<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323</id><updated>2011-12-26T19:21:31.592-08:00</updated><category term='I&apos;m so sorry to say t'/><title type='text'>Life after his Death</title><subtitle type='html'>Perspectives I've encountered from my loss.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-977189579306637367</id><published>2011-10-18T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T23:21:55.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I&apos;m so sorry to say t'/><title type='text'>I miss you</title><content type='html'>I know I miss you, but remembering each day is unproductive and serves no purpose. I say this to you because I know that you would admonish me if I let myself feel otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;But I miss you Chip. The more that time goes by the easier it is to forget your influence in my life. Sometimes I forget your gone, but... sometimes I forget you were here.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry to say that, but you left just before it got hard... and you left us without you. How am I suppose to raise our kids without your support and love?&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;Imiss you.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being so strong when you knew you had to leave us behind. When you had to count on me to be more than I thought I could; when you had to be strong in order to make me feel strong. Thank you for the gift of confidence you left in me.... but I'm scared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-977189579306637367?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/977189579306637367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=977189579306637367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/977189579306637367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/977189579306637367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-miss-you.html' title='I miss you'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-8440690524355238602</id><published>2011-08-08T02:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T03:06:45.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG!!</title><content type='html'>Wow... I can't wait to to leave all these people who are force fed friendship commitments to me based on our genetics. I can't relate; I don't understand, and I can't forgive the selfish and narcissist emotions that I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; from my daily interactions with them. I have realized that in situation where I share my true hurt or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;disappointment&lt;/span&gt; I just can't win, so best bite your &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;tongue&lt;/span&gt; , hide your true emotions and put on a happy face. No one wants to see your side or feel your &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;anguish&lt;/span&gt; so instead I up being put in a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;defensive&lt;/span&gt; position for attempting to validate my feelings.... and I always seem to lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-8440690524355238602?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/8440690524355238602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=8440690524355238602&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8440690524355238602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8440690524355238602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2011/08/omg.html' title='OMG!!'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-8984357469214307071</id><published>2010-09-16T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T01:28:23.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm tired of my pity party, but I can't seem to want everyone else to be. How narcissistic I've become. My sister sheds a tear almost every day for the loss of her husband and I have no empathy to give her. I know she needs it from me, but accepts me as I am so she won't judge me for my lack of emotions. I'm not sure as to why I can't empathise with her; whether it's because I've been through it too so don't ask me to feel more for her pain than I do mine or because I just have lost my ability to be empathetic. Empathy.... this seems to be a reoccurring word. Have I lost mine?&lt;br /&gt;I don't cry daily about my loss and expect others to care, so why should I care? This is also because I know they can't care about my loss on a daily basis as I do..... and why should they? You all have your issues and I don't want to be involved in them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-8984357469214307071?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/8984357469214307071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=8984357469214307071&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8984357469214307071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8984357469214307071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-tired-of-my-pity-party-but-i-cant.html' title=''/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5170479647437283439</id><published>2009-03-18T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T00:07:38.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate you!! I hate you all... you could care less... no one cares. I am alone. This has been proven over and over to me. You wonder why we all are so screwed?... It's because we are alone. I am alone. I AM ALONE!!!!! F you all!! I am alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5170479647437283439?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5170479647437283439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5170479647437283439&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5170479647437283439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5170479647437283439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-hate-you-i-hate-you-all.html' title=''/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-7548933383642637669</id><published>2009-03-18T00:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T02:11:12.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The pain and loss of losing your spouse is the worst thing I have ever felt. It has irrevocable damaged me and changed me.&lt;br /&gt;This is a pain I would never wish on another soul.But in great irony and misfortune, it happened again. This time to my sister. She is my best friend and my twin... (Not in fact; however we have always been told we are identical and have always felt this way).&lt;br /&gt;Her husband passed last week. She too has two small children, the same age as mine. Blake was not just a Brother in Law, but a Brother in every sense of the word beyond blood. I have known him for 20 years... he grew up with us, and he and my sister fell in love in their youth.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to share the feelings I wrote down when I heard of his death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I sat down the other night and I tried to think of the most amazing time Blake and I had ever had together. I couldn't think of one that surpassed any other. When I think of my times with him; I see most of our recent moments.&lt;br /&gt; And in each of those I find it difficult to state the actual commentary said, because with Blake it somehow seemed to be the emotions you shared that you walked away with, not necessarily the words that were said.&lt;br /&gt; We came up with many Blakeism based on his reactions and resolutions to situations. The one I used the most; and the one I found most irritating was his ability to look in your eyes and admit his errors and say he planned to do better and to be better. You always believed him.&lt;br /&gt; How amazing would it be if what we learned from Blake was his ability to listen to someone lecture us with their opinions, and see only love thru the words… and see hope in their efforts, and hope to grow from their advice.&lt;br /&gt;I have recently walked a road I never wanted to take, and in so have learned a lot about defeat, shame, despair, weakness, solitude, but most importantly and lastly; I saw my value. On the day of his passing it pained me to hold in the utter grief and sadness I felt, especially when I joined our Family.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to wail out loud and fall to my knees in sorrow. It made me long for the times we have read about when you covered yourself in sackcloth and ashes and mourned in the street. He deserved all the sincerity of the anguish I felt.There was a moment that day that I sat down and just cried and vented. I sat with a friend and shared my loss and anger. I wailed and swore; I found my rage and my sadness…..; still nothing was enough to relieve the feeling that encompassed me. But in the following conversation I was able to have a Moment of peace and clarity. It was When I screamed out "I can't believe he did this!!!". My friend said to me "I know, I always thought he would come out of it for his kids". It was in this moment I felt like I understood Blake the most.However our ailments may differ, I know how it feels to be in his shoes. I can see the steps it takes to get to where you are; albeit, many stronger can choose differently. You wake up each day and see what you have in store for you. You have learned long ago not to fool yourself, so you say… OK, today I know I cannot make a change, and today I know nothing will be different, but God, Dear God, please give me something tomorrow; some strength, some difference, some person, some divine power that makes tomorrow different. When my friend said he thought the kids would be enough, I knew that Blake did too… just not today; but he always knew he had tomorrow to make it better… he always had tomorrow. He never gave up on his tomorrow. But his tomorrow never came.I love you so much Blake. You were my little brother, and my friend. My Blakob, and My Jacob.