One Month ago today my world was not in pieces. One month ago today my husband went to church with me for the last time, I told him goodnight for the last time, he kissed me for the last time. I sang him a silly song for the last time. I crawled into bed as gently as I could so I wouldn't wake him for the last time. One month ago today I did a lot of things for the last time, but I didn't know it was the last time.
I wonder sometimes what would I have done differently if I had known it was the last time. I think of silly things, like maybe I would have cooked him a nicer dinner, dressed nicer when we were getting ready for church. Told him I loved him more. My list could go on and on of things I would have done differently. I know that we are not ever sure that when we do something that it is not for the last time. We don't have the promise of tomorrow ever. So we should live our lives in such a way that if it is the last time we say or do something with someone we don't have regrets. The rest of your life looks a lot longer when you regret something that you know you will regret for all your days.
I can look back on that day and say with certainty that I don't regret anything that happened that day. I was not a nag to Joe that day, I did not get angry over silly stuff. We joked and laughed and sang silly songs to each other. We hugged, kissed and went to sleep. Those are memories I will cherish forever, I never need to regret my last moments with him. I don't have to look back and wish that I had done something differently. One month ago today, I was a good wife!!
And somehow, on a small level, that makes it easier to deal with.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I had to say "I'm sorry"
I went to church tonight feeling pretty good, then came a song saying something like "I just feel like praising Him" and I guess I had an imp on my shoulder because I was instantly mad. I didn't feel like praising God. I was mad, He took my husband. I prayed and prayed and people from all over the world prayed and still God didn't spare my husband. Why would I feel like praising?
Well...I got home and was still mad, went to bed and started to say my prayers and felt like God was telling me something. This is it...He did spare my husband, He did answer my prayers. Joe did not suffer needlessly, he is not still lying in a hospital bed being poked and prodded. He isn't tired, hurting, scared. He is in Heaven with his maker. He is the lucky one. I prayed for God's will to be done and it was. He answered my prayers in a way I didn't like, but He answered them nonetheless. How can I be mad when God did exactly what I asked Him to? I didn't pray that His will be done in the beginning, but towards the end I did. I realized that my will is not what matters. God knows the future and His way is perfect. So I prayed that God either give him back to me or just take him but please not to let him suffer. He didn't suffer. God is merciful and forever faithful. And He still hasn't failed me.
Well...I got home and was still mad, went to bed and started to say my prayers and felt like God was telling me something. This is it...He did spare my husband, He did answer my prayers. Joe did not suffer needlessly, he is not still lying in a hospital bed being poked and prodded. He isn't tired, hurting, scared. He is in Heaven with his maker. He is the lucky one. I prayed for God's will to be done and it was. He answered my prayers in a way I didn't like, but He answered them nonetheless. How can I be mad when God did exactly what I asked Him to? I didn't pray that His will be done in the beginning, but towards the end I did. I realized that my will is not what matters. God knows the future and His way is perfect. So I prayed that God either give him back to me or just take him but please not to let him suffer. He didn't suffer. God is merciful and forever faithful. And He still hasn't failed me.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A rough day
Today has been a rough day, I don't know why, it just has been. I have cried all morning and felt sorry for myself. I went to my room and just laid on the bed and cried my heart out. Guess what...I feel better now. Holding the tears in doesn't help me, it doesn't help my kids. Maddie saw me crying and she just came over and hugged me. She didn't talk she just hugged me, she is like her dad that way. I've been thinking wrong, I thought if my kids saw me cry they would feel more insecure and worried, but it didn't phase them. They just went about their business.
I have realized that some days are going to be better than others. I'm going to have ups and downs and the downs are not going to be fun at all. But in all of this I do have a choice...I can choose to let this get the best of me, or I can choose to do my crying and then get back to the business of living. I can't just never cry, God gave us tears for a reason I'm sure. But I can't just lay down and let life pass me by. I have to do what I would want Joe to do if he were the one left to take care of the kids. I've thought about that alot today. I would want him to do his grieving but also to take care of the kids, make their meals, clean the house, do the schooling (which I still haven't started). I'd want him to have fun with the kids. I would want him to try to be happy and not to feel bad about it. So that is what I must do, I have to do what I would want him to do.
I'm going to miss him and I'm going to be sad sometimes, but as I heard at the ladies retreat....Life is for the living....
I have realized that some days are going to be better than others. I'm going to have ups and downs and the downs are not going to be fun at all. But in all of this I do have a choice...I can choose to let this get the best of me, or I can choose to do my crying and then get back to the business of living. I can't just never cry, God gave us tears for a reason I'm sure. But I can't just lay down and let life pass me by. I have to do what I would want Joe to do if he were the one left to take care of the kids. I've thought about that alot today. I would want him to do his grieving but also to take care of the kids, make their meals, clean the house, do the schooling (which I still haven't started). I'd want him to have fun with the kids. I would want him to try to be happy and not to feel bad about it. So that is what I must do, I have to do what I would want him to do.
