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On the last day of our vacation my husband died


Andrew 521

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Andrew 521

Frank and I met when I was twenty and we have been together for the last 41 years and married for the last 3 ½ years.  We are both retired and both of us in our early 60’s.  In early May I thought it would be nice to go on a road trip, to break up our routine.   I could tell Frank was ready to go somewhere, but we could not because our cat was going on 20 years old and having a rough time.  We knew his end was near and just didn’t want to leave him.  The night of April 6th we came to the decision to have him put to sleep the next day as he could hardly stand.  That night he died in Frank’s arms.

 I usually put together our vacations so I put together a two week road trip to Florida leaving May 6th.  We stopped to visit friends in Myrtle Beach and then continued on to Fort Myers Beach for several days.  After that we crossed the state over to Hollywood Beach where we rented a small house that had a nice private pool.  It was very close to the Hollywood Board walk which we discovered on our last trip to the area.  We had a wonderful time and I think it was our best trip yet.  In heading home, we planned stop in Savannah.   We got in early, took a little nap, showered and then called an Uber to take us downtown Savannah.  We had a nice dinner at a restaurant we discovered on our last visit there too.  After walking around a little we called an Uber to head back to our room.  We got back at midnight and put our comfy clothes on.  I got on the lap top and Frank started watching a movie and played on his phone, as he always did.  We turned in about 1:30.  Sometime during the night, I woke up to hear Frank snoring in a very wield manner.  I have to say I had never heard anything quite like it before.  I thought he was snoring and having a dream.  I didn’t think any more about it and just rolled over and went back to sleep.  I woke up early, around 6:20, so that we can get a jump on the free breakfast before everybody else.  I turned over to wake Frank and he wasn’t responding.  I got out of bed and he wasn’t waking up.  He died during the night.  I called the manager and they called EMS, but it was to late.  Unbeknownst to me during the night, is that I woke up in the middle of his being in cardiac arrest.  The weird breathing was his body trying to get oxygen causing what is known as agonal respiration.  He was laboring to breath and gasping for air.  God woke me to attempt to save Frank and I did nothing but roll over and go back to sleep.  Even though a person surviving cardiac arrest in extremely low, it eats at me that I didn’t recognize a problem and try CPR.  I feel I failed Frank.  I feel so guilty!  I always looked out for his well-being and I let him down.  I learned later that morning, after looking a Frank’s phone, that while I was on the lap top, he was doing a Google search on “throat pain and heart attack symptoms”.   He didn’t say a word about it.   He failed me.  I was in a strange area, alone and Frank was dead.   EMS and police were in our room.  After the authorities were done I was permitted to go back into the room.  I sat with Frank on the floor for a while, holding his lifeless hand, waiting for the coroner to come.  It was Sunday May 21st, so it was longer than usual.  Frank was turning blue and his body already starting to deteriorate.  I watched as they placed him in a body bag and it was the worse day of my life.   After they left, I was all alone.  I made a few phone calls.  One to our local funeral home and another to a family member.  It was so awful packing my suitcase then his.  It was awful packing the car then getting into an empty car and driving home for 12 hours straight.  I couldn’t stop, I had to just keep going.  I made it home at midnight.   It was the worst moment of my life again walking into an empty house.  I couldn’t believe that I would never see Frank again.   That whole week was spent making arrangements ending with calling hours and a brief service.   I physically could not eat for a whole week.  I lost 12 pounds.  Since then my life has been numb.  I’ve cried every day for the last 41 days.  I put our satellite service on hold.  I stopped the newspaper.  Nothing seems to be important anymore.   Our home, which was our labor of love now is unimportant and is just plain labor.   My plan at this time is to eventually sell it.  It was ours and I can’t be here without him.  I feel I won’t be able to rebuild my life if I stay here.   I have half good days and half bad days.  Mornings seem the worst.  If I start out depressed I seem to stay that why.  I hate being here alone.  Even if I am with someone else.  It may temporally take my mind off things.  But, I am still alone in my head.  The loss and loneness is so great.  Some days it’s unbearable.  I have been reading bereavement books, journaling, visiting websites and spending hours on the phone with family and friends.  I think it’s helping.  But, on some days I keep falling back into the grief pit.  The pain feels like it’s never going to end.  Frank was my life.

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I'm so sorry for your loss. I also lost my husband 10 months ago in a similar way and have felt what you have described. I was sitting next to my husband and he was fine lying next to me, happy and joking with me, and then he just started snoring just like you described. I was sitting next to him and was on the phone with a doctor friend of his, so I started CPR right away and the ambulance arrived within 8 minutes as did his doctor friend. He was already gone. I still felt guilty thinking I did something wrong. I couldn't save him. 

