Wisconsin is a community property state. I am still paying off some of my late husbands debt, 16 months later. Almost there.
as-u-wish I am so sorry for your loss.
How lucky you are that he had hair all these years! ( Mr. Ujest’s hair started falling out about the time we met. Somehow, I am to blame. :dubious: So, we don’t have any embarrassing 'fro or hippie pictures of him.)
You don’t have to take it day by day. Some times, you will be taking it moment by moment.
You don’t have to be strong for anyone.
as_u_wish,
Just to say that I’ve been thinking of you. Be sure to remember to take care of yourself and prioritize. You don’t have to settle everything right now, though you’ll feel the urge to do so.
The photo collage of your husband is a great idea, btw. 
I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve found something that’s helped me get through tough times (nothing approaching what you’re going through, but I hope this helps) is to try and ask for exactly what you need from the people who care about you. Things like having a private room to compose yourself. You’re being inundated with offers from people to help right now, and they’ll probably not really know how to approach you.
I’d specifically request things you need–like asking someone to get groceries for you, or to come stay with you for the weekend. If you want to get out of the house–ask someone. If you want to be alone–ask for some privacy. It’s not being demanding or bothersome. The people close to you love you. Most of them will appreciate you being forthright and will be happy to help.
I’m sorry for your loss and you have my deepest sympathies. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.
as_u_wish, I’m sorry. you’re in my thoughts.
You’re right about that. My mom died about a year and a half ago. I cried a bit, but just intermittent, bitter strangled tears. I was afraid, I suppose, to really let loose because I thought I might break in two.
A few months ago, I attended a farmers’ market, and a musical group was performing. It’s a local group who performs Zimbabwean xylophone music, and their music is joyous and melodic and wonderful. I was watching the good-looking young people perform their joyful music in the bright sun and I suddenly, out of nowhere, broke down in a tremendous burst of grief. I had to run to my car because I was mortified to find myself bawling in public. Cried for twenty minutes in my car, I did, and I felt better. Weird.
I’m so sorry to read this, as_u_wish.
Can’t add to the advice on coping, but wanted to add an observation about credit card debt.
Paying the cards off is one of those big decisions that you should take slowly. It’s great that you’re prepared, but it seems to me that it would be prudent to keep paying cards off at the rate your husband was paying them until you’re confident that you have a grip on your overall financial picture. Even if you think you have a grip on it now, you may not (remember that you’re not yourself!) and should find someone you trust to go through things with you, help you assess whether you’re going to have any unexpected expenses, and give you a second opinion on your strategy.
Please keep us updated on how you’re doing.
GT
I’m so sorry for your loss, as_you_wish. My mother lost her husband of 24 years right before Thanksgiving. He was 76 and had health problems but it was unexpected. I know she’s a tough woman, but I don’t think she’s ever lived alone before. She’s in San Antonio and I’m in San Diego and it just breaks my heart she’s dealing with new and sad things and is so far away. I was able to stay with Mom 2 weeks after he died, but it didn’t seem long enough.
I hope you don’t mind I read your thread so carefully to see if I can find any information to help my mom - all the advice has been so good, I’ve been a little sniffly at work reading it.
Can you post your photo montage online? My mom and I also scanned pictures for Tom’s memorial - here are a few that I uploaded: Pictures of Tom
hug
I also think the photo montage is a wonderful idea. I plan to do something similar one day. Which brings to me to my point/rather shameful admission:
We still have not made englargements of the favorite photos and framed them or made the urns we plan to (his ashes are still in a box in our/my bedroom closet), nor have I written out the stuff I plan to and promised him I would (on his death bed, he said to me, “write it down. I don’t care, a paragraph, a page, a novel. Don’t forget me.” I’m a writer, just for context. I told him, lovingly and smiling while crying, that I guessed I’d remember him after 23 yrs. True. But I can’t yet bring myself to set it down in writing, other than in forms like this.)
