Grief Has No Sexual Orientation

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

A reader writes: My heart is breaking. My partner died some time ago, yet it still feels as though it happened yesterday. I've recently received some very bad news about my own health, and more than ever I find myself needing my partner to be here with me. I feel as though my heart can bear no more. My soul feels empty without her. Everything about my life feels different, and it is so hard. I need to find other lesbians who have lost their spouse.

I attended a grief support group yesterday, and it was painfully difficult. During the introductory "check-in," the member who spoke after me said she would not be able to continue if I were allowed to stay in the group. She said lesbianism is a sin.

Supporting a Grieving Partner While Mourning Your Own Loss

If you want to support others you have to stay upright yourself.  ~ Peter Hoeg

A reader writes: I am at a loss with things right now and I really need some help. My partner's dad is dying and on the advice of his doctor he has been placed in hospice care. My mom passed 4 months ago today and I am still numb from that. I'm still not knowing how to handle my own grief, and now here I am with my partner and his family going thru this themselves. 

Keeping the Secret of a Terminal Prognosis: Finding the Courage to Tell Those You Love

If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.  ~ George Orwell in 1984

A reader writes: I am married and the mother of three children. I have been told by my doctors that I have a rare and terminal illness. My husband and children love me and need me, and they do not know that I am dying because I cannot tell them.

How can I tell the ones who count on me that I won’t be here for them? How can I tell them that I brought them into the world with love and tears, and now I’m leaving?

My husband and children don’t know. I won’t let them know.

From Caregiver to Widower: Coping With the Death of a Beloved Wife

Accepting help is its own kind of strength.  ~ Kiera Cass

A reader writes: My wife passed away in hospice five weeks ago. Since then, I've gone home and had very little support from outside sources, partly by choice. I've done almost everything alone. The hospice staff have called and sent literature, but I just couldn't accept my wife's death enough to respond.

I was her caregiver and, basically, her nurse for years, with very little outside help. It was all left up to us. I know she would have died much sooner if we hadn't fought so hard to get her the treatment she needed and keep her out of nursing homes. I wasn't planning to do much with hospice, although I am seeking counseling on my own, which should begin in the next few weeks.

I happened to look up "grief" on the computer, and yours is the first website I found.

The Second Year of Grief: Why It Can Hurt Even More

Sometimes the first anniversary of his death is one of peace when we realize that we managed to survive the worst year of our life, but then we wake up to the second year and find a whole other set of challenges to meet.   — Pat Bertram

 A reader writes: How does one deal with the overwhelming grief at 14 months and 9 days? For me it is harder and more painful now. Am I crazy, Marty? I have not dreamed of my beloved since he went to Heaven, except for a nightmare the night he died, that they lost him in the tunnels in the hospital. I can't feel him. No one will say his name, and I am trying desperately to understand all of this. Does it mean that since I cannot dream or feel him, I did something wrong? I feel that way.

My doctor/therapist told me that the second year may be harder, and she was so right. Am I the only person who feels this way?

When Grief Comes Without Tears

Tears have a wisdom all their own. They come when a person has relaxed enough to let go to work through his sorrow. They are the natural bleeding of an emotional wound, carrying the poison out of the system. Here lies the road to recovery.  ~ F. Alexander Magoun 

A reader writes: My only sibling and big brother passed away six months ago. He was 30 years old. I used to be able to cry. I mean, I would cry at work when things got stressful, cry after fighting with friends, or cry when I was frustrated. My brother passes away, and no tears. No tears at the funeral home. No tears at the hospital. No tears at the funeral. And no tears six months later.

Missing My Father: Learning to Live With the Pain of Loss

There is no expiration date on the love between a father and his child.  — Jennifer Williamson

A reader writes: I recently lost my father, and I am unable to handle my loss. I don't know why, but I want to dig him up and bring him back to life. I am so sad and lonely without my father, and I have never experienced anything like this before. I don't know if this is a normal reaction or not, but I do know that I need help. I do have people around me who love me and are there for me, but it just isn't enough. Can you please write me back with any advice as soon as possible?

Remembering the Fallen, Honoring the Grieving

While Thanksgiving is about appreciation for what you got, Memorial Day is so much deeper. It's appreciation for those who died to give you what you got. ~Doug Koktavy

When I think of Memorial Day and what it means to me, I think of how blessed I am to live in this country, where freedom still rings, even though at times we may take some of our freedoms for granted. I think of the fallen soldiers who paid the ultimate price so that we might continue to live free. I also think of the families, friends, and loved ones of the fallen — the unsung heroes struggling to survive in the face of unspeakable loss. I cannot imagine the depth of their pain. I don’t know how to thank them for their sacrifice except to say that I am deeply grateful, and that I promise to remember them, holding each and every one of them in gentle thought and prayer.

What I Never Understood Until I Lost My Mother

When a mother dies, a daughter’s mourning never completely ends.        ~ Hope Edelman

A reader writes: Today I visited your site for the first time, and I have decided to share something I wrote with you. This fall I lost my mother less than a week before my son's wedding. I have been grieving both my empty nest (all three of my adult children have moved on with their lives) and the loss of my mother. Each time I feel lonely or sad because my children have grown and left the nest, I feel deep pain for having caused my mother the same grief. Relationships with parents are complicated: expectations, irritations, personality quirks, being a 47-year-old daughter, and all the rest. Along with the emotional connectedness we shared, my grief also includes the loss of my mother as a friend.

When a Marriage Ends: Grieving the Death of a Love Relationship

In every friendship hearts grow and entwine themselves together, so that the two hearts seem to make only one heart with only a common thought. That is why separation is so painful; it is not so much two hearts separating, but one being torn asunder.  ~ Fulton J. Sheen

A reader writes: Two months ago my wife of 5 years came to me out of the blue and asked me for a divorce. To make a long and painful story short, she had been seeing another man and in the time since discovering this I have found out our entire relationship was one lie after another.

I feel foolish, naive, weak, and sad. I am an intelligent, attractive, passionate, funny, 32-year-old and yet I find myself sobbing at times for this loss. I am deeply spiritual, and have found much comfort in my faith. But I just don't know how to let go. Every sign is pointing to the fact that I have really lost nothing, but instead have been given the chance to greatly improve my health and overall wellbeing.

I feel weak knowing that deaths and marriages much longer than mine abound. I realize the significance of loss is deeply personal, but I still feel irrational and very foolish.