The good death (is there such a thing?)
I haven't blogged in a really long time, like really long. I got a job, and a boyfriend, and well I've always had a kid. Turns out all those things make me incredibly busy so I don't have as much time to write like I want. But this morning I had a brilliant idea, I can write on my lunch break, so hopefully you will see more blogs soon.
Thus let me refresh your memory, or if perhaps your reading this blog for the very first time; here's what you missed;
4 years and 10 months ago. January 12, 2015 to be exact, my husband had a siezure and dropped dead in front of me. It wasn't much fun, in fact you could say it was extremely traumatic, ya lets go with that one. Also in case you didn't know, I was a whopping 34 years old, Dan had just turned 36, and we had a 7 year old daughter named Baby Girl (ok thats not her real name, but I'm gonna pretend to protect her identity just a little). To add fuel to the fire, we were high school sweethearts, soul mates, madly in love with each other even after 15 years of marriage. I got dealt a really shitty hand.
Then I got to really have some fun, turns out watching your husband die can give you some massive PTSD, so I had that. Although Baby Girl didn't see her daddy die, it seriously messed her up, so we both got to go to therapy, and we moved, and all kinds of other things happened that you can read about in my past blogs.
I suppose you could say the shining light (if there is such a thing) in all this is that both my husband Dan and I have ginormous supportive families. They were amazing, They took care of us, just like they always have. Apart from a dead Dan, nothing had changed, even though that changes everything. The love and support of both families didn't change.
Among these amazing people were Dan's parents. Now, I'm going to have to tell you a secret, a secret I'm pretty sure everyone knows, but if this is a shock to you family I'm sorry. I'm their favorite, I've always been their favorite, thats just how it is, sorry, not sorry. Dan's parents Pat and Al have always done amazing things for me, like give me their old cars when mine broke down, like sent us on our honeymoon, like sending us care packages and money when we were in college, like babysitting every time we ever asked. The biggest thing they've ever done for me was about a year after Dan died. My landlord was selling the house Baby Girl and I were living in and was kicking us out. I called Pat and Al in uncontrollable tears. "They're selling my house and I have to move out. I don't know what I'm going to do." Without skipping a beat they said "Move in with us, we will take care of you" so we did. We lived with them for almost a year and they took very good care of us.
I forget how long ago, 7 or 8 years maybe, Dan was still alive. That year Al, Dan's dad was extremely sick and almost died, technically he did and Dan watched as the Dr's shocked his Dad back to life. Since then Al was on borrowed time. Dan died, and Al was on borrowed time. Dan's brother Rick died, and Al was on borrowed time. This summer Al was in the hospital again and we all knew his borrowed time was about up.
I started telling Baby Girl, "you know Grandpa is very very sick" I don't know if she believed me, grandpa didn't look sick, he just looked old, thats cause organ failure is inside your body, she couldn't see it. In September modern medicine couldn't help anymore and he was placed on hospice. I told Baby Girl, "Grandpa is very very sick and the Dr's can't fix him, Grandpa is going to die" at least I could prepare her, not like with her dad.
In the end Al chose to die with dignity (dr. assisted suicide). We scheduled a day, we knew it was coming, family flew in from around the country to say good bye. I told Baby Girl we knew when grandpa was going to die, she understood. I took her over there so she could tell grandpa how much she loved him one more time. She did, and he told her too. She got to say goodbye to the man she probably loved second most in the world. She didn't get to say goodbye to the first man.
The day before I was over at Pat and Al's house visiting, so were volunteers form end of life care;
they were going over the process and answering questions, getting ready. I was sitting back a ways trying to stay out of the way. Al spoke up clearer then I've heard him speak in months "I have a question" He looked straight into my eyes "Jennifer, are you going to be there tomorrow, in the room?" I was a bit surprised "Do you want me there?" "Yes I do" he said "ok, then I will be there" I'm pretty sure he didn't want me there for him, he wanted me there for Pat, so she wouldn't have to do it alone.