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-7548933383642637669?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/7548933383642637669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=7548933383642637669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/7548933383642637669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/7548933383642637669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/03/pain-and-loss-of-losing-your-spouse-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-7564467304399551826</id><published>2009-02-12T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T22:36:56.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger and Pain seems to grow....??</title><content type='html'>I was once the strength of my Family. I saved everyone; I was the one who made it all happen. When you needed help you came to me.&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was so above the pitiful excuses and failings that I saw being accepted by those who were weak of mind.&lt;br /&gt;With my entry and in the interest of full disclosure I feel I must make known my unusual upbringing.  I was raised in a commune. That is a story for a whole different day. Nevertheless this is part of what made me; and perhaps serves as some part of an explanation for the depths of my dismay.&lt;br /&gt;Although I express my pain, it is my end desire to pay it forward, and give something back to humanity.&lt;br /&gt;I was able to vent my anguish in a simple form… a journal; or better known as a “Blog”. I hope to submit it to reader  in the wish that it can help someone else.&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised when I looked thru my journal and found no specific mention of the day my husband died. This day for me was the day that God told me he may make your life perfect in the beginning, but there is always a price to pay.&lt;br /&gt;This I never knew, but I must have agreed to this fate when I became me. I was never a person who saw religion as a blanket rule. I was taught to believe in one man and told to accept what was told to me; but it never seemed to sit well and I never accepted the rules that were given to me as far as religion.  I know that there is a higher power… I know there is God, but in all this, I also know that no man can dictate the rules of God to me. I do not believe that  some “preordained” man, who is there only because this is the particular course he chose to “educated” himself with,  can infringe on me his perception of a testament that cannot be spoken to man alone.  I know that our God is a kind and righteous God… he does not want his children to live in despair. You are not born of sin, and if you are pure of heart you will not die in sin.&lt;br /&gt;How audacious you must be to think that you alone are the one with whom God communicates and that your earthly schooling gives you the right to speak on his behalf!! You haughty man!! The lord our God is all of us and we are all him. When he chooses to speak to me, it has come from him to me; not from “Oh you of vanity and pride”. I know where I will stand in the day of my reckoning.. I hope you do. I will have no shame or guilt and I will humble myself and accept all that I have done. I will walk into his arms as pure as the day I came into this life.&lt;br /&gt;Ok…   so I see that I must have some issues with my religion based on the last paragraph.  This is the power that writing gives you; the ability to let it all out without actual sound and physicality. With this discloser, I once again continue with my account of my life. &lt;br /&gt;So there I am… My beautiful strong man is barely alive. He asked me to stay with him, but in my disassociation, I ignored his plea, and chose to stay up stairs in my bed…… leaving him completely alone in the night for his last days.  Was it because I was really that cold and heartless, or dear God, please allow me to believe it was because I wouldn’t see the reality of the situation; and I thought it was just one more exaggeration that in the days to follow would soon pass? I left him alone when he begged me to stay.&lt;br /&gt;How can I ever forgive myself.  How sick and selfish I was.&lt;br /&gt;When he looked at me with helplessness; asking only for my love… was I able to give it to him? Or did I allow all the years of indifference to interfere with my love. In the previous days I chastised him when he spilled his medicine; telling him I was tired of picking up after him due to his laziness. “Be a man”… this is what I implied.  He looked at me and told me how sorry he was. In that moment I saw his suffering. He had never spoken to me with this emotion or looked at me with such need and trust. I did instantly feel remorse; but was it enough? Did I show that love to him? Did he know? After years of being conditioned to his lack of emotion, I passed this back in return. But I know that that was never me… and this was when he needed the girl he married… the one who cared for everyone, and would never let someone who was hurt go without help. Did I give that to him?  Was I so jaded that I made his pain insignificant? Did I offer enough support, love and emotions?&lt;br /&gt;On the day before he passed His best friend took my kids up for ice cream, just to give them a moment of normalcy. We had many kids passing thru the house in these last days and sugar snacks were prevalent.  When my attention was brought to the red color in the toilet bowl, I dismissed it as one of the many popsicles that had been doled out as had falling in. I knew my son had just been in there; however the explanation was perfectly sensible and I accepted the rational reasoning. In retrospect I remember that just before leaving I saw him running into the same bathroom again… then they were off to Baskin Robbins. &lt;br /&gt;The phone rang shortly after. I didn’t answer. The next time my best friend picked up and she looked confused.  “Henry is bleeding from behind and we are scared” was my interpretation of the call. I immediately thought back to the red water in the toilet and knew he had gone again. In hopeful denial of my serious concern I ran to the restroom.  The water was red… blood drops on the seat. Oh God. In that moment I felt like I was pushed into a nightmare and this was a scene from some horrid dream. I remember falling to the floor…This can’t be real! There is no God that would simultaneously take my Husband and son from me. This shouldn’t be real. But it was.&lt;br /&gt;For just one moment I used my sanity and told them to call 911. The rest is almost a blur. We ran to the car and started up to Henry. In these fleeting moments I remember knowing that my life was no longer in the whimsical bubble I insisted in living. I was going to learn that lesson in the most brutal way. I had seen movies where people; when faced with the most improbable dilemmas pray. I never knew how real that prayer was. Without thought I could repeat nothing but his name “Jesus Christ” Over and over and over.  When all was lost; how powerful a tribute it is that the only words that give you solace and comfort are when invoke his name. I learned a lot about my faith from that moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-7564467304399551826?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/7564467304399551826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=7564467304399551826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/7564467304399551826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/7564467304399551826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/02/anger-and-pain-seems-to-grow.html' title='Anger and Pain seems to grow....??'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-438278022369624771</id><published>2009-01-11T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T17:25:41.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so different.</title><content type='html'>When I write I tend to just spill it all out and release my emotions on paper. In the morning I can regret being so frank. Sometimes I resist writing down my true feelings and adding them to this site because I'm sure they will be viewed as skewed and abnormal. I'm not sure anyone is as messed up as I am.&lt;br /&gt;My Mother allowed for one year to get back to normal after she couldn't cope with my new personality... but that year has come and gone and I an still not what they expect me to be. I don't know how to break free from the reclusive emotions I feel or the crushing need to be alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-438278022369624771?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/438278022369624771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=438278022369624771&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/438278022369624771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/438278022369624771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-i-write-i-tend-to-just-spill-it.html' title='I&apos;m so different.'