Saunter

Dear Bloggers,

There are amazing sounds coming from the little silhouette in the tree. The dark blue sky shoots through the small beak. Could there also be birds who do not dare to sing their song? Who only sing their father's psalms when sitting next to him on a twig. My dad could tell me directly what name this little animal has received. With his eyes closed. So he must have seen it with me too. I did not know what a sissy was. Some kind of vegetable, I thought. At least I understood that it was something dirty. Not that I was busy with those kind of things. I did not search for these kind of answers as I do nowadays constantly. Just because I am curious and want to know why? Things were just the way they were and yes it was bad news and I had to man up. But in that regard, I was perhaps more a sensitive guy and sometimes I was maybe more a girl or a little sissy like my father called it.

For example, my mother always had tea ready when I came home after school. It seemed like she had been waiting the whole day for us, something that I could do as well. Just I love to hang out with my wife and kids. I was really a bit of a softy who could enjoy these little loving and caring things that my mother did. Yes and I was a pretty simple guy, I burned my lips and tongue on my tea over and over again.

Next to each other, we sat in the window sill, our wet hairs against the glass that protected us against the ticking drops that wanted to get in. We just had been under the shower. She looked at me. I looked at her. We sat together hand in hand in the window sill. The ticking was going on and it felt like that the window had disappeared and all the drops of the world sat in my body and wanted to get out. Tickling, tingling, tickling against the inside of my skin, my belly, my eyelids, my burned tongue and lips.

Abducted by my shivering spine. Sitting there in the window sill I saw how she, cold as ice, took a few big slugs of the steamy tea. Why did not I see that, she was not a little softy girl at all? And yes she was a lot harder and tougher than me. But I did not care about that I just loved her and did not really know yet, what I could do with this girl. So I just enjoyed each moment we had together.

Now I'm sitting on a bench in a park looking at a little bird whose name I do not know. It's singing so beautiful that it's got to be afraid of love and it must be heartbroken. Only years later, I just realized that there were many other possibilities in relations, and that boys with boys and girls could be with other girls and that these were the so-called sissies. So I was not a little sissy but a little wimp or a softy. In the years that I went to sea and sailed internationally, I discovered that this was not strange and that these people are actually very nice people. And some have become really the ones that should be counted to my best friends. So, I did not understand anything about fear of gays, no, they really don't play with you and it's not really contagious. 

I've been married with a marvelous woman and I understand that luckily we're not all being the same. The fact that I was not a sissy-boy was something I showed during my military service. I struggled and fought hard and cautiously there was only one way and that was only forward and it was sometimes that it felt tough and the road was heavy but with your comrades you can do a lot. Although there are some things that stick forever in your system, but it has made me the man I am now. And I'm very proud of it, even though I have to tell it to myself. I am maybe a bit off the wagon, but I think you should be a little bit crazy and I think it;s actually very healthy.

Do you see that there is an old exercise book between my feet on the ground? With the two horses on the cover. One white and one black, both are galloping, running, jogging. Ah, whatever. In that exercise book I wrote my first voluntary sentences. Her name is on top of each page. After a sweet story about just fun things and yes, what did I have a huge butterfly garden in my belly. 

Suddenly I saw those horses grazing between my old school stuff. Stories about her and me. That we walked into the village hand in hand. She secretly stayed with me without touching her own bed. I have described millions of kisses in detail. Descriptions of kisses that I would give her. And then there are only empty pages left, Blank, Virgin white pages. The stories stopped when she unfortunately did not come back to me again. What we were to each other it did not come back to me. She all of a sudden just collapsed and died on a volleyball court in a sports hall. What do I hate tumors in the brain. There are all those empty pages again.

