Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Well the countdown is over and today is the day. Four years ago today I watched my husband die when only moments before, he had asked me to climb into the hospital bed with him and he’d told me how hard this battle was for him and how much he loved me. We thought we were leaving the hospital the next day; he was only in for dehydration issues from his chemo. We’d only just been told he had 6 months to 2 years. We thought we had more time. We were wrong.

It amazes me how easily I can transport myself back to that hospital room, the sweet moments before, the awful horrible devastating and bewildering moments of, and the horror and numbness after: calling the whole family at 2am, waiting for everyone to arrive, sitting alone while they “cleaned him up.” I sat, hunched over myself, rocking, staring at the friggin ugly green hospital socks I was wearing, saying over and over in my mind: “this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening”.

I am almost hyperventilating just typing this stuff, and I still find it hard to believe it happened. Yet, here I sit drinking coffee, typing a blog post for a blog for widows. Who would have thought? Certainly not me. Today I am taking the day off. I'm walking Grayson to school, having coffee with a friend, lunch with another. My mother-in-law and I (and Grayson) are driving out to the cemetery this afternoon. We'll talk about the past and laugh and cry. It sucks that we have to, but is so good that we can do it together. The cemetery is by the wonderful old church we were married in; it's beautiful out there and I always feel a bit more peaceful when I leave.

I've survived the march for another year. I'm glad it's over. In celebration, a group of us will head to Wursfest on Friday - one of Daniel's favorite fests of all time. What could be more fun than a bunch of great people, drinking beer, wearing ridiculous hats, eating fried pickles, and listenting to polka music? I'm looking forward to it.

Happy Tuesday - Michelle D.


  1. My thoughts are with you today, Michelle. Love & hugs for you.

  2. I'm sending you a giant hug :) You have come so far in such a short amount of time. I find you so inspirational everytime I read your words. I too was left as a single parent to a little one. Seeing where you are today gives me hope...

  3. I will never forget Daniel HE was such a good friend. I will never forget when I heard about his death, I was such a good friend that I didn't even know he was sick. I will never forget or forgive myself that I did not come and say goodbye - you can never go back. I hate it that in life we drift apart from people thinking that we still have time to reconnect, one day. I am so happy that I can glimpse into your life via this blog and see that even through so much sadness and pain you and Grayson are making your way. Daniel would be very proud of you with the way you have made a life for you and Grayson.

  4. My thoughts and prayers are with you today. My own "death march" is approaching fast. My husband went into the hospital the day after Thanksgiving in 2008 and died at home on January 7th in 2009. We also thought we had 6 months or so. This blog has been a god-send for me this year, and I will be sticking close as reliving the "last days" approaches. Thanks for being here, it makes a difference.

  5. Michele,
    sending you thoughts of hope & love. thanks for sharing the article and deep feelings.
    I must tell you that somedays I too am taken back to that day in the hospital, the last breath of my late husband, and I know that hyperventilating feeling of not being able to catch your breath...funny how these visions have a way of creeping back into ones consciousness...
    you did survive and you will continue to survive all the difficult hurdles that before you.