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-4547086809931246693</id><published>2009-01-11T02:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T17:27:12.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My relationship with men</title><content type='html'>It's been almost 20 months now. May 12, 2007. At first I felt nothing in regards to attraction to other men; and then one day I did. I'm not sure how it happened. But when it did it wasn't because I felt I was surrounded by my peers and looking for depth, it was because I saw how I had an advantage over men who were attracted to me, allowing me the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;luxury&lt;/span&gt; of indifference. I didn't mean for this to awaken a change in me, but I realized that for the first time in my life I didn't care what anyone thought of me, and that I could be in control void of concern or perceptions. But what I felt has not been healthy.&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to care for any man or treat them with respect. I'm losing it! I select situations where I won't care and refuse to participate in any relationship where I am required to give my heart. In selective insights I can see how I am looking to punish all men for my devastation. I need them to know that I will never love again; and to know they will never measure up to my husband. I am not shy about stating my expectations.&lt;br /&gt;I begin each relationship with unnecessary statements that protect me and prepare me for the emptiness that follows that I expect and seek. I want everyone to know that I am empty and care for nothing. I refuse to allow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt; to replace him. Do I need to? Can I just be alone? Where do I go from here? Is this going to come back and hurt me when I wake up… or is this just who I am?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-4547086809931246693?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/4547086809931246693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=4547086809931246693&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4547086809931246693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4547086809931246693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-been-almost-20-months-now.html' title='My relationship with men'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5536859332768398473</id><published>2009-01-06T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T01:05:52.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He should have been here!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq1-BXuA-I/AAAAAAAABzU/fGIy0J26e_g/s1600-h/DSC_2933.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290240789424505826" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq1-BXuA-I/AAAAAAAABzU/fGIy0J26e_g/s200/DSC_2933.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was an ideal vacation; one we had not taken since his passing. Me, my kids, Adam and his Love. Finally Adam had found himself committed to love. We always knew it would happen; just never sure when. I doubted and scrutinized her; I admit. He is too pure and beautiful of a soul for me to let him go without the knowledge that his partner will absolutely be his heart and future. After all my questions and perspectives I too realized she was the one for him....and with irrefutable emotions you could see that she did too. She is not the type to fall for this man; or him for her, unless there was purity in their love. No one could know how beautiful he is without receiving his love in turn. Unwittingly and without expectation; she saw his heart and could see no other life beyond theirs.&lt;br /&gt; I saw the way she fell for him; from first being a woman with places to go and finding the means to get there; to unexpectedly being a woman who realized she had all she could ever want…… and had not even realized it!!!!..... She could lose what we little girls had always dreamt of if she didn't open her eyes and realize perfection had been staring her in the face all along.&lt;br /&gt;In my most pure of hearts, I cherish the love they have and bless them with all the joy that I see is in their future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we are in Mexico ready for the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;I have learned to distance myself from any sort of painful emotion, and just live in the moment. This is not hard... I was given a gift from God when He passed; the knowledge that this was just a break and not an end. He and I would see one another again; with kids and family in tow; and it would be as it always was; it would be everything and more in that time. This sustains me; this allows me to live and love and continue each day.&lt;br /&gt;I had forewarned Adam that I was not emotional; so he should not be disheartened when he noticed I did not cry (as we assumed all his other best girlfriends would). I knew this to be a fact; but wanted him to know I loved him all the same.&lt;br /&gt;Then they came down the aisle...... his Father holding the arms of both Adam's Mother and Yana's Mother. These two women were so awe inspiring and so kind and so loving and so pure; and they were giving away their children.... It was momentous. I saw such beauty; so much more than I knew I could see. This started my emotional spiral.&lt;br /&gt; They had both opened their hearts up to me with such kindness and love and each had included me in their families as if I were one of their own. It was as though the marriage of Adam and Yana had included me and joined me into both families. I know that I could rely on either side to be there for me should I ever need help and this assistance would come with no strings attached.&lt;br /&gt;So there I am watching my children precede Yana down the aisle… all the spectators were cheering and admiring the striking event in its entire splendor.&lt;br /&gt; I had heard thru friendly comments that although Adam would have loved to place Henry in the Best Man’s position; he thought it would be too emotional for him to see Henry standing in the shoes of his Father.&lt;br /&gt;This emotional location did not occur to me.&lt;br /&gt;I love Adam no matter what choices he makes and I have absolute security his every decision. So I was not prepared for the effect his last minute alteration would have. Somehow; though I'm not sure it didn't happen on coincidence; Henry stood by Adam in the space of the Best Man.&lt;br /&gt; And I saw him.&lt;br /&gt; For the first time since he left me I saw him as sure as if he were there. I saw his physical being standing next to Adam. I felt his joy and glee and humility and pride. I have never felt his utter certainty like I did in that moment. And for the first time his empty space hit me….. And his absence screamed at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; HE SHOULD BE HERE!! THIS IS WHAT HE EARNED!! HE DESERVES THIS MOMENT TO CHERISH AND ENJOY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw all that he would say and all that he would have done. With his hand raised in each toast and with each drink I heard each jeer he would have given; his grin and laugh filled with pride, love and comradery. His laughter hardly contained with his jaw closed; his amusement seeping out; I see how he heckles Adam and finds ways to goad his wedding night performance; his hardly containable chuckling is contagious as he exaggerates the expectations required of a husband; all followed by more laughter. He is so happy!&lt;br /&gt;As I write I almost can believe he was there.&lt;br /&gt;And then I see the emptiness again.&lt;br /&gt;He would have loved to see his children and would have loved to see his friend enter into his new life and family.&lt;br /&gt; I was a poor substitute; unworthy of the love he left for me from his dearest friends. They passed on all their love and loyalty to me in honor of him, but I could never give to them what he did.&lt;br /&gt;You were my anchor… you kept me grounded… everything I was; was because of you. I became a woman with you; without you I am half. They don't realize that you were not just my husband and lover; you were my best friend, my teacher, my father, my brother, my son; my life…. How can anyone expect me to be the same when half of who I am is gone?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5536859332768398473?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5536859332768398473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5536859332768398473&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5536859332768398473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5536859332768398473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2009/01/he-should-have-been-here.html' title='He should have been here!'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq1-BXuA-I/AAAAAAAABzU/fGIy0J26e_g/s72-c/DSC_2933.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-6795410154733460874</id><published>2008-05-13T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We did it.</title><content type='html'>We did it.&lt;br /&gt;It was so clear once I looked. We honored him true to his spirit. He loved the water and loved boating. He would spend hours on our dock nature watching, and often had slumber parties with the kids in the boat. I have not been on the dock or boat since he passed, so it was important to let go of this avoidance. The kids and I went on the boat and lit candles. We made a paper boat each, and filled them with flowers and a candle. Audrey put each one in the water, and Henry dropped flowers in around them. We watched till they were out of sight, and then went down to the park to see them pass by again. It was perfect.