I'm going to miss him and I'm going to be sad sometimes, but as I heard at the ladies retreat....Life is for the living....
Monday, October 24, 2011
Going through his clothes
The night I came home from the hospital all I wanted was to snuggle up to Joe's shirt or his pillow, or just something that smelled like him. When I got in the closet I was horrified to realize that nothing smelled like him anymore. Two weeks gone and everything had aired out. Even the shirt he was wearing in the hospital didn't smell like him because I'd sprayed it with his brothers cologne. Since I realized that nothing smelled like him, opening my closet and seeing his clothes in there has been like stomping on my own foot each time. It hurt! So I decided it was time for me to move them, not get rid of them, I'm not ready for that yet. But I can't open the closet and see all his clothes that he's not going to wear every time I need something out of there. So I bought a plastic tote and began taking his clothes out of the dresser and out of the closet. It was like looking through a memory book with each item. I remembered where he wore this shirt, how much I liked this pair of jeans better than this one. Even the swimming trunks that I hated I smiled over. It wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be. It was nice in a way. I thought about how much he wore this one shirt (simply because it was one that never needed ironing).
I threw away the socks and stuff like that, but can't bring myself to do anything with the rest of his clothes. A long time ago a lady who had lost her son asked someone to make a quilt out of his clothes and I used to think that was sick and morbid. Now after losing Joe, I understand her reasoning somewhat, but I personally can't see myself cutting up his clothes. For now they will stay in the tote and maybe one day I'll be ready to do something more with them. Maybe I'll donate them to charity, burn them, or maybe I'll make a quilt. Whatever I do with them, it will be in my own time. I think that alot of the grieving process is a personal timing thing. No one can say that you will be angry for this amount of time, you'll be in denial for this amount of time. It all depends on the person. I dont think there is a wrong or a right way to do it. What works for someone else might not work at all for me and vice versa. I just know that when it hurts to much to do something (like take off my wedding rings) I will just wait. If it makes me feel better to do it (like cleaning out the dresser) then that is what I will do.
I threw away the socks and stuff like that, but can't bring myself to do anything with the rest of his clothes. A long time ago a lady who had lost her son asked someone to make a quilt out of his clothes and I used to think that was sick and morbid. Now after losing Joe, I understand her reasoning somewhat, but I personally can't see myself cutting up his clothes. For now they will stay in the tote and maybe one day I'll be ready to do something more with them. Maybe I'll donate them to charity, burn them, or maybe I'll make a quilt. Whatever I do with them, it will be in my own time. I think that alot of the grieving process is a personal timing thing. No one can say that you will be angry for this amount of time, you'll be in denial for this amount of time. It all depends on the person. I dont think there is a wrong or a right way to do it. What works for someone else might not work at all for me and vice versa. I just know that when it hurts to much to do something (like take off my wedding rings) I will just wait. If it makes me feel better to do it (like cleaning out the dresser) then that is what I will do.
The day I went from wife to widow
My name is Leann, for the past 11 years I have been married. For the past 7 days I've been a widow. I have 5 children, four girls and one boy, their ages range from 15 to 3. My husband, Joe was 41 when he died. He had what they called "sudden cardiac death" on September 29th. They were able to shock him and get a heartbeat again and get him breathing again, but he never woke up. He had too much brain damage from lack of oxygen. They have this name for it but it didn't ever sink in with me. All I knew was that my husband, my best friend was never going to wake up. He was never going to hold me, kiss me, tell me he loved me again. He will never see our children graduate high school, get married or give us grandchildren. We would never again take a family vacation, we would never retire the way we joked about doing.
Joe and I never talked about what to do in a situation like this. Well we never talked about it seriously. I joked around with him and told him he better do everything he could to keep me alive, I didn't care what machine was doing what for me or I would come back and haunt him. Then I watched him lay in a bed for 15 days, hooked to a vent, with a feeding tube. Doctors came in everyday to check to see if he would react to pain...he never did, but I did for him. Nurses came in every hour and checked his glucose because he was a diabetic, thats 24 sticks in a day. They finally started sticking his ear lobes. After watching him like that, I knew that I was wrong. I wouldn't have wanted him to let me lay like that day after day, week after week and possibly year after year. Everytime they came in to bathe him a little part of me died of humiliation for him. He would have been so embarrassed to have people do that for him.
From the day that I met Joe he was my hero, my protector. On September 29th we changed roles. I now had to protect him. I had to decide what was in his best interest without any input from him. I had to ask myself hard questions. Like would he want his children to see him like that? Would he want to live in a nursing home? Would he want a trach, a feeding tube? The answer to all of those questions was NO!!! The only way I could protect him was to let him go. I had to let them change him over to DNR and then after consulting with all the doctors we went to comfort measures only.