Sooooooooo I have PTSD from watching my husband die, which I did not volunteer to do by the way, it just happened. I hate all things death, and dying. I want to run far far away, how about Hawaii, Hawaii sounds nice. I just volunteered to be with my husbands dad when he died. Al has asked very little of me in my life, I'm not going to say no to this. I'm going to do this, I can go back to therapy later.
The next day came, the big day. I sat next to him on the couch. "When you get up there I want you to tell Dan that I'm still mad at him." Al, old, dying, frail, looked at me and said "No I'm not gonna do that." well humph. I tried again, "No I'm serious, you tell Dan I'm still mad at him." he shooed me off, "well, maybe if I get around to it, but thats not likely to happen." One simple message and he won't do it, stubborn old man, takes after his kids.
An hour or so later we were in the bedroom, Al, Pat, and myself. It was almost time, Pat and I were crying. I said "Ok you remember what we talked about earlier, when you see Dan you tell him I'm still mad at him" he whispers, "NO" uggggg "Fine, I guess if you want you can tell him that I still love him and I miss him" I say through tears. Al answered back, "That I can do"
A bit later Pat said her last "I love you" she got to say a last I love you, I will forever be jealous. Al whispered "I love you too" then he went to sleep and took my message to Dan. It took time for him to pass over so to speak. Pat stayed next to him and I stayed next to her with my hand on her leg. On a couple occasions she said I could go if it was to hard for me. I told her I wasn't leaving unless she wanted me to leave. We sat with Al. We talked about silly unimportant things. We talked about Dan and we talked about Al. We just talked, next to Al who was taking his last breaths in this world. When it was over we we still sat with Al. We sat for several hours while we waited for the funeral home to come and take him away. Family came in and out but we didn't leave (well ok I went to the bathroom a couple times).
Al's death was the complete opposite of Dan's death. Dan's death was full of panic and fear, Al's death was peaceful and quiet. No one, not even me,
got to say goodbye to Dan; everyone got to say goodbye to AL. Dan's death was sudden and tragic. Al was ready. Dan's death was wrong for innumerable reasons. Al's death was right, it was a good death.
If you want to read more about my story and my grief journey; I wrote a book about it.
buy my book here
Thus let me refresh your memory, or if perhaps your reading this blog for the very first time; here's what you missed;
4 years and 10 months ago. January 12, 2015 to be exact, my husband had a siezure and dropped dead in front of me. It wasn't much fun, in fact you could say it was extremely traumatic, ya lets go with that one. Also in case you didn't know, I was a whopping 34 years old, Dan had just turned 36, and we had a 7 year old daughter named Baby Girl (ok thats not her real name, but I'm gonna pretend to protect her identity just a little). To add fuel to the fire, we were high school sweethearts, soul mates, madly in love with each other even after 15 years of marriage. I got dealt a really shitty hand.
Then I got to really have some fun, turns out watching your husband die can give you some massive PTSD, so I had that. Although Baby Girl didn't see her daddy die, it seriously messed her up, so we both got to go to therapy, and we moved, and all kinds of other things happened that you can read about in my past blogs.
I suppose you could say the shining light (if there is such a thing) in all this is that both my husband Dan and I have ginormous supportive families. They were amazing, They took care of us, just like they always have. Apart from a dead Dan, nothing had changed, even though that changes everything. The love and support of both families didn't change.
Among these amazing people were Dan's parents. Now, I'm going to have to tell you a secret, a secret I'm pretty sure everyone knows, but if this is a shock to you family I'm sorry. I'm their favorite, I've always been their favorite, thats just how it is, sorry, not sorry. Dan's parents Pat and Al have always done amazing things for me, like give me their old cars when mine broke down, like sent us on our honeymoon, like sending us care packages and money when we were in college, like babysitting every time we ever asked. The biggest thing they've ever done for me was about a year after Dan died. My landlord was selling the house Baby Girl and I were living in and was kicking us out. I called Pat and Al in uncontrollable tears. "They're selling my house and I have to move out. I don't know what I'm going to do." Without skipping a beat they said "Move in with us, we will take care of you" so we did. We lived with them for almost a year and they took very good care of us.