Just like he didn't tell you what he was feeling,  my husband didn't tell me he had high blood pressure. He probably didn't want to upset me. Shortly before he died, he had mentioned that he didn't feel so well but refused to let me take him to the hospital and called his doctor friend instead. Had I known about the high blood pressure, I wouldn't have taken no for an answer and would have taken him to the hospital. I struggled with guilt and felt like he failed us for not telling me and not taking care of himself (I found a full bottle of months old high blood pressure medicine that hadn't been touched), but these feelings of guilt and anger are useless and don't bring about any benefit or change anything. There is no point or benefit in dwelling on the what ifs. It was his time to go. I am happy that he died next to me and not somewhere else, and I am grateful of the life we had together.

 This is still very recent for you, so the pain is almost unbearable. I cried every single day, multiple times a day for about four months. I still cry regularly and there are some really bad days, but it does get better. I'm sorry I don't have the words that will bring you comfort now. Losing a spouse is so out of this world painful.  I don't know if the pain is ever going to end either, as I've been going through this for only 10 months, but it does get better from where you are.  I didn't believe it could, but it has and it will for you too.

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I am so sorry for your loss and know your pain only too well.  My Charles died of a massive heart attack right in front of my eyes and the thought hunts me constantly.  If only I could have done something more, he would still be here.  I knew Charles for 47 years and we were happily married for almost 45 years.  He was my world and I'm lost without him.  I talk about my Charles, not because I'm constantly living in pain; I'm not anymore; this is my world, my normal and I'd rather live honestly. Appreciation, satisfaction and grateful are my everyday feelings, but so are loss, heartache and loneliness.

It is so apparent from your post how happy the two of you were and the love you shared together.  I hope that brings some comfort in this difficult time. The weird thing about a devastating loss is that life actually goes on.  When you're faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow this world keeps turning, the seconds keep ticking.  And you are in disbelief, numb, frozen in time; unable to think or even function. It's as if you are living in a fog, moving in slow motion and everything around you is also.  After the numbing phase, when the thawing out begins, the pain settles in your broken heart and the fear of not having him with you takes over and controls you for a very very long time. 

When that happens, remember the good times; the memories you made together; the laughs, the smiles; the life you made together; remember the years you were blessed with each other (some people don't live that long) and you loved that long; remember the love not the loss.  Count your blessings and not your problems.  It's going to be really, really hard, but you will get through it, someday, somehow.  Frank would not have wanted you to be in so much pain. There is no racing through grief. It has its own speed and for a long while we feel pulled and pushed just along for the ride; until one day, we realize we are in the driver's seat.  Grief is still with us, just not controlling where we go.

I'm wishing you a wonderful day filled with peace, joy, love hope and inspiration.  May you shine through this darkness and may all your prayers be answered.  Continue to post, we are all family here and on this horrific journey together.  Sending prayers your way.  Stay Strong!

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I am so sorry...I lost my husband right after his 51st birthday, heart attack.  There is nothing that can prepare us for this, no time that would be "better", it's just hard no matter how or when it comes.

In the beginning, thoughts of my husband (continual) brought pain, but eventually the memories brought a smile, good feelings.  

I wrote this article for those new in grief and hope it will be of some help to you:

TIPS TO MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH GRIEF

There's no way to sum up how to go on in a simple easy answer, but I encourage you to read the other threads here, little by little you will learn how to make your way through this.  I do want to give you some pointers though, of some things I've learned on my journey.

