Cowboy Bob Sorensen

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Bereavement is confusing in many ways, including how it has common elements among people but many aspects are also unique. When I lost my beloved Charlene ten months ago, I also lost my best friend of twenty-four years. We lived alone, and I am still alone. Charlene and I had no children, and her daughter from her first marriage died several years ago. My children have no use for me. Other people have lost spouses, children, parents, friends, and others. Their pain will vary. In many cases, surviving family members can share burdens and give each other emotional support. Churches can also be helpful. Still, that loss can be felt more keenly at certain times. Lonely Cowboy Bob looking out the window, image modified with dream effect and more There are times I want to tell her about things at the workplace that would interest or amuse her. I would have liked her opinion on the graphic I was making for this article, and she would have been amused at the setup and c

My parents were deceased by the time Charlene and I were married, so I had their wedding rings in my possession. Two sets. The first was plain gold bands, the second was for their 50th anniversary. Those were a bit more ornate with a diamond. We opted for the second set. To wear my father's ring, I had to get it resized downward. It could not go any smaller, but it was still loose on my finger. I took it off for showering and other things, usually setting it on the dresser. One day, I realized it was missing. I never found it, and it has been months — possibly a year. Someone pointed out the look of love on her face when putting the ring on my finger. After Charlene suddenly died, I sought the original wedding ring set from my parents. I wanted to wear one because I still love her, and it was a connection to my father. (Even so, a co-worker tried to fix me up, "When you're ready to move on, I know a nice girl..." She was my wife and best friend, not a hamster to be re

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Some people may picture those of us who mourn as constantly sad, breaking out in unexpected crying jags, but will "get over it" in a few days. Not hardly! People who have joined this exclusive terrible club know that we are forever changed, but sadness and tears become less frequent and are not so easily triggered. Each experience is unique. We may grieve one way for someone, but a completely different way for another. When the grief fog hit me, it had characteristics similar to shock. I was just existing. The idea of having a good day was unthinkable — but it happened. Charlene near shadow of Little Sauble Lighthouse on Lake Michigan, 2005 I am writing this on the nine-month anniversary of her journey to Jesus. While I think of her many times each day and even have some special memories, I am not always saddened by them. On the other hand, there are things I have done where I felt good (such as walking a trail in the woods), they were tempered by my

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  This is a lighter subject, but first, some background is needed. A spell back, I wrote an article that should be practical for bereaved people as well as those who are not going through grief. It involved having routines. I lost my wife, and she was also my best friend for about twenty-four years. The grief fog (kind of like being in shock) was heavy in me, and caused much confusion. Be kind to those who mourn, they are often not thinking clearly. And very tired. My laundry needs are simple because I am alone: Everything in one machine, wash in cold water. (Detergents have improved over the years, and clothes come out well.) But I detest shrinking shirts, so those don't go in the dryer. I live near Laundroland (my name for it, not theirs), so I bring home the shirts and put them on hangers and on the shower curtain bar to dry. Cooler becomes laundry tote The hamper gets carted back and forth, and my rule is to empty out the damp clothes, then put it in fro

That is a title I never thought I would use, and I came up with it during a discussion with a therapist. While the grief fog and confusion are not as oppressive seven months after I lost my beloved Charlene, there are still things that bring on the tears. Triggered  often means people who have little self-control and try to manipulate others to change their words and ways. The word is still useful, though. In fact, that therapist has used it about the process in coming to terms with, and integrating, grief in our lives. I was triggered by a barge on the Hudson River. Barge on the Hudson River near Malden, NY, Unsplash / Cowboy Bob Sorensen My mother passed away several years ago, and a friend gave me words of wisdom. He told me sorrow can come out of the blue; things will remind me of my mother unexpectedly. That was true. Years have passed, and I can be reminded of my mother, father, oldest brother, and others without crying. Something inaccurately cited by many is the "stages of