Hell, FTM, the plastic bag with the last clothes he wore to the hospital is still in the closet, unopened. I am just not there yet, and I have this idea that I don’t EVER want to open it and let this last scent of him escape. MAY never.
Took me several months to toss out his toothbrush, and there are still personal products of his in the bathroom cabinet.
Everyone is different, and it’s ok. I’m sure he could give a fig that his ashes still lack a handmade, permanent home or that we haven’t gotten around to the other remembrance projects yet. He’s here, in our hearts, constantly and in a thousand little ways around us.
Do whatever works for you and yours and go easy on yourself.
My brother’s ashes are still in a cardboard box in my kitchen cupboard. I tell my kids that I haven’t buried them yet because I’m trying to think of something witty to put on his grave marker. But really, it’s because I don’t want to let him go. I suspect his ashes will still be in the cupboard when it’s time for my husband and kids to decide what to do with me.
as_u_wish, I would definately suggest a giref support group when you’re ready to. A very dear friend of mine lost her hisband a year ago, and it has been very helpful for her.
I am so sorry to hear of your loss, and you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
I am so sorry for you loss. Nothing I can say will lessen the pain, but know that you are in my thoughts.
My sister got my mother’s house. Nine years after she died, Mom’s purse sits in the same spot in one of the kitchen cabinets where she put it last. Not out of any bad emotional context, but one of those quirky left-handed salutes/inside family joke things. Kind of like the family joke where her headstone has a single tulip engraved on it.
I live in North Carolina now, 800 miles away; I have Mom’s tin stovetop coffee pot on the back left burner of my stove for the same reasons. I’ll take it off occasionally to wash it or use the burner, but it won’t make coffee ever again.
For the last two months my husband was in a hospital bed. I moved the double bed out of the bedroom and I slept upstairs. When Hospice came and took the bed yesterday, the room seemed so empty. They left the bedside commode. I can’t bring myself to put my bed back together. I know I need to, but I can’t do it.
So, I follwed advice from here late last night–and I’m glad I did. Relatives are coming from all over and one sister decided she’d stay here. Good intentions and I do want to spend time with her without everyone else around. But I’m not at all ready to have live-in company besides my children. So I broke down and told her a partial truth–that I can’t bring myself to put the bed back up and there’s no place for her to sleep. I would have felt guilty about this except for all the kind words and guidance.
I have a meeting set up with a financial counselor for next week. Really that’s to keep myself from procrastinating–face a problem head on and it’s usually not as bad as when you keep circling around it. Also, to make sure I don’t let the pendulum swing too far to the fiscal conservancy side. I needed my husband to balance me just as he needed me to balance him.
Quoted for truth.
I’m not a widow, but I know that each person grieves at his own speed. A couple of weeks back, we were talking about organizing Mom’s “closet room” (the room where she keeps stuff like the other season’s clothes or the DIY items) and I mentioned that maybe we could sort out Dad’s school books and throw away those that, being time-marked, won’t ever be read by anybody else; she thought it was a good idea. She thought it was a good idea - three weeks ago. I know her and I know that if I’d suggested it so much as one year ago, she wouldn’t have been ready. Dad died in 2000.
SiL’s Dad died last October. All his things were out of her house within a week. His wife went back home and threw out all his books before the funeral (which amounts to throwing out almost every single book in the house). Whatever works for each of them.
You will grieve in your own way and at your own speed. And you know we’re here whenever you can use a bunch of anonymous shoulders
My wife diedafter 20 + years of marriage on July 11th, 2003. She was only 39. We were married when she was 17 and I was 20.
Similar to what you said, she had lost her quality of life. So, in some ways it was painful, in some ways it was a relief. The biggest tragedy in my case was that she left behind children ages 13, 17, and 20.
The only thing I can really say is: “it really does get better”. I’m remarried, but still think of her often. I’m blessed in that my wife knows it’s not a competition and helps my (now 18 year old) daughter honor the memory of her mother.
I mean it sincerely when I say: You’re in my thoughts (and prayers too if you believe that sort of thing).