&lt;br /&gt;He is with me. I end this day with peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="3299458214650199805"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a name="545137503200437386"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-6795410154733460874?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/6795410154733460874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=6795410154733460874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/6795410154733460874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/6795410154733460874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/05/we-did-it.html' title='We did it.'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-2797471495022933035</id><published>2008-05-12T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T02:23:23.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Year Today.............</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq2dxBwc_I/AAAAAAAABzc/3epXEugyQc8/s1600-h/Picture+145.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290241334793237490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq2dxBwc_I/AAAAAAAABzc/3epXEugyQc8/s200/Picture+145.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290241341315042930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq2eJUrTnI/AAAAAAAABzk/Vn-gmol9hLc/s200/Picture+144.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today is one Year.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I had planned to take my 9 year old daughter out to the cemetery to pay our respects. However the thought has weighed on me, and I wonder if is a necessary choice. Why do I need to remind her that our loss has a date? Is it so important that she know when she lost her father? Is it better to leave well enough alone, and for her to just know he is not with us, and feel him around her in spirit?I have already made the decision not to take my 4 year old son with us. I can't imagine he could benefit from discovering that his Father is not just “out there”, but instead hearing that he is in the ground beneath us? He knows about Heaven, and this is still a location he can visualize, not a physical finality. My girlfriend brought up her Grandmothers passing, and subsequent cremation, saying she wished she had a place to go where she could grieve; this is in reference to my husband being in a cemetery. The conversation made me confront my issues with going to his gravesite.I do not receive solace from being there. It does not necessary bring me closer. It is not him. The real result of being there forces me to face the harsh reality that his body is beneath me, and destroyed by the elements of death. Why would I feel good about being at a place that holds no semblance of his person? It kills me to accept the truth of what is below me. It almost angers me that it is assumed this is where I would gain the largest source of comfort and closeness. He is not there! He is in the bed next to me. He is in the family room watching TV. He is with me as I pass all the places we went together. He is with me in thought as I get out of the shower, and dampen the rug; something that would drive him nuts. He is felt when I grocery shop, and pass by the items that I always had to include for him. His presence is with me more as I go on with my daily life; not this random plot of land, never visited by the two of us! This place means nothing! He is not the body incased below me! I hate timelines! Why do I need to commemorate his death? I hurt so deeply in this moment. I hate the perception that today is a day that I would feel more pain than that which is with me always.&lt;br /&gt;……………………………My Love.&lt;br /&gt;I think that maybe to honor him, perhaps we should all go to a place that we experienced Family, and laughter. That is where he is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-2797471495022933035?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/2797471495022933035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=2797471495022933035&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/2797471495022933035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/2797471495022933035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/05/one-year-today.html' title='One Year Today.............'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gMxT-8ZNz8A/SWq2dxBwc_I/AAAAAAAABzc/3epXEugyQc8/s72-c/Picture+145.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-2371063100729721598</id><published>2008-04-20T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T17:30:20.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When Cancer entered our life</title><content type='html'>I remember when he was first diagnosed how I would look at elderly couples, and feel resentment. I allowed my pain and anger to dictate my life and in essence control who I was. At some point we started to loose "us" by living in our impending doom. We noticed that allowing such destructive emotions seemed to drain us from just enjoying life. We could not be the couple who lived each day as reality; instead we had a shadow of fear over us. How could we be responsible parents and maintain joy with each other if we were in a state of constant despair? With unspoken words we decided to do our best to just be normal. Not "live each day as though it's your last", because that was not our real life. We both knew what would come, but refused to ask for a timeline. Our Doctors never gave us hope; we had to find that in each other. Each time we left his chemo appointments. We felt the devastating anguish of reality. This was the only time we accepted what was yet to come. With strained indifference we made plans for the time he was no longer with us, and tried to prepare for the pain that would await us, and how we wanted his life commemorated.In these moments I saw how truly heartbroken he was, and witnessed his most vulnerable moments. It was so painful for him to watch our hearts break when for that moment we let go of hope, and conceded to the certainty of his passing. He spoke of his truest friends with such depth of gratitude and admiration, knowing each would care for his family as if we were their own. I know that with this knowledge he was able to face his future confident we would always be looked after.Outside of these days, we were determined to live as we had always lived. We bought what we wanted, we disciplined our kids, and we planned for years in the future. We even made an offer on an AZ vacation home 1 week before he passed. Luckily we did not continue. We got mad with each other, and made up with each other, but we refused to live every moment in Death. I think this really helped me deal with his passing. He and I made decisions on what we would do, how he would like things carried out, and although he is not here, I am able to hold his values, and carry out his plans for the future of our family with his guidance in my every step. But Dear God, do I miss his advice...the look on his face that would imagine forever as he mapped out the road for our life.My Children are still so pure and young they have not yet realized the finality of their Fathers absence. It is so easy for them to accept that Daddy has gone to Heaven, but will be there to see us someday, and we will all be together again. This is a fear for me, because they have accepted our loss, but in turn with the promise that it is not permanent. They have not realized the concept of time. Neither have I. I dread the years to come. I have no idea how my babies will deal with the emptiness that will inevitability be part of their future. I know that what I have seen in friends from my childhood gives me great concern. It seemed that those from broken homes or single parents carried pains and insecurities. Please give me the strength to give my children discipline, love, tolerance, prayer, security, pride and humility.I can only go into each day, and hope I leave stronger, and clearer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-2371063100729721598?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/2371063100729721598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=2371063100729721598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/2371063100729721598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/2371063100729721598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-remember-when-he-was-first-diagnosed.html' title='When Cancer entered our life'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-9072782575398171627</id><published>2008-04-20T02:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Responsibilities</title><content type='html'>I have been lost for so long, in terms of involvement with the world outside. I do what is absolutely necessary, but little beyond. When my husband first passed, I chose to disconnect from all reality. I didn't answer the phone, didn't return calls, quit going out, and quit opening mail. Everything seemed so unimportant. Now, I feel like I may be able to leave my room, and even the house. I am putting effort into cleaning up all that was neglected. In my efforts I see how much I have let slide, and it feels overwhelming! Every time I try to fix my real world problems I get more difficulties thrown back at me. I struggle with adapting to doing all household tasks alone. And I am making a mess. I just saw more bills come in and dealing with financial issues was something I knew would never be a problem for me. That was when I saw life go on forever, not dissolved at 35. I just unrealistically wish everyone else would have put my responsibilities on hold as long as I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-9072782575398171627?