything wrong, of course. They are simply speaking their experience, which involves their children. But for someone like me, it is easy to go from fitting in to feeling completely alienated, very quickly. What am I supposed to say? Not only do I have nothing to add to the conversation, but the conversation in itself is a trigger that brings on pain.

boo brian

There are a lot of pain triggers, and they usually come out of nowhere, on an absolutely ordinary day. Being with my own family, and my brother and his now two children, is a big one. Staring into the eye of what will never be, and recalling all the many times lying in bed at night that Don would say: “It would be so cool to have a son and give Brian someone to play with. That poor kid has enough sadness in his life being forced to be a Red Sox fan by your brother!” Sometimes, I will be walking along the street, or out and about – and I will see a husband and wife with their child or children, and it will hit me suddenly that they look about the same age as me and Don would have been, and that should have been us. Weddings. Baby showers. Friends who are having families, friends who are adopting. Seeing grandparents with their grandkids is one of my biggest pain triggers, actually. It is like a triple whammy. I’m instantly reminded with the fact that my husband will never get to grow old, I will not get to grow old with him, and I will never have children; therefore, I will never have grandchildren. Sometimes I think about what will happen to me when I am old and sick. Who will care? Who will take care of me? My husband was supposed to do that, and he always used to tell me that if we ended up not having kids, that would be okay too, because we would always have each other.

Death changes everything.

To be honest, Fathers Day is even more painful than Mothers Day, for me, personally. Because as much as it hurts me to my core to sit with the knowledge that I will never get to experience parenthood with my husband, it hurts a million times more knowing that not only will my husband never get to be a father, he also doesn’t get to live. At least I get to be alive. He had a childhood with no father in his life, and an adulthood that got rudely chopped off after only 46 years. The pain of knowing that my husband will never know fatherhood or life as an older person, hurts in a way that is impossible to describe.

The endless stream of parent pictures and new life and new children and dreams realized, all over my Facebook page, made today extremely hard. After writing up a well-deserved dedication to my own mother, I found myself lying in bed and silently sobbing, about all the things that will never be. I grieve the children that I may have had. I hurt from the pain of the future that died. I cry for the life I might have known.

It hurts today.
And sometimes, it hurts on ordinary days.
It just does.
And to all the other widowed moms and dads that never were out there – I feel your pain.
Your hurt is real.
Your pain is real.
And it matters.

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36 thoughts on “An Invisible Hurt: Widowed and Childless

  1. I am so sorry you are hurting today…again I wish I could “fix” things for you…but, you know what…never say never..we do not know what lies ahead for any of us and I only wish good things for you…noone deserves it more. Love you .

  2. Thank you for expressing what many of us feel today. I was 30 when he died and just turned 32…..the comments that I am young and I can still have kids or I am lucky that we didnt have any both hurt just the same. Nobody can understand or even care to acknowledge our saddness except for others in our situation. Here is to you and to other widows as well who never got the opportunity nor will ever have that chance to add life to our families. We also were waiting to be in a better place financially, finishing his Masters and my teaching degree and move to a house out of our crappie apartment. Virtual hugs all around!

    • I know how u fell my husband and I met in 1999 married 2007. He passed July 2015. I never had the chance to have kids we wanted them.. During the last couple weeks I found out our marriage wasn’t good enough for widows for any help cause no kids. We loved hard and worked hard and he passed at work.. All I know is god is seeing me through. Just cause we didn’t have kids doesn’t mean were less. He made the money and I was the wife there for him.. I hope no one ever has to go through this.. I’ll never marry again. And I found myself mad at him for leaving me..I hope u find happiness cause I won’t..

  3. Thanks for this post! I was feeling like crap all day and just felt incredibly alone. We were trying to sort out our finances before we even considered being parents. Maybe it never would of happened…but I will always wonder and feel sad about all the things that will never be. Every baby I see lately brings on a tearfest. And couples…especially the old ones. But thank you again for this post, I don’t feel so alone after reading it :)

  4. This really hits home, i was 29 when my husband died he was four days away from being 31. We were in the process of trying to have kids, but it never happened for us. I can’t stand it when someone says to me “well your young, you have your whole life ahead of you” It makes it feel like, its ok he died your going to move on and still have your life. I am 35 now, and i have just recently met someone, and the thought of kids with him one day is a nice one, but there will always be a piece of me that will mourn for the children i never had with my late husband.

