Empty

I keep thinking that I'm ok, that I'm going to carry on. Not like I have a choice. Nothing can bring her back. Coming home to an empty house shatters that illusion. There's no laughter, no singing, just the dog padding down the hall in what often seems a bothered gait, to meet me. Sometimes even she can't be bothered, too lost in a dream to notice I've arrived home. Two days I a row now, I've gone from ok to crap in a matter of moments, just by pulling into the driveway.

Not today

Someday I know I'm going to have a day, then a week, then a month, then a year when I don't just want to give up. Today is not that day.

Supersize Me

I opened the cabinet with the though of cooking dinner.  That was as far as I got.  How is it that opening a cabinet in my kitchen...our kitchen...really Mark, let's not lie to ourselves...her kitchen, can cause the walls I build around my heart to dissolve like salt in the sea?  It's just food.  What I was looking for was a can of tomato sauce that Mom had brought over a few weeks ago.  What I found was memories of a time that I can't have again.  I will never again be able to feebly attempt to help her cook something.  She'll never again cook anything in that kitchen while I sit watching her, amazed at the ease with which she does everything.  McDonald's is a LOT less painful. 

Waiting

I keep waiting for this to get easier.  For there to be days, a day even, where I don't miss her with every breath.  Waiting for songs to remind me of good things, good times, instead of the fact that I can't hold her, hear her, see her, watch her, be with her. 
I recently took a trip with the youth from church to Nauvoo, IL to visit church historical sites.  I could feel the Spirit there.  Could feel of the sacredness of the Gospel.  I also felt pain and dispair.  Having completed an endowment session in the Nauvoo Temple, I was sitting in the final room where I normally would have feelings of peace and contentment.  Normally I would be sitting next to my wife.  That day all I could feel was how life wasn't supposed to be like this.  I wasn't supposed to be sitting there next to my dear friend Bill, I was supposed to be sitting there next to Carmen, basking in the glow of the Savior's love, feeling the comfort of the Spirit.  Instead I sobbed and sobbed with my heartbreak not diminishing but growing.  Bill, in his kindness, held me while I sobbed on his shoulder. 
My therapist said to expect at least a year of pain like this.  I don't know that I can take that.

Tears

Tears come at the most random times these days.  I had a busy day today.  DJ'd a pool party in N Houston then made a mad dash back home to change and then DJ'd a Sweet 16 party.  I played Andy Griggs' "You Won't Ever Be Lonely" at the party tonight.  All I could think about while I was listening to it was that it simply wasn't true.  I didn't cry until I got home.  Something about pulling up to the house knowing that she's not inside waiting for me.  I can't count the nights that I would come home from a party and find her asleep on the couch, or propped up in the bed, waiting on me to get home.  I would wake her up and she'd smile and apologize for falling asleep before I got in.  I miss seeing her sleepy smile.  I miss everything about her.

I've been leaving myself voice notes of things I want to put on this blog.  My problem seems to be the transcribing part.  I babble into my phone for a little bit, and there they stay.  Thus and so, I'm typing this now instead of talking to my phone. 
It's been a bad evening.  I sat out on my back porch this evening and cried for about 10 minutes.  Not watery eyes, but deep sobs.  I'm sure my lack of sleep - DJ'd Project Grad last night, then a pool party this afternoon - lack of eating, and forgetting to take my meds yesterday and today all contributed to that.  I know the biggest factor is that I miss her.  Every moment of every day.  I feel so alone without her here with me.

I had some dear friends ask me last night if I ever found out the cause of Carmen's death.  I wasn't aware that I hadn't shared that information with them.  That leads me to believe that there may be several others that don't know.  "Probable cardiac and respiratory arrest" is what the autopsy report states.  From what I have read, Sudden Cardiac Arrest is what it was.  Her heart simply stopped beating.  Approximately 300,000 people a year die from SCA.  Less than 1% survive unscathed.  There was nothing wrong with her heart or lungs or any other part of her.  Her heart just stopped.  I wish it was something else, something I could revel in destroying, but it wasn't anything like that.   

