I lost my husband of 30 years August 5, 2005, and every night I go to bed and every morning I wake up--and think to myself "another long, horrible day" knowing that I really did not want to wake up. My husband was my soul mate, and the first and only marriage I have ever had or will ever have. We met August 15, 1975, around 7:00 p.m. at a small pub called Poor Davids located on Cedar Springs in Dallas, Texas. This was our local hang-out spot and we (my friend Emily) and I were regulars. He (Jerry) walked in that night, and I almost knocked Em's beer out of her hand when he walked through that door. I said to her "oh my gosh, LOOK at that guy." He was gorgeous--tall, dark, and most handsome indeed, with beautiful long brown hair and the most incredibly blue eyes I had ever seen. I told her right then "that is the husband of my future children." Well, long story short, I walked over, flirted, fell head-over-heels, and we left together that night and went on to spend the next 30 years of our life together. We moved in together the very next day. So you see, he really was my soul mate. It was magic.
Jerry died August 5, 2005, and every day since then has been a struggle. I have had a few good days, but so very few--and I have had bad days--and then I have had days that have made the "bad days" look good. I hate life. I don't see anything changing much. I am miserable and lonely. I want Jerry to "come home" so very much and I continue to fail in so much of my day-to--day activities of daily living just trying to get to the next day. My husband literally took care of everything for me. He was the most intelligent person I have ever known. He knew everything about everything, and while there were times in our marriage that this particular little "unique feature" of his could be very irritating--I miss it greatly now. He took care of every aspect of the computer making things easy for me. He took care of the cars, the electronics, the home problems, the driving, and yes, he even cooked simply because he loved to cook.
Now he is gone, and we are gone, and my life as I once knew it is gone forever--and that is something that I just don't know if I can handle. I struggle every day of my life. There is so much more going on in the background that I won't cover here, but during one of my meetings of grief counseling I attended, someone suggested writing a journel or even letters expressing how you feel. I have always written and love writing, so thought that "might" help lighten some of the heavy feelings I was having. Indeed it felt good to be able to write letters to Jerry, to God, or anyone else that I might want to, so I did.
I started a diary here, also called Time and Tears, which will be an ongoing thing at this point, which as stated in the diary, was a project which I hope will not only be self-therapeutic, but possibly help others who might be living with someone they love who is dying. In retrospect of his death, there was so much more I could have done had I only not lived in denial of his death, and possibly not carry the tremendous guilt feelings I am carrying now.
I miss my husband more than I could ever tell you. We have been together 30 years ( married 28 of those) and we had planned to ultimately retire to the country where we were going to sit in our rockers on the front porch each evening watching the world around us--continuing to debate (argue) the topics of life, talk about our daughter and grandkids, talk about how the world had changed, and continue to agree and/or disagree about all the many perspectives we had on life.
I see no light at the end of any tunnel--but only hope that the journey will get a little easier--which at this point in time has only seemed to have gotten worse.
I love you so much Jerry, and wish you would come home!
Love,
Karen
http://www.nbc5.com/video/7379004/index.html 
Here comes the countdown to the anniversary of my daughter Cindy's death. I am going to go and smell the roses. I hope I don't have a complete meltdown this year like I had last year. I found out last year the anticipation is sometimes worse then the actual day. I am so thankful my son wasn't really hurt in his accident. He has some whiplash. he can't move his neck to one side and he hurts down the middle of his back. He and us were very lucky. This rose is in Memory of my daughter Cindy Allen age 23 Died by Suicide Born Sept. 19 1980 - March 16 2004. You are so greatly missed my lovely daughter. Love Mom and Dad, Jeremy, Ronny, Kenny