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Although my focus these days is on bereavement, this article will be useful to many people, grieving now or not. My hope is that people will see my experiences and adapt them as needed for their own unique situations. We all grieve differently from each other, and for people in our lives; the reactions I had for each of my parents and my oldest brother were varied. Their passing was not unexpected — unlike my beloved wife Charlene. (It has been almost seven months, and I cried writing these words.) Grief is not depression, but my lifelong struggle with it complicates matters. Part of me died with her. The Grief Fog When a loved one passes on, it is common to have a grief fog  hit us: We go into a kind of shock. Thinking is impaired, and bereavement counselors as well as booklets advise us to avoid making major decisions whenever possible unless a trusted advisor is available. (Sleeplessness often accompanies grief, making things worse.) This fog can linger, stro

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  The human mind is sensitive to dates, anniversaries, and so on. I believe that is one of the reasons that events in the Year of Firsts (first Christmas, her birthday, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, etc.) hits us so hard. I have been having "good" days with less tears, but today is the six month anniversary of Charlene's passing. I stop to sob a bit while writing these sentences the day before. When I think back to meeting with the funeral director, he echoed something that others have told me: Don't forget to eat. A hamburger-macaroni casserole thing I made; kitchen is small and it's hard to get shadow-free pictures The church I had just started attending plugged me into a food ministry where people brought meals to my apartment; they know the bereaved may not eat. Also, a couple of Charlene's relatives bring me food on occasion. Indeed, one reader told me that when his wife died, he did forget to eat and drink. He ended up bein

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Today is the thirteenth annual Question Evolution Day , and is a surprising entry in the Year of Firsts without Charlene. I invented the thing, inspired by the Question Evolution! campaign  by Creation Ministries International (my comment as "Robert S." was posted on July 4, 2011.) At first, QED was not something we did together. After a radio interview I had, the host suggested some things to enhance the observance. These included food items. We ended up planning on doing this annually. Made at RedKid Today I made pancakes and found out why blueberries are preferred over blackberries: Those puppies were an inch long and lumpy, making for uneven cooking. Charlene would have known better, and I had to learn it my ownself. For supper, I'm going to open up a can of split pea soup (primordial slime) and do fish fry takeout (Darwin's disciples believed we evolved from fish) from the same diner we've done before. She's not here to make a laye

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  When I went to pick up my order at the diner, the guy running the cash register did not ask if this was a special occasion. Nor did I offer because this is a day when strong tears are on a hair trigger. It is the first wedding anniversary I have had to experience without my beloved Charlene. It hurts so much, but I thank God that he let me have over twenty years with her. People say that she still lives in me, in my memories. We need to use that and get a bigger picture. Charlene and Bob wedding vows January 21, 2006, modified at PhotoFunia In our past few months together, we were both realizing that neither of us had anyone who cared, so there was nobody to whom we can pass along pictures, meaningful decorations, or anything else. Certain things meant a great deal to us here and now, but that's it. Charlene touched some lives, and those people were glad to have known her. How long until they forget? A 1977 song by Blue Öyster Cult called "Goin' Thr

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Although I picked up this tip on a site about grieving, it can be useful for a passel of people. It was about coming home to an empty residence. That has less impact on me than it may for many other people because I worked earlier than Charlene did. That means I got back while she was still working. The site suggested a way to cut the lonely arrival was to get an appliance timer and have it switch on a lamp, radio, or something. I pondered it for a spell, then got a cheap appliance timer.  Looking out from the bedroom, it is obvious where the lamp is Mayhaps the one we had is still here somewhere, but what I got was only five dollars. Difficult to fine tune and a big hassle fixing after a power outage, I should have bought the twelve dollar version that is more precise. While I still hate waking up and knowing my beloved is not here, the light comes on about three minutes after the alarm goes off. Well-situated to light the kitchen and living room for my needs i

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen After the loss of my beloved Charlene, several people suggested that I read A Grief Observed  by C.S. Lewis. It is a short book, but being mostly alone and dealing with my recovery from open-heart surgery, legal matters involving her estate, the tyranny of the physiological and mental problems of grief fog — reading was a challenge. However, after I purchased it, I converted it into an audio book with a text-to-speech service. Voices in TtS can be quite good. Lewis was British, so I chose a voice with an appropriate accent. It took an hour to hear, and I listened to it again this morning. A 1998 Polaroid photo of Charlene A quick side trail here. Remember when I said she had lousy self-esteem ? I found the Polaroid picture that was scanned and sent to me. It was the first image I saw of her, and still burned in my memory is that she said, "I hope it doesn't make you sick." A Grief Observed  was written after Lewis' wife died of cancer. They had

