6 months and counting

Yesterday marked 6 months without T.

Both children are home for the Christmas holiday and that's been great.

I've been off this week from work as well and that's been good and bad.

Good because of more time home and bad because of more time home.

At work I'm distracted from my thoughts of T.

I know it's also tough on Tom and Ellie.

At college they're distracted from their thoughts of their Mom.

I'm committed to continuing to make the most of life and doing the very best possible for my children.

I'm committed to presenting the most positive example in terms of emotions to my children and to others.

Although I feel like I've aged a decade over the last 6 months I know I haven't.

Acting as if you are totally OK just seems to take a lot out of you energy-wise.

I'm committed to enhancing my faith.

I've been doing a lot of self talk lately.

About 6 months worth.

Christmas blues?

A number of friends have reached out to me recently to let me know they are thinking about us because they know Christmas will be tough this year without Tori.

I truly appreciate them.

Obviously I don't know exactly how I will feel on the day but I'm hoping it will go as smoothly as possible.

The last number of months have been tough.

I don't know if things can get tougher emotionally than they have already been.

Tori had her cardiac arrest on post-op day #9 of my left hip replacement in June.

I helped both children move back to their respective colleges in August and returned home alone.

September sucked-birthdays for my son and Tori and our wedding anniversary.

My first birthday, in 28 years, without Tori in November.

Thanksgiving.

TNTC mini-urgencies-appliances breaking, windows leaking, cars breaking down, etc.

Adding multiple new duties to make up for things that Tori always took care of-all dog related issues, monthly bill paying and balancing of checkbook/finances, cleaning bathrooms, shopping for home supplies, etc.

Along the way I've realized the following:

I will wake up in the morning-I'm not going to die anytime soon of a broken heart

I can cook so I won't starve to death

I can take care of a home and most everything that goes along with it

I'm no longer intimidated by a grocery store

I can truly multi-task

I can be completely in touch with my children

I do want to try and enjoy the rest of my life on earth and continue to hopefully make a difference in people's lives

Christmas will be a tough day.

Tori always made everything related to Christmas Day so special but I will get through it-I know I will.

Future reconciliation

From Alan Wolfelt PhD:

"Seek reconciliation, not resolution.

Your journey will never truly end. People don't get over grief.

Reconciliation is a more appropriate term when the mourner moves forward in life without the physical presence of the person who died. Your feelings of loss don't disappear but they soften as you know the person who died will never be forgotten but that you can and will move forward in your life.

The pain of loss is an inherent part of life resulting from the ability to give and receive love.

As you do the work of mourning you will eventually demonstrate the serenity to become comfortable with the way things are rather than attempting to make things as they were."

Hand made with love

I had a long to-do list yesterday.

Putting up Christmas decorations was one of the things on the list.

I wanted to get things done before both children got home from college for the holiday break.

I was doing fine until I opened up the box labeled "ornaments."

Over 50% of our ornaments were made by Tom and Ellie over the years with T's assistance.

I got pretty emotional.

I ended up just putting the store bought ornaments on the tree.

I'll try again next year for the others.

It's bound to be a little less intense by then.

A pending new definition of normality

From the blog "Grieving husband": "You see when my wife died, a part of me also died along with her."

T was my best friend.

We pretty much always had a good time in most everything we did, even the simplest of outings.

It's been awkward being out socially.

I'm still not used to doing everything alone-except for when I'm doing something where I can bring my buddy Dwight.

It was so comfortable to have her by my side-I haven't been comfortable for the last 163 days.

"Life will never be normal again, even though a new definition of normality will be established eventually."

I'm looking forward to whatever the new definition will be.

Thanksgiving without T

From Joann Didion's book "The Year Of Magical Thinking: "You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends (her husband died while they were eating dinner togther)."

In our case: We sat down to watch TV on June 18th and life as we knew it ended.

We made it through Thanksgiving day and the holiday weekend.

My kids and I had a few good talks.

I teared up briefly a few times but, in general, did pretty well emotionally.

They were also both willing to give me some feedback on some things I can do to improve.

I'm thankful for that.

I've been pretty proud of all the roles I've assumed but there's always room for improvement, especially in regards to better communication.

T was great at planning and communicating.

There's no place like home

Both children got home yesterday, from college, for Thanksgiving.

Before they arrived I spent a fair amount of time thinking about how to act and what to say in order to appear as happy/up-beat as possible.
I didn't want them to see me sad-now over 5 months since Tori died.

I didn't spend any time thinking about how they would feel in coming home for the first time and for the first significant holiday since going back to college in August.

Both have been quiet and noticeably sad.
I should have anticipated it but didn't.
My son even expressed "hating being home."
I've had a few months alone to work through my feelings of being in our home without T.
We were able to discuss that last night.
They've been away at college and distracted.
They need time.

Let's get real

Inspirational quotes, especially those dealing with resiliency, have frequently been included in the books and articles I've written over the years.

I would also often quote or paraphrase them for patients I saw who had suffered a loss as encouragement.

"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved."
"When in doubt, just take the next small step."
"Life isn't always fair, but it's still good."
"Everything can change in the blink of the eye. But don't worry; God never blinks."
"Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying."

I've learned that such quotes, however, are much easier to accept and be uplifted by when things, such as a major life event or loss are imaginary, not reality.

"It's different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others."

I didn't completely appreciate that in the past.

I do now.

Two steps forward, one back

It was just one of those days.

I've actually been doing pretty well lately, emotionally, until today.

It was a day of too much time to myself.

A lot was done-laundry, housework, yard work and paid bills but my only interaction with another living being was with my dog.

I've had days that were similar in the past when Tori was away for a day-trip, with one big difference.

They started and ended with being able to talk with her.

I'm back to work in the morning.

Too much time alone won't be a problem for at least the next 5 days.

I have parted with the band

I came across the following quote recently:

"Accept what is, let go of what was and have faith in what will be"

Our wedding vows included the classic phrase "until death do us part."

The symbol of our marriage, my wedding band, was always something that I was so proud to wear.

I was blessed with a wonderful marriage and two awesome children.

The band also held up through too numerous to count hours of yard work, dishes and sports over the years.

T's death parted us 140 days ago but I wasn't able to let go of the band on my finger until a few days ago.

It's now in my bedside table.

Poker face

"We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand"-Randy Pausch.

A co-worker mentioned to me today that I seemed to be doing pretty well.

I thanked her.

I've never been very good at poker because I've never been able to bluff effectively.

Maybe I've acquired a new skill?

1 and 2 and 3 and ...