  • Take one day at a time.  The Bible says each day has enough trouble of it's own, I've found that to be true, so don't bite off more than you can chew.  It can be challenging enough just to tackle today.  I tell myself, I only have to get through today.  Then I get up tomorrow and do it all over again.  To think about the "rest of my life" invites anxiety.
  • Don't be afraid, grief may not end but it evolves.  The intensity lessens eventually.
  • Visit your doctor.  Tell them about your loss, any troubles sleeping, suicidal thoughts, anxiety attacks.  They need to know these things in order to help you through it...this is all part of grief.
  • Suicidal thoughts are common in early grief.  If they're reoccurring, call a suicide hotline.  I felt that way early on, but then realized it wasn't that I wanted to die so much as I didn't want to go through what I'd have to face if I lived.  Back to taking a day at a time.
  • Try not to isolate too much.  
  • There's a balance to reach between taking time to process our grief, and avoiding it...it's good to find that balance for yourself.  We can't keep so busy as to avoid our grief, it has a way of haunting us, finding us, and demanding we pay attention to it!  Some people set aside time every day to grieve.  I didn't have to, it searched and found me!
  • Self-care is extremely important, more so than ever.  That person that would have cared for you is gone, now you're it...learn to be your own best friend, your own advocate, practice self-care.  You'll need it more than ever.
  • Recognize that your doctor isn't trained in grief, find a professional grief counselor that is.  We need help finding ourselves through this maze of grief, knowing where to start, etc.  They have not only the knowledge, but the resources.]
  • In time, consider a grief support group.  If your friends have not been through it themselves, they may not understand what you're going through, it helps to find someone somewhere who DOES "get it". 
  • Be patient, give yourself time.  There's no hurry or timetable about cleaning out belongings, etc.  They can wait, you can take a year, ten years, or never deal with it.  It's okay, it's what YOU are comfortable with that matters.  
  • Know that what we are comfortable with may change from time to time.  That first couple of years I put his pictures up, took them down, up, down, depending on whether it made me feel better or worse.  Finally, they were up to stay.
  • Consider a pet.  Not everyone is a pet fan, but I've found that my dog helps immensely.  It's someone to love, someone to come home to, someone happy to see me, someone that gives me a purpose...I have to come home and feed him.  Besides, they're known to relieve stress.  Well maybe not in the puppy stage when they're chewing up everything, but there's older ones to adopt if you don't relish that stage.
  • Make yourself get out now and then.  You may not feel interest in anything, things that interested you before seem to feel flat now.  That's normal.  Push yourself out of your comfort zone just a wee bit now and then.  Eating out alone, going to a movie alone or church alone, all of these things are hard to do at first.  You may feel you flunked at it, cried throughout, that's okay, you did it, you tried, and eventually you get a little better at it.  If I waited until I had someone to do things with I'd be stuck at home a lot.
  • Keep coming here.  We've been through it and we're all going through this together.
  • Look for joy in every day.  It will be hard to find at first, but in practicing this, it will change your focus so you can embrace what IS rather than merely focusing on what ISN'T.  It teaches you to live in the present and appreciate fully.  You have lost your big joy in life, and all other small joys may seem insignificant in comparison, but rather than compare what used to be to what is, learn the ability to appreciate each and every small thing that comes your way...a rainbow, a phone call from a friend, unexpected money, a stranger smiling at you, whatever the small joy, embrace it.  It's an art that takes practice and is life changing if you continue it.
  • Eventually consider volunteering.  It helps us when we're outward focused, it's a win/win.

(((hugs))) Praying for you today.

 

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Andrew 521

Francine, thank you for taking the time to reply to my post.  You are so right, I need to count my blessings.  Right now, at this time, it’s just hard because the pain and grief is controlling me.   In time, I will see God’s plan for me.  Right now, I just see dark, sadness and loneliness through the tears.  I look forward to the day when I see light and sunny days ahead and again enjoy all that life has to offer.  Andrew

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Andrew, I am deeply sorry for your loss. Words are never adequate but I feel your pain, loneliness, emptiness. My own husband passed of sudden cardiac arrest. His last day was a good one, filled with laughter from enjoying the company of one of our friends. The evening a normal one of routine. He had gotten up during the night for the bathroom and I discovered him there in the morning. I was in disbelief and shock for a long time. I just could not wrap my mind on this happening. My husband, always an active, virile person, suddenly gone. There are times I still struggle with thinking why did this happen. My husband did have health conditions, but we were staying on top of things, or so we thought.

In time, I hope you will be able to look on that last vacation with Frank with smiles, instead of tears. That vacation was a gift from God for you to share with Frank, before God called him home. God has something left for you to do before He calls you home. I know it might sound inconceivable right now, but I feel God gives us all individual plans and Frank graduated to Heaven first. That is how I look at it when I think of my husband and I. As painful and lonely as my life is now, I would not wish for my husband to be here, suffering my loss instead. When it comes to a soulmate pairing, just like you and Frank, my husband and I, and the many others here, I feel God leaves the strongest, courageous one behind for His own reasons. it is a tough journey we are on now but we need to keep our faith and trust in God even more so than ever. He will be there guiding us through.

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1 hour ago, Andrew 521 said:

it’s just hard because the pain and grief is controlling me.   In time, I will see God’s plan for me.  Right now, I just see dark, sadness and loneliness through the tears.  I look forward to the day when I see light and sunny days ahead and again enjoy all that life has to offer.

