On this day, February 23, 8 years ago (2015) I was alternating between my husband's (Himself) ICU bed and the waiting room filled with friends and church members. He'd had a massive heart attack, 100% blockage of one of the main arteries in his heart, and I'd been told *IF* he survives, he'd have been deprived of oxygen to his brain for so long he'd be a vegetable. Not quite fully brain dead, but no cognitive function. They were, as expected, doing what they could to keep him going, probably out of respect for me and my need to accept what had happened. It took me about 24 hours to really wrap my mind around it all, and when I was told the medicines weren't working anymore and probably should accept the inevitable, I did. After they turned off the machines keeping him alive, it took about a minute and it was over. In reality, I think it was over about 10 minutes after he'd had the heart attack the day before and his body was kept going but *HE* wasn't there anymore. I hope not, anyway.
And thus was the ignominious end of a 30 year relationship. The following few days were marked with confusion, a flurry of activity preparing a funeral, anger at everyone and everything, and a complete inability to realize just what had actually happened. Himself traveled a lot for work and honestly it just felt like he was off on an extended trip. It took a solid 6 months for my heart to catch up with my mind and accept that no, he wasn't coming back. Those months saw many attorney meetings, paperwork, consolations from friends who stepped in and kept me from feeling too sorry for myself. I learned how to do things on my own, without consulting someone else's opinion. It had been a very long time since that had happened and, while I was rusty at it, managed well enough.
I lost a lot of weight....about 50 pounds...because eating was problematic. I didn't want to. Everything, for that initial 6 months, tasted like sawdust and hunger pangs were satisfied well enough with a glass of water or a cup of coffee. One friend recognized what was happening and stocked my fridge with bottled smoothies. Easy food for someone with no motivation to cook. I certainly had 50 extra pounds worth losing, and people who didn't know what had happened complimented me and asked how I'd done it. When I said "I didn't eat for 6 months" and they asked why, their response to my answer was universally "Oh...."
Losing their father was hard on our kids. It saw them enter into their own versions of tailspins and even now, 8 years later, they're just starting to get their equilibrium. I'm proud of them, they're finding their feet now and learning to manage the loss.
After meeting Capt, I saw my life entering yet another new chapter. It was a rather short one, just one week shy of 5 years. That loss caused the grief of losing Himself to reintroduce itself in a loud way, with once again the gasping for air and nausea and complete loss of appetite. There's no extra 50 pounds to lose this time, so I have been forcing myself to eat and only lost 5 pounds (that was plenty...pants are loose but not falling off this time, and I despise shopping for clothes so didn't want to have to do that all over again). Once again, little things set me off to crying. Just thinking about either of them will do it. Remembering a trip made, or a plan for the future that won't happen, or an evening alone and no one with whom to discuss plans, those small moments will cause waterworks and embarrassment even though I am the only one (other than the small silly dog, and he's sympathy personif...I mean...caninified) in the house.
I have some friends here now who Get It. Several of them have also lost husbands and it is so comforting to be with someone who isn't shocked by sudden unexplained tears, or has a word of advice on whether or not to take a specific trip.
Anyway, today is a sad anniversary, but also kind of a happy one because Himself is perfected and waiting for us to join him. I've always said, both with Himself and Capt, that it's never good-bye for a Believer. It's see you later. That is a comfort beyond words for me.
In the mean time, I eat expensive ice cream straight from the carton. Watch ER as much as I want, and decorate the back porch the way I like.
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