Why does that little beast in my head not shut up? Why do the hollow sounds of the little creature still enter the empty night? I will flick him out of that tree with this damn book. It will now know that nobody will listen to him if I hit him with these running horses on his beak. I'm on to the bloody beast with his big mouth. Nobody will be able to see on which side the beak was. With a Smile on my face I will listen to the squeeze and the bloodshed of the blood under the weight of my foot. Very short and fierce I will laugh. Then tears will come and their will be regret. I will scrape the puddle with feathers from underneath my boot. I will punch it and push the air on my hand. "Fly, fly, fly again please," I'll whisper to it, "sing, sing, sing please." His parents will be heartbroken pops in my mind, all of a sudden. An t question myself: So much sadness and why? I'm still angry with the fact that someone will be ripped so out of your life. No, you don't want to give this to your worst enemy. For years I have been thinking about the deep wounds that must have struck in the life's of the parents, siblings, school friends and friends. 

And what to think of what was still to be explored in the field of love. Hardly and all of a sudden stopped every one's world and I became sick of the thought that I could never see her again and that I could not hold her anymore. Never more the fun together and doing things together. No, I picked up my life again and I could not change anything about it. Still, I ask myself these questions and I can sometimes walk around with this. Probably at a certain time she would have walked and had found somewhere in the world a tanned Adonis that could've made her happier. But yes ,,,,,,, I will never get these answers. The Lord is merciful but also about that I am no longer sure.

The galloping horses do not blow up any dust in my brain. It's been almost 35 years since and my life has known a lot of ups and downs. But never has anyone ever called me a sissy again. And yes, meanwhile, I am also the father of two children, and I hope I will do things better than my own parents, but that's the purpose of every parent in my opinion. I'm also making mistakes and I've forgiven my father for a long time. He was full of grief as such a young life should not stop this way, his heart broke as every parents heart would, he had to get us back on track as a family because everyday life just goes on. As I grow older, I notice more and more that people around me sometimes have deep scratches on their souls.

There are still beautiful sounds from the silhouette in the tree. The vocals of animal are answered by another birdie and suddenly they shoot through the branches. So there is always a new beginning and this is probably the most beautiful thing in the world. It's just those little things that can make life so beautiful. And then I realize that bench where I'm sitting alone and that I just have to go on with the most beautiful memories and the thoughts that just came together. I hope therefore whatever you should do in this life, think it's been worth it and I had the chance doing the most wonderful things in my life. Sometimes I was falling on my face pretty hard and I just wiped my tears away and took my loss, Even when it hurt I still got up again. So be careful with what you are saying to someone.

The Old Sailor,

An old fairy tale in a modern jacket

Dear Bloggers,

During the my wanderings through my funny mind.

I wanted to put an old fairy tale into a modern form. 

Everyone knows the sad story of the girl with the matches. 

As a young bloke this story made me cry and I realized that not everyone is 

that lucky in this life, some have to live under harsh conditions

This is my version of it. I wish everyone a warm and loving Christmas time.

It was a frigid cold night outside on the streets of downtown Groningen City, the coldest night of the year in fact. It was Christmas Eve and all along the littered and paved road were buildings with warm glows coming from the windows of the apartment buildings. Everyone was happily celebrating the Christmas spirit with glasses of brandy or a beer and a typical Christmas movie on their televisions. The snow fell down fast and thick, blanketing the sidewalks in a soft but chill powder. The snow ploughs would have quite a job clearing all the walkways and roads in the morning.

A public service bus emblazoned with Groningens famous grey and red dotted pattern managed to find a vacant spot along the side of the busy street and parallel parked, coming to a stop. The back passenger door opened and a man in a dark trench coat and dark hat shoved a young girl onto the unploughed sidewalk. The bloke threw a box at her, revealing quite a large stock of packaged cigarettes. “Now, I don’t wanna see you back on my doorstep until every last pack of smokes has been sold, you got that kid?” the owner of the hat yelled harshly. The girl sighed and shivered as the wind tore through her thin jacket and ragged jeans.

