Apologies to my readers. I’ve been little busy lately with my husband being ill.

Unfortunately on 8 March 2018, my husband passed away due to a heart attack in the middle of the night.

I awoke at three in the morning and found him on the side of the bed on the floor. He was lying on his side and when I tried to get some response out of him, it was mostly garbled. I immediately called an ambulance and they arrived within about 10 minutes. They tried to take care of my husband but I knew that he was going to have to go to the hospital. He had previously been told that he had a viral infection so I attributed this to what the doctors told him. When they sat him up, hiss breathing became shallow and very rapid. They managed to lift him into a chair to take him down the stairs; the stairwells in Britain are quite narrow. I can still see him being taken down those stairs; as they took him down, I told him I loved him; that everything would be alright. The ambulance driver was insistent that I get to the hospital very quickly. It seems as though she knew what was going to happen. I told her I was going to pack a bag because I knew that he was going to be hospitalized. I followed behind in the car, parked and went into the emergency room.  They immediately ushered me into the ‘relatives room’ and my heart sunk.  I knew it wasn’t going to be good, whatever it was.  Something was worng; I felt empty and cold.  I couldn’t feel him anymore.  A doctor and nurse came in, sat me down and told me the bad news.  My husband of 10 years, the man who was my beloved and soul mate, had a heart attack in the ambulance en route.  They tried to recover him but they were unable to resuscitate my beautiful man.

It was at this point that the realization set it and I completely lost my mind.  I remember wailing like a banshee, the facts of their words ripping my soul to shreds.  I cried and shouted and called for him.  I was on the floor in a heap, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.  The waves of sorrow flew through the room and tore at these two health professionals, breaking them down as well.  I was blind with grief and rage;  how could I lose my husband?  What do I do now?  How am I going to carry on without him in my life?  I remember my nails digging into the sofa in the room, dragging thin rips in the leather.  When we were all able to get a grip on ourselves, which had to have been at least 15 minutes of sheer hell for them, as it was for me, they asked if I wanted to see him.

They brought me into the room, and there lay my beautiful man on the table.  He looked like he was just sleeping, which I said through tears to the nurse.  I kissed his lips, pressing my face to his.  I lay my hands on his chest, willing him to come back to me, don’t leave me.  I felt my life going cold, the light and beauty turning dark.  I felt myself becoming empty as I said a small prayer to aid his soul to heaven.  The tears wouldn’t stop, and I didn’t fight them.  In my mind, I just couldn’t believe that in the space of a half hour, my husband was gone from me.  I didn’t want to leave him.  I pictured myself like one of those feral dogs that stays with his friend that’s been hit by a car, trying desperately to get the poor victim to move again.  The nurse was prattling on about all the usual sentiments and procedures that are typically involved with as death like this, but I wasn’t too attentive.  My focus was on him and I, and how I was suppose to exist without him.

I managed to get some strength to ask her what I do now.  She handed me a booklet of information and said that the coroner would need to be involved.  I already knew this and nodded my head.  I told her to take good care of my love and then grabbed the bags I’d packed for him.  I headed out the back of the emergency area and stood outside the wing in the cold morning air.  The sun hadn’t risen yet.  I stood there, numb, with tears falling down my face.  I tried to call friends, at 5 in the morning, and got no answer all around.  I got back to the car and managed to drive back home.

As I entered the house, I was struck in the face by the silence, a silence that continues to this day.  I collapsed once more in grief, with the cats trying their hardest to make their daddy feel better.  I just cried for hours, wanting to hear his voice once more, to feel his touch.  I waited for him to call for me from upstairs or downstairs.  I waited for him to ask me to bring him a drink or a snack.  I waited to see him hobble down the stairs.  I waited for his smile.  I waited for his laugh.  I waited and waited but I knew I’d never have these things again.  I was alone, and my love was gone from my life.

I still wait.  But now I wait to be with him.  I’m half a person now.  The darkness which I fought against for so long with him at my side threatens to consume me.  I’ve lost my love.  I’ve lost the laughter.  I’ve lost the color of things.  so much fo myself washed away with tears and screams to heaven,  And I wait to be with him.

Categories: General

Tagged as: grief Husband

wildcatleeds

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