Francis P. Holt... What stage of grief is this?

by Hope M. Holt
(Tappahannock VA)

It's heading towards the 5th month, May 6th, 2010.

Yet I do not understand this latest form of grief.

I don't give a Damn.

Yet feel guilt and sadness as I try to pull myself together.

Pride, a haircut finally, taking that bath for the "me time" I'm supposed to have.

It's an ambivalence so different from the usual good and bad days that I expect.

Most daily tasks remind me of him.

A shirt of his makes me clutch my heart as if the memory tore it.

Is this healing?

I should care, sometimes I do, other times I wonder, What am I doing this for? who cares?


Comments for Francis P. Holt... What stage of grief is this?

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Jun 10, 2010
I know exactly where you're coming from
by: Charles Copeland

Hope, I can't tell you how comforting it is to know there is someone else in exactly the same situation as me. I know that sounded wrong and in the re-reading of this I hope I won't come off as insensitive, because I have only the best of intentions in writing this to you.

You commented on my wife's passing and the post I made about it, and I feel compelled to return the favor. The address for my post is:

In your words from this post, here, now, you've found ways to describe my exact emotional state, or lack thereof. I, too, don't give a damn. I'm at the point now where I just don't even want to stay alive. I know I will, both because my wife would want me to go on and because I know I'm somehow cursed with good health and longevity of life. I hate it and I want it to just be over with, but I know I have to go on ...

This does not mean I have to "enjoy" ANYTHING, and I do not have to "move on" in life. Those two things will never, ever happen for me. I will remain stuck in my own version of a living hell for as long as I remain alive. Period. No one can change that ... mainly because I refuse to let them.

I don't care about work (which has been destroyed from repeated identity theft issues against me and my darling, deceased wife), which is a problem for me because I'm a published novelist and I NEED to keep working, just to stay alive. But I don't give a sweet Christmas crap about it and if I never write again, oh well. I don't care about maintaining a network of friends. I don't care about support groups and well-wishers and all of that. I don't care about the news, the world, NOTHING!!!

I literally don't care about a thing.

And about feeling guilty ... I have that as well. I know I should care ... about everything. That's part of the growing that my wife would want for me from this whole ordeal. I know I should take the time to "smell the roses" and all that. I know I should do this and that and I know, I know, I know ... but it still doesn't stop the overwhelming stamp of ...

Life has no meaning to me now.

If I'm not gonna spend it with the woman I love more than life itself, what the hell is the point to all of it? And I know all about the "divine plan" that God has for me. But nothing matters to me now. I eat or I don't eat ... who cares? I get decent sleep or I don't ... what's it matter? I have supportive friends and make an effort to be happy or friggin' NOT ... why does it matter, and to whom WOULD it?

I get where you are ... I almost feel as if I'm standing right beside you in that place, that void where nothing matters. We seem to be walking the same path at the same time.

If you'd like to talk for any reason, even just to get things off your chest (I promise not to judge and ONLY to listen), please feel free to email me at my personal email address:

Please know that you're not alone. I'm right there with ya.


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