I'm back, although I've no idea if this will become a regular thing again, or if it's going to be as sporadic as it has been.  I've been leaving myself voice notes on my phone that I tell myself I'm going to type and post here. 
Tonight I told my son that he's the only reason I'm alive.  We got into an argument/discussion/crying session.  He left the party I was DJ'ing without telling me he was leaving.  He also left me to pack up the gear by myself.  I was a bit angry and made him come back.  When he got there, I was rude to him and said a few things I didn't mean.  He started crying, I started crying and we talked a bit.  I looked him in the eye and told him the only reason I was standing there having that conversation with him was because of him.  If not for my son, I'd have put a bullet in my head several months ago.  There it is.  The same words I told him.  I shouldn't have said that.  Now he's going to worry that I'll do that.  I won't.  I'm just unable to imagine life without her.  Not that the fact that I'm living life without her makes any difference.  Everyday it's still an overwhelming thought. 

Been awhile

It's been awhile since I've posted.

Daily life isn't quite as horrid as it was.  I still miss her with every part of my mind, body and soul, every minute of every day.  I'm learning to function...sort of...on my own. 
I've been back at work long enough now that I'll soon be done with the project I'm doing for Bayer and will probably be looking for another job.  One more week - in Indiana again - and my part of the project is done.  Hoping to find something at the local facility, but there's no promises.

I'm still filled with questions.  Not exactly the same questions as before, I'm learning to accept...no, that's not the right word...maybe grasp is closer...that I won't know why for what seems to me a very long time.  New questions abound though.  How am I supposed to do this, what am I supposed to do, how do I raise Chandler into the man Carmen and I both want him to be without her, etc..  It's definitely not going to be easy, but as I keep telling Chandler, we're a team, we'll do this together.

In the past couple of weeks, I've had two different people - both very spiritual - tell me that Heavenly Father has big plans for me and really needs me to do something for Him.  One of them was a young missionary that I met in Indiana, Elder Timothy Davis.  He doesn't really know much about me, other than what I've told him of Carmen's passing and my struggles.  I've taken him and his companion, Elder Zachary Brooke, out to dinner a couple of times while I've been working in Mishawaka.  After dinner, I usually take them back to their apartment where we sit in the car and they share a scripture or something similar.  Last week, they shared the story of The Touch of The Master's Hand.  Afterward, we talked about how the Savior reaches out to all of us and that we need to allow Him to help us.  I told them that it was a struggle for me to ask for help from anyone, much less Our Savior, even when I know I need it.  Elder Davis was quiet for a moment and suddenly said he was impressed by the Spirit to tell me that Heavenly Father needs me and that part of the reason He took Carmen back home was to help me to turn my focus to Him.  Had that not been the second time in as many weeks that I had been told that by a member of the church, I might have been dismayed instead of being somewhat buoyed by his statement. 

The pain is still deep, sharp and throbbing, but the hole is partially scabbed over.  I still have moments every day when I want to give up.  I'll look out the window of the hotel I'm in and wonder to myself it's tall enough to do the job.  A friend told me today that it is a long, hard road that I'm on that may have no ending.  I told her that sometimes I just want to lay in the middle of that road and give up.  She kindly reminded me that I have a now 16 year old - this very day even - who needs his dad as much if not more that his dad needs him.  I can't imagine how he could possibly need me more than I need him, but I suppose it could be the case.

Now I know

It's been six weeks and two days.  I now know the physical cause.
 
Cardiopulmonary arrest due to probable cardiac arrythmia. 

I was wrong, it doesn't really help to know.  It doesn't help to know that there's nothing I could have done, even if I had been right there beside her.  It doesn't help to know that she died without suffering.  Nothing helps.

Five weeks

Five weeks have passed now.  I still feel like I'm going to wake up from this nightmare and she's going to be next to me on the bed.  Our bed.  I know she's never going to be there again.  Not in this life at least.  I know I'll see her again.  I know that we'll be together as husband and wife.  That we're an eternal family.  I know that should comfort me.  Somehow, somewhere inside, it does.  I just can't feel it right now.  I still just feel the hurting. 
Still no word on the autopsy report.  I called the JP's office today.  They still haven't received anything from the ME's office.  I talked to the ME's office last week.  It still shows pending in their system.  I'll never understand, but a physical reason might help me deal with it a little better. 

