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Everyone’s trajectory with this is so differenr. I worked until the last week of Brian’s life, and stayed out of work only two weeks past it (bad idea on both counts btw) to work for three months before leaving my job.

My friend who is doing “the second year is harder” wax’s full time CALS for three years, then took a full year out to recover. She them
Went to work so I’m thinking yes, of course year 2 was worse you had to fully function in the world, grieving and struggling like I did until I left my job.

I’m not saying full time CALS is easier, but it’s a different perspective.
 
There is no easy way around this. As someone who was able to work at first and then was a full-time CALS, in my case, being the full-time CALS for me was more difficult. I had zero distractions from what was happening. However others may feel differently.
 
There is no easy way around this. As someone who was able to work at first and then was a full-time CALS, in my case, being the full-time CALS for me was more difficult. I had zero distractions from what was happening. However others may feel differently.

Oh, I wholeheartedly agree on the CALS 100% of the time thing. Yes, I think that is the hardest.

I was referring more to being able to spend the first full year of grief not working. Then, for some anyway if you went back to work in the second year after the loss, it would be harder than not working. I’ve done it both ways, but I was working very early on as a widow, from two weeks past to about 2.5 months, and now I’ve been out three and a half months. It’s given me some healing time for sure.

I am starting f a new job in October, accepted today.
 
Congrats on the new job. I hope you love it! Is it near your current home?

Yes, taking a year off would make going back to work much harder. I have found that quite difficult, even though I was working from home, going into the office is a huge change. However, my situation is a bit different than most, it’s still quite difficult.
 
Thanks! Yes, in fact it’s the same distance (about a mile closer) and my territory is the same as my old job. Funny how that worked out. Here I was gearing up for a doggie kennel ( the super fancy kind, only the best for my pup!) and no overnight travel will be needed.

Your situation sounds so hard. Having a business you once ran with your husband, I can’t imagine. It was hard enough being in the same job as when Brian was diagnosed and when he was dying. That would be like being haunted at home and at work.

I went to the newly diagnosed board the other day and it broke my heart. Why this happens to anyone I cannot imagine.
 
That is so cool about the new job. Sounds about perfect, I hope it works out that way. Still thinking about moving?

Yes, it feels like I don’t have a safe space since I see him at work and at home. Definitely difficult.

Yeah, never wandered over to newly DX, unless a thread came up I thought I could help with. Too heart breaking.

Hugs
 
Glad to hear about the new gig, Lenore! Hope it works out well for you.

Best,
Laurie
 
Thank you both. Yes, that’s still on the table (moving) but terms of refi states I can’t sell til May 2020 at the soonest baring dire situations. It’s a tough one to decide because the house is really affordable and I don’t need to drag a fat mortgage in my last 12/15 working years, as a single woman no less. Let’s see how the memories and I get along over time.
 
Congratulations on the new job, Lenore. I hope it is a perfect fit for you.

Reading about how you and Sue are doing gives me hope that there is life for a CALS after this nightmare.

Sharon
 
Reading about how you and Sue are doing gives me hope that there is life for a CALS after this nightmare.

Sharon

Thanks Sharon and there is! It’s not easy sometimes but you do get a little more sleep.
 
This post will probably look more like a journal entry than an update. This Forum has always been a great place for me because it’s a place where people do understand. If it’s too lengthy or too full of personal musings, just skip it. I write for myself yes but also for those who may get a speck of comfort from seeing my path.

I find myself tonight again in Northern MN, a place Brian and I spent so much time together. Friends asked me to come up, I did not expect to return until I had Brian’s ashes, which will be sometime in 2020 as his remains are part of a study.

I’m staying on one side of a bunglow, and due to my host’s stomach issues have spent more time alone than I anticipated. I brought my dog up, and that’s been nice. I arrived yesterday and will go back to the cities in the morning. I have not been unhappy to spend more time alone. In fact, it does not feel “ alone”. It feels like time with memories, time with what one CALS widower called “the loud silence” of Brian’s absence. That loud silence is both painful and oddly comforting.

Home, this state of Minnesota from Watertown and Waverley, to Minneapolis, all the way to the Canadian border resonates powerfully for me, from both sides of my family. My father’s side dates back in this state to 1861 in the very city I live in now. My mother’s parents came from Finland to Northern Minnesota during WWI. His family had a similar story. My love for Brian included all that I am, every part of my being. Our time together so appropriately happened here. Time will tell me if those very deep roots are a reason to stay put or to eventually seek a new home as I learn to live with this incalculable loss.

I went to a restaurant today in Grand Marais that we went to often, ordered and ate my fish as I looked at the lake. I got orders for my friends to go. It was a beautiful day, and I both enjoyed it and hurried through it. I loved the lake, and the empty chair across the table from me was not really empty but filled with memories of wine and food and conversation shared, filled with memories of a love that was as much a small miracle as it’s loss was a devastation.

That’s the noise in that loud silence of the loss of Brian. The memories are a beautiful thing, but the inner screams starts when I think gone now, gone forever. I’ll start a new job Tuesday and you won’t be there to see me off. I’ll never have a glass of wine with you again. We will never play with our animals together again, wake together to the cats marching on us. We will never make that drive together again up Highway 61, the first and the last travels of our time together.

On my drive back to the cabin today, I thought of something that brought me a wee bit of comfort “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”. Sometimes I can. Sometimes. Sometimes I have only the inner scream.

I see pictures of myself now, particularly my eyes and I think, who IS that? She does not look a thing like me, or the me from “the time before”. Who is she? I am still learning who she is, and likely will be for a long time to come.

I am both far less and far more broken up than those in my life would think. I encounter many comments and situations that make me want to say “No, it’s not what you think”. It can’t be what they think. Grief is it’s own world, and you only know what it’s like if you live there.

I have many goals for the year ahead. Eat healthy, invest wisely, knock it out of the park on this new job. I am so looking forward to being with people everyday and in spaces that do not trigger my memories from the hardest parts of my time with Brian,for at least my working life. I am also looking forward to being able to do things again that I do well.

“They” keep saying the second year is harder than the first. Maybe it is, but if I can go into it moving forward and accomplishing something, great. It seems to me that there are many ways to live through and to not live through a loss this great. I do intend to live.
 
Lenore I see healing in your musings. You write very well. My prayer for you is that this new job will help you live through. Hugs my friend.
 
Why thank you Sue 🙃

The job will sure keep me busy. It’s time to be busy again.
 
Lenore - That was exceptional and beautifully written. Thank you for continuing to warm us with your presence... to enrich us with your heartfelt words... and to encourage us with the beauty of your truth and hope for good tomorrows.

Again, my best...

Jim
 
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