  5. OMG, my feelings EXACTLY. I just burst into tears reading this, I feel your pain so thoroughly. I just turned 38, and knowing that I may never have kids kills me. My mom hints so much at a new relationship, and grandchildren, but it’s hard to make her truly understand the feelings of a widow — especially a childless widow. Hugs my dear! We have to stay strong in our position…

  6. We live in a world where child related losses – all of the way from the dream of a family to things that go wrong at birth or shortly thereafter – are sadly ignored. And yes, that along with an excessively kid/family centric society that seems to toss those of us without children to the side, is a coupling that can make for a very painful experience.

    Kelley – the times when I’ve mentioned your story and have gotten the response “Well, at least they didn’t have kids” I can assure you the people who say that get my very best sneer (you’ve known me since we were 7 so you know it’s pretty damn good) followed by an adamant “that certainly doesn’t make her loss any less, if anything it makes it harder in a way!”

    Ladies, I’m so sorry for all of your losses. I know nothing about being a widow but I am a childless infertility survivor so I know that your pain over the family you didn’t get to have is absolutely real and worthy. And I also know that it will be overlooked and unacknowledged by others. Keep giving voice to your emotions anyway!

  7. Thank you for sharing your most intimate feelings about Mother’s Day for childless widows. I, too, am a childless widow. Never will have children because now I am 56 years old and I was left without an immediate income when my husband died in July 2012 that adoption is out of the picture. Like you, it was very hard going thru the Facebook posts and seeing all the families together. My thoughts are always the same, his much I longed for that with my husband, to create a life with a nan that I loved so deeply. In fact, a few years after our marriage, we tried to get pregnant but later found out that each of us had a problem that would make normal conception impossible. So we jumped into IVF and actually created an embryo of my egg and my husband’s sperm in the lab. I even saw our perfect multi-cell embryo glowing under the microscope right before they transferred our child into my womb. Alas, the little embryo never did attach, and we lost our only chance at making our own little baby Garcia. So when I think we never had children, we did, for a very short time. Our little man, or little girl died very early in his/her development stage. Like you, I think about from time to time who will care for me in my elder years. I have a niece, who us now 23 yrs old. When she was younger, she would always tell me she would take care of me. We were so very close from her birth until she was about 17 years old. Something happened, I’m not sure what, but she gradually created a distance between herself and her family. I hardly ever hear from her unless I text or call her. My birthday was a couple of weeks ago, heard nothing from her. She even unfriended me from her FB page and said she would put me back but never did.

    I could go on and on.

    In closing, thank you for letting all of us childless widows know that there are others out there that suffered as much as we did yesterday.

  8. Yes and yes and yes and yes, to all that you said. Just remember that there is always hope. Your life with Don was one chapter, but maybe, just maybe there are more chapters to come. It doesn’t take away the pain or the loss or anything you described, but hope is powerful.

    Hang in there.
    Michelle/G’s mom

  9. I am 57. My husband is 77. We are broke. We have no children and no family. I am chronically depressed, feel suicidal every day and have as a result lost my faith. But yet if I commit suicide the loving God will send me to hell. My self confidence is below zero and I’m addicted to sleeping tablets.

    • Regardless of what happens to us, we have all had the opportunity to live – that is the essence of out existence – we have had the opportunity to succeed, fail, love, cry, make good and bad decisions – we have the opportunity to constantly hope, pray, and if need be, fight to keep up our own precious universe alive until it ultimately ends. Life is the miracle everyone is looking for – life is everything – enjoy it – hate it – but hold on to it and protect it – it is truly all you really have – but it is the most precious thing you have. Keep living!!! Never give up!!!

  10. I appreciate your heartfelt post so much and couldn’t agree more. At 35 I just lost my beloved and amazing husband to cancer after a two-year journey. We had just decided we were ready to start trying for a family when he was re-diagnosed. It was a devastating blow, for so many reasons obviously, including a decision to put our plan for a family on-hold so we could focus on healing him and getting through our journey. The dream of a future and a family together is what kept us both going…what kept us believing we’d receive a miracle even after the doctors wrote us off and sent him home to die. One can’t compare their grief but I do believe that being robbed of the opportunity to start a family together and forever have a piece of your spouse is even more painful because you don’t have that extra incentive to get up each day, to get through the endless painful moments and move forward because you have someone else depending on you. The things that people say in relation to this (as you mentioned in your post), always in an effort to help, are typically incredibly insensitive.
    Thank you for the thoughts and emotion you put into your post.