“Yeah, alright! I’ll sell ‘em!” she snapped back, thoroughly irritated with her big brother doing this to her again. He had sent her out in the frigid cold every night this week to sell those disgusting cigarettes his buddies smuggled in from other countries. She had gotten quite ill from her late-night job and even now, her eyes were streaming and her nose was dripping terribly. Her lungs felt about three sizes too small for her body and every now and then, she would be plagued with a wracking cough that left her gasping for air.

Of course, her brother would not take her to the hospital. He didn’t want to waste his precious money that she earned for him on something as trivial and unimportant as medical care. The bus slowly took off again and got out of sight again, leaving the sick young girl of about twelve years by herself on the streets of Groningen City.

She wore no gloves and her sneakers had holes in them that allowed the snow to soak through and freeze her toes. Her jacket was too ragged and thin to wear in March, let alone late December. Pulling the thin fabric tighter around her scarf-less neck, she put her head down and trudged her way through the bitter cold snow, being jostled back and forth by busy Groningers who were in too much of a hurry to notice her.

Finding a rather busy intersection, with bustling traffic all around her, the girl decided to advertise the cigarettes there. Placing the box in front of her on the ground and pulling out a brightly coloured, freshly wrapped package, she cleared her aching throat and shouted out. “Get your cigarettes here! Fresh, smooth cigarettes with a new mint flavour! Only three fifty a pack! A great low price!” she yelled out, displaying the carton as high up as she could to grab people’s attention. A few passing folks bought a package or two, but most just turned their heads and kept walking without a word. She had only sold four packages of cigarettes and needed to sell the entire box full before returning to her brother.

A bout of severe coughing caught the young girl by surprise. Doubled over, she hacked and spluttered until she thought she may vomit right there on the pavement. Luckily, the feeling passed although she was left gasping for breath, hands on her knees at the intersection. Of course, the bustling Groningers walking past paid no attention to her. The suffering of a little girl was no concern of theirs.

Wiping her runny eyes that were now mixed with hot, salty tears, the girl shook her head to shake the snow out of her hair. “Forget this! This is dumb!” she muttered to herself angrily, giving the box of cigarettes a good kick, leaving a sizable dent in the soggy cardboard. Picking up the box and continuing to walk down the street, she had to bite her lip to stop from crying out in pain. She was so cold she couldn’t feel her toes or her fingers and she was aching all over from the beating her brother had given her the day before for coming home with no profit.

“Psst! Hey, kid! You got some smokes there?” the voice of a homeless man wafted out from an alley. The young girl was not afraid of street people. Most of them were usually kind enough to spare an encouraging word or a few extra scraps of food when she made her rounds. She nodded and stepped forward. “Yeah, but I can’t give ‘em to you for free or else my brother will beat me,” she told him apologetically. The homeless man waved a hand as if to brush off her words.

“Ah, that’s okay kid. I got some matches though. Care to trade a pack of smokes for some matches?” he asked, pulling out a small handful. The girl was about to apologize once more and say that her brother would hit her for trading any of the cigarettes when a thought struck her. The matches would provide some kind of warmth for her numb fingers. Unable to resist, the girl eagerly nodded and traded the homeless man for the matches. “Thanks, kid. You’re alright,” the man complimented her, walking away with his new treasure.

Taking the man’s place in the dark alley, the girl struck one of the matches against the rough brick of the building beside her. Thankfully, the match wasn’t wet and a small fire glowed brightly in front of her eyes. Looking up, the young girl witnessed the most amazing sight. Before her lay her old living room from when her mother had been alive, decorated lavishly for the holidays. A gleaming pine tree covered in twinkling lights and tinsel shone magnificently and presents were laid underneath, covered in festive wrapping paper as a roaring fire spread its warmth throughout the room. As the girl reached out to touch her surroundings, the flame of the match flickered and died out; leaving her once again in one of Groningen City’s many dark and frighteningly cold alleys.

With a cry of fear she desperately struck another match. This time, she was in her old dining room, also decorated for Christmas and the table groaning under the weight of all the delicious food upon it. Roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and gravy, mashed potatoes, wine and eggnog all freshly made by her mother. The scent made the girl’s mouth water, but again the vision did not last and with the death of the match’s flame, came reality once more.

