Grief Recovery

Grieving for someone is like being on a rollercoaster. Ask anyone who has gone through it. After the initial shock and some time has passed, you start having some good moments. Moments and periods where you feel in control of your life and you can see a future for yourself. Then, in a frighteningly short period of time, you swing back down again and the pain returns.

I met Tom and Candace last night for dinner. I got there a bit early and sat in the bar and had a beer. They were running late, and I was left alone with my thoughts. The place was packed and full of people laughing and unwinding after a full work week. Funny though, as full as the place was, I was totally alone. I sat at the bar grieving, hanging on by a thread, fighting back the tears (and not doing a good job at it), but I may as well have been alone. I don't think a single person in that place noticed me. Tom and Candace finally showed up, and it was so good to see them, I picked up a bit. Had a nice dinner and went back to their place for a bit to hang out with them and their kids. The entire time though, the pain was there. I learned how to push it down and ignore it so that I can be around people, but when I'm alone, I let it surface again. I loved Scott so much, I'm not going to deny that love by ignore the pain of his absence.

I went to the Saturn dealer today. When I was pulling the car out last night, I wasn't paying enough attention and took off the right side-view mirror. I was too close to the garage door. So off I went to the Saturn dealer to order a new one (I have to have the car in good shape for when his brother claims it). I took a brief look at the Ions and their SUV. I'll need a car once the estate is settled and the insurance policies come in. I have that little two-seater, but it's too impractical for everyday use. Maybe I'll treat myself to one of the SUVs if I can afford it.

Gary came by as promised and we saw "Along Came Polly". A cute movie, nothing great though. Still, it cheered me up a bit. We sat back at the house and watched some TV and joked around a bit. He just left, and I'm feeling depressed again. The constant desire to cry is VERY hard to accept. It's like I'm yearning for something I can never ever have. I get this feeling like I'm waiting for an answer. It's so hard to describe, but that's probably just as good a description as any. It's like you're waiting for answers, but you don't know the questions. You can't stay where you are, but it's so hard to move on. Nor are you sure if you even want to move on! I can easily see now how some people pine away their lives in grief. I don't want to do that! But I want Scott in my life! I want him so bad it hurts! Emotionally, I stilll haven't accepted that he's not going to be a part of my life any more. I just wish I knew where he was now, and if I'll ever see him again.

Maybe that's the question.

Today was a definite improvement so far. I can't say at all that I was happy. I think happiness is a very long way off. But I can say that I had some good moments. Yeah, there were a lot of sad moments too. Lots of moments with tears in my eyes, shaking my head, and muttering "Oh Scott!". But I was able to go on in spite of it all, and I had some really nice conversations with friends. I spoke with Scott's friend David for a bit, and we had a very long and very nice conversation. And it felt damn good! And then I chatted with our friend Bill for a bit. And that was damn good too! So even though my life was destroyed, I know that I'll eventually heal.

Was my life "destroyed"? Absolutely! Sure, I'm still alive. But life is more than just living. My life was totally defined as being one half of a couple. For over half of my life, Scott was there. We were a team! 90% of everything I did included Scott in some way. When he died, all of that was ripped away from me. Everything! Yeah, I'll go on living. And yes, I'll be happy again at some point. But my life from January 3rd, 2004 and on will never be the same, nor will it be like anything we had planned. Because before, it was definitely something that "we" had planned.

I felt incredibly sad a little while ago. But after talking to the people in the chat room, I realize that we all have it hard. Some of us have it harder than others. Yet we all just keep going on and find new forms of happiness. I'm feeling a bit better now after talking to all of my friends and chat buddies, so I'll end it on a high note, tune into the Tivo for a little while, and then get some sleep. After all, I actually have some plans for the weekend!

Finally, some bright points in this hellish experience. Unless my friend can't make it (and I'm pretty sure he'll do everything he could to make it), he'll be coming over on Saturday. Another couple we're friends with called and want me to join them for dinner on Friday night. They're just the sweetest couple and have the greatest kids! I really hope I'm physically up for it because I'd love to see them again. And then my sister called and wants to stop over for a visit on Sunday.

All of a sudden, my weekend is full! Up to this point, I've been hanging around in the house with nowhere to go or nobody to be with. When you're part of a couple, and you lose your partner, the house just seems so empty and lonely. The fact that this winter it's been abysmally cold hasn't helped either.... who wants to go out when it's like only 10 degrees out there. So I've been sititng home getting depressed. At least I can look forward to a break from this depressing routine and maybe have a good time. Lord knows, I need one.

Is it possible to get stricken with clinical depression when you're grieving? It's something I have to consider. Last night, my mind became my worst enemy. For the first couple of weeks after I lost Scott, I would flash back to the event and relive those moments of finding him. They were horrible, horrible experiences. It was devastating going through it once, reliving it tore me apart and would leave me shaking. But the flashbacks started easing off a bit. They wouldn't happen as frequently, and eventually lost some (not all) of their emotional impact.