    • You are so welcome, Kristen. It is a terrrible loss, to have your dreams ripped away from you.
      And to have nobody acknowledge it makes it so much more painful.
      Im so sorry about the loss of both your husband and the dreams of family you both had.

  11. Thank you Kelley for having the courage to write this today. Unfortunately I am also a co- member of the childless widow club. Just wanted to let you know I admire your courage & thank you for taking time to write this blog. I do not feel as alone as I did.

  12. Wow, this really hits home. I’m 24, my loving and amazing husband of 2 years recently passed away from a terrible freak car accident at the age of 23. I was in the passenger seat and it’s a miracle that I was able to walk out of such a big accident. As much as I’m thankful to be alive, sometimes I wish I had died. It’s hard to continue living without my husband. I struggle everyday. He was my best friend, my twin soul, the love of my life. We did everything and went everywhere together. We grew so much together over the past 7 years. We too had planned on having children but wanted to wait until we were more financially ready. Literally a week before the accident, he had started up a conversation about how he was ready to be a father and asked if I was ready to have kids soon. It hurts so much to think about what can never be…I can’t help but feel so robbed. We were planning our future, to start our own little business together, to buy land and build a home together. So many dreams. All taken away in one tragic day. I feel so lost. I have the biggest support system filled with family, friends, and colleagues and I can’t thank everyone enough. But I don’t know anyone that has gone/is going through what I am. I never imagined I would be a widow at such a young age. It hurts when people tell me “Everything happens for a reason, God has a bigger plan” or things like “You’re still young, in time you’ll find another love”, “You still have your whole life ahead of you”. I know they’re trying to help but they simply don’t understand me or what I’m feeling. I pray a lot more than ever before. I’m doing my best to stay strong and take it day by day. Some days I want to be alone and cry my eyes out, some days I’m actually able to step out into the outside world. Everyone tells me that time will heal, but even that…I’m not so sure. I’m very sorry for your loss. I can’t thank you enough for taking time to write this heartfelt blog. It helps to know that I’m not alone. I truly admire your courage. Much love and light to you all.

    • Could you please please please email me. I too greatly appreciate this blog post. My husband died 2 months ago from a freak sudden health issue that had a one in a million chance of killing someone and I’m really struggling with everyday life. I have been searching the internet for someone who is similar to my age and doesn’t have kids. I’m had just turned 26 when all this happened. He died 1 week after my birthday. We had been together 9 years and were married for 4.5. This dec would have been 5 years. I get so sick of the comments from other people that everyone has been saying. I don’t understand why people feel the needs to act like my husband is simply replaceable. I just want to talk to someone who understands. I feel like I’m losing it most days because I feel so wrong. Everything is my life feels wrong. I know it’s corny and stuff but we had truly become one. I know everything about him and he knew everything about me. We flowed so well together. It’s as if half my body has been traumatically amputated and I’m a medical miracle by barely surviving. I feel like I’m on display for all to see and talk about as I walk by. It’s like they are waiting for me to freak out. I know it’s so weird but I’ve barely watched tv since he died. I never even turn it on and when I do it’s just to drowned out the silence. I say this because I was wondering if anyone else found the sudden silence to be defining. It amazes me how loud silence can be.

      • I know exactly how you feel. My fiancé died 1 week after my birthday this past May and since then I can’t watch movies. All we did was watch movies or play video games in our down time and now I can’t watch any movie. I feel weird but I know it’s a normal reaction to this very non normal situation. While you feel alone and I do sometimes too you’re not. I’m struggling everyday to figure out how to go on and live without my rock being here. I’m judged for how he died and for not being over him 6 months after he passed.

      • I’ve never wrote or commented on any blog before in my life. I am 26 years old and my husband died 7 months ago today. When I tell the story it’s as people don’t even believe it’s true because they can’t believe that I can be a widow at 26 and that a 29 yeah old, healthy athlete all his life can die from a heath attack. We were together for almost 7 years but had no children. We were planning on having them in the near future and already had names picked out for them and were imagining how they would look like. We kept thinking if they would have his or my eyes, nose, ears. No I wish I listened to my dad and didn’t wait to have them.its so hard to read about widows because people always asume that there were children involved. Anyways, I don’t want to rant about it. But I have also found it hard to find young childless widows in their 20s to talk to about it and relate to. It pains me when people say that I am young and have my life ahead because all I keep thinking about it all the more days I have left on this earth that I have to live without him and miss him.
        I don’t understand to this day why he was chosen to die so early in life and why I was chosen to have to live with this pain and face it as such a young age.
        But I do get it. I just drive around the city not listening to music and just listen to the silence.

