Losing your significant other is something that you never get over - you live with the emptiness and the hurt, and you learn to move on and hope that the "fog" eventually lifts. It's something that only someone else who has been through the same experience will understand. I was lucky to meet a friend who had lost her husband a couple years before, and she helped me through the hardest times.
Matt, if you ever read these comments, all my thoughts and condolences for you. I know "thoughts and prayers" does nothing, but a lot more people care than you realize.
I found that quite cutting. I'm not sure I could go on if my wife died prematurely. My mind has turned to this on occassions when people close to me have suffered severe illness or died, and I just can't see in my minds eye how I could cope.
A close family friend took his own life shortly after his wife died of cancer. After over 25 years of living together, I guess it was just too much for him to continue without her.
I was too young at the time to understand and to be honest I'm still too young to understand.
It's tough. But life has to go on. My wife of forty years died of cancer last August after two years of treatment. Even though we both knew it would happen sometime we were neither of us prepared for it when it happened. Six months later 'I’m unmanned and unmoored without her' as the other commenter said. Half my memory is gone, I have no one to whom I can make all those scurrilous comments about friends and relations. No one's hand to hold while going for a walk. No one to hold and to touch.
But I have other people who rely on me, my children, my sister, the company I work for. So even though I am in tears as I write this, I know that I have to cope, I have to find a way to be.
Is it too late to become what she would have wanted? I don't mean to be glib, but you were a young kid then and (presumably) you're not anymore. Could you recreate her in your mind and allow her to influence you to become the person you would have been?
I'm a father, and I used to worry about what might happen to my young kids if I died. It would be a great comfort to me to imagine them, after they got older, making an effort to interview people who knew me, asking about what I was interested in, what mattered to me, what I used to talk about, how I talked, how serious/happy/neurotic/patient/stingy/grouchy/etc. I was. With this model, they could imagine conversations with me, discuss things with me, try not to disappoint me, etc.
Fortunately--for me, anyway--my kids are old enough now that they will never get my voice out of their heads, even if I get hit by a bus tomorrow (and even if they are driving the bus!) It's too late for them.
How about you? If you seriously think she might have made you a better person, why not help her by giving her a second chance?
> I often wonder if I would have been a better person if she was there.
In general, your parents might be responsible for what you are when you turn 18, but every step you do afterwards is your responsibility. I know people who are over 50 and still make their parents responsible for the bad things in their life, ignoring the 30 years they had to fix the problems of their past.
So yes, it might be a bad start to loose your mother that early, but if you think you could do better (by your own standards): You are the only person who has the authority and power to change yourself.
Sorry, this might sound a little tough given the overall topic, but I think it is is very important to realize this early in life.
I know the slightest glimse of death later last year when my parents came to visit me in the US. We had a great time, but I know they're living on borrowed time. I just hope I could do more for them. I am 30 now and my mind still can't make peace with that.
It's a thing that taints life with a glow of absurdity. I hope your (and matt's) scar will shrink a bit, even though this is the kind of scar you don't want to heal at the same time.
My wife passed away in her sleep in 2016. It was unexpected. I woke up like it was any other day and then it wasn't. I never imagined something like that would happen. Learning how to carry on without my partner and my best friend has made these past two years the most challenging of my life.
In this time, I've learned a few things about grief. That it affects everyone differently. That there's no right or wrong way to grieve. Some of us feel guilt, anger, sadness, depression, or numbness... or all of the above.
I also discovered that my wife's passing and my grief made other people feel uncomfortable. I sensed it was hard for folks to know what to say or do. And that's ok—there isn't much you can say or do that will change things for those closest to loss.
But, speaking for myself, it does mean a lot when someone reaches out and shares their thoughts. In my experience, the best things to say are to acknowledge the hurt and to share how you feel. Avoid trying to make sense of it (you can't) or that things will get better (you don't know). If you're able, say the person's name. If you knew the person, tell your grieving friend how much she meant to you.
Matt, I didn't know your wife, Cindy, but I met you once and recall being struck by how smart, genuine, and kind you were, aside from all the great work you've done to help me learn about SEO. From what you've shared about Cindy, I can tell she is an amazing person, that she is loved, and that she is missed dearly. My heart goes out to you and your family.
My wife also passed away unexpectedly in her sleep in 2016.
My heart aches for Matt. I don't know him or his wife, but I know the feeling of being unmoored. In fact I've used that same word to describe it.
I agree that people never know how to act about the situation. It's weird now to think of all of the people I have met who only know me as a widower, who never knew me when my wife was alive.
I appreciated the outpouring of support I received in the immediate aftermath. It was overwhelming, but not unwelcome.
Matt is my boss. He is the kindest and best leader I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Cindy, his wife, was a jewel. My heart hurts so much for him.
For those wondering who Matt is, he’s a fifteen plus year Googler, ex head of Safe Search and web anti-spam, now acting director of the US Digital Service.
Is that....weird? My coworker has worked here for 25 years now, and he's still "just" a programmer, was never interested in taking a managerial/lead position. There's plenty of programmers who have 10~20 years of seniority here. And it's a games company, so it's not like these people work on some archaic systems - major, triple A releases everyone heard about.
July will mark 34 years at the same company. It's been an interesting ride. When I started, what little computing we did was on a shared mainframe, miles away, or on old Wang word processors. We had one IBM PC, acquired without permission, in a closet. (I don't miss 8-inch floppy disks.) The introduction of PCs, installing networks, developing our own systems, etc. I've been part of it all. I've always had the flexibiity to try something new. I almost became management a couple of years ago; but, I'm glad to just be a senior engineer.