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Hopefully this article will at least prove interesting as well as helpful for people going through the grieving process. Charlene has been gone for just over three months, and this first Christmas in over twenty years without her is brutal. This morning I got up and took a picture of the tree, which is three feet tall and pre-lit, set on an end-table. I added some ornaments. One was a gut punch because it was from her late sister, "New Home 2008" for our new apartment. Now Charlene is celebrating her first Christmas with Jesus in her new home . Using a tripod and the phone camera's night setting, plus I removed clutter Our last Christmas together, we both had the Rona. On Christmas Eve, we watched the 1951  Scrooge  (changed to A Christmas Carol )...just noticed that I wrote "we watched" out of habit. This movie was in our rotation for Christmas Eve and Day viewings. I only made it about halfway though, what with being tired and all — we

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Today is the 67th birthday of my beloved Charlene, which she is celebrating in Heaven. Right now, I am writing this while listening to one of those music compilation CDs that I made her long ago. The concept of self-esteem has exaggerated importance, often used as an excuse for inflated egos and pride. However, the healthy kind is important. As I mentioned before, we met online and got to know each other texting through AOL. It did not take long to learn that her self-esteem had taken a beating her entire life. Baby Charlene ca. 1957, via PhotoFunia and other enhancement processes Charlene almost never received "props" or complements from her parents. Her daughter (who died in 2010) and ex-husband verbally and mentally abused her. Lots of manipulation. Like I have done, she had wished to go to sleep and never wake up. I think her belief that self-elimination is a one-way ticket to Hell kept her alive. If I rightly recollect, she said she didn't de

People have probably noticed that in my articles on grief, I am being transparent. Anyone grieving needs to do this at least with themselves and counselors (which can include caring friends and family). I also admit to muddling through it all and probably never knowing the answers. This time, I am admitting that I underestimated Charlene's love for me. In my defense, we had a time of troubles years ago and she said she did not love me as much as before. In her defense, people change over time and she did indeed love me again later on. The other part is that I did not know until she went to be with Jesus how much I love her. People don't need to dramatically proclaim and demonstrate "I love you!" all the time. Love can be demonstrated in small ways as well, trickling in as time passes. They don't have to be material, either. Encouraging remarks, courtesies, showing respect, and other things add up. I bought a small book light so I could read in the living room with

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  Back in the late 1990s, I was in a loveless marriage and wanted to end it. By 1998, I was just existing and willing to let my psyche die. Charlene found me on AOL one evening, and we talked through the messenger almost every night for a year before we actually met in person. In a way, we knew each other inside out, sharing thoughts and feelings. We grew to love each other. I did not think I could be loved. From our first happy meeting in 1999, taken with a crummy disposable camera Charlene loved me before we met in person, and I started to come back to life inside. The execution of my own consciousness was halted, and I reckon that she saved my life; I may have not waited for the slow demise and hastened the process. This was still before we met. I wrote a couple of poems that are pretty dreadful about her. The poems were posted online and the property they were on disappeared, but I was able to find them again. I posted under an assumed name, so even though the

by Cowboy Bob Sorensen  This is a mite wordy, but it is light reading. Although I am going through pain that I could never have imagined, and sometimes wonder about my sanity, good things happen. That grief fog is (in my case) characterized by forgetfulness and distractions. I have to do my own laundry. Kind people were doing it for me while I was under cardiologist restrictions not to lift more than ten pounds. When I was cleared to ease into going back to work, I started doing laundry. This was one of the many things Charlene did. I watched a video on how to do it. Washers and dryers very similar to where I live, Unsplash / Douglas Monterrosa Being alone now and having simple tastes, it is rather easy. I decided that I had time before church, and the laundry center at the apartment complex was open. The grief fog was not too bad and I was feeling a bit more alert. I gathered everything, went over, put in the wash, set my timer, and came back to the apartment. Twenty-some minutes late