But last night was different. I was sitting at the computer, and I let my mind wander. I didn't even really realize that I was thinking about that night until I was fully in the grip of a vision. Last night, I didn't flash back and relive what I had gone through, I played back what Scott went through. I didn't even see what he went through, but my mind must have some thoughts about what happened, because suddenly I was watching him trying to get out of the tub, struggling in the water, realizing he's in trouble, thinking I'm just 30 feet away. There was more, but I can't type it here. I have to stop now while I could.

When I managed to wrest control of myself from the thoughts, I was devastated again. The tears were uncontrollable and would not stop. Even after my mom came in and consoled me, the rest of the night I felt and urge to just break down again.

Which makes me wonder if I'm suffering from clinical depression. Today was different than any of the other days. I normally wake up and feel rested to a certain extent. I'm by no means happy, but at least I'm rested and can fully function for a portion of the day. But this morning, I felt .... drained? Physically depressed? Almost the entire day was a tiring experience that I had no energy for. The urge to cry was always present, and life seems like some giant obstacle I somehow have to get around. The only bright point was I called my friend, and he's going to try to arrange it to come over on Saturday to spend some time with me and take me to the movies. I actually got excited at the thought! It was short-lived, but I'm really looking forward to it. I hope he can arrange his schedule to come.

I laughed a couple of times today in spite of the pain. It felt really good. Unbelievably good. Well, for a little while anyway. I'm usually a bit of a clown. I love joking around and laughing. I would always tease Scott and try to make him laugh. But now, there's nobody really here to share jokes with. My mom's here, but I'm not sure she appreciates my sense of humor.

I remember when Scott and I first went to a Trenton Titans game (our local minor-league hockey team). It was the first time we ever watched hockey. The 2nd period started, and the two teams switched sides. Not knowing hockey at all, I got confused for just a minute or two until I realized that that must be one of the things about hockey. So I turned to Scott and said (with a very straight face) "Look! It's the 2nd period, so they trade uniforms!" He looked out over the ice for a moment, nodded, started scanning over the players, and turned back to me. I had that smirk on my face that I always have when I pull one over on him. He threw his popcorn at me then. LOL!!!

That was so great! It was those little moments when we worked so well together. We knew each other so well, I knew exactly what I could get away with making him believe (if only for a few moments), and he knew exactly when I was teasing him. It was a challenge then to be able to word something so perfectly and deliver it with such a straight face that the ridiculous would seem totally plausible and believable. We would laugh over things like that.

I laugh when I think of those times, but then I'll start crying again. I've lost so much! I would say that it's unbearable, except that I have to bear it! And every time I do bear it, I wonder if I can keep bearing it any longer.

After doing some searching on the 'net, I realized that very few grief support groups are publicized on the Internet. I wound up calling the Gay and Lesbian Community Center in NJ and looked at the various peer support groups they offered. I left a message with them through their web site, and they just called me back tonight. It's nice to know that when you're in need, your own community is quick to respond.

There are two different support groups that would probably benefit me. One is a general peer support group consisting of men, the other is a support group of men and women. Both can offer support with dealing with loss. I think it'll be good to be around my peers. The emotion of grief is universal, and realistically, any support group of people grieving can help each other, but it may not work out that way in practice. My counselor told me of a support group, but it's advertised as "Catholic men and women who are widowed". Well, I'm Catholic, but I'm also gay. I'd be really nervous telling people in that group about me losing my partner. I'd be afraid that they wouldn't put much value on our relationship and make me feel even worse. So for now, I'll be very picky about which groups I attend. The mixed group meets tonight, but we're also predicting a lot of snow and freezing rain throughout the day, so I'm pretty sure it'll be cancelled and won't even try to attend. My little two-seater doesn't handle well on slick roads, and I still can't drive the Saturn yet because I don't have control of the estate (the Saturn is in Scott's name).

I was going to go to the men's support group tonight, but my counselor called and asked if I could switch my meeting to tonight. I felt it would be better to meet with my counselor so I put off going to the men's group. They meet twice a month... I'll just have to wait it out. My counselor is good. I like him. He's easy to talk to (considering the topic I'm discussing is difficult). I brought up something that really kind of surprised me. I said I wanted to move forward, but still bring my relationship with Scott with me. I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. We were together almost 24 years. I'm not going to leave it all behind. I want my relationship, and Scott, to be a part of me as I move forward. I want to feel that he's a part of me. I just don't know how the hell to do it! How do you move on after someone's death and still bring him with you? I want to leave the grief and pain behind, but still have him and my relationship as a part of me.

I think I'm ready to try.

Talk about being blindsided!

I was putting it off, but decided I finally had to fill out the acknowledgement cards to send out to all the people who sent flowers and baskets to the house and the funeral home. The funeral home had taken all of the cards from the arrangements and put them in an envelope for me so I had something to reference. They also supplied me with the acknowledgement cards and envelopes. Man, they think of everything! I pulled the cards out one by one and wrote out the "thank you"s. I pulled one card out with unfamiliar handwriting on it (they were all unfamiliar of course because the florist filled them out), and the card was a simple "With great sympathy" or something on it. It was signed "Bobby".