      • I’ve never wrote or commented on any blog before in my life. I am 26 years old and my husband died 7 months ago today. When I tell the story it’s as people don’t even believe it’s true because they can’t believe that I can be a widow at 26 and that a 29 yeah old, healthy athlete all his life can die from a heath attack. We were together for almost 7 years but had no children. We were planning on having them in the near future and already had names picked out for them and were imagining how they would look like. We kept thinking if they would have his or my eyes, nose, ears. No I wish I listened to my dad and didn’t wait to have them.its so hard to read about widows because people always asume that there were children involved. Anyways, I don’t want to rant about it. But I have also found it hard to find young childless widows in their 20s to talk to about it and relate to. It pains me when people say that I am young and have my life ahead because all I keep thinking about it all the more days I have left on this earth that I have to live without him and miss him.
        I don’t understand to this day why he was chosen to die so early in life and why I was chosen to have to live with this pain and face it as such a young age.
        But I do get it. I just drive around the city not listening to music and just listen to the silence.

  13. Your post was very comforting to me knowing there are others out there feeling the same pain as me. My husband, Jim, passed away July 17 in a work accident. He was perfectly healthy. He was 37. We had just sold our home in April after 3 long years on/off the market. We had been married for only 6 years, but he was my best friend. We had just recently started to try to conceive. We both wanted to wait until we found that “perfect” home to raise a child. But I realized that we were both getting older and our chances of conceiving were diminishing. We spoke about adopting if we were’t able to conceive. I didn’t want to put our financial resources into IVF treatments knowing there are children out there in need of a loving family. I know it’s only been a few months for me since my husband’s passing and I’m feeling all types of pain. But my biggest pain the past few days is that I no longer feel like I have a purpose in life. I am no longer a wife and the dream of me being a mother has been crushed. I think it was still the shock of everything, but I had even asked the doctor at the hospital if they could harvest Jim’s sperm before he was taken by the coroner. They weren’t able to and I think that makes my personal pain even more intense. Thank you for sharing your story and thank you for letting others share their stories.

  14. This resonated with me in so many ways, especially in terms of how possible it is to feel tremendous pain and be grieving a life that existed only in dreams. The interesting thing is that I am single and 35, and actually have never been married or met the love of my life. I know this is a very different situation from having lost a partner, and yet, the deep pain around holidays, and the enormous grief and pain around ordinary days, triggered by seeing happy families or couples or children is very, very real for me. Thank you for so beautifully describing this grief, which is so very disenfranchised in our society today.

  15. I was widowed 7 years ago at 35 years old. We were trying to get pregnant when he passed away. I’ve had a couple relationships since- and lots of people telling me I’m young and can still have kids. I’ve been through infertility treatments for 2 years and now I’m single again. I wish I had just tried on my own to have kids at 35, instead of waiting for someone. Thank you for writing this- no one understands how painful life is and continues to be after you’ve lost the love of your life.

  16. I read the stories.. I’m 36 my husband passed July 2015 at the same age. It doesn’t get easier he was the main source of income.. We have no children together and we wanted I was with himssince 1999.. So I go online to see what or if there’s any help out there for widows.. Not unless u have kids or older.. Do think that we didn’t give our all cause we didn’t my husband worked hard daily.. He passed at work.. We should have the same choices that people wit kids do.. My heart goes out to each of u.. And just let god guide u.. Cause no one understands how we livewit this daily

  17. I’ve been searching for a blog like this. This is what I feel – and no one understands. I’m 35; he was 34. We were married just shy of 9 months. So many memories that will never be made, children we’re never going to have. Thank you.

  18. Thank you for writing this. It helped to find someone to relate to as I don’t know anyone my age whose experienced this and any widows that are childless. I feel like you took the words from my mouth… I’m 30 he turned 39 in January and passed away in February. And I was told by outsiders it will be easier to remarry since I don’t have kids. How insensensitive. He had a son before me so I am grateful that he had a son and was able to be a father during his short time on this earth. Together for 5 years and 2 months married for 2 of those. We wanted a baby and had just started trying. I feel the pain of missing him dearly but also grieving all of our plans for the future. And that I must live without him. His mother said I’m always her daughter in law and we talk daily. It helps us both feel connected to him. Two months and it doesn’t feel real still. Like its a bad dream from which I cannot wake up.