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/9072782575398171627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=9072782575398171627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/9072782575398171627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/9072782575398171627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/new-responsibilities.html' title='New Responsibilities'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5649014075183361206</id><published>2008-04-20T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting go of Possessions</title><content type='html'>I don't feel ready to let his belongings leave me. I don't throw away anything he has written on, or any receipt from our last trip together. What I have been able to do, is to pass along some of his clothes to my friends or family. In this way, I am not giving them up entirely, and there is even a sense of comfort when I see someone wearing them. This is not to say I can let everything go yet. I still keep the clothes he was most at home in. They hang in my closet, and our dresser still holds his socks, tees etc. I can't seem to get rid of the projects he started when Time was free to him. He started so many useless and varied projects, but they still are all I have left of that part of him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5649014075183361206?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5649014075183361206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5649014075183361206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5649014075183361206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5649014075183361206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/letting-go-of-possessions.html' title='Letting go of Possessions'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-3244761182436705508</id><published>2008-04-16T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:52:55.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is me now... adjust</title><content type='html'>Please stop trying to understand my state of mind; please stop attempting to find someway to 'Help" me and connect with my emotions. I understand this is a way to feel like you are being a good friend, but the friends I feel closest to are those who just accept how I am in this single moment. On any given day, complete with my ups and downs, the greatest support I receive comes in the form of silence and acceptance. Sadly, this trait also reveals insight into the strength of our relationships; when, in your isolation you may not need to take advantage of the support offered you. I quickly saw this gift tarnish without use, there by eliciting resentment, anger and judgment. I received cruel and hurtful criticism as a result of the choices I made that didn't fit into the perceived road to recovery that had been pre-determined. I was not searching for quick fixes or advise; there are no answers. I choose to give myself time and me. I cannot receive what you hope to offer me. I need to take this journey alone. I see myself clearly, and I will not belittle his memory and hawk my pain to for the benefit of your feelings. Critical insight and negative opinions reveal insecurity and lack of depth, begging the question of motive in offering support; "Is this for my benefit", or will this simply allow you to receive validation of your superior friendship, and rationalize your need to pass judgment on me and my choices? These airs definitely push me away. I don't need anyone to help me with my grieving, it is not something that can be talked, hugged or cried away, it is something that I must deal with, and I know myself enough to face this and process my pain. The only thing that I did need from my friends was no judgments, and unconditional love. I saw who was there in this capacity, and I saw who was not. I gain no support and no emotional help from the latter...just distance. I know how a true and open friend should be, and have learned a lot from this past year. I choose to only have strong, real and completely open friendship with ones who reciprocate, and just enjoy others, without actually caring about what they may say, or the way they choose to live....really I don't care. I don't want big parties, I don't want people over all the time, I don't want to always dine out and shop away my days....I will just be me, and surround my life with friends who love me without condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;With all the personal changes I am going thru in this process of acceptance/anger/loss, etc, I have also found a part of myself that is stronger and more confident than ever before. It is a pure acceptance in me, and recognition in how to be true to myself.I acknowledge that if I am pure of heart in my actions, and accept the personal mistakes and decisions that I have made, I will find my peace.In my solitude, I have given up guilt, I accept people and their choices without judgment (as long as these are my true friends, and choices are made pure of malice). I don't react to things that won't hurt me, and see the world in a much simpler light. I have found accountability. It is truly rewarding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have put distance into some friendships, and the effect of dealing with my loss has changed the way others think of me, it does not matter. The ones who can't accept me as I am, and who I will become, would not have turned out to be true soul friends anyhow. I have pulled away from certain people, but others have shined so much brighter, and a new found love and respect has emerged. In the search for my acceptance I in turn am able to give this to others. How we are and who we become, can positively change the lives of others, because of what we have seen. This really reveals traits you never saw or confronted, and clears up how strong your relationships are. As you grow, you will sadly leave many who have not accepted themselves behind. We have become our biggest support.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-3244761182436705508?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/3244761182436705508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=3244761182436705508&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/3244761182436705508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/3244761182436705508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/please-stop-trying-to-understand-my.html' title='This is me now... adjust'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-3434235288412967930</id><published>2008-04-06T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:53:49.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know where to go</title><content type='html'>I don't quite know where I go. I have tried to find solace and still find myself alone. It may seem intentional to some, however I am in search of the catalyst that propels me to the place where I begin to truly heal. Is it because I only write when I feel totally alone, or because I am not involved in the day to day pleasantries I read, or does my age hinder me from evolving to the place widows of greater maturity seem to have found. Maybe I am searching for something that can only come from time and from me. I just don't even know anything, with any certainty anymore. Remember when we knew what was going to happen, and the choices you made were your own; you choose what you would make of your future....I always held that power....But when it is stripped from you, you see at first your primary loss, and then the dominoes fall.....All you know and who you are loses all certainty. Perhaps the knowledge that the life of my children has not even begun; and they have not yet realized the extent of their discarded future, has locked me in this state of perpetual fear. Sometimes I can remove myself so far from reality, I can feel the joy of life again, but when I am alone I know I am far from okay. I just can't see the end.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-3434235288412967930?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/3434235288412967930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=3434235288412967930&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/3434235288412967930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/3434235288412967930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-dont-quite-know-where-i-go.html' title='I don&apos;t know where to go'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5201976300912607236</id><published>2008-04-06T12:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:54:30.