I forget how long ago, 7 or 8 years maybe, Dan was still alive. That year Al, Dan's dad was extremely sick and almost died, technically he did and Dan watched as the Dr's shocked his Dad back to life. Since then Al was on borrowed time. Dan died, and Al was on borrowed time. Dan's brother Rick died, and Al was on borrowed time. This summer Al was in the hospital again and we all knew his borrowed time was about up.
I started telling Baby Girl, "you know Grandpa is very very sick" I don't know if she believed me, grandpa didn't look sick, he just looked old, thats cause organ failure is inside your body, she couldn't see it. In September modern medicine couldn't help anymore and he was placed on hospice. I told Baby Girl, "Grandpa is very very sick and the Dr's can't fix him, Grandpa is going to die" at least I could prepare her, not like with her dad.
In the end Al chose to die with dignity (dr. assisted suicide). We scheduled a day, we knew it was coming, family flew in from around the country to say good bye. I told Baby Girl we knew when grandpa was going to die, she understood. I took her over there so she could tell grandpa how much she loved him one more time. She did, and he told her too. She got to say goodbye to the man she probably loved second most in the world. She didn't get to say goodbye to the first man.
The day before I was over at Pat and Al's house visiting, so were volunteers form end of life care;
they were going over the process and answering questions, getting ready. I was sitting back a ways trying to stay out of the way. Al spoke up clearer then I've heard him speak in months "I have a question" He looked straight into my eyes "Jennifer, are you going to be there tomorrow, in the room?" I was a bit surprised "Do you want me there?" "Yes I do" he said "ok, then I will be there" I'm pretty sure he didn't want me there for him, he wanted me there for Pat, so she wouldn't have to do it alone.
Sooooooooo I have PTSD from watching my husband die, which I did not volunteer to do by the way, it just happened. I hate all things death, and dying. I want to run far far away, how about Hawaii, Hawaii sounds nice. I just volunteered to be with my husbands dad when he died. Al has asked very little of me in my life, I'm not going to say no to this. I'm going to do this, I can go back to therapy later.
The next day came, the big day. I sat next to him on the couch. "When you get up there I want you to tell Dan that I'm still mad at him." Al, old, dying, frail, looked at me and said "No I'm not gonna do that." well humph. I tried again, "No I'm serious, you tell Dan I'm still mad at him." he shooed me off, "well, maybe if I get around to it, but thats not likely to happen." One simple message and he won't do it, stubborn old man, takes after his kids.
An hour or so later we were in the bedroom, Al, Pat, and myself. It was almost time, Pat and I were crying. I said "Ok you remember what we talked about earlier, when you see Dan you tell him I'm still mad at him" he whispers, "NO" uggggg "Fine, I guess if you want you can tell him that I still love him and I miss him" I say through tears. Al answered back, "That I can do"
A bit later Pat said her last "I love you" she got to say a last I love you, I will forever be jealous. Al whispered "I love you too" then he went to sleep and took my message to Dan. It took time for him to pass over so to speak. Pat stayed next to him and I stayed next to her with my hand on her leg. On a couple occasions she said I could go if it was to hard for me. I told her I wasn't leaving unless she wanted me to leave. We sat with Al. We talked about silly unimportant things. We talked about Dan and we talked about Al. We just talked, next to Al who was taking his last breaths in this world. When it was over we we still sat with Al. We sat for several hours while we waited for the funeral home to come and take him away. Family came in and out but we didn't leave (well ok I went to the bathroom a couple times).
Al's death was the complete opposite of Dan's death. Dan's death was full of panic and fear, Al's death was peaceful and quiet. No one, not even me,
got to say goodbye to Dan; everyone got to say goodbye to AL. Dan's death was sudden and tragic. Al was ready. Dan's death was wrong for innumerable reasons. Al's death was right, it was a good death.
If you want to read more about my story and my grief journey; I wrote a book about it.
buy my book here
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