    • I too feel the indifference of”our”society views of being a childless widow. Your young they say,it’ll get better they say. Try A day in my shoes,a true believer spiritually grounded but only half of my being is here the other half,on the other side. Who”they”think they fooling.almost forty#middle life crisis. Good I’m not looking bcuz the treatment of the opposite sex,after discovery you’d think I was diagnosed with ebola smh. But a look beyond US..my question is how men deal lol besides buying a sports car,like I know ppl don’t do much after awhile for ladies I just wondering how men get treated. I half heartedly take the pain bcuz I am grateful it’s not Him,lonely all the time. Yes I still consider my darling do feelings even w/him deceased,4/3/2016 will always be here today,
      Rantover

  19. I am sorry to say that your essay strongly resonates with me. My wife was the sweetest and wisest person I ever met. At age 40, I was a late bloomer when we married in 1997. Sadly, she contracted breast cancer a year later, and peacefully passed away at home in July 2006; she was 50. I took the best possible care of her as I could over the nine years we were married. Even though it has been ten years since her death, I still struggle with these issues to this day. Never in a million, million years did I ever imagine that I would be widowed and childless at this point in my life. (To make matters worse, my goddaughter was murdered three years later in NYC, where I am originally from.) With a few notable exceptions, most people were sympathetic, and even tried to relate by telling me about their parents’ deaths… but it’s an entirely different dynamic; they don’t go home to an empty bed at the end of the day. Almost overnight, my life changed 180 degrees… Friends and married couples with whom Carla and I regularly socialized suddenly evaporated into thin air. Now my (wife’s) nieces and nephews are getting married, and soon they will start having families of their own. I can only pray that they will never, ever have to suffer the anguish and agony of this soul-eviscerating experience. And I hope that all of us who already find ourselves in this horrific situation are able to find happiness again… somehow.

  20. I am 31 lost my fiance 5 months ago 2 months before we were supposed to get married. We planned on having a family since he already had 2 children we wanted to start trying right after we got married. Now I grieve the loss of my best friend and the person I thought I would get to spend the rest of my life with and the loss of a family that I will never get to have. People have told me that because I am so young I have time to find someone and still have a family but what they don’t realize is that while that is technically that is true it is also true that I will never be able to have his children and that hurts. It also hurts because he does have children whom I fell in love with and now I don’t even get to watch them grow up because their mothers and I are not friends nor will we ever be. I am glad I found this blog so that I know I am not alone in feeling like this. Its hard enough to deal with the fact that the love of my life is gone forever but dealing with it and feeling completely alone is horrible and I feel a little less miserable right now

    • Katy Im SO sorry for what you are going through, and Im SO glad you found my blog and that it helped you to feel a tiny bit less alone and miserable.
      It is so hard to lose the dreams that we had, the family we never got to build, and the loves that we wanted to have that family with.
      When people say stupid things, just try to remember they have NO way of knowing what its like. They just dont get it.
      Come here and comment anytime. I hope it helps a little.
      Sending you support.

  21. I say we create a real live official group,grateful to know I’m not alone. Forever changed. I’m not brave enough to contemplate the future I am not willing to risk going thru this twice l,bday,holidays,breakfast lunch and dinner,second minutes hours daily,family events social activities, I just as well take up acting#I HURT LIKE HELL,HELLO WORLD ONLY MISSING A WHOLE PERSON AND NOTHING SEEMS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD TO ME. Back in my shell I go…….

  22. My wife died December 2nd 2016, so it’s recent. I am alone in the world. We had no children. Every day it’s the same. Going home to an empty bed, no one there to speak to. I am slowly dying as my spirit and heart weaken with each passing moment. People with surviving families don’t understand they have something to live for. My Annette was my heart. My life. I will never heal and pray God takes me

    I speak to Annette every day and night hoping she hears me and I can hear her responding. I wish I could hold her again.

    Rich
    pickerman123@yahoo.com

    • rich, i totally understand, and I hear your pain. Youre right, it is very recent for you. It will not always be THIS harsh or this painful.
      you will find some reasons to live again and some joy, but it takes a LOT of time.
      Just try and hang in there.
      And please email me anytime if you ever need someone to talk to. I really mean that
      kelleylynn926@yahoo.com
      by the way, I think speaking to her helps. Keep doing it.

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