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking time to think about him</title><content type='html'>It's hard to allow myself to stop, and take the moment to remember my Husband. When I do, it can be so easy to fall into despair. Just thinking about what an amazing time we had in his last weeks makes me feel his loss so much more. I don't want to push him aside, and go about my day, pretending I'm accepting him being gone. But, I also can't function if I allow memories to stay in the forefront of daily life. He was such a private, strong, dedicated husband. He was the type who didn't want to talk all the time, which often left me angry and frustrated. However in his last weeks he opened himself to everyone. It was such an incredible gift to leave us with. He gave me such love, and wanted me in his every moment. He was this new and beautiful person, giving me emotions that I had always needed from him. We took our kids out of school, bought a motor home, and traveled to California to visit in his favorite destinations; Disneyland, Sea World and The San Diego Zoo. Then headed to AZ, and beyond. We camped wherever we landed. He made sure that he visited each of his 10 sisters, and left them with his love, hopes, and blessings for their futures. On Tuesday he began to lose himself, and I saw the end of our life creeping up way too fast. I just wanted the summer. His best friend flew to AZ, and drove us home, nonstop, with no sleep. He was barely there, I was losing my husband. We arrived home midnight on Wednesday, and he was gone Saturday morning, surrounded by his children, Father and sisters. We gave him love, and released from this world, letting him know he could go. The hardest part was when my 8 year old daughter gave him her acceptance to leave us. She had been begging him to wake up and see her one more time. He gave everything he had to us on our trip, and told me it was the best time he had had in his life. I was so lucky to have those last memories and his complete Love. He was so strong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5201976300912607236?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5201976300912607236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5201976300912607236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5201976300912607236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5201976300912607236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-hard-to-allow-myself-to-stop-and.html' title='Taking time to think about him'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-4396424821975256205</id><published>2008-04-06T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:56:20.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self reflections</title><content type='html'>The hardest part about sharing is realizing that you are the same as the people you share your grief with. We come to this space to find our similar ground, and know we are not alone, however in this respect, I feel like I should not make issue with my turmoil, because I know my loss is no more painful than yours. I just feel like I have chosen to disregard rational thought since he has left, and allowed weakness to determine the choices I make.I rarely allow his memory to be with me. I will spend days where I will push aside any thought of him. I hate it when others try to talk about him, as though they knew him. If this is an effort to make me feel good, it only makes me push them away. I don't expect them to cure me, fix me or identify with the place and person my change has created. I have always been the leader in my family, now... I have lost that and I don't care. I feel like I need to be true to where I am, but in the eyes of family....I have loss standing. And I don't care. I have lost any joy in imagining my future. I care to only do the least that can be done. What people think of me means nothing. I feel like its good on one had to accept myself, but it also troubles me how much I have changed. I really owe no one anything.....besides my kids, and for them I can only do the best I can. Am I in need of serious help, or is this just a step in our process? He has been gone 10 1/2 months. I try to leave this fact somewhere else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-4396424821975256205?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/4396424821975256205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=4396424821975256205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4396424821975256205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4396424821975256205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/hardest-part-about-sharing-is-realizing.html' title='Self reflections'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-4094807996367286911</id><published>2008-04-06T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:57:42.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My perspective of a friend</title><content type='html'>I respect our uniqueness, but rejoice when I see a perfect union. To witness true souls find love and whole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt; give their trust and future to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;each other&lt;/span&gt;, with transparent acceptance, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;demonstrates&lt;/span&gt; how we too can let go of the search for "MORE". Love inspires others to risk their heart and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; in all possibilities; in respect to life, love, family and positive actions for our future. I love that you found your other half. So many souls will search in vain and never be where you are. You are Whole. I admire you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-4094807996367286911?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/4094807996367286911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=4094807996367286911&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4094807996367286911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4094807996367286911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-respect-our-uniqueness-but-rejoice.html' title='My perspective of a friend'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5600500236544966654</id><published>2008-04-06T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T18:59:35.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Validation to offset regrets</title><content type='html'>You are good, you make mistakes, but the beauty is you get to learn from them, and just accept yourself as imperfect, yet still perfect for your imperfections. You have not gotten to the point where you will selfishly or constantly choose yourself over a friend or over what is the best for your family. So you fell down, well pick yourself up! You will only make it a problem if you let it take over your strength and cause you to loose your power; because your power is what will keep you in check. You will never be anything but good; you will always be pure in your heart. Why would you doubt yourself so much? Just start today new.....I have absolute trust in true friendship...that means you owe no explanation and need make no amends. I don't believe friends should need to reassure each other of their friendship, or need to defend actions committed with no ill intent. True friends will trust, accept, and reject all judgment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5600500236544966654?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5600500236544966654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5600500236544966654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5600500236544966654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5600500236544966654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-are-good-you-make-mistakes-but.html' title='Validation to offset regrets'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5373160970687378630</id><published>2008-04-06T12:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:00:19.951-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Isolation and changes</title><content type='html'>I don't have many acquaintances outside of my enormous family and lifelong friends. I am a stay at home mom, so it is rare I get to meet new people, so I have not yet felt the entire scope of reactions you get as a widow. Sometimes I tell people because I feel like it is the way I explain myself, as if that is what defines who I am. In truth, at this time it does seem to define me...just because I know that I have developed a new outlook on life, and in the relationships I make. I use to care about everything...things would effect me, and I would react. Now, I don't care. Is this really bad? I actually like the fact that I am not bothered by anything, anyone, or any situation. To my friends; partly in humor, but truthfully in fact, I have coined a new phrase/mantra- Don't Ask, Don't Care, Don't tell. My friends say they miss the old feisty part of me... But it feels so much better to remain unaffected by life. No one knows how it feels to have your entire future demolished, to know your children will never have all that life and God intended for them. I have lost have of my identity; because as you know when you commit yourself to marriage, you promise to join your lives... you become one. How can you stay the same? How can they think you will "bounce back"? It's insulting and demeaning. I will not waste my energy trying to defend why I lay in bed most of the day, or why I won't answer my phone for days at a time. To infer this is my choice to be altered, only makes me distance myself further. I believe in myself and refuse to let others instruct me how to be happy, especially when their opinions come from pure speculation on a loss that they can never understand. Sorry...I guess I do still have feelings, but these are the ones I will not voice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5373160970687378630?