My husband passed away at 5:01p.m. on October 15, 2011. I was right there beside him talking to him, telling him that I loved him and that I would make sure our children remembered him. I told him I would raise them the way we had planned. I told him I would be strong. I told him to go be with Jesus and he opened his eyes, took one more breath and did just that. That was the last way I could show him how very much I loved him, I had to let him go.
We buried Joe by his big brother Tommy in the town he grew up in, across the street from the house where he lived. People I never knew called, sent flowers or cards, came to the funeral. People have been great. The past 7 days have passed in a blur. I catch myself waiting for him when it would have been time for him to get off work. I think of something that he would have laughed at and think that I need to remember to call him and tell him.
Our youngest, the boy sits and cries and asks why daddy had to go to heaven and I just want to sit and cry with him and ask the same question. Instead I tell him that daddy's heart hurt and it just couldn't work anymore. So now he puts his hand on my chest and tells me he wants to feel my "beep beep". Our six year old is angry and whenever his name is mentioned she lashes out and says "Daddy's dead" or "daddy's gone". And for her the conversation is over. The rest of the kids haven't really talked about daddy that much. And I am left to wonder if they are dealing with it, if they are in denial, or if they just don't get it.
This coming week I am going to start homeschooling the kids again. The girls are going back to tumbling. Life has to get back to routine. I don't really know what else can be done. We have to start somewhere and I promised Joe I would be strong. The only way I know to do that is to keep moving forward. Everyday I pray for peace, understanding and strength. I take it one hour at a time and when that gets to hard, I take it 5 minutes at a time. Sometimes even 5 minutes is too much so I just take it one breath at a time. I tell my kids "we are going to make it" and I know that with God's help we will.
Joe and I never talked about what to do in a situation like this. Well we never talked about it seriously. I joked around with him and told him he better do everything he could to keep me alive, I didn't care what machine was doing what for me or I would come back and haunt him. Then I watched him lay in a bed for 15 days, hooked to a vent, with a feeding tube. Doctors came in everyday to check to see if he would react to pain...he never did, but I did for him. Nurses came in every hour and checked his glucose because he was a diabetic, thats 24 sticks in a day. They finally started sticking his ear lobes. After watching him like that, I knew that I was wrong. I wouldn't have wanted him to let me lay like that day after day, week after week and possibly year after year. Everytime they came in to bathe him a little part of me died of humiliation for him. He would have been so embarrassed to have people do that for him.
From the day that I met Joe he was my hero, my protector. On September 29th we changed roles. I now had to protect him. I had to decide what was in his best interest without any input from him. I had to ask myself hard questions. Like would he want his children to see him like that? Would he want to live in a nursing home? Would he want a trach, a feeding tube? The answer to all of those questions was NO!!! The only way I could protect him was to let him go. I had to let them change him over to DNR and then after consulting with all the doctors we went to comfort measures only.
My husband passed away at 5:01p.m. on October 15, 2011. I was right there beside him talking to him, telling him that I loved him and that I would make sure our children remembered him. I told him I would raise them the way we had planned. I told him I would be strong. I told him to go be with Jesus and he opened his eyes, took one more breath and did just that. That was the last way I could show him how very much I loved him, I had to let him go.
We buried Joe by his big brother Tommy in the town he grew up in, across the street from the house where he lived. People I never knew called, sent flowers or cards, came to the funeral. People have been great. The past 7 days have passed in a blur. I catch myself waiting for him when it would have been time for him to get off work. I think of something that he would have laughed at and think that I need to remember to call him and tell him.
Our youngest, the boy sits and cries and asks why daddy had to go to heaven and I just want to sit and cry with him and ask the same question. Instead I tell him that daddy's heart hurt and it just couldn't work anymore. So now he puts his hand on my chest and tells me he wants to feel my "beep beep". Our six year old is angry and whenever his name is mentioned she lashes out and says "Daddy's dead" or "daddy's gone". And for her the conversation is over. The rest of the kids haven't really talked about daddy that much. And I am left to wonder if they are dealing with it, if they are in denial, or if they just don't get it.
This coming week I am going to start homeschooling the kids again. The girls are going back to tumbling. Life has to get back to routine. I don't really know what else can be done. We have to start somewhere and I promised Joe I would be strong. The only way I know to do that is to keep moving forward. Everyday I pray for peace, understanding and strength. I take it one hour at a time and when that gets to hard, I take it 5 minutes at a time. Sometimes even 5 minutes is too much so I just take it one breath at a time. I tell my kids "we are going to make it" and I know that with God's help we will.
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