I re-certified in Basic Life Support (BLS) today.

I resuscitated my adult and infant manikins.

I passed all the skill stations.

The last time I attempted BLS was on T.

My success with the manikins was better then my success on June 18th at approximately 9 pm.

I've thought a lot about that today.

Less tears=clearer vision

From "A Grief Observed" by CS Lewis:

"Something quite unexpected has happened. My heart is lighter than it has been for weeks. And suddenly at the very moment that, so far, I mourned the least, I remembered her best."

Tomorrow will be day # 133 of Life without T.

Mornings have always been the worst time of the day for me but recently have been less intense.

Her presence is everywhere but my thoughts have been more positive, not as oppressively sad.

That's been a welcome change.

Their thing

My daughter, who was away for her 1st year of college, and Tori literally talked everyday on the phone last year.
They had a wonderful relationship.
Sometimes, if home, I would listen in on their conversation.
Other times, T would fill me in on what they talked about when I got home from work.

I thought it would be helpful to try and continue the same daily telephone contact this year.
I was mistaken.
My daughter, in her own kind way, recently let me know I was calling her too often.
Initially it hurt my feelings, but only for a very short time.
Her relationship with my wife was one of a kind, irreplaceable.

My daughter knows I love her and would do anything for her.
Talking on the phone everyday was their thing.
I was wrong to assume it could or should become our thing as well.
We still text and/or snapchat everyday and that's a great thing.

The deep dark chasm of grief

It was great to see a friend of mine over the weekend.

He's a buddy from Medical School and although we haven't had a huge amount of time together over the years since we graduated, I've always considered him to be one of my best friends.

He was one of the ushers at my wedding and just an all around great guy.

He gave me a copy of the book, A Grief Observed, by CS Lewis-a classic on the spiritual journey of grief.

In the introduction the authors step-son reminds us that despite being a strong and determined Christian, his Dad also fell into the deep dark chasm of grief while in the midst of whirling thoughts and while groping for support and guidance after the death of his wife.

"If we find no comfort in the world around us, and no solace when we cry to God, if it does nothing else for us, at least this book will help us to face our grief and to misunderstand a little less completely."

I'm reading it for the second time.

Some well earned zzzz's

I've had no problem falling asleep lately.
It's exhausting taking care of the dog, working all day, figuring out what to make for meals, preparing the meals, doing some laundry, keeping the house picked-up, paying some bills, balancing the checkbook, making lists of needed groceries and supplies, fielding phone calls and text messages from our children and helping to problem solve whatever mini crisis arises over the course of the day.
I always thought I was impressively multi-tasking while going to the bathroom and shaving at the same time.
I never fully realized what a typical day for Tori was like.
She never had a problem falling asleep.
I could never understand how she could be asleep within seconds of kissing me good night.
I now understand.

That's life

Things I found out recently:

A neighbors wife left him and his 2 elementary school aged daughters over a year ago. She has not contacted them since. He's struggling as a single Dad.
A nurse, who I've known for years, inquired how my children were doing. She also let me know that her mother died suddenly when she was only 15 years old.
A colleague inquired how I was doing. During the course of the conversation she let me know her husband committed suicide when their daughter was only 15 months old. Her daughter is now 12.
I saw a note from a high school friend acknowledging the ten-year anniversary of his wife's death. She was 46 years old at the time when she died suddenly of a heart attack and their son was only 10. I had not known until I saw his note.

I saw a quote today:
"Most everyone you meet is fighting a battle of which you know nothing about."

It's true.

Will they stop?

I'm sure the match making services read the obituaries.
I just don't quite follow how they got my e-mail.
Everyday I receive multiple e-mails from some well known sites-match.com, eharmony.com, etc. but also from others, origins unknown-Ethnic women looking for middle-aged widowers, Women looking for a sugar daddy, etc.
I don't open any.
I delete them all.

It's predatory.
It's insensitive
It's creepy.
They just keep on coming.

Gets to me every time

Pretty much anyone can now ask me "are you doing all right?" and I can respond "yes, thanks" and not have tears start to form...except for when my son asks me the same question.
I spent yesterday afternoon watching a college football game with him.
We had a great time, even though his school lost.
As I was dropping him off back at his apartment he asked me "the question."
He asks me the same thing every time we talk.
I would never request for him not to ask.
The tears started immediately.
I know how deeply he loved his mother and the magnitude of the loss still overwhelms me.
I also know how much he cares about me.
My daughter always makes sure I'm eating well, exercising and getting enough rest.
She tends to not ask "the question."
I know I would have the same response as when asked by my son.
I'm sure she knows as well.

The rest of my life

I went to see my Mom today.
It was a quiet ride down this morning but I decided to jam on the way home tonight.
I started the ride back listening to a "golden oldie" station.
A lot of the oldies are love songs but I started to get particularly sad while belting out the song by Bread:
"And I would give anything I own
Give up my life, my heart, my home
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again
Just to touch you once again."

So...I switched to a Christian Rock station for the remainder of the ride.
The song that was playing as I pulled back into my neighborhood was "Day One," by Matthew West:
"It's day one of the rest of my life
It's day one of the best of my life
I'm marching on to the beat of a brand new drum
Yeah, here I come
The future has begun
Day one."

I'm hoarse but the singing helped.
Coming home tonight stung a little bit less than usual.
Poor Dwight looks pretty tired because the music made it harder for him to take his usual 3-hour nap.

She had a vision

T was an avid reader.
Prior to her Kindle she made almost a weekly trip to our public library.
Once she had her Kindle she downloaded, on average, 3-5 books a week.

So many people have been shocked to learn that she had a turbulent childhood.
Family dysfunction, divorces, court proceedings, kidnappings, etc.
It took me years to tease out much of the information because she never really wanted to talk about it.
She did let me know that as a kid, in the midst of chaos, she would find her safe haven alone in a room with a book.

She didn't have the benefit of having a stable family life as a model to follow when she became an adult.
I don't know exactly what she read as a child but I suspect, through some of her readings, she was able to envision a perfect family.
She achieved her vision.

She was a relatively small woman in stature but such a strong person, intrinsically, who was determined to never let her past affect her future.

3 words, 8 letters

I miss her.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water

I went to a men's bible study group this morning for the first time.
All was going fine until we started to discuss the letters the disciple Paul had written and then someone went off on a tangent to talk about how letter writing has become a lost practice.
The group leader decided to ask "who here has actually received a hand written note recently," while looking right at me.
Of course I'm still getting a few hand written notes every week since T died.
When I answered that I have the water works started.
I then explained why I was crying while my voice was cracking but luckily I was able to compose myself in short order.
I mentioned then that, in a way, I wish the notes would stop.

