I'm sorry for your loss, Spidra. Please don't feel guilty for feeling what you feel.

Sending coping vibes to Steph and The Boy.

I wish he would come home and sleep here tonight. I won't say that to him, because I don't want to add any more pressure to what is already more stress than should be allowed. And I wouldn't love him if he weren't the type of man who wants to stay with his dying mother.

But all the same, since it's perfectly possible for us humans to hold conflicting feelings, I wish he would come home. His other 2 brothers have gone home some nights, and I just wish he would, too.

Which makes me feel horribly selfish, like I can't think about anyone but myself, not even my partner's dying mother and grieving father. Or Tim, for that matter, since he needs to be there. And I can't even respect that.

This is so hard. I feel stupid typing that, because, DUH. But it is so, so fucking hard.

{{{{{{{{{{ Teppy }}}}}}}}}} *

Note: * : to save space, I only did 10 brackets. They go to infinity, of course. We are all here for you.

Of course, you need him too! It's not selfish- and you ARE respecting the fact that he feels like he needs to be by her side. It just has an impact on you as well, and that's OK.

{{{{{Teppy}}}}} It's not selfish for you to want him to come home. It's a terribly stressful situation for you too, and why wouldn't you want The Boy home with you? It's good that you are letting him do what he needs to do, and that isn't negated by the fact that you wish he would come home.

wrod.

Teppy, I've been reading all your posts about the Boy and his mother and just nodding along and sending you boatloads of love and sympathy and support. I'm in a similar situation with Mark right now -- different in some obvious and major ways, of course, but similar in that I am having to figure out how to keep my shit together and be there for him in all the ways he needs me. I know how intensely grateful he is to have me there, and I know that there isn't actually much I can do but just be here; but I still keep thinking that there must be something I can do to make it better, to make the grief and pain go away. And there just isn't.

I'm like Spoon River Anthology in my head. Seriously. There's a Greek chorus of madmen in here. I want Tim back. I want him in bed with me tonight. I hate having our lives and schedules all kerfucked. I don't WANT to be supportive because *I* want to fling myself on the ground and have a tantrum over the massive unfair-itude of Death, Inc.

Oh god, do I know the feeling. I broke down into hysterical, can't-catch-your-breath sobbing on Saturday, and was just horrified to have Mark feel like he had to comfort *me*. I felt like such a failure at taking care of him, you know? And yet I also understand that I am also under a lot of stress right now, and that's OK to need to be emotional sometimes. Rationally, I know that. But it still doesn't feel right to be the needy one, even if it's just for a few minutes.

Oh, Kate. I have been thinking about you and Mark since I got your voicemail. Glad to see you here, and be able to tell you that.

The perfect, unselfish helpmeet of a spouse/equivalent is a lie. The best we can do is think the possibly selfish things to ourselves, admit that they're there, and not be such raging assholes that we dump this stuff on people who already have hellish burdens to carry. It often sucks. I'm pretty sure there's a "Truthful Guide to Being a Grown-Up" somewhere that tells us all this, but the only copy may have been in Alexandria.

Thank you, Nora. One of the many, many awful things about Joey's death was the timing -- we really were having a lovely, fun vacation in New Orleans, and I was so excited to get to meet up with you and Tom that night. We'll get back there someday.

I've also been meaning to chime in and send you and Tom lots of good wishes. Moving to a totally new city with someone is just rough, no matter how much you love the place and the person. I hope you guys can find the space to take it easy on each other, and yourselves, when it starts to seem overwhelming.