Twenty years here. I've gotten married, bought my first place, had a child. The manager who hired me is still here, along with many others.
We've lost some coworkers, always seemingly too soon. I've been to a couple of wakes, one for a coworker's wife.
I don't want to say we're like family, but we look out for each other. The year before the company rolled out 2.5x salary life insurance, someone started a crowdfunding campaign after a coworker's sudden death that raised over $50K in one day.
I know I've been here too long, but I'll miss it. I grew up here.
It's not as uncommon as HN makes you believe these days. I've been at a place for 11 years, moving to new projects every few years, gotten large pay raises over the years to keep ahead of market. It's possible, and it's kinda great to be honest.
Matt was a colleague in Google's early days. He embodied all of the best qualities of the organization. He can do anything he wants to, but he chooses to spend his time improving Google's search experience, and freely giving of his wisdom and expertise through his blog. If there was ever a person who did not deserve this, it's Matt.
I was having a lousy day, and so was my wife. I realized i was focused on some stupid work problem and not her. I dropped what I was doing and we just spent a few hours of quality time just talking and connecting and encouraging each other. It was the best decision I've made all day. After reading this I realize how much better a decision it was to spend time with my loved one.
My wife of one year is asleep behind me. She always sleeps in here to be nearby because I love staying up late. Going to go sidle up to her. Sorry for your loss. Thanks for the perspective.
Readit News
Losing your significant other is something that you never get over - you live with the emptiness and the hurt, and you learn to move on and hope that the "fog" eventually lifts. It's something that only someone else who has been through the same experience will understand. I was lucky to meet a friend who had lost her husband a couple years before, and she helped me through the hardest times.
Matt, if you ever read these comments, all my thoughts and condolences for you. I know "thoughts and prayers" does nothing, but a lot more people care than you realize.
Hang in there.
I found that quite cutting. I'm not sure I could go on if my wife died prematurely. My mind has turned to this on occassions when people close to me have suffered severe illness or died, and I just can't see in my minds eye how I could cope.
A close family friend took his own life shortly after his wife died of cancer. After over 25 years of living together, I guess it was just too much for him to continue without her.
I was too young at the time to understand and to be honest I'm still too young to understand.
But I have other people who rely on me, my children, my sister, the company I work for. So even though I am in tears as I write this, I know that I have to cope, I have to find a way to be.
It's going to take a while.
I often wonder if I would have been a better person if she was there.
I'm a father, and I used to worry about what might happen to my young kids if I died. It would be a great comfort to me to imagine them, after they got older, making an effort to interview people who knew me, asking about what I was interested in, what mattered to me, what I used to talk about, how I talked, how serious/happy/neurotic/patient/stingy/grouchy/etc. I was. With this model, they could imagine conversations with me, discuss things with me, try not to disappoint me, etc.
Fortunately--for me, anyway--my kids are old enough now that they will never get my voice out of their heads, even if I get hit by a bus tomorrow (and even if they are driving the bus!) It's too late for them.
How about you? If you seriously think she might have made you a better person, why not help her by giving her a second chance?
In general, your parents might be responsible for what you are when you turn 18, but every step you do afterwards is your responsibility. I know people who are over 50 and still make their parents responsible for the bad things in their life, ignoring the 30 years they had to fix the problems of their past.
So yes, it might be a bad start to loose your mother that early, but if you think you could do better (by your own standards): You are the only person who has the authority and power to change yourself.
Sorry, this might sound a little tough given the overall topic, but I think it is is very important to realize this early in life.
You're a strong person.
For what it's worth Matt, you have mine.
Deleted Comment
In this time, I've learned a few things about grief. That it affects everyone differently. That there's no right or wrong way to grieve. Some of us feel guilt, anger, sadness, depression, or numbness... or all of the above.
I also discovered that my wife's passing and my grief made other people feel uncomfortable. I sensed it was hard for folks to know what to say or do. And that's ok—there isn't much you can say or do that will change things for those closest to loss.
But, speaking for myself, it does mean a lot when someone reaches out and shares their thoughts. In my experience, the best things to say are to acknowledge the hurt and to share how you feel. Avoid trying to make sense of it (you can't) or that things will get better (you don't know). If you're able, say the person's name. If you knew the person, tell your grieving friend how much she meant to you.
Matt, I didn't know your wife, Cindy, but I met you once and recall being struck by how smart, genuine, and kind you were, aside from all the great work you've done to help me learn about SEO. From what you've shared about Cindy, I can tell she is an amazing person, that she is loved, and that she is missed dearly. My heart goes out to you and your family.
My heart aches for Matt. I don't know him or his wife, but I know the feeling of being unmoored. In fact I've used that same word to describe it.
I agree that people never know how to act about the situation. It's weird now to think of all of the people I have met who only know me as a widower, who never knew me when my wife was alive.
I appreciated the outpouring of support I received in the immediate aftermath. It was overwhelming, but not unwelcome.
I can't imagine how he must feel. I very much hope he is doing ok.
We've lost some coworkers, always seemingly too soon. I've been to a couple of wakes, one for a coworker's wife.
I don't want to say we're like family, but we look out for each other. The year before the company rolled out 2.5x salary life insurance, someone started a crowdfunding campaign after a coworker's sudden death that raised over $50K in one day.
I know I've been here too long, but I'll miss it. I grew up here.
Dead Comment
I'm really sorry to hear this news.