Mike has been gone 12 days, but it feels like an eternity. The days following his funeral have no definition, every day is the same mundane existence. I can't bring myself to do much more than take care of my dogs. I am so empty inside. I feel as if my soul has been drained.
I need to start a forward progression. The longer I let myself sit in this limbo, the harder it will be in the long run. I still have not slept in our bedroom, however I did manage to sleep in the house alone twice. Tomorrow I plan on doing a thorough cleaning and de-cluttering of the bedroom with the help of a friend. I am going to start sorting through Mike's clothes deciding what has enough meaning to me that I want to keep, and the rest I will give to his friends whom have always coveted his t-shirt collection. I need to reclaim the bedroom as a place of solitude and relaxation.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The dream is over.
It seems that when someone close to you dies, people often say that it feels like a bad dream. For me it is a bit different. When I look back at our life we had together, it almost seems too good to be true. It feels almost as if it was all just a wonderful dream, and never really happened. I was so happy, so full of love, so content... And now that the 8 year dream is over it is back to the harsh reality that is my life.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Stumbling through...
I feel like half of me died on the bedroom floor with Mike that day. Without him I am no longer whole. I am half human, stumbling through life barely living. Sitting here in our home, everything reminds me of our life together. Instead of finding comfort in his belongings, I find nothing but pain and sorrow. They are cruel reminders that I will never see his smile or feel his touch. I find joy in my memories of him and our time together, but sitting here in his home, the home where he grew up and our first house together as husband and wife, is almost too much right now. If it were not for all of our dogs, I fear that I would just run away from the pain. But I have too many responsibilities keeping me here.
Speaking of the dogs… We have a house full. I breed Chihuahuas and we owned 8 of them together along with 2 German Shepherds. Yes, that is 10 dogs total! 10 dogs to frantically run around the house crying, searching for Mike on a daily basis. They are so confused. Watching the door at night when he would have been due to come home, sitting under his computer desk waiting for him to come check email, browse the net or play one of his games. When I cry they are all right here to comfort me. Piled on my lap and at my feet, they kiss away my tears and often cry right along with me. My pain is their pain. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would be like if we had children instead of dogs…
Speaking of the dogs… We have a house full. I breed Chihuahuas and we owned 8 of them together along with 2 German Shepherds. Yes, that is 10 dogs total! 10 dogs to frantically run around the house crying, searching for Mike on a daily basis. They are so confused. Watching the door at night when he would have been due to come home, sitting under his computer desk waiting for him to come check email, browse the net or play one of his games. When I cry they are all right here to comfort me. Piled on my lap and at my feet, they kiss away my tears and often cry right along with me. My pain is their pain. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would be like if we had children instead of dogs…
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Numb.
Today is difficult. It is my first full day alone at home since Mike died. There is so much I need to get done. But here I sit, numb, hiding behind my laptop. I cannot find joy in anything that used to bring me pleasure. I force myself to eat though all I want to do is puke.
I am so tired. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I am just a shell of the woman I was with him. I am not angry. I am sad, lonely, and full of anxiety. I understand that it was his time to go home. I can see how many people’s lives he touched in so many ways. But I miss him so much. Our eight years together we fit in more than some couples do in 25 years. I am so grateful for that. Still, I would give anything in this world to spend just one more hour with him.
I am lost without Mike. He was my perfect soul mate, my best friend. For the last 8 years I was so content being Mike’s girlfriend/fiancé/wife that I lost touch with who I am as an individual. Now, here I sit all alone, not knowing who I am or what I am going to do now that he is gone.
I am so tired. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I am just a shell of the woman I was with him. I am not angry. I am sad, lonely, and full of anxiety. I understand that it was his time to go home. I can see how many people’s lives he touched in so many ways. But I miss him so much. Our eight years together we fit in more than some couples do in 25 years. I am so grateful for that. Still, I would give anything in this world to spend just one more hour with him.
I am lost without Mike. He was my perfect soul mate, my best friend. For the last 8 years I was so content being Mike’s girlfriend/fiancé/wife that I lost touch with who I am as an individual. Now, here I sit all alone, not knowing who I am or what I am going to do now that he is gone.
Week 1: The Girl Crying at the Rock Concert
Mike and I had purchased tickets for a concert a few months ago. We were supposed to go with another couple. He was excitedly anticipating seeing two of his favorite bands (along with a few others). One of his favorites, he had not yet experienced the pleasure of seeing live before. Unfortunately, he died exactly one week before the concert...
I had made a vow to myself the day Michael passed away that I would not let my grief consume my entire life. No matter how sad, anxious, and pathetic I am feeling I will not allow myself to wallow in my misery for an entire day. I vowed to shower, get dressed, and leave the house everyday no matter how swollen my eyes and drained I feel. Mike was full of life, he lived his to the fullest, and he would expect me to continue to do the same even though he is gone.
I decided that I needed to go to the concert in Mikes honor. He would have been angry with me if he and I both did not get to go. So I gave his ticket to one of his friends and after a long day of crying my eyes out, I pulled myself together and the four of us headed out.
The concert was harder than I thought it would be. When we first got there I began to tear up. It was one of the many firsts I will have to experience without him. I have such fond memories of many concerts together. However, I was able to get it together without anyone noticing.
It was not till the last band took the stage that I really lost it. I was doing fine till some guy nailed me in the back. It really hurt and sent me flying forward. If Mike were there with me he would have been standing behind me to protect me from the stupid drunk people. But Mike was not there to protect me and he never will be there to protect me again. I got weepy pretty quickly after that.