I had another nice note, when the mail arrived, on a card today.
The tears started to flow while reading the kind words.
I wasn't being truthful when I said I wish the letters would stop.
I don't wish for that to happen.
Especially when I can read them in private.

As it should be

Another blog (grievinghusband.blogspot.com) by a middle aged male who lost his wife noted,"we could read other by the most fleeting of glances, a frown or a simple smile."

He went on to say,"I would almost say she was made for me and I like to think that she thought the same about me too."

Well stated.

The two of them had a lot in common with the two of us.

The facts of life

American Heart Assosciation statistics for out of hospital cardiac arrest (OHCA) victims include the following:
* 25% of OHCA victims have no symptoms before an arrest.
*Survival to hospital discharge for OHCA victims is 10.4 percent. Only one of ten OHCA victims who make it to the hospital after advanced cardiac life support survive to be discharged.

T had an OHCA.
I think she was in the 25% who had no symptoms before her cardiac arrest-at least she didn't voice any symptoms and I've convinced myself that I didn't notice any-on most days (other days I question if I missed subtle signs).
She was one of the 9/10 who did not survive to hospital discharge.
I still have thoughts that she still might be here if I had done CPR more effectively at home before the rescue squad arrived.
These thoughts are always accompanied by guilt.
I suspect I've been reviewing these statistics to in a way encourage me to accept that the odds for her recovery were not significantly worsened by my inability to adequately resuscitate her after she collapsed in our home.
I haven't been able to accept it yet.

Everything that was needed

I cleaned out the Toyota van in order to get it ready to be sold.

The center console was full of pens and pencils, a notepad, tooth-picks, Kleenex, sunblock, hand lotion, pony-tail hair bands and baggies.

All items that T knew the kids might need and would have forgotten to pack for themselves.

The baggies were due to the fact that when younger, and occasionally even as a young adult, our son would get motion sickness and need to throw-up either during or shortly after arriving to a destination in our car.

She was always prepared.

For a car trip of any length, she also always had a cooler packed with water, Gatorade and snacks.

It's been wierd walking by the un-used coolers in our garage over the last few months.

It's not until I'm driving somewhere and am either thirsty or hungry that I remember that, once again, I failed to adequately prepare.

I wonder if I ever will.

Good + bad/2=OK

"OK" means acceptable/mediocre.

I think it's a good word for someone who spends the day feeling good one moment and then bad the next moment.

I'm OK.

Priceless

I've talked to Ellie, on the phone, almost every day since she went back to her second year of college 6 weeks ago.

We've usually talked either early in morning or later in the evening which still tends to be the worst times for all of us emotionally.

I got up to see her this weekend and just returned home.

I spent the day yesterday at her first collegiate horseshow for the new school year.

I was off to the side alone for a fair amount of time doing what I've always loved to do-watching one of my kids.

It was so great to see her laughing, smiling and enjoying being with her friends/teammates.

I know she struggles daily with the loss of her Mom/best friend, but to witness a bit of normalcy for her was priceless.

2 great kids

Today would have been our 23rd wedding anniversary.
It's a sad part of the day now because it's quiet and winding down but the majority of the day wasn't.
I spent today with our 19 yo daughter and touched base over the phone with our 21 yo son.
We've always been so proud of them.
T and I were a great team and we could not have had better children.
We were always so thankful because we know this isn't always the case.

Don't worry, be happy

I had a wonderful person to grow old(er) with.
We also joked a lot about our future.
Especially the part about when I got demented...not if I got demented.
We had a plan that we agreed upon:
If I was mean-swearing, acting out, biting, etc., she had my full blessing to put me in a nursing home-also known as a warehouse where we send our old folks.
But, if I was kind and gentle, I would stay at home with her wearing my Depends.

My future now sort of scares me.
I don't want to be a burden to my children or to their future families.

I've appreciated reading another blog entitled "Lost without her."
The author notes that when we worry about our future it's because "our expectations of the future are flawed. They were created in our own heads. They are illusions of the way we think our life should be."

T's death is a daily reminder of how suddenly our time on earth can end.
I'm still scared about my future but I'm really trying to suppress these thoughts.
NONE of us know what tomorrow will bring.

There's no alternative

From the book, entitled, I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye:

"The experience of sudden loss of love and the recovery process that follows can provide a basis for growing and expanding us as human beings in ways we never thought we were capable."

I wish this wasn't the reason to grow and expand, but it is, so I must.

Going to try

James Taylor's song, Secret O' Life, has been stuck in my head this morning.
I've always liked listening to JT-one reason is because I can actually understand his lyrics-a huge feat for me-T and my children spent a lot of time over the years laughing whenever I would try to do a sing along with so many other musicians.

"The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Any fool can do it, there ain't nothing to it.
Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill.
But since we're on the way down, we might as well enjoy the ride."

I'm trying.

A model bug

T never wanted to own a mini-van.
She wanted an SUV when the kids were young and then she hoped to get a yellow VW bug (Bettle) when Tom and Ellie graduated from high school-her dream car.
However, we rented a mini-van for a trip once and she saw how convenient it was to be able to get up and walk around in order to meet all the kids needs while we were traveling-deliver juice boxes and snacks, change DVD's and diapers, etc.
She felt it was much more functional than an SUV for families and traveling.
We literally went out and purchased one the day we got back from that trip.
We put a ton of mileage on our two vans-the first was a Chevy Venture and the most recent (purchased in 2004) was a Toyota Sienna.
For about 5 years she and Ellie traveled all over the east coast to horseshows, usually once or twice a month.
The van was always packed to its limits.

Many years  ago, I gave her a model of a yellow VW bug that still resides on a bookshelf-it was a reminder to her that I had not forgotten her wish.
When I dusted it today, while doing housecleaning, it brought back a flood of memories.
Included was the realization that she never got to own her dream car.
She always placed the care of our family over her own desires.
I'm sure she dusted the same model many times over the years.

Yes you can be

The late Dr. Wayne Dyer said:

"You can't be lonely if you like the person you're alone with."

I don't agree.

I don't dislike the person I'm alone with now.

I just really loved the person I previously shared my life with.