Just one more… the girl thought to herself hopefully, again striking a third match. Rather than seeing visions of her old home with food and decorations made by her deceased mother, she saw her mother before her. She was alive and well, looking healthy and jubilant. She smiled warmly at her daughter, holding her arms out to embrace her. Sobbing with joy, the girl frantically lit the rest of the matches she had, not wanting the image of her mother to fade away like the others had. “Mom! Mom, take me with you! Don’t leave me again, mom!” she wept.

“Come. I’m taking you with me, where you will never be sad or cold or hungry again. We will be together forever,” her mother’s sweet, gentle voice called out calmly to her. Smiling through her tears, the girl ran into her mother’s arms and they were floating higher and higher. As they ascended, the young girl could feel all her sadness, loneliness, hunger, and cold fade away, leaving her in a state of bliss as she embraced her mother. She would never feel these things again.

The morning rush hour traffic on the first day after Christmas was brought to a standstill as police tape surrounded a snowy alley. A female officer leaned over the body of a little girl, surrounded by lit matches and a box of cigarettes nearby. She cleared her throat and spoke into the walkie-talkie attached to her breast pocket. “We seem to have a Jane Doe here, approximately ten to thirteen years old; seems like she froze to death last night. We’ll have her at the coroner’s by midday. Over,” she told another officer. The officer sighed and shook her head. “Poor kid. Probably she was just trying to keep herself warm.”

Light a candle in these dark days for those who are no longer with us,

but somewhere up there waiting for us. And when our time has come 

to exchange the earthly to the afterlife. 

Whatever you believe and no matter who you are. 

Just remember Love conquers all. 

The Old Sailor,

Growing older feels like time is catching up with me

Dear Bloggers,

I was sitting down tonight and my thoughts were about life again and how lucky I should consider myself, I have a great family and the girls are growing up faster as I thought. Even though I am enjoying every moment of all the situations that occur and the things they do discuss with us and the things that keep them busy. But also the music they are listening to (some of the songs I never heard before).

Although it is a widely accepted that, "The older you get, the faster time seems to go." But why should aging have this effect? After all, there is the parallel that says, "Time flies when you are having fun." But as we age, time flies whether we are having fun or not.

Question is of course, what's going on?
I have recently been trying to understand this question, because for the past several years many of my days have been extremely long, yet the years still seem to be accelerating.

To tackle the problem, I did an Internet search to see what others were saying on the subject. Nearly all the returns had to do with parenting. "Oh, they grow up so fast. The days are long, but the years are short." This is perhaps a partial explanation; however, since the questioning started, I figured out that it occurs just as well to people who have no children, it cannot be the whole answer.

Some other comments had to do with getting religion. "I found God at the age of 30 and every day since I have been waiting to go to His kingdom. I am now in my 80s. Oh, the days have been so long, but the years have been so short." Again perhaps a partial explanation; Hmmm....the same things I hear with non believers as believers, it cannot be the whole answer either.

Many comments were also philosophical. They said simply to accept the facts and live each day to the full. Good advice I think, but again no advance in understanding.
 

I then turned to science. I typed in the search words "psychology of time". This turned up hundreds of articles, most of which were very technical, dealing with brain structure and functions, neurotransmitters and the like. To narrow the search, I typed in both "psychology of time" and "days are long". And got nothing at all!

Finally, I decided to sit down somewhere quietly and analyse the matter myself. This turned about to be a wise decision, because I think I found the solution. It's really quite simple. It all has to do with "anticipation" and "retrospection".

Whatever the nature of our individual lives, we all anticipate things that are important to us. Then after they happen, we look back at them. For example, most school children look forward to the long summer vacation, which always seems to be an eternity away. Finally, it arrives. Then, almost before they blink an eye, it's over and they are back in school again.

