I lost my husband of 38 years 30 days ago and it has been so hard. He needed a liver, which was diagnosed in June, he was in and out of the hospital. His last stay was for six weeks and until the last couple of days I just knew he was going to get one. I was devastated when I lost him. I feel empty and lost. even though we have 3 wonderful grown daughters it is not the same. sometimes I feel like I cant go on without him. I feel like a I have no purpose. Everywhere I look or go, reminds me of him, my heart hurts so much. I know that God doesn't give us more than we can bear, and I am trying to believe that but its hard. I have my family,friends and church but its still so very hard. I know life goes on but I feel at a standstill and don't really want to go on. I feel like it was just happened yesterday, its just been so hard to go on.

I'm so sorry. You'll never be the way you were, nor would you want to be; as you said, he was your true love, & he wouldn't want you to grieve & be miserable & not enjoy, relish, & revel in the life you still have on this earth with your/his children. You are a vibrant young mother with 2 dear children tethering you to this earth; your mission here is important & it won't be complete for many many years. Your precious sons are the next links in your beloved husband's chain of life, & you're the one who can nurture their connections to their roots, for their sakes & for the sakes of their children., Please take care of yourself, in every way. Eat right, don't drink, make sure you see people every day (isolation is an enemy). Grief is deep & dark, but depression is a physical malfunction that can be beaten. Get outside that house & get your heart pumping; oxygenated blood is the best medicine for...well, many things. I know you don't feel like jogging or playing tennis or swimming, because not wanting to do anything is a symptom of depression. Make yourself do it anyway. If you can't summon the strength, have someone call you every morning & tell you to get up & get dressed & get outside. I always managed to get up if I knew someone was on the way over to take me to jazzercise, etc, somebody who wouldn't be embarrassed to bang on the door & holler at me to get my @ss out there. & go to your doctor: this is the year 2014, & there are sophisticated medicines out there these days to help you. Enlist some help; go to your family, friends, neighbors, church family, people at work, people you meet in the grocery store (seriously, I've found that saying "what a beautiful hairdo!" or "is that the best peanut butter?" provides a tiny little spark of human contact that really helps you to keep putting one foot in front of the other). & this may sound off the wall, but do something for someone else: it lifts the spirits & affirms...something, I don't know what. I do know that researchers have discovered that giving makes people happier than getting, or as our grandmothers said, it really is 'more blessed to give than to receive'. I wish you the very best, including a long & satisfying life, filled with the memories whose pain will fade in time, leaving only a sweet joy.

Franksmoma, I lost my dear husband in November 2006 but I cannot imagine your loss of your son, please accept my condolences. Have you looked for a breavement group in you local church or hospital? I did and they have been a great help.Yes, it takes a long time for reality to set in, it seems like a dream and you will wake up any minute but you don't. Most people need help to get through this and that is one of the reasons you sought out this forum. You will find that the people here are great listeners and you may get some advise you can use. In the mean time just know that you are in my prayers along with your family. Mavis

Dear Sadie, There is nothing so painful, in my experience, as losing a child. Nothing. My heart is with you. My precious 32 year old son, Ben, died suddenly while on a business trip to England this past June 28 (2009) and so, I can identify with your pain, as can other bereaved mothers. He left behind a beautiful wife and (then) 6 month old baby; a brother; parents: step-parents and beloved friends. We have all been shattered by our loss of him. One thing that helps me is to tell the truth when people ask how I'm doing (an almost impossible question to answer, isn't it?) -- I thank them for asking and, depending on who is asking, say anything from, "It's very painful and I'm moving through it" to " I am completely and utterly devastated." .. I don't say "Fine, thanks". If anyone says something heartless, I say "That was heartless" and leave. If someone says something "stupid", I say, "That was not helpful" and if it makes any sense, I'll suggest a more helpful thing to say. Or not. I am respecting my grief by slowing down but still participating in life as I'm able. I don't make myself wrong for this. Each morning since my son Ben's death, miraculously, I get out of bed, shower and move as gently as possible through my day. Many of those days have included fury; I'm gentle with myself about that too. I can now cook and do light cleaning and other household tasks. I am unable to work (the nature of my work requires me to be present to other's suffering; I simply cannot do that right now. Recently, I have been able to thank my husband for his continued support .. before that, I just leaned on him, which was fine)I go to supportive groups - religious and therapeutic, spend time with family (those family members who can be supportive, not others) and sometimes lunch with understanding friends. I cry a lot, I pray and I stay in touch w/my son in this way. By evening time, I'm really ready to just be very quiet and so, I'm quiet. My family of origin has hardly been in touch with me, which is very painful. It does not help me to reach out to people who cause me pain, so I don't do that. The most surprising people have been kind and comforting. Four months after Ben's death, I can say that my relationship to the terrible pain my son's death is changing. It's not that it doesn't hurt, it does (and sometimes the pain is utterly overwhelming) - it's that as my acceptance (of what I can never want) grows, my relationship to the reality of his death changes. I choose to believe that I will continue to have a relationship with my son. I believe this is possible due to the eternal nature of love. This is a mystery we all need to grapple with within ourselves, but I can say for me, that having experienced the loving place my son is in now as real is helping me move into my life in a new way. Taking the time I need, one day - one moment at a time - has helped me continue to do the impossible. Bless you on your journey and stay in touch w/other bereaved parents who understand.