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I cannot thank all of you enough for your support, well-wishes, sympathy, empathy, commiseration, and, of course, lending me your "ears", as it were.  It has been and continues to be an enormous help.  Exposing myself in this or any other manner is actually very out of character for me.  

I have been a solitary person pretty much all my life.  I know a lot of people, have some friendly acquaintances, but my beloved was the only person I truly considered a friend.  So, there is no one for me to go to, no tangible shoulders to cry on, no "mates" to see me through.  No relatives, no siblings.  Just me, all alone (and my son, of course), as I was before him and am now after his departure.

I am from a small town in the deep south.  There just aren't men like my beloved where I am, and the thought of moving up to where we were supposed to be together just seems like it would only make the hurt worse.

I am an oddball where I come from, and any connections I try to make generally end up with me being called damaged, a freak, scary, crazy, or some other cruel thing, so I don't even try any more.  My beloved and I had similar scars.  He understood my proclivities, my deep-seeded rage, and how they meshed with my desire to be a good person at heart like no one else ever has, and I know no one else ever will- especially not here where I live.  Not only did he understand them, he loved me for them.  Not in spite of them, but for them.  I can't imagine anyone else ever doing so.  So, when I read "Onepartyleftstanding"'s comment: "Someone is desperately looking for you. Please hold on long enough for them to find you."  I bawled.  I don't think so.  My beloved was 55 when he died- 10 days after his birthday.  I have no idea how he died.  Not being an immediate family member and not knowing any of his immediate family, all I could find out was it was an open casket funeral.  I found his obituary online.

He felt just as isolated as I did, found our connection as unusual, awesome, and surprising as I.  We had many conversations on how astronomical the odds were of us finding each other.  He had been telling me for the last couple of nights before his death that he wasn't feeling well, that he didn't feel like talking.  I thought he was blowing me off, and the last message I sent to him was, "I read you loud and clear".  I didn't get to tell him how much I love him or how much he meant to me, which fills me with enormous regret and guilt.

One of the things that makes the pain so poignant is how similar it is to the death of my mother.  No one explained to me that the cancer she had was going to kill her.  She went into the hospital one day, like many times before, and just never came back out.  And if ever I dared to express grief over the loss of my mother, I was told to shut up and get over it.  My father being the abusive bastard he was (getting in trouble with him meant going to the hospital for stitches, or broken bones, or both), the courts in their infinite wisdom decided my mother's boyfriend at the time of her death (and the only other person willing) was the best choice to have custody.  I'm not sure which would've been worse- my physically abusive father or my mother's pedophile boyfriend who liked to share with his like-minded friends, of which he had many.  So, I've always had a deep-seeded fear and mistrust of men in general.  But not with my beloved.  From the very start there was an unusual trust that filled me with hope for my future and the world in general.  That's gone now, too.  And, like mama, one day he was there, and the next he was gone, just like that.

As for my son, he's been telling me he wasn't sure if he loved me or not since he was 5 or 6.  He's had some serious medical problems.  He has a thyroid disorder that wasn't diagnosed until a couple of years ago, and apparently around the age of 5 or 6 he started developing hyperinsulinemia, which caused him to suffer a form of juvenile dementia.  He had violent outbursts, claimed he wanted to kill himself, would expose himself and urinate on the walls and floors when put in time-outs, threaten to hurt people.  He was kicked out of preschool because I wouldn't agree to have him put on ADHD meds because I knew that wasn't what was wrong with him.  I had asked his doctor to check his thyroid on several occasions, and was lied to about it actually being done.  I finally found a doctor that actually ran the tests I requested and, lo and behold, it was just as I thought.  Things are better, but our relationship is scarred.  A lot of the affection I shared with him had to change when he went from being so underweight at 4 that he had to be weighed every week to borderline obese at 5, making it impossible for me to pick him up, or ride him on my back, or many of the other physically loving things we'd done before.  I tried to adjust and continue to give him as much affection in other ways, but I think he felt slighted, maybe even neglected, and definitely hurt.

He never had the opportunity to meet my beloved.  He was aware of his presence in my life and that I loved him and he me, but that was about the extent of it.  I tried to get him to come with me on the last two trips, but he said he'd rather stay with our friends, and I wasn't inclined to force him.  So, for him, there is no grief, no loss.