Andrew, believe me I know your pain and I am so sorry.  The grip grief sometimes have on us is suffocating and it warms my heart to hear you know God has a plan for you. Visiting this website is the first of many plans God has for you.  It's no accident, or luck, or coincidence that you are here on this website - it's God Will - you are meant to be here.   I know you feel broken so I won't tell you to have a great day. Instead, I will tell you these words *Just Hold On*. These dark days will start to lesson and the sun will rise again for you - I know it, I can feel it. Stay Strong and God Bless you, bless us all.

 
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Andrew 521

Dear KMB, thank you for taking time to reply to my post.  I felt exactly as you being in disbelief and shock.  Frank had what I thought were mild health issues and they were being monitored.  I now feel that I didn’t ask enough questions or that I wasn’t more insistent Frank be more proactive.  I feel that I didn’t talk to Frank enough about what his health issues were.  I didn’t want to be invasive.  I didn’t want to get into his personal business.  I wrote in my journal the other day, seem to do that a lot, that I was glad that I got left behind instead of Frank.  I want to be the one grieving instead of him.  I want to spare him that pain.  I am his protector.  I always have been.  Now he has God to watch over him.  Now he is at peace and pain free.  Andrew

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Andrew, 

I'm deeply sorry, this miserable world, the pain you're enduring, the loss of your beloved, my heart goes out to you. 

The guilt is one of those particular emotions that seems to only add unnecessary insult to injury. It's an insidious thing, convincing us somehow we could've saved our loved ones, that we should've known or seen some sign, that we actually have the "power" to stave off these events. Believe me, I've struggled with this since my wife slipped away 6 months ago. Perhaps one the most sobering revelations was realizing with cold certainty that I have little or no control over anything. It's a blow to our ego, our sense of self, our confidence, that fundamental belief that I can "fix" whatever comes along has been crushed. I can no longer tell my daughter that I'll "always" be here, I can't pretend that everything will always be ok. That illusion was shattered. In spite of all this, the world breaking tragedy and its effect on our self perceptions, we still have choice. Move forward or stand still. Figure out how to be "alive" again or slowly die. Happiness or perpetual heartache. Nothing will be easy about any of the choices, I'm still seeking and figuring out my new reality for myself, and it's taxing in the extreme. You sound like you're doing well, considering all you've gone through. Just allow yourself the time to accept and cope, to make sound decisions and continue to look after yourself. Nothing will be same, this grief will be a part of who you are for the rest of your days, so give it the attention it requires. Don't ignore it or allow it to dictate your life to you. You'll recognize its patterns, it's triggers, you'll let it run its course, recognize it as a part of life, not the end of life. 

Again, I'm so terribly sorry for your loss and this terrible, miserable "club" you've found yourself in. Please, know that you aren't alone here, we all share this sorrow, we all try our best to help if we can, listen when we need to, advise when we feel it's appropriate. The people here are beautiful and kind, willing to share those most painful of memories just to help strangers. But of course, their are no strangers here, just friends we haven't met yet. 

Peace and comfort,

Andy

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Andrew, I too am so sorry for your loss.  Your mind, body and soul has taken a hammering and it will take time to process and adjust to life without your husband.  I've felt so many of the feelings you talk about in regards to your home and I'd like to tell you that I felt the same way for many months.  We had only lived here for a couple of years when my partner was killed.  Without Gerry, I felt like a stranger in my own home.  Other things contributed to the stranger feelings too as ours is a complex situation which has brought a lot of new people from the authorities into my life and home. 

But, what I want to tell you is that 18 months after my darling mans death, I again love my home and all that's in it. We did some renovations not long before Gerry was killed and I once again love what we designed together.  I can watch tv for an hour now and mostly keep up with the story lines.  I listen to different music now and still have no interest in reading for pleasure, but I know within me that one day these simple pleasures will return.  I just realized this morning after an outing, that I now return to my home and don't 'expect' Gerry to be here. 

I now understand why counselors tell us to delay making major decisions until at least a year after our loss. 

I hope you will find comfort in being a part of our grief family. 

Sending strength and hugs. 

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Andrew,

I can't imagine how hard it must have been to pack Frank's suitcase.  The pain is incredible, and that's an understatement.  It does ease up in time as we adjust and learn to cope, but it's a long journey and not easy.  I want you to know that you can make it.  In the beginning I wanted to wrap my car around a tree at 120 mph, but I couldn't...my faith, my family, I couldn't.  I'm glad I didn't.  I didn't see how it was possible to live one week without George, let alone the whole rest of my life.  I've learned to do one day at a time.  I have learned to appreciate what "is" rather than merely focusing on "what isn't".  That is an art that takes much practice, but I started at day 11 so I know it's possible.  