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5373160970687378630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5373160970687378630&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5373160970687378630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5373160970687378630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-dont-have-many-acquaintances-outside.html' title='Isolation and changes'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-1103815186553925042</id><published>2008-04-06T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:01:42.467-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Continuing to reflect</title><content type='html'>I know as widows we are all alike, so to us we become the norm. I guess that is good for me, it makes it easier to speak of the loss, and change that is me. I have so many different emotions conflicting in me...I don't want sympathy, but to an outsider...I believe I sure as hell deserve it..., We all have horrid stories of our loss and mine is no less painful. I am a young widow, married to my husband at 21, and losing him at 34. We have 2 children he adored. He was stolen from them, and that is a pain I will never overcome. Our Doctor insisted he come in for his test on Christmas Eve... I had no idea there was the slightest possibility of an illness. My love always shielded me from situations he thought would cause me stress. I pleaded to our doctors to let me reschedule his appointment for a better time; we had plans out of town for the holidays. They insisted he needed to be there, so I reluctantly gave in. Having his appointment scheduled for Christmas Eve was hard to justify..... I understand the obligation to set priorities in respect to health concerns; however you would think that with my begging they would have let the appointment slide for a few days. I remember the most irrelevant of details. My 5 year old daughter played with a purple plastic glove, while I held my one month old son in my arms listening as the pleasant and detached Doctor told me my husband had incurable cancer. I hurt so deeply, and feel his absence in every moment. I fear the singleness, the loss of my future and that of my children. In my process I have also discovered a new strength and acceptance in my life I never had. I have discovered contentment and security in myself. My feelings are so muddled... I have changed, but is it for the better... I have made many mistakes on my way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-1103815186553925042?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/1103815186553925042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=1103815186553925042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/1103815186553925042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/1103815186553925042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-know-as-widows-we-are-all-alike-so-to.html' title='Continuing to reflect'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-4345231678555438710</id><published>2008-04-06T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:05:41.888-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What happens now?</title><content type='html'>I have changed so much since I lost my husband, and I wondered how many of us have felt these obvious changes to our personality. I use to react much more to situations, and have more involvement in life all around me. I always surrounded myself with family and friends, and if there was an event, I was there. Now stay home 90% of the time. I rarely answer the phone...I have nothing to say or give. Peoples look at me with disappointment that I have allowed my self to morph into this sad, empty, and selfish person. My parents are the most difficult...they want to know when I plan to get up and enjoy the day. They constantly ask me to come over, and set themselves up to be disappointed by my refusals. My dad is a religious man, so he has his opinions of what needs to be done to become a "normal me" again. His ideas give me no pause to stop and think, "Oh, ya...that's all it will take, Jeez, Your right!" instead it makes me want to avoid them. My Mom will say...”let's go out..." when she sees this is not going to happen, she'll end it with a GUILT comment "We use to have fun, you know".... I know I am different, but this is me right now, and I can't force myself to be someone else, and I won't. I will try to be the best I can be for me, my kids, and my family...but I won't let other people make me feel ashamed of myself. The only way I cope now is just making sure I distance myself from the intense loss and loneliness inside me. I am trying to focus on who I am now as a single entity, and embrace the strengths I am finding in myself. In truth, I like me...not the recluse part, but the part that is more accepting, less judgmental, and really cares only about being accountable for me and my actions. I no longer care what others think, or would say about me. I am me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-4345231678555438710?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/4345231678555438710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=4345231678555438710&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4345231678555438710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/4345231678555438710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-have-changed-so-much-since-i-lost-my.html' title='What happens now?'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-5463503944181390831</id><published>2008-04-06T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Information I found regarding The Process I am going thru</title><content type='html'>The physical and emotional exhaustion of phase two often leads people into phasethree: “Retreat”. The restlessness, desire to stay busy, and the anger and frustration willturn to the desire to be alone, to rest, and to contemplate and reorganize. This phase ismost commonly characterized by withdrawal, despair, decreased social support, andfeeling helpless or hopeless. Physical symptoms consist of an increased need for sleep,fatigue, weakness, and a lowered immune system. The body needs to slow down andconserve all the energy that was exerted in phase two. By the time phase three is reachedthe bereaved is near exhaustion. Sleep is an adaptive response to the insomnia of phasetwo and individuals in phase three may find themselves sleeping a lot. Bereavedindividuals may fear they are depressed as they’ve heard that excessive sleep is a sign ofdepression. However, in this case, it is most likely a restorative response of the body.This phase finds individuals wanting to retreat and be alone as feelings of utter despair ofthe realization that the deceased is never coming back begin to sink in. Quiet time ofreflection is often important to people in this stage. Social support tends to decrease atthis time as most friends and family have gone back to their daily lives, and loved onesexpect the bereaved to be getting on with their lives.9Psychological aspects of phase three include feelings of regressing, preoccupationwith the deceased, discarding old goals and a glimmer of knowledge that life may still beworthwhile. Phase three is typically the longest and most difficult phase. Realization hasdawned that every aspect of life has changed, and the bereaved may feel as if the purposeof one’s life is lost forever. This is an important time for the bereaved to review his or herpast life and assess how life will be handled in the future. New patterns must be formedand all of this will take time and reflection. At the completion of phase three a firstglimmer of hope can be identified and feelings of hopelessness will subside.“Loss of a spouse isone of the most serious threats to health, well-being, and productivity that most peopleencounter during their lives”Give yourself time. It typically takes 1 to 5 years to go through all 5 tasks — and even longer if the spouse's death was unexpected or traumatic, LoCicero says.Honor your feelings, mentally and physically. Especially early on in your bereavement, "a lot of people think they should grieve this way or they should resume a particular activity at a certain time," Noel says. "It's unique to each individual. Put aside your expectations of what you think grief should look like and follow your feelingsAmerica has been called the land of "fast-food grief". We are somehow expected to get over a major loss in a few days, or weeks at the most. Other cultures do not expect this of people. They realize that we all need much more time to heal. Most of the time, it takes about two years to become fully functional after such a significant loss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-5463503944181390831?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/5463503944181390831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=5463503944181390831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5463503944181390831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/5463503944181390831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/information-i-found-regarding-process-i.html' title='Information I found regarding The Process I am going thru'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-6706305239766379259</id><published>2008-04-06T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T02:08:37.