My beloved was a great source of advice on how best to handle situations that came up concerning rearing my son.  I simply cannot relate to his life.  By the time I was his age I was living on my own, going to school, and working full time.  I spoil my son rotten- wait on him hand and foot and give him everything he wants (within reason) that I am able.  He doesn't remember my birthday, if he even knows when it is, but then, that's something that's been common to my whole life.  As for mother's day, forget it.  It's just another day on the calendar, which is fine because I have no desire to solicit false affections from anyone, including my son.

The loss of my beloved is by far the worst thing that could've happened to me.  Compounding the loss is the fact that moving to be with him meant better medical care for my son, better schools, and a better future for my career.  But I cannot imagine moving there now, even for all those things, with the memory of him so vivid there, not to mention not having a clue how to navigate in a major metropolitan city all by myself.

I have been trying to forget.  I only had him for 3 years, and 95% of that was long-distance.  So, I've been trying to pretend it never really happened, that it was a dream, a fantasy, not real, just as I'd always feared.  But, it's not working.  I miss him severely, the only person that actually, truly loved me (and I him), heard and understood me, validated me, gave me a purpose, inspired me to reach out for new and better things both for myself and my son.

This was too big for me to carry alone.  I tried, I just couldn't.  Which is why I chose to expose myself and post this diary.  And it was my beloved who directed me to this website many months (a year or so?) ago.

I was sorry to not have been able to join the Monday night grieving room as suggested, but getting off the first job at 1pm, going in to the second at 3 and not getting off till midnight, and having to be back at the first at 7am made it pretty impossible.  The last conversation I had with my beloved was about getting the first job, a job which I hated, but had only planned to work for 6 weeks to help with moving money.  I quit that job today.  Trying to smother my grief by working till I dropped wasn't working, and I was miserable there.  It didn't help that I thought of that last conversation with him every time I had to go there, that it was the last conversation, and what I wish I had said when I had to opportunity.  Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to catch next week's meeting when I get home from my other job between 12:30 and 1am.

I'd also like to thank PapaChach for the anti-dehydration info and note on taking care of my health, because there's no one to tell me such things now that my beloved's gone.  I've been working 7 days a week for 5 or 6 weeks, one job in a hot kitchen (cooking) with no a/c, the other in a warehouse where the a/c isn't working.  I've been getting plenty of exercise between the two jobs, but eating... yeah, just haven't had the stomach for it much.  Got some meal replacement bars to quiet my stomach's squelching, but I've lost about 15 pounds in that time and almost passed out a couple of times.  So, thanks for that.

Thanks so much again, to everyone, for everything.  Reading these things you say to me, coming here, is the only time, the only place I feel comfortable letting the tears out, and boy, do they come out reading what you have to say.  

Where I am now:    


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Comment Preferences

  •  Is it better to have loved and lost (1+ / 0-)
    Recommended by:
    historys mysteries

    than never to have loved at all?

    . . . from Julie, Julia. "Oh, well. Boo-hoo. Now what?"

    by 88kathy on Wed Jul 04, 2012 at 10:02:09 PM PDT

    •  better to have loved and lost? (2+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      88kathy, historys mysteries

      No. It. Isn't.  Lord Alfred Tennyson was an idiot for saying such a thing.  I'd have rather never known he was out there at all than to have had him for so short a time and lose him.

      •  I wasn't talking about you. (0+ / 0-)

        Some are still in the "ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone".

        So right now you are very self centered and figure everyone else has the perfect love of which you speak, only theirs has not ended.  You are the only tragedy.  You don't remember your tragedy from before.

        . . . from Julie, Julia. "Oh, well. Boo-hoo. Now what?"

        by 88kathy on Thu Jul 05, 2012 at 02:13:57 PM PDT

        [ Parent ]

        •  ? (1+ / 0-)
          Recommended by:

          If your question wasn't directed at me, why post it on my diary?

          And then, not thinking you could love anyone is not the same as believing no one could love you.  Have you read the forward to this addendum?  