Progressing from primary school to secondary school is another excruciating anticipation for a youngster, especially if the move is perceived as being an important step away from childhood into adulthood.

And so it goes on and on. When anticipated, each new significant event seems to be extremely far away. However, after the event, we regularly look back and yell out: "Did it really happen that long ago?"

Our first love, our first heartbreak, driving a car, getting a job, marriage, etc. When we look forward, all these milestones seem impossibly far in the future. However once achieved, how quickly they fade away into the past.

The older we get, the more milestones we have to look back on. So the farther and faster they appear to fade away. So if sometimes the clock may seem to have stopped, the calendar always continues racing ahead.

For me, the high point of my life was joining the army and serving as a soldier for my country was teaching me that life was not always fun. And they thought me to be disciplined. I applied for a peace keeping force post early in my career and was trained for special peace tasks. Processing the application took only about three months -- perhaps the longest three months of my life. It seemed more like three years. I was accepted but not sent abroad as the Dutch government decided differently. 

After a while I realized that I should consider myself lucky as I met guys who came back from these scattered countries – I still help some of them with getting their life on track and help them with a listening ear and lend them a hand when they have to make a new start again. the easiest way of living my life, because I am having so much fun.

I of course have had many other milestones in my life, which are all rapidly hurtling away from me. Even the most recent ones already seem to be covered in dust. I am now 46. I don't feel old, but somehow I just can't get my mind around the fact that many of these things already look like ancient history.

If accumulating milestones is truly the secret of the accelerating years, what do we do about it? Basically nothing; we just have to accept it. However, this is not necessarily a negative. True, the good things are coursing away faster and faster into the past. But so are also the not-so-good things.

Whether positive or negative, nothing in life lasts forever, even if it sometimes feels as if it will. We are certain of this because we know even life itself doesn't last forever. We are all born to die. What happens after that is the subject of considerable controversy. But whatever it is, we are certain it is going to happen, and that it will almost certainly be different from whatever we know today.

Since I am now in my fourth decade (I am 46), for me this inevitability will probably occur sometime within the next 30-40 years, and almost certainly within the next 50 years. This seems like a very long time. However, the years are accelerating, so when it does occur my most probable reaction will be: "What! Already!" On the other hand I have done so many fun things in my life. If I would drop dead tomorrow I would call it bad luck for the rest of my family.

Enjoy every day you've got left, you never know what might happen.

The Old Sailor,

When is it time to give up the keys?

Dear Bloggers,

This blogs subject is about driving and Parkinson's Disease

As baby boomers age and life expectancy rises, increasing attention is turning on how to determine when and if older people and people with severe health problems should stop driving. This topic is especially important in light of a agtng group in our country as a lot of them are on the search for injury prevention and we should get in control that our elderly people are involved by vehicle injuries. As the number one cause of injury related deaths for people aged 65 to 74, and the number two cause (after falls) of injury

related deaths for those aged 75 to 84. The issue that hits home for people with Parkinson's since both the symptoms of the disease and the medications designed to ease them can affect driving ability. If you are struggling with the decision of whether or not to stop driving, or if you are a caregiver for someone who is wrestling with this problem, this blog may help you explore your options.
 

 
How does Parkinson's disease affect driving?

People with Parkinson's disease may eventually experience a decline in both motor skills and cognition. These problems can make driving unsafe. For example, a decrease in visuospatial skill. Let me explain:This is the kind of skills that are necessary to determine distance and distinguish shapes which is not uncommon in Parkinson’s Disease. A driver with decreased visuospatial skills may be unable to gauge the distance to a stop sign or a traffic light or keep a car in the correct lane. Some people with Parkinson's also may have cognitive difficulties and at times become confused. 

Unfortunately, patients with dementia may not realize that their driving has become a problem and must rely on a physician, family members and friends to bring it to their attention. Another common symptomatic problem for people with Parkinson's is muscle tightness, which can make reacting quickly difficult. Delayed reaction time is dangerous because drivers need to be able to react swiftly, both mentally and physically, to avoid accidents and adapt to changing traffic patterns.