I looked at that card for several seconds wondering who the heck sent that! Then it came rushing back to me. I did. It was the card from the main arrangement on the casket. Being the "spouse", I was the one who supplied the casket arrangement. The memories of actually calling the florist and doing that came rushing back. I was instantly weeping uncontrollably and incapable of going any further.

Those things were so hard. As hard as everything is when you bury your partner, some things just shoot right past your defenses and stab you in the heart. Picking out the casket, buying the flowers for the casket, making up the memorial card. These things force your mind to accept the fact that your soulmate is gone, and the mind rebels.

How much hurt can a human being take?

This is where it really starts. Every entry before this one was done from memory. It's only now that I started this journal and am gradually filling in a few special dates preceding this one. I'm not sure why I'm doing this. Maybe I want some kind of public record declaring how much I cared for Scott. Maybe I want to be able to better understand the overwhelming grief I'm experiencing. Maybe I just want to share with people. But I'm starting this journal and going to use it to document my (hopefully successful) road to recovery.

Scott and I were together just over 23 and a half years. He loved it when people would ask how long we were together, and since we were less than 6 months from being together 24 years, he was so happy to be able to just say "24".

We were on vacation in Key West. It was a Friday night, and we were out drinking. I had a buzz on, but not too much. I believe Scott was depressed over the last year or two, and he "overindulged" and got really drunk. But he's done it before, and I've worried about him before, and he always managed to be OK. Sometimes though, I would have to step in and make sure he didn't get hurt. There were so many times he'd go out to the pool at the resort we were staying at, and I'd get worried because I was afraid he'd slip and hurt himself and drown. So I'd keep checking on him, and he'd get a bit upset with me that I was constantly checking on him, so he'd come in the room. That night, we were sitting in the hot tub outside, and I went inside for a bit. I wanted to check on him, but told myself that he's only sitting in that small hot tub and he's OK. But after 20 minutes or so, I figured I should go out.

My life was destroyed at that point. He was floating face down in the tub. I still don't know what happened. I don't know if he had an attack of some sort, slipped trying to get out and just had a horrible accident.... I just don't know. I won't know until the autopsy comes in. And as much as I have to see it, the thought of it terrifies me.

I jumped in screaming his name, gently turned him over, then dragged him out of the tub. I rolled him onto his belly and lifted him by the waist a little to try to get the water out of him. I pounded on his chest and breathed into him. He gave two little coughs, but wasn't responding much. I then tried to call the paramedics (who were already on their way). I was starting to lose it. The paramedics showed up and tried to revive him, but I watched him slip away from me. He was formally pronounced dead at the hospital, and my life was totally destroyed.

I had moved in with him when I was 21. I'm now 44. My entire adult life was with him. From where I'm standing now, there is NO future. At least, that's how I feel emotionally. Logically, I think I'll eventually recover and settle in with someone else. But emotionally? I can't ever picture being happy.

They say losing someone you love hurts. If you haven't lost a spouse or partner, you have no idea how much it hurts. It really fuckin' hurts so bad that you can't believe a human being can endure such pain. I hurt mentally. I hurt emotionally. And I even hurt physically! Unrelenting. Persistant. There are no options open to me, no roads to take, no shining light in the distance to strive for.

But a small part of me knows better. My damn logic again! I bought "The Grief Recovery Handbook" and will see if that can help me work my way through this grief. I took some Xanax, and will read the book a little while now until I'm so sleepy that I can't keep my eyes open.

I've got lots to do tomorrow, so I'll end it here for tonight.

Scott's Funeral
It was the most exhausting thing I've ever done. Scott's brother (Walter) and niece and nephew (Debbie and Doug) had come in for the services. Along with them and my mother, i went to the funeral home that day around 1:30 so we could see him before the services. When we got there, I told everyone that I wanted to be alone with Scott for a little bit first, and they all understood.

That was so fuckin' hard! I broke down there and talked to him a bit, telling him how sorry I was that I wasn't good enough to save him. I kneeled in front of him for a few minutes, then called the rest of the family in. There were quite a few tears there as they hadn't seen him yet. I had seen him already when he had passed in the hospital. He looked a lot better in the funeral home than he did in the hospital.

Services were at 5PM. I went there a half-hour early so I could be alone with him. I told him everything that transpired that night, and all I did to try to help him. It eased my mind quite a bit, and it let me dump out a lot of emotions so I was able to hold it together for the services.

The services lasted three hours, and I was overwhelmed with how many people showed up. Every one of my 100 remembrance cards I printed were taken by the guests. It was exhausting.

The hardest part ever though was when it was over. I stayed behind so I could be the last one to be with him, and to be with him alone. I had to say my final goodbyes. It was gut-wrentching. Saying goodbye the final time to the one you love most is the hardest thing you could ever do. But I did it.
After the services, we all went back to my house (just a few doors down the street) and had food and drink. Well, I only had food. It was sad in a way. Almost every person Scott would have liked to have seen was there that night. It would've been a fun party for him! When the final people left at 11 though, I was pretty much wiped out.

Scott died in Lower Keys Hospital, Key West, FL.

We were at the end of a long vacation we took after being together almost 24 years.