          Next, I realize my situation is not unique, but it's unique to me.  I understand quite well that I am not "the only tragedy".  The reason I posted this diary was in essence to hear what others who have suffered the same could offer in the way of words of wisdom.  

          Don't remember my tragedy from before?  I can never forget.  I am forever scarred by them just as I am by this.  Perhaps you did not comprehend what I've written here because I believe I've made that crystal clear.

          As for my being selfish, again, if you'd read the forward to this addendum you'd know if I were a selfish person I would curl up and die, because it seems to me death is the only thing I have to look forward to now.

          You must be very young and don't yet realize what bliss ignorance is until you are robbed of it-- "The devils of truth steal the souls of the free." (Trent Reznor)

          •  If you got to be very old and suffered your first (0+ / 0-)

            love in the winter of your years, when you were in the beginning of that love, didn't you consider your previous life a tragedy?  Shouldn't that person have come into your life at 10?  Then the span of love would have been 50 years instead of 3?  (no one told me there would be math in this debate)

            How is going to your grave without ever having a known a perfect love a good thing?

            My friend's grandma got married again at 86 after surviving 2 husbands.   Her children and grandchildren were terrified that the 3rd husband wouldn't outlive her either.  They were terrified she wouldn't be able to stand the pain a 3rd time. She was a believer.

            I was asking you to consider 'those who never loved at all' in your grief.  But instead you seem to say 'those are the lucky ones'.  So maybe someone who hasn't 'suffered the same' is a freak that couldn't ever be in your club of 'those who know love' or offer any wise words.  Because they are blissful.

            . . . from Julie, Julia. "Oh, well. Boo-hoo. Now what?"

            by 88kathy on Fri Jul 06, 2012 at 06:37:49 AM PDT

            [ Parent ]

            •  I consider my entire life a tragedy. (1+ / 0-)
              Recommended by:

              Save the time my beloved was in it, I have damned my existence.  As I said in the forward to this addendum, without him, I don't live, I just exist.

              Look, I realize everybody hurts in their own way.  All I'm trying to convey here is that THIS pain, for me, is the most excruciating experience I have ever known, including all the horrors of my "childhood".  And getting out of bed every day and breathing in and out, it's the last thing I want to do.  And if it hurts this badly when we shared our love from a distance, mostly through phone calls and emails, and only for 3 years, how much incomparably worse would it be if I had to miss him sleeping beside me, feeling his arms around me every day, if it had been 50 years?  I cannot even imagine.  And I don't want to.

              And, yes, I DO consider those who've never loved at all the lucky ones.  I'm sorry, but if you've never suffered such a loss then you cannot know the sorrow, the devastation, the indescribable pain of the loss of it, cannot offer any words of wisdom, any more than someone who has never been a parent can offer parenting advice.

              I bear you no ill will, "88kathy".  You just happen to have caught me at a time when I am very raw.  

              My grief in losing him is equal to the joy I had in having him.  I thought I had paid my dues in grief already, and that it was my time to know joy.  How wrong I was.  41 days now without him, and my only cheerful thoughts are the ones in which I imagine some disaster that would kill both me and my son simultaneously (because I would not see him left alone in this cruel world as I was), because it's the only hope I have in being with him again.

              I wish I could just get over it, see a bright side to something.  Anything.  "But now the stars shine cold, and all the sky is gray... and all I wish is gone away..." (Robert Smith)

  •  I think you will end up being OK (4+ / 0-)

    There's a lot of healing coming through your note.

    I'm not familiar precisely with exactly what I said, but I stand by what I said, whatever it was. -- Mitt the Twit

    by Senor Unoball on Wed Jul 04, 2012 at 10:09:06 PM PDT

  •  Dear Black Heart... (4+ / 0-)

    ...please accept my condolences for the loss of your beloved.  From your description of him, he was a very special man.

    I see threads of great strength intwined in the great sorrow you are experincing right now.  You are a survivor, and surely this is one of the things he loved about you.  

    When you can, I invite you to drop in at the House of LIGHTS diaries.  I've forgotten words making up the acronym - perhaps another LIGHTS will stop by and fill that part in.  We are survivors of childhood abuse and trauma, and you will find great love and understanding there.

    Peace and blessings, dear one.

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