A tough day

Yesterday was a pretty crummy day emotionally.
It was my Dads birthday and it's always sort of been a day of reflection since he died in 2001.
Could I have been a better son?
Did I thank him enough for being a great father?
At the same time, I was having thoughts of:
Did I tell Tori enough times that she was a great mother and wife?
Did I tell her enough times how beautiful she was, inside and out?
I also  ran into a neighbor who had been away around the time of her death.
He stopped on his bicycle when he saw me walking Dwight to say how sorry he was to have heard the news.
He went on to say "it must have been Gods will. God must have needed a great nurse up in heaven."
I'm sure he thought he was saying something uplifting.
It didn't have the desired effect.
Throughout the day I kept hearing his same words in my head and it made me even more contemplative.
Many will think otherwise but I don't believe her death was Gods will.
I plan to never say the same thing to someone who has lost a loved one in the future.

Harder decisions

T and I let each other know long ago that we wanted things as simple as possible when we died.
She was cremated and her remains are at our home.
We had an amazing memorial service-it was truly a wonderful celebration of her life.
I'm just struggling with what to do now because our discussions never progressed past this point.
I've made a ton of decisions over the past 85 days but just can't seem to answer these questions:
Do I just keep the ashes at home in the urn?
Should I purchase a spot on a memorial wall to place her urn and ultimately mine?
Should we sprinkle the ashes at one or more of her favorite places?

I don't know what to do so I'll just do as many others have advised....I won't make any of these decisions at this time.
But when?
I have no clue.
I'm sort of hoping that maybe "time will tell."

The low point of the day

I would have to say that I've been a morning person for many years.
T was as well.
The only problem now is that mornings represent the time when I'm the saddest and inundated with thoughts of "I woulda, coulda, shoulda."
It's always the same early time of the day and still dark outside.
The best way to stop the flood of emotions is to turn on my bedroom light.
As soon as I do that Dwight starts to lick whatever part of my body he can to remind me that it's time to start the day and more importantly to let him out to pee.

It sure was nice

It was always so convenient in the past to call each other if, for example, one of us had car trouble.
If there was a long anticipated arrival time of AAA we could meet which ever one was stranded to offer relief or we could pick up the other after the car was loaded up on the tow truck and on the way to our mechanic.
It's a perfect example of how great it is to have a partner to share life's many inconveniences.

It's a 90 degree day with about 100% humidity.
I just finished grocery shopping and the car won't start.
AAA thinks they can be here in about 90 minutes or so.
I'm hoping it's just my battery-that would be a total bonus.
If not I'll figure out someone to call for a ride home.

I came across a statement from a blog written by someone else who had lost his wife:
http://grievinghusband.blogspot
The author notes "we shared problems with each other and while we weren't often able to offer real solutions, a problem shared is a problem halved."

It's wonderful to split your problems in half.
I miss it for sure.

No interest in going back

For many years we had a favorite Tex-Mexican restaurant that we ate at almost once a week.
The restaurant originated in our home town and has since been franchised with multiple sites around Florida and in neighboring states.

For no less than about 6-7 years there was a weekly credit card charge for almost the same amount because the 4 of us would order the same thing every week.

The amounts would have been exactly the same except for the slight increase in prices that occurred over that span of years.

We loved eating there.

It was uncanny how we often all 4 of us would get a craving to want to eat there.

We ate there before the same night T collapsed in our home.

The three of us haven't gone back.

I get nauseous every time I drive by the one in our town as well as whenever I see their restaurant sign somewhere while traveling.

Minus one

For the last year, Friday nights were pretty quiet around our house.
For many years prior we were either attending a sporting event for our son or Tori and Ellie were traveling to or already doing practice rides for whatever horseshow Ellie was competing in for the weekend.
With both kids in college, Friday nights now usually represented a night off so to speak.
It allowed us to sort of re-group after a busy work week.
It was just two dudes and a babe relaxing, watching TV (me), reading (T) or chewing on a chew-toy (I'm pretty sure you guessed our dog Dwight).
Dwight and I sure miss seeing our babe siting on the couch next to us, wearing an old, comfortable baggy t-shirt and pair of boxer shorts, while reading her kindle.
It was nothing fancy, just exactly what was needed.

I called

I made a call to inquire what the Employee Assistance Program (EAP) might have to offer in terms of counseling.
The first time I called and worked my way through the automated selections, I ultimately ended up with a dial tone.
I called again and at the end of the selections a human did answer-a very nice woman named Beverly, who informed me she was the intake person to determine my needs.
"What sort of issues are you dealing with or need help with?"
I did my best to explain.
"How long were you married?"
"This month would have been 23 years."
"Oh, that's a long time."
Not long enough I thought, but didn't say anything.
"How exactly does the system work?" I inquired.
"Well it sounds like you need to work with a grief counselor so I would put your information out to all those counselors who are available to see who might like to work with you."
"How does the billing work?"
"You would be entitled to receive 6 sessions through your employer at no charge to you. If you decide you would like to continue after the 6 sessions, and if the counselor still feels like you need to be seen, then you would need to use whatever insurance plan you have, so long as we get an approval from your carrier to continue the sessions. Otherwise the cost would be yours to handle completely."
"Oh, I see. Thanks for the information. Let me give it some thought. I'll get back in touch with you if I decide to proceed. Thanks again."
"OK, let us know if we can be of service and please take good care of yourself."


I'm pretty sure that I won't be calling back but I can at least tell those who ask that I did make the call.
Thankfully, most will not ask a follow up question to see if I'm actually seeing someone.
I've read multiple books on bereavement, grief and mourning and TNTC web sites and blogs on the subject.
I'm still having huge swings emotionally but am seeing some decrease in the extremes.
I don't need the stress wondering if an available grief counselor would be willing to take up my case and/or if the allowed "free" 6 sessions would be sufficient.
My daughter sent me an essay she wrote last night.
It was an amazing display of her strength and resiliency.
I've read it multiple times.
It's probably more helpful than any professional counseling at this time.

Wasn't there a doctor in the house?

A house in our neighborhood recently had a fire.
It quickly spread through the attic and by the time it was extinguished it was considered a total loss.
The owner of the home is a fireman.
He was on duty, at work, the night of the fire.
I have heard many neighbors mention how ironic it is that a home belonging to a fireman burned down.

I witnessed my wife slumping over, while sitting on our couch, on June 18th.
I wonder how many of my neighbors think it's ironic that my wife basically died, at home, in front of her husband who's a doctor.

Grief is associated with feelings of sadness, guilt and anger, among others.

I've read that thoughts during grief can vary from "there's nothing I could have done about it" to "it's my fault, I could have done more." Grieving behaviors run from crying to laughter, and from sharing feelings to engaging silently in activities like cleaning, writing or exercising.

The above paragraph has been spot on.