Additional complications come from the medications that are used to treat Parkinson’s Disease. Common medications including carbidopa/levodopa (Sinemet), amantadine, dopamine agonists and anticholinergics may produce side-effects such as sleepiness, dizziness, blurred vision and confusion. Anticholinergics are especially dangerous as they can cause confusion and sedation along with memory impairment. However, not every patient experiences these side-effects and they may be decreased with simple adjustments in dosage. You should note any changes and report these to your physician. It is your life and you decide.

 Assessment options for people with Parkinson's

It is important to remember that while not every person with Parkinson's experiences problems with driving, disease symptoms and treatments can make driving dangerous for you and others. Driving is seen as a priveliged right of independence and freedom and you may be reluctant to stop, but being responsible is also important. To help you determine your driving risk, the medical association advice is to report your Parkinson’s at CBR (the Dutch bureau for driving licences) Especially for older drivers with difficulties in traffic and they can give extensive information about diseases that may affect driving ability, such as Parkinson's. Although these guidelines were developed primarily for doctors, it will help laypersons to make their own assessment of their driving ability and determine a course of action.

The question is: “Am I a Safe Driver?” If you just take a driving lesson just to help you evaluate your driving. If you score poorly on this and you are still reluctant to stop driving, refer to the driving school to get some tips for safe drving and really consider speaking with a doctor about the issue. The doctor can run some tests on cognition, mobility, reaction time and visual ability for physicians to perform on patients to determine if a person is driving safely. Yes you might not only kill yourself but also someone else!

A less costly, although less thorough, option is to enroll in a driver safety class, such as the driving  schools are offering to elderly people. While these classes are not specifically tailored for people with Parkinson's, they can provide helpful tips for safe driving. An instructor will lead the class through various ways of enhancing driving skills and safety but often will not make individual assessments.
Finally, you can always visit the CBR and ask to take a driving test. Of course, if you were to fail the test, your license would be revoked.

What can family members and friends do to help?

Understandably, most people are reluctant to give up the opportunity to drive. Because of this, it is often up to family members and caregivers to spot a problem first. If you are a family member or caregiver for a person with Parkinson's and you think it may be time for them to stop driving, remember that this is a very sensitive issue and you must help the person see that his or her driving has become dangerous. Before bringing up the subject, look at the possibilities how to help this older driver, being prepared as they have a million excuses to keep their freedom which is extremely relevant for Parkinson's patients. This can help you determine if your concerns are valid and how you might address them.

Another way to help your loved one with this decision is by stressing that giving up driving does not mean giving up mobility. Your support is crucial in helping a person with Parkinson's admit that his or her skills have decreased without feeling stripped of power. To help people with Parkinson's with their decision to stop driving, provide them with transportation alternatives. The Getting by Without Driving tip is to highlight all other possible modes of transportation, including a partner that is still able to drive, taxis, buses, subways and getting a ride from family members. Some cities also provide travel assistance for people unable to use public transportation. (We got something that is called the Plusbus.) If you know someone with Parkinson's who has had to give up driving, provide him or her with bus routes, taxicab phone numbers, and offer to give rides. For more transportation alternatives, check on the internet for options in your region.This may help a person with Parkinson's to adjust and realize that stopping driving does not mean losing independence.

What's the bottom line?

Having Parkinson's does not necessarily result in giving up driving. However, whether you are a person with Parkinson's or a loved one, it is important to be responsible and remember the potential dangers that Parkinson's presents to driving. Ignoring the effects of the disease and its medications on driving will only create a more dangerous environment for you and other drivers. The best way to be a responsible driver is by paying attention to your driving skills and reporting any changes to your physician. If you have concerns, don't avoid voicing them out of fear of losing your license. Doctors and family members are often happy to help you exhaust rehabilitation options before asking you to give up driving. If it does come to the point where family, doctors and driving coaches ask you to give up your keys, realize that it is in your best interest to stop driving and explore other transportation options. They love you and don’t want to loose you.