Once they started playing one of his favorite songs, the tears started to flow. There was no hiding them now. So there I stood, the girl crying at the rock concert. I can only imagine what it looked like to people around us. Everyone is rocking out to the music, and I standing there with tears streaming down my face. My friends notice that I am crying and then they start to tear up too. What a group we must have looked like, the sad young widow and her circle of friends consoling her.
I had made a vow to myself the day Michael passed away that I would not let my grief consume my entire life. No matter how sad, anxious, and pathetic I am feeling I will not allow myself to wallow in my misery for an entire day. I vowed to shower, get dressed, and leave the house everyday no matter how swollen my eyes and drained I feel. Mike was full of life, he lived his to the fullest, and he would expect me to continue to do the same even though he is gone.
I decided that I needed to go to the concert in Mikes honor. He would have been angry with me if he and I both did not get to go. So I gave his ticket to one of his friends and after a long day of crying my eyes out, I pulled myself together and the four of us headed out.
The concert was harder than I thought it would be. When we first got there I began to tear up. It was one of the many firsts I will have to experience without him. I have such fond memories of many concerts together. However, I was able to get it together without anyone noticing.
It was not till the last band took the stage that I really lost it. I was doing fine till some guy nailed me in the back. It really hurt and sent me flying forward. If Mike were there with me he would have been standing behind me to protect me from the stupid drunk people. But Mike was not there to protect me and he never will be there to protect me again. I got weepy pretty quickly after that.
Once they started playing one of his favorite songs, the tears started to flow. There was no hiding them now. So there I stood, the girl crying at the rock concert. I can only imagine what it looked like to people around us. Everyone is rocking out to the music, and I standing there with tears streaming down my face. My friends notice that I am crying and then they start to tear up too. What a group we must have looked like, the sad young widow and her circle of friends consoling her.
Monday, April 20, 2009
April 13, 2009: Day 1
I lost my husband Michael on April 13th, 2009. He was 29 years old. He died at 7am on our bedroom floor. We were asleep with an hour left till the alarm was set to go off. He shot up in bed gasping for air holding his chest with a look of terror that I will never forget. I told him to stay put, I was calling 911. He got up and collapsed on our bedroom floor, breaking his nose as he fell. Blood everywhere. There he laid on our bedroom floor, his lifeless blue eyes staring up at me with that same look of sheer terror. I knew he was gone, but started CPR waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I will never forget the taste of his blood in my mouth, the burn of my arms, and the feeling of dread.
Once the paramedics arrived, I ran to the bathroom and became ill. I remember looking in the mirror, my face and mouth covered by his blood. Thinking to myself, this is it. My sweet Michael is gone. The paramedics began working on him and asked me to sit in the other room and write down his information. I knew that this was a distraction technique to keep me from going into full shock. I called his family, no answer. I called my family, no answer. So I called one of his best friends who lives a few minutes away.
About 20 minutes passed and they finally moved him into the ambulance. Still no heartbeat, I was not surprised. They sat in my driveway for another 20 minutes and then began the drive to the hospital. No sirens. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gone. We followed behind the ambulance to the hospital.
His family called me back, as did mine. I told them to meet me at the hospital and that he did not have a heartbeat. But I guess it just did not click, and that they had no idea that he was gone. Mike's friend and I sat in the waiting room for a few short minutes. Finally I was called back and told that they had been working on him for over 45 minutes and that even if they got a heart rate at this point, there would be far too much brain damage. They told me they would continue to work on him for as long as I needed. I told them that they could stop. What was the point? He was gone.
I went out to tell his friend, and saw that my family had arrived. I told them the bad news and we were whisked off to a "family room". Soon his family arrived as well. We went to say our final goodbyes and left the hospital. In less than 2 hours I went from sleeping in bed with my husband to sitting at my family's house a 29 year old widow.
Michael had been diagnosed with a heart condition and had been under doctors' care. However, no one had any inclination that it would take his life let alone this young.
Once the paramedics arrived, I ran to the bathroom and became ill. I remember looking in the mirror, my face and mouth covered by his blood. Thinking to myself, this is it. My sweet Michael is gone. The paramedics began working on him and asked me to sit in the other room and write down his information. I knew that this was a distraction technique to keep me from going into full shock. I called his family, no answer. I called my family, no answer. So I called one of his best friends who lives a few minutes away.
About 20 minutes passed and they finally moved him into the ambulance. Still no heartbeat, I was not surprised. They sat in my driveway for another 20 minutes and then began the drive to the hospital. No sirens. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gone. We followed behind the ambulance to the hospital.
His family called me back, as did mine. I told them to meet me at the hospital and that he did not have a heartbeat. But I guess it just did not click, and that they had no idea that he was gone. Mike's friend and I sat in the waiting room for a few short minutes. Finally I was called back and told that they had been working on him for over 45 minutes and that even if they got a heart rate at this point, there would be far too much brain damage. They told me they would continue to work on him for as long as I needed. I told them that they could stop. What was the point? He was gone.
I went out to tell his friend, and saw that my family had arrived. I told them the bad news and we were whisked off to a "family room". Soon his family arrived as well. We went to say our final goodbyes and left the hospital. In less than 2 hours I went from sleeping in bed with my husband to sitting at my family's house a 29 year old widow.
Michael had been diagnosed with a heart condition and had been under doctors' care. However, no one had any inclination that it would take his life let alone this young.
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