This comes like a roller coaster or tidal waves, it's up and down, you feel you're doing okay one day and crash and burn the next.  It's all part of grief, I've learned to ride with the waves and not fight them.

Wishing you well as you make your way through this, we'll all be here for you if you want us to.

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Andrew 521
21 hours ago, Andy said:

Andrew, 

I'm deeply sorry, this miserable world, the pain you're enduring, the loss of your beloved, my heart goes out to you. 

The guilt is one of those particular emotions that seems to only add unnecessary insult to injury. It's an insidious thing, convincing us somehow we could've saved our loved ones, that we should've known or seen some sign, that we actually have the "power" to stave off these events. Believe me, I've struggled with this since my wife slipped away 6 months ago. Perhaps one the most sobering revelations was realizing with cold certainty that I have little or no control over anything. It's a blow to our ego, our sense of self, our confidence, that fundamental belief that I can "fix" whatever comes along has been crushed. I can no longer tell my daughter that I'll "always" be here, I can't pretend that everything will always be ok. That illusion was shattered. In spite of all this, the world breaking tragedy and its effect on our self perceptions, we still have choice. Move forward or stand still. Figure out how to be "alive" again or slowly die. Happiness or perpetual heartache. Nothing will be easy about any of the choices, I'm still seeking and figuring out my new reality for myself, and it's taxing in the extreme. You sound like you're doing well, considering all you've gone through. Just allow yourself the time to accept and cope, to make sound decisions and continue to look after yourself. Nothing will be same, this grief will be a part of who you are for the rest of your days, so give it the attention it requires. Don't ignore it or allow it to dictate your life to you. You'll recognize its patterns, it's triggers, you'll let it run its course, recognize it as a part of life, not the end of life. 

Again, I'm so terribly sorry for your loss and this terrible, miserable "club" you've found yourself in. Please, know that you aren't alone here, we all share this sorrow, we all try our best to help if we can, listen when we need to, advise when we feel it's appropriate. The people here are beautiful and kind, willing to share those most painful of memories just to help strangers. But of course, their are no strangers here, just friends we haven't met yet. 

Peace and comfort,

Andy

Andy,

I am very sorry for your loss.  After only six months I know it has to still feel like you lost her  yesterday and having to now raise a daughter, on your own, has to make things even worse.

I printed your post and agreed with everything you so eloquently said.   I found the choices you outline to be the recipe for either recovering or not recovering.  Either moving forward or staying stagnant.  Either living life or slowly dying inside.  Either being happy or in perpetual heartache and sadness.  I want to recover and would like to take away the positive aspects of your message.   I didn’t come all this way through life to end it like this.  I want to move forward and be happy again.  I don’t want to die inside and be sad all the time.  I want to find joy again.   I’ve been working hard on recovering from the daily pain.  I have only been able to get this far due to the help of friends, family, prayers, forums, writing in my journal, reading grief books.  It all helps.

Thank you for taking time to reply to my post.  It means a lot to me that people care and want to ease my pain and sorrow.   Andrew

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When everyone gives, no one suffers as much. It's true that in reaching out to others, I help myself along by working out my thoughts so I can see them, understand them, and hopefully process all of this in the proper context. That being said, just being aware, as I am now, of how much this not only hurts, but how it touches and alters every single aspect of our life, compels me to try and bring some bit of comfort to others. It is literally impossible to convey to someone how complete the devastation is, how our lives have come to a complete stop. As I've stated in previous posts, one of the hardest things for me to cope with is for everyone else (not immediate family), my wife's passing is "old news". Especially in a world where information is constantly competing with newer information for our attention, anything over three or four days is irrelevant. But for me, her passing is as painful as the first week, the memory of those terrible hours burned into my mind, it will NEVER be "old news". This is a watershed event, there was my life with her, and now there's this existence without her. Two worlds, two realities, almost like a pre and post nuclear globe, innocence and secured assurance of a benign, peaceful life has been replaced by one filled with monsters in every shadow and our impending destruction is practically assured. Perhaps this is too dramatic of an analogy, but for myself, it fits rather well. So I thank God (ironic considering, but I'm in a mood lately) that I was led here. I love the people here, and a few of the long time residents are true treasures. Andrew, I do care, we care, and if I can help or anyone manages to make your life just a little more understandable, well, that's all we can really do, but we're happy to do that. 

Peace and comfort friend,

Andy

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