The Old Sailor,
 

The Crash...

Dear Bloggers,

In the last few years, one of my close friends has dealt with the untimely loss of a spouse. I'd like to share this story and what we all have learned about dealing with grief and moving forward at the appropriate time.

My friend was the one who died suddenly of a massive car crash at age 32, leaving a wife and 2 children from 14 and 8. He could not go with them as he needed to finish things at work and he would come later that evening. While he had been feeling poorly that morning he had no easy answers on this feeling, he urged his wife and children to go on a family holiday out of town because they should not loose any of this precious time. Crazy how life can turn around so sudden. When his wife and family returned quickly when they learned of his death and dealt with the funeral, the estate and all the implications of losing their husband and father. 

It would have been very different circumstances if he would have been seriously ill with a sickness, for example cancer then there is most of the time some time left to say goodbye. even though the loss of any wife and mother or husband and father is tragic. The death of a father and husband which was sudden, unexpected and laden with guilt for his dying alone. 

Whatever the circumstances, dealing with the death of a spouse has to be one of the most difficult and traumatic experiences of life. Based on the experiences of others and lots of research, here are some ideas and perspectives that might help.
Try to understand the stages of grief.

• Denial: "This can’t be happening to me."
• Anger: "Why is this happening? Who is to blame?"
• Bargaining: "Make this not happen, and in return I will ____."
• Depression: "I’m too sad to do anything."
• Acceptance: "I’m at peace with what is going to happen/has happened."

Everyone who loses someone close to them moves through these stages, usually in this order. As a husband or wife who loses a spouse to death confronts the profound feelings of loss, it can help to recognize in which stage you are operating and to know that there can be personal peace at the end of the grieving process.
Recognize that time tends to heal wounds. When we are in the midst of feelings of loss or grief, it can truly seem like the feelings will last forever. But time's passage has a way of healing these feelings. Keeping a sense of hope through the feelings of grief can help a mother or father who has lost his or her spouse make it through each day. 

Lean on your support system. Fortunately for my friends, there were exceptional support systems. They both had large families on both sides on whom they could lean. They had friends also from work who were helpful through the transition.  Big plus they had was the community of faith on whom they leaned emotionally and physically. The ones who find themselves alone after the death of a spouse need to allow others who are close to them into their inner circle of feelings. People who care about you want to help, and you are in a time when you need it perhaps the most. 

Express your feelings. Don't bottle up emotions of grief and sorrow. Sometimes societal expectations make men particularly want to be strong and stoic. Especially if you have children that are grieving with you, you may feel a need to be their "rock." But you will need some time to express your feelings, insecurities and loneliness. Talk to friends, seek counseling, write, cry  whatever the outlet will be, let the feelings be expressed. Repressing them only brings greater challenges later. 

Take care of yourself physically. It will be important for you to eat well, get enough sleep, and exercise. Avoid self-defeating behaviors like turning to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain. Just taking walks with a close friend or family member can make a world of difference in your mood. 

Take your time. Grieving works differently for different people. I cannot write a basic transcript for everyone as everyone experiences these emotions in his or her own way. Do not let others make you feel rushed to get on with your life or move ahead. Move at your pace. Don't make any major decisions that will have life-changing implications through the grief process. 

Today my friends are doing well and their life is moving forward. My friends wife is now back in the work force and busy raising her children. Not yet remarried and not really worried about it, she is again building a new life with new opportunities. All of them have worked through this important life transition, taking different approaches but main part is that it’s working. They gave me the permission on writing about their situation as others might learn something from it. I made the choice of not mentioning any names. I think that nobody gains anything here.

The most important thing for any grieving father or mother to remember is that through the grieving process, there is hope and that with time and effort, life can again be full of happiness and possibilities. All the roads you will take might look new, but most of them have been tried by someone. 

The Old Sailor,