The fourty-sixth

The day is about done and I'm getting ready to hit the sack.
Heard from multiple friends and extended family members today all of whom called or sent a message acknowledging T's birthday.
It was a day of many private but also a few public tears.

I also had a nice conversation with both Tom and Ellie.
I can't adequately express how proud of both of them I am.
We all wanted to make sure the other was doing all right.
The really cool thing is that we really didn't have to say a whole lot.
We know how fortunate we were to have had her in our lives.
We were lucky.
We were the privileged three.
That's what will always keep us close.

The busier the better-hopefully

September has always been a month of things to remember.

Birthdays for my wife, son, and Dad and our wedding anniversary.

Tomorrow would have been T's 46th birthday.

I know it's going to be a day of wide emotional swings.

My daughter called from college today and we had a long discussion reviewing her day and her upcoming plans for the week.

Near the end of the call I mentioned "it's Mom's birthday tomorrow so give me a call if you want to talk."

She said, "I know, so I'm planning to get up at 6 am for a long work-out so I'll be tired and then between class, lab and a discussion group I'll pretty much be tied-up from about 9 am until 9 pm. I figure the busier I am the less distracted and sad I'll be...and give me a call if you want to talk."

I'll try to do the same-stay busy all day and just keep taking one step forward after another.

I do know that's what T would expect of me.

I'll still keep some tissues handy, however.

A mail break

Mornings are the saddest time of the day
The evenings and nights are obviously the loneliest.

In general, however, today was a good day.
It's Sunday so there was no mail delivery.
No mail means a medical bill, statement, or co-pay request couldn't arrive today.
In the 76 days since T died, there has been only one other day, besides Sunday's, in which this was the case.
I actually hate opening my mailbox now.
This was never an issue before.
It seems like this is going to continue for a good amount of time to come and her hospitalization only lasted 4 days.
I can't fathom what it must be like for the folks whose loved ones spent weeks or months in critical care before leaving earth.

A little help

"...but the reality is that children and young adults are typically the forgotten grievers."
I worry about my children.
Both are back at college.
We talk more now than we ever have in the past.
My daughter was with me when we witnessed my wife collapsing on June 18th as well as all the resuscitation attempts in our home by the rescue squad.
We were all with her when she died 4 days later.
I have always had a pretty solid relationship with both children but my wife was ALWAYS their preferred counsel, text message or phone call.
She had this amazing ability to, no matter how much she may have been multi-tasking prior to them asking her a question or wanting to discuss things, give them undivided attention and straight forward advice whenever truly needed.
I would often eavesdrop on the conversations, and occasionally join in or offer some input, but frankly I don't think I ever disagreed with whatever advice my wife gave them at the time.
I always thought my wife needed to write a book on raising children.
She was just so wise.
I know she would have been much better at offering guidance to my children if I had been the one to die first, and I should have been.
Quick fact that probably isn't really that surprising-widows currently outnumber widowers by approx 8-10:1.
I talked to my son earlier today.
Thankfully, he started counseling at his school and felt as if the first session was helpful.
He goes back again next week.
My daughter also let me know today that she is meeting with her small group leader for young-life at her school this weekend.
I should sleep a little better tonight.
I'll make a call for myself in the near future as well.
I know my children will sleep better when I do.
I know they're worried about me as well.

In the midst of all three

The person who has lost someone is said to be bereaved.

Grief is the internal experience of loss: the thoughts and feelings about a loss that you experience within yourself.

Mourning is the outward expression of grief. An easy way to remember the definition of mourning is "grief gone public."

The dark side

I've had some dark thoughts over the last 10 weeks.
I've read a lot of books on grief, mourning and bereavement but haven't come across many sections in which the authors suggest that one might spend a fair amount of time wishing others were dead instead of your wife.
T was 5'4" and weighed approximately 118 pounds.
She never smoked.
She had a beer or a glass of wine 3-4 times a year, at most.
She never did drugs of abuse.
She took one prescription medication-synthroid for thyroid replacement.
She exercised-walked our dog 2 miles a day, did yoga once or twice a week, and intermittently did resistance training with weights.
She got approximately 8 hours of sleep most every night.
She ate a balanced diet..
She had one vice-a can, sometimes two, of diet coke everyday.
You get the picture...
So, when I've seen middle-aged women who were smoking, I greatly resented  the fact that they were alive instead of T.
I wished they were dead.

I have come across some advice regarding an "I wish mentality."
"Refuse to go down the thought pattern of I wish...most I wishes are pointless and damaging and lead to a world of blame and guilt which is totally unhealthy."
In this case it leads to wishing someone who smoked was dead, who in most cases I don't even know or have never actually met, instead of my health conscious wife.

It sneaks up on you

I came across a term today that at least helps to put in perspective the continued intermittent bouts of extreme sadness I experience daily-often without any warning. The term is emotionally ambushed.

It happened today when I looked into a kitchen cabinet for a pot and saw the no less than 8 cup cake pans complete with the paper cups as well as the adjacent birthday candles that I suspect she had already planned to use for my sons birthday that's in a couple of weeks from now.

My wife always made things so much fun. She was a planner. She went out of her way to make things so special for everyone. It was so evident that she so deeply cared for us all.

She always ambushed us with love and that's why I suspect I'll be ambushed with emotions for a long time to come.

My laughing buddy

A good friend recently reminded me about a quote by Coach Jim Valvano shortly before his death:

"There are three things we should all do everyday. Number one is laugh. Number two is think. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."

I've  been watching a lot of Sienfeld re-runs so I've  been laughing most nights. I've definitely spent a lot of time in thought and I've had my emotions moved to tears throughout the day, everyday.  It's been something but I would not say it's been special. If the tears were due to happiness or joy I would feel a lot different.

T and I had many episodes of laughing so hard we would cry.

That was special.

Alone again

Waking up alone in the mornings pretty much sucks.

I would have to say that mornings are about the saddest time of the day for me.

We never really talked a whole lot in the mornings and that was fine because we were together.

We would go about our routines quietly because we knew each other's routines so well.
Our routines changed over the years but with both children in college we had settled into our new norm.

T would make sure our dog had water and food and would let him out a couple times to poop and pee.

I would take out the house trash, re-cycle stuff  or yard trash and get the newspaper.
T always had a diet coke and I always had a cup of instant coffee to start the day.

Breakfast was always simple-oatmeal, cereal or very occasionally an omelet while we quickly skimmed the headlines in the paper. I always started with the sports and T would start with the local section. Whoever opened the paper first would hand the other the preferred sections to start.

T would have showered the night before so I would take a shower while she was doing her hair, etc.

After being fed and dressed we would review what the day had in store.