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Thoughts</title><content type='html'>With the passing of my husband last May, I was left with indescribable loss, more than I could ever imagine. We knew our time together was going to end, so in a way were dealing with the grief that would come; it was painful and heartbreaking. I could not begin to understand how much more pain would come with his actual passing. Losing not only your future, but that of your children. They lose a gift that they will never have the chance to know. How will the void change them? I can never know, because I had my father, but to just speculate, my god...what a devastating loss. I knew that just one half of me would be there to support and guide our children; compiled with the grief and loss, it is more than I ever would have imagined. The profound loss of a husband, my children’s Father, and friend seemed to be more than I could bear; however just now I seem to be emerging from this self imposed emptiness’ I have exiled myself into. I can make it beyond this trial, however it creates a most difficult adjustment is the judgments, opinions, and are my friends and family, who can't seem to accept the my new self, and the new person I have discover, become. But the most amazing part of it all is how I have discovered a new perspective; a new strength; and a certain awareness of my reality. I will never be the same, I have lost half of me, however in a last gift, he was able to leave me contentment and security I never knew was inside of me. I have grown. I have felt strength.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-6706305239766379259?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/6706305239766379259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=6706305239766379259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/6706305239766379259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/6706305239766379259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/with-passing-of-my-husband-last-may-i.html' title='My Thoughts'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-9029876749811262096</id><published>2008-03-12T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As it is now...</title><content type='html'>My husband and I decided he needed to stop working on November 1st of 2007, and do what we could to enjoy what time we had left. We had never wanted to hear a time limit, however inadvertently I received a possible time frame when I asked our doctor his opinion on having more children. Of course I didn’t real want to believe my husband could ever really be gone, and we didn't want to live our lives with this impending doom dictating our future. My husband would continue to make plans as far in the future as he ever had. Our doctor asked my why I would bring children into a world where they would only have a father for 5 years at the most. I finally got an answer to a question I never wanted. I never told him, and if he ever had a timeline he never told me...I think we both wanted to protect the other from what we already both knew. By this time my love had been living with cancer for almost 3 years, and working constantly, 80hrs a week. I was excited to have him home to spend all of his energy with me and the kids. We decided to mortgage our home, take our equity and spend our time in a perpetual vacation. It was amazing to have him home for the first time in 12 years of marriage, and although I have heard horror stories of retired couples going mad once they have 24/7 with each other, we were able to easily adapt to our new situation. For the first time since we've had children, we took a vacation without them. He was a different person, maybe because of the free time he discovered, and in part because of the treatment, and medicines he was taking. We found way to enjoy the new aspect life presented him, and found humor in some of the odder quirks. We did things together we had never done, and communicated better than we ever had. To see him be able to give up on all his perceived notions of men bringing home the bacon, and instead just relax, had a profound effect on our family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-9029876749811262096?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/9029876749811262096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=9029876749811262096&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/9029876749811262096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/9029876749811262096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2008/03/as-it-is-now.html' title='As it is now...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90312243757278323.post-8213743161706833041</id><published>2007-04-07T04:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T03:06:46.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I'm mad........</title><content type='html'>I'm a starting this blog to vent, not for problem solving, but just for venting. Please feel free to vent with me and post your issues. Sometimes its easier to just post a journal, either because you don't want to bother your friends with your problems, or most won't even begin to comprehend the amount of pain and frustration your in, and burdening them is pointless; or, maybe no one cares.&lt;br /&gt;I find myself blaming people when I am angry or frustrated. I know it's stupid and while you're doing it you know it is not the solution to your problem, but someone has to pay, someone's wrong; someone is responsible for your anger, right? No, even while yelling, crying or what ever it is you do, you know you’re the one who is acting out and being irrational. But please God, why do the good ones have to die! My husband of 13 years and father to my two beautiful children has terminal cancer. He is going to be gone from our lives soon. I can't help but feel this is our last summer.&lt;br /&gt;Our doctor ordered hospice for him, and they came to our home to discuss the tasks and what the course of action would be. In the discussion they spoke of his death, and although it was not their fault they would mention where he planned to DIE, and the way they used the word was without pause or any sort of discomfort, with such a caviler attitude. We sat there like pleasant hosts, entertaining our guest and speaking of the impending death of my children’s father. Where are we when we can have emotionless conversations with strangers discussing our life being over? How can I face each day with a smile when I know that all I have ever counted on and known is about to be destroyed? How will my children survive? Will they grow up to be well adjusted, or have a life time of emotional struggles due to the lack of a father? Will anyone step in and try to be a father figure to them?&lt;br /&gt;When we were first diagnosed everyone comes to you and says they will be there for you and to always count on them, but they’re lying. Please don't ever say that to anyone, because it not true and we remember you said it, and we know you won't back it up with actions, and it makes us angry. Oh, I know your intentions are good, and if you only had the time you would and it's just not convenient right now.......Well neither is my husband dying.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, my love...how can you live each day without complaint, knowing you will never see your children grow into beautiful young adults? Your son will have little to no memories of you. You will never see your children graduate, but I promise you they will, and you will be proud. You will never walk your daughter down the aisle. You will never hold you first grandchild in your arms. These things have all been stolen from us. I can't imagine being in your shoes...looking out your eyes or feeling your fear. I can be so selfish, and sometimes feel so angry that this is happening to me, but you... you will loose so much, I can't begin to imagine the depths of your despair. You show such love in your efforts to alleviate my suffering, when it is you who suffers oh so greatly. You have always made it your life’s' goal that the children and I were happy. You have forever made sure I was stress free, you have always taken all the problems and made them go away in an effort to make sure we never had to worry. And my God, how you love your children. There are so many fathers who consider taking care of their kids "babysitting", or a task, but you have always relished every moment, and included your family in all aspect of your life. You have revolved everything you do around us, and loved your children with such fierce determination, you have given me family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/90312243757278323-8213743161706833041?l=acancerwidow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/feeds/8213743161706833041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=90312243757278323&amp;postID=8213743161706833041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8213743161706833041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/90312243757278323/posts/default/8213743161706833041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acancerwidow.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-i-mad.html' title='Why I&amp;#39;m mad........'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404640677492535394</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
