My world changed on June 11, 2022. I got a call from a stranger to tell me my husband had been hit on his motorcycle and it didn't look good. From that day on, although my husband still lived, I never heard his voice, saw his smile or felt his arms around me. But unlike a death, I had hope. I put everything into getting him well, as I was told it was possible. There were signs that he was "in there". His eyes opened. He could squeeze my hand. I talked to him, read to him, played his favorite music, had people record stories that were in his long term memory so he could hear the voices of those who loved him. He had many visitors every week. I was with him every day, all day. There were serious complications. There was infection, there were surgeries. After 11 months, I knew he had had enough. I knew his body was giving up, and I had to let go.
It felt like losing him again, coming to terms with the decision to move him to hospice. I was told he would go fast. I surrounded him with loved ones – friends and family, in the ICU as we watched the nurses disengage him from the support he needed to survive. We all said goodbye. There was guitar and singing and story telling. The room was filled with love. But he did not die. In the end, it took 5 days for him to pass – a shock to us all. On the 5th day, I lost him for the third time.
Now when I read about grief and everything you might go through, I feel out-of-sync. Many of the things I read about happened to me after the accident. Many of the things I feel like I skipped over because of this situation. I had to learn to deal with my husband being unresponsive, unable to help make decisions, unable to do anything but open his eyes and sometimes squeeze my hand. I had to be social in the hospital, I had very little time to be alone and face anything at all. I just knew I had to keep going to do what was best for him. So I smiled occasionally without guilt, I even laughed from time to time. I tried to be cheerful around him so he could see how much I believed in him. When I was alone, I cried often. I had a hard time watching TV or reading, something I have always loved. I managed to do tons of research on his condition, to prepare myself for when he regained consciousness, so I could help.
When he passed, of course, that all changed. I am rudderless now. We had big dreams that we had put in place that are now shattered – I can't see how to follow them alone. I am not busy like I was, I don't have a purpose every day. I find myself going through some of the same things again – watching serious TV is hard again. Staying focused on books is hard again. But at the same time, I do smile without guilt occasionally. I do laugh. I do enjoy having company – it keeps my mind from dwelling on a future I can't see.
I feel like I have a lot in common with those who experience sudden death, as my world changed in a heartbeat. I also feel like I had a lot in common with those who experienced long illnesses, although I didn't have the benefit of knowing what my husband was thinking or what he would have said to me. Of having him tell me what he wanted. He was 57 when he died. He has been gone for 4 months. I am 57 now. I have ok days and I have days like today, where I can't seem to get out from under the sadness. We would have celebrated our 35th anniversary last month. We met when we were 19. I don't know how to be without him.
Funny thing is, I know I'll get through it. I'm strong, always have been. Most people probably think I'm doing well. Maybe I am. It doesn't feel like it on days like today. I just don't know what the future could possibly hold for me and how I will endure it alone. Yet, I know I am not alone. I have two wonderful adult children who are probably struggling with this as much as I am. I have my parents, my brother and his family, my in-laws who are still very much a part of my life, tons of friends who have all been there for me. What right do I have to be so sad?
Athanor says
Posted on September 7, 2023 0
You have every right to be sad…..EVERY RIGHT! You have every support I could only dream of but you don’t have your husband …..its horrible isn’t it…..with or without support we keep going and I don’t know how any of us widows/widowers do or what comes next either…but your grief is there in every word you have written…..and you have every right to feel whatever way you feel…there is no wrong and that be really really confusing….I am finding it all so confusing myself at the moment…
Jennifer R says
Posted on September 11, 2023 0
Thanks so much for saying that. I sometimes feel guilty because you are so right – I have tons of support. I have amazing friends and a wonderful family, on both sides. I used to always say we were blessed, but I can’t bring myself to say that anymore. Even though in many ways, I am still.
I am so sorry for your loss – confusing for sure. It feels like being adrift at times, doesn’t it?
JS says
Posted on September 3, 2023 0
Jennifer- I am so sorry for your loss. You sure have been though a great deal and while my loss (4 weeks ago) is different story I feel what you are “saying” so deeply. Especially this part …
“I know I’ll get through it. I’m strong, always have been. Most people probably think I’m doing well.”
I get through each day, sometimes more easily, sometimes with profound grief, often days are a mix of both. The two months prior to his passing my husband was hospitalized several times with escalating illness. I did what I could, what I though I needed to do and tried to be strong as we thought he would have a road to recovery… but everything changed and suddenly it was clear he wouldn’t. He was 70 and we still had so many plans. I’m 63 and still have a lot to live for but it also seems “wrong” to think of that, especially now with so much to do now as I navigate all that needs doing after loosing a spouse and essentially having put “life”on hold for three months.
Jennifer R says
Posted on September 5, 2023 0
JS, I am so sorry for your loss. Four weeks isn’t enough time to process anything – be easy on yourself. I’ve only had 4 months, and one thing I’ve learned is that Grief is like a wave and you must ride it to survive. Go with the bad days, be kind to yourself and give yourself the grace you need during this time. I read one book where someone said – “choose easy”. I think about that from time to time, and try to do that when I can.
I totally get what you mean about having life ahead of you, but feeling “wrong” about it. I feel that way too. We also had plans for the future, and I am struggling with that right now. But I know that my family already lost my husband and they can’t afford to lose me too – physically or emotionally. So I will get through this for the kids, for the grandkids, etc. I don’t know how, honestly. There are many days I just want to curl into a ball. When I wrote that post, I was having that kind of day. But then there are days where it’s a bit better. I believe that we will figure this out, but it takes time and we are at the very beginning of this.
I also understand putting your life on hold and all the work that needs to happen when you turn it back on. My husband was in the hospital out of state, and I lived there so I could be with him. I came home only 3 times in 11 months. Boy are there a lot of things I have to get done here! It’s crazy. And so many of them would have been in my husband’s domain and are now in mine. I have no idea how to do any of these things – but I guess I’m going to be figuring these things out.
This loss is so much more than it seems on the surface. There is not a facet of our lives that is not touched by this loss. It is tremendous.
I don’t think it’s “wrong” to think of the life ahead, but I do understand that it feels that way. But as I see it, life isn’t going to stop because I want it to. It kind of blows me away how things keep happening when the world should really be standing still. But I guess after such a long ordeal, I’ve come to understand that, at least logically.
Thank you so much for responding. It somehow helps to talk to others who are going through this. I really appreciate it. Be kind to yourself – I’m here if you ever want to talk.