I would then head out to work carrying a lunch bag with left-overs from the night before and she would take the dog on a mile walk before she headed off to work.

"Have a great day, I love you."

"You do the same, I love you too."

Dean Koontz has written, "You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. OR you can realize that every moment of your relationship had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time...so you just lived...and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it... It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it...when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it...you're driven to your knees..."

My knees have callouses.

A community tribute

Memorial Fund to Honor Nurse Practitioner Tori Sheahan

The legacy of pediatric nurse practitioner Tori Sheahan–a consummate caretaker and champion for the health of local youth–is being honored by the establishment of a fund to provide medical supplies and health education resources to students in Winter Park, Maitland and Eatonville.

The Tori Sheahan Memorial Health Education Fund has been created by the Winter Park Health Foundation (WPHF) at the Foundation for Orange County Public Schools (OCPS) to honor Ms. Sheahan who passed away very unexpectedly on June 22.

“We thought it a fitting tribute,” explained Debbie Watson, WPHF Vice President, “because Ms. Sheahan was passionate about empowering and educating youth on how to manage their chronic health conditions—such as asthma and diabetes–and pursue healthy lifestyles.”

Members of the community are welcome to join in the tribute. (See details at the end of the story.)

News of the fund was announced during a July 11 community memorial service for Ms. Sheahan, the well-respected and much-loved Coordinator of the WPHF’s School Nursing Initiative (SNI) and nurse practitioner at the Glenridge Middle School-Based Health Center. The sanctuary of Winter Park Presbyterian Church was filled with friends, nursing and school colleagues, as well as families whose lives had been touched by Ms. Sheahan.

Unflappable, and ever positive, Ms. Sheahan had been involved in the WPHF Coordinated Youth Initiative (CYI) programs since 2003. (CYI is a collection of free, school-based health and wellness programs offered in 12 schools in Winter Park, Maitland and Eatonville and supported by WPHF. Services include school nurses, nurse practitioners, CHILL mental health professionals and healthy school teams.)

“We all know the difference Tori made,” said Ms. Watson. “She was an extraordinarily caring and capable caregiver, as well as a collaborator, connector, innovator and mentor. She was a champion for the health of our youth, and she will be missed terribly.

Born in Virginia Beach, VA in 1969, Ms. Sheahan obtained a registered nurse (RN) degree from Riverside Hospital in Newport News, VA and then a bachelor of nursing degree from the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, VA. She later obtained a Pediatric Advanced Registered Nurse Practitioner (ARNP) degree through the University of Florida.

She worked with Healthcare Providers of Florida—a group of nurse practitioners providing school-based health care for the underserved in Central Florida, since 2000, serving as vice president since 2008.

As SNI Coordinator for WPHF, Ms. Sheahan helped supervise, mentor and support school nurses in the Winter Park Consortium of Schools, and she also staffed the Glenridge School-Based Health Center where she went to any length required to make sure her patients got the care, medicine, education and social services they needed.

Ms. Sheahan also was an innovator. She helped WPHF develop an electronic medical records system for use in school clinics so treatment can be tracked and noted for trends, and the system enables nurses to have student histories at their fingertips.

In 2010, WPHF nominated Ms. Sheahan as an Orlando Business Journal “Nurse Hero.” Fittingly, Heather Hilton, the Glenridge principal at that time, offered these comments about her for the nomination. “We affectionately see her as a ‘dog with a bone’ – she will not let go of a situation until she is certain that health and safety for each member of our community has been met. Ms. Sheahan will seek out other medical assistance, help with filling prescriptions, determine insurance options, and guide staff and parents with updated medical information.  But more importantly – she listens with her heart.  She cares for each student as though they were her own and because of that we are a better school.”

Ms. Sheahan leaves behind husband Bill and children Tom and Ellie.

She also leaves behind a legacy of kindness and caring. She will be missed by all of us.

My Memorial service tribute

When Tori was born I know her parents knew she was special. When I first met her in 1987, I did as well. What really captured me beyond her natural beauty was her caring, fun, demeanor as well as her depth. There was nothing superficial about her. Family and friends have described her as consistent, down-to-earth, steady and wise and I completely agree. She had the amazing combination of being super smart with an even greater amount of common sense while remaining humble-traits that pre-destined her to be a great mother and pediatric nurse practitioner.

Everything was so natural and drama-free in our relationship. When I asked her to marry me we had just come back from walking our dog Kasey and I said, “Do you think we should get married?” and she said, “Yeah that would be cool.” I hadn’t even thought about buying a ring yet but that was of no concern to her.

We had an amazing marriage and she was a perfect mother.

The last couple of weeks have been such an overwhelmingly sad time in our lives but our relationship, marriage and home life was filled with such fun, love, laughter and respect that I want to celebrate her today by reviewing the legacy she left our family.

1.     Almost all decisions or minor conflicts were worked out by an almost daily family walk around the 1.9 mile loop in our neighborhood. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk,” She would say. We walked it thousands of times. We often joked that our walks kept us out of therapy and off mental health medications-it was the best form of medicine.

2.     Family dinners were always a great way to determine what was going on in our lives away from our home. She realized if she just asked how everything went during a school day invariably Tom and Ellie would say “just fine.” Instead she decided to have them go through the day period by period. It was then that details about what they had experienced and witnessed came out. They also learned that there was virtually nothing they could say that would shock us given our own experiences at work. This allowed any topic to be open for discussion. Family dinners were also a great time to talk about choices/values in life and as they got older to review potential colleges and careers.

3.     She encouraged Tom and Ellie find their passion and then we supported it. In regards to sports she reminded me many times that “kids don’t ruin sports. It’s the parents who ruin sports for their kids.” She was the behind the scenes assistant coach for all the YMCA sport teams I coached. I know the kids who played on those teams over the years had improved skills but more importantly maintained a love for having fun through sports, more than actually remembering our won-loss record. We were there for virtually all of Tom and Ellie’s extracurricular activities and sporting events. She served as Ellie’s faithful assistant throughout her middle and high school riding career that spanned trips throughout the east coast-literally only missing one show due to being on home quarantine after going through I131 treatment for thyroid cancer 2 years ago.

4.     She was selfless and always thought about her family first. Just about a month ago, we decided to go to the Reebok outlet for some new work-out clothes. I found two pairs of shorts and went looking for her. I saw her carrying an arm-full of clothes but found out she had picked them out as a surprise for Tom, who was away for the week traveling with his girlfriends family. She hadn’t begun to look for anything for herself yet.

5.     She created wonderful memories through themed birthday parties, holiday celebrations, overnight camping trips, weekly family game nights and travel, instead of concentrating on material possessions. She always went out of her way to make everyone feel so comfortable in our home. She loved having Tom and Ellie’s friends hang out at our home or with us when on one of our beach vacations, always making sure to have plenty of food and drink and one of her famous cookie pies available. Through trips to theme parks, zoos, local parks, most all of our national parks and extensive travel throughout our country and around the world, our kids experienced so much. The list is by no means complete but due to her planning, Tom and Ellie have ridden horseback, swam in multiple oceans, cruised, snorkeled, water-skied, hiked, biked, canoed, kayaked, canyoneered, repelled, zip lined, white water rafted, geo-cached, sled, snow-boarded, snow mobiled, snow-shoed, jet skied, banana-boated, tubed, dune buggeyed, navigated urban subways, rode the Euro-train throughout Italy, accidentally came within 25 yards of a Grizzly bear in Yellowstone and taken death defying car rides in Ireland with me driving on the opposite side of the road with a manual transmission car; the most memorable of which was along the ring of Kerry with the narrow roads, a cliff on one side and tour buses coming the opposite way who didn’t seem to care that they were half-way in our lane. Even long car rides were always memorable-creating word games or coming up with pseudonyms for our family in case we ever needed to go into hiding or protective custody.

6.     She instilled a love for health and fitness in Tom and Ellie by limiting what she called “electronic time” to no more than an hour/day when they were young and gaming was just getting popular. She would have them go outside to play when the alarm on the timer would sound that meant their hour was up for the day.

7.     She kept our home a safe place, a sanctuary. My brother would always say our home was so peaceful whenever he would visit and it was because of her.  At some point of most every night she would say its “Jammie Time,” usually around 8 PM and she would change into a baggy t-shirt and an old pair of boxers. We would all follow suit and then settle into a night of reading or watching a TV show together. Silence in our home in the evening meant nothing more that its’ been a really busy day and we are all just tired of talking. While quiet, over the years our home also included 4 dogs, hamsters, gerbils, mice, turtles, hermit crabs, a newt and multiple fish that always seemed to significantly outlive their expected life span. And of course we also ventured into horse ownership twice. She occasionally referred to our horses as “kitchen cabinets,” to gently remind Ellie that we choose to support her passion rather than to remodel our 1970 kitchen for many years.

8.     She gave Tom and Ellie the tools needed to be independent, responsible adults by having them pick out all their own clothes and do all their own laundry starting at an early age, as well as weekly house chores, open and manage their own bank accounts, do their own shopping and most recently learning to plan meals and cook because both are coming off the meals plans at college this year. I picked “Sweet Home Alabama” as one of the songs for the opening video because she would play it most every Saturday morning as a sign that housecleaning was about to commence. A hidden video recording would have captured some pretty goofy dancing by all of us on those mornings while dusting and vacuuming.

I loved how she used humor and sarcasm. Typically when going out to eat at a restaurant that specializes in Hamburgers, for example, I might ask a stupid question such as, “what are you going to get to eat?” and she would look at me and say “a pizza.” When I once said, “Lets’ go watch the fireworks at Lake Eola today,” she said, “sure, just let me go to Costco first to buy some sun block, rain poncho’s and mosquito repellent.” She then said the weather report shows a brutally hot and sunny day, followed by afternoon rain with the onslaught of mosquito’s to follow. We laughed and then came up with an alternative plan.

Every night ended with saying “I love you” to each other before going to bed.

I know we will all be faced with asking “what would Tori do?” in the future. We have all so benefited from having her in our lives.

I am so thankful for our years together and our two awesome children.

Tom's Memorial service tribute

It is impossible to do my mom’s life a justice by simply saying a few things about her. I think the best way that I and my family can honor her is by attempting to live our lives in a way that she would herself. I tried to pick out a few qualities that embodied the amazing woman that she was, and they are qualities that I hope will one day describe me as well.

-be selfless: she never put herself first, whether at home, at work, or anywhere else. She was dedicated to serving others and making their lives better. The amount of things that my mom did for myself and for others was so great that one can only begin to comprehend it all.

-be compassionate: helping others wasn’t just something she did because it was a job or that she was a mom, but because she genuinely cared. It did not matter whether it was someone that she liked or disliked, she was truly just a warmhearted individual.

-be humble: one reason why my mom was such an under-the-radar superstar was due to the fact that she never bragged or made a big deal about any of the incredible things she did. She took pride in others’ joy and happiness even more than her own.

-be resilient: My mom had a turbulent childhood at times. It not only shows me that hard work truly does pay off, but also that the end of her life does not signify the ending of me, Ellie’s, or my dad’s lives either. She represented the epitome of overcoming adversity and continuing to thrive, and I know that her wish would be for us to continue to live as fulfilling, prosperous lives as we can.

-find joy in experiences: my mom knew the value of a family vacation, a game night, and a laugh on a walk around the neighborhood far outweighed the pleasure that material possessions could ever achieve. The lifestyle of my family is one that hopefully I can recreate with my own family one day.

My mom was an incredible person whose combination of common sense, intellectual capacity, and love molded and shaped me in ways that I probably don’t even realize yet. The end of her time on earth in no way signifies the culmination of her legacy.

Ellie's Memorial service tribute

I called my mother every day when I was away at school this year.  Sometimes it was because I was having a personal crisis, or I wanted her to send me another cookie pie in the mail, but most of the time it was because I just truly loved to talk to her.  When she was in the hospital I told my dad I couldn’t imagine my life without her because not only was she my mother, but she was my best friend.  When I said that, my dad looked at me and said, “Well that can’t be, because she’s my best friend too!”  She was so sincere, so thoughtful, and so genuinely caring in everything she did that I think pretty much anyone who ever interacted with her couldn’t help but love her.  I could talk for days and still lack adequate words to sufficiently describe all of her perfect characteristics.  My mom truly went above and beyond to give our family the best, most fulfilling lives as possible.  Now, I’m the expensive child of the family by far.  My mom dedicated thousands of hours and countless weekends driving me to piano lessons, horse shows, my out of state college and uncomplainingly partaking in all other activities associated with those things for me.  The funny thing is, though, is that the best memories I have of those paycheck-consuming activities are driving home in the car with my mom.  We’d laugh about the many eccentricities of my piano teacher, relive the play-by-plays of my rides, plan excitedly for school, or simply just talk about our days.  Another incredible thing my mother did for us was plan these amazing trips.  We’ve been to the Grand Canyon, Ireland, New York, Jamaica, Italy, Yellowstone, and just about everywhere in between.  All of these trips wouldn’t have been possible without my mom’s painstaking planning and forethought, always picking attractions and activities to appeal specifically to each of us.  However, once again, my favorite memories from all of these amazing adventures are from our family car rides during them, like when we created our alter ego, the Farfiggnewgyn family, on the way home from seeing snow in North Carolina, getting lost in our midget sized rent-a-car throughout the Irish countryside, and ceremoniously cutting up our season passes to Busch Gardens after we were so annoyed at being stuck in traffic for hours on the way home.  I honestly can’t even remember all of the places we’ve been, but I sure do remember all the things we got to do together and talk about on our car rides.  The greatest things my mother gave us were not really things, and in my opinion, she definitely had her priorities straight in that regard.  The experiences, memories, values, and love she gave to our family were her greatest gifts, and they are truly priceless.

The 60% that mattered

I've read that in most marriages that work there is at least an approximate 60/40 split in chores/duties between the wife and the husband.
Our marriage worked.
I know I did 40% but I've also realized that the 60% she did was the really important stuff.
I faithfully washed the dishes, took care of the yard, took out the trash/recycle bins and always helped with dusting, cleaning windows and vacuuming.
T not only worked full time but she also did all the grocery shopping, cooking and bought all the essentials at Target and Costco that kept our family supplied.
I would often go with her on errands but would wonder around the stores looking for items for me while she was always purchasing things needed for the family.
When I looked at her day planner for the first time while she was in the hospital it took my breath away.
Besides work, she had entries for multiple meetings each week, reminders for our dog as well as notations about calling and scheduling dentist, ophthalmology, and allergy appointments for our children as well as when to send in money for the college funds.
She paid all the bills each month-some on line and others by snail mail, balanced two banking accounts and also kept a Quicken program updated to consolidate all the information.
I've finally gotten sort of a handle on many of these things but there were a lot of anxious moments spent trying to get access to accounts in which she had all the passwords as well as learning to navigate around stores now that I needed to actually be the one buying things for the family.
My 40% helped our marriage work but her 60% kept our life together as a family so perfect.
She was amazing.

A cook and a dishwasher

I actually made a meal tonight-my first one-not kidding-day #64 of life without T.
I've been getting take-out at Panera or Outback every night.
T was an amazing cook.
In all our years together she only made one dish that I wasn't a huge fan of.
I love tuna fish, tuna fish sandwiches and tuna melts, but for some reason I have never liked tuna casserole.
Very early in our years together she made tuna casserole a couple of times.
She noticed that I would only take a small helping and would never go back for seconds-a rarity.
She finally asked me why and I admitted to my dislike.
She never made it again.
She cooked and I always did the dishes.
That was always our deal. She never failed to cook a great meal and I always did the clean-up.
But tonight I made pasta with marinara sauce, meatballs and a salad.
I sent a picture of the spread to my children (who are both at college) before I consumed it.
It was actually very good.
Then I cleaned up.
I've lost 25 pounds since T died.
Maybe I'll stop losing more weight now that I can be a cook and a dishwasher.

Now I know

Over the years, I've known of a few families who have suffered a tragic loss. In one family, a husband was involved in a car accident on the way home from work and died instantly. His children went to the same elementary school as my children and I remember how sad I always felt whenever I saw his wife at school functions after his death. I also remember how I would intentionally try to avoid her because I didn't know what to say when we crossed paths.
I do now.
You don't really need to say anything. Just say you're sorry for their loss or just be there.
Don't say how shocked you are. Anytime someone said that to me I felt like saying "no shit Sherlock."
Don't say how exactly the same thing happened to you unless it really did. Without trying to be insensitive, losing your mother at age 80 to a heart attack is not the same as losing a wife at age 45 to a heart attack.
Don't say "give me a call if you need anything," especially if prior you haven't talked to each other for many years or if you had never shared a close relationship. The person(s) going through the tragic event is still trying to process everything and doesn't know what he/she needs or who to call. If so inclined, just show up and do the dishes, take out the trash, do a load of laundry, make a grocery store run. Be available to talk but only if approached.
If you have never really shown yourself to be a spirit filled individual don't say you are keeping us in your prayers constantly. I would prefer you just say we have been in your thoughts-even if I know it was probably only a very fleeting thought. I completely understand.
Of all the things said I so appreciated these two:
My 93 year old neighbor said "there are no words to express how I feel."
A former colleague who had lost his wife a number of year ago said "please know that eventually you will find the light at the end of the tunnel in which you find yourself in at this time."

The evening she collapsed

June 18th was my sister's birthday. She lives in California and I was able to give her a call extending our greetings and good wishes.
I was post op day #9 from a total hip revision. I had undergone my first total hip at age 37 due to developmental hip dysplasia and the parts needed to be replaced now at age 55, 18 years since the original. All was going well and it had been an uneventful recovery.
We had actually gone out to dinner for the first time since I had returned home from the hospital. We went to our favorite Tex-Mex eatery.
After dinner my son went with his girlfriend to a movie and my wife, daughter and I went home. We were all just relaxing. I was on a recliner and was writing, my daughter was watching a TV show and my wife was sitting reading her kindle with our toy poodle, Dwight, sitting on her lap.
At a few minutes before 9 pm my daughter noticed that my wife had slumped over to the side and was unresponsive.
I tried to assess and revive her and my daughter called 911 right away.
The rescue squad arrived and did ACLS and she was taken to our local emergency room.
She was in PEA ( pulseless electrical activity) on arrival and had decorticate posturing.
A blood pressure was eventually reestablished but after greater than 25 minutes of cerebral hypoxia.
After 4 days of interventions she still had no significant brain stem function.
Life support was discontinued and she died with us at her bedside within minutes.

The day was no different than so many others in our life up until a few minutes before 9 pm.

Our world as we know it was shattered.

Day 61

It's day 61 since my wife died.

It continues to be a day of emotions that are all over the place.

I went to a men's group this morning sponsored by a local church that discussed the importance of men having relationships with other men in order to hold them accountable in life.

While there was some useful information, I found myself having to frequently talk myself out of crying whenever someone would mention the word "wife."

For the most part I am doing better.

I recently came across another blog entitled "Lost without Her." The authors wife died suddenly at age 43. He still had four children at home. One entry ends with a reminder of how the authors wife would want him to spend the rest of his time on earth. She would want him to "smile, open his eyes, love and go on."

It's been my mantra today.

It helps to a degree but still doesn't stop the waves of emotion.

It does seem to keep me from drowning, however, and that's a good start.