Easier - What's that?

I started back to work full time this week.  As full time as a job that's only going to exist for about two more months can be.  I flew out Sunday night and will fly back Thursday morning.  That plane ride brought back a flood of memories.  The last time I was on a plane was flying home after being told by my mother-in-law that my wife was gone.  I was 1500 miles away that day.  I'm 1900 miles away this week and it's not easier to deal with.  I'm still stuck in a bad dream.  Every moment of every day, I'm consumed with the pain.  The medication helps.  Prozac in the morning, Ambien at night.  Although the Ambien doesn't seem to be doing it's job.  It's 12:30 back home and 10:30 here.  I'm awake...and alone.  No, it's not easier now.  I cry a little less, but the hole in my heart is still there, raw and bleeding. 

29 Days Later

Yesterday was 4 weeks.  28 days.  The 28 most miserable days of my life.

Today marked 29 days.  29 days of asking why.  29 days of her not being here.  A friend - he's actually so much more to me than merely a friend - took me out to lunch last week.  Afterward, we came back to the house and talked for awhile.  He told me he knew Carmen was with us.  He said he could feel her in the room, in the house.  I couldn't, still can't.  I think I can't feel anything but the raw pain.  It feels like the sun has set in my chest, burning and painful, yet at the same time, it's like there's no sun at all.  Just cold, dark emptiness. 

I called the medical examiner's office again today.  Still no word.  Still no answer to why, at least the physical why.  The lady that answers is always so nice but always tells me the same thing.  The report is still pending.  Pending toxicology testing.  Pending, pending, pending...like my life.  Pending.  I don't know if knowing the physical cause of the end of my world will help me accept it any more than not knowing has allowed that to happen.  I like to think that it will.  Not that I'm willing to accept it as of yet.  Even though I don't have a choice, I still can't accept it as reality.

I still wonder around in a haze.  I'm prone to breaking down at any given moment.  I stopped at the post office to pay the yearly fee.  The box is under her name.  Has been for years.  She happened to be the one that opened that account.  When the lady asked the name it was under, I told her our last name.  Then there it was.  My wife's name popped up on the screen in front of me.  I lost my composure and began to cry.  The lady at the post office was very kind.  Told me to go ahead and cry.  That she had lost her son last year and still cried.

Yesterday I talked to a lady who's husband died almost 3 years ago.  She said she almost feels normal again.  Not the same normal as before.  A different normal.  Another close friend - again, really more than a friend - tells me almost daily that this is my "new normal".  I want my old normal back.  This new one sucks. 

Pain

GOD -

T
H
I
S

H
U
R
T
S

Why won't you explain it to me???

Jealousy

I seem to be full of jealousy lately.  I've never really been the jealous type.  Why would I be.  My life was perfect.  An amazing wife, an amazing son, everything we needed and then some.

I'm jealous of those around me who's life goes on as normal.
I'm jealous of those who still have their wife/husband to hold hands with as they walk together.
I'm jealous of those that can pick up the phone and call their wife/husband to just say hello.
I'm jealous of those who don't feel like their heart has been ripped out of their chest.
I'm jealous of those 15 year olds who still have their mom to talk to.
I'm jealous...

Relating

Stretched On Your Grave

I've always loved this song as it shows how deep love goes.  I just never thought I would relate to it the way I do now.

Sobs not Saabs

 Today was rough.  Not that the rest haven't been.  I ran into a friend that had no idea that anything had happened.  She asked how "we" were doing, not realizing I was in the car, our car, by myself.  Through my instant tears, I told her that Carmen had died.  This resulted in both of us breaking down in the drive thru at the local Sonic.  It also resulted in me not recovering from that breakdown for over an hour.  I sobbed in the Sonic drive thru.  I sobbed in the parking lot of the post office.  I sobbed inside the post office.  I sobbed all the way to our friends' house in spite of the fact that I hadn't planned on driving there.  I sobbed in their driveway.  I sobbed in their garage.  I sobbed on their couch.  Not sniffles, not crying.  All out, full on, racked with pain sobbing. 

I also had a chat with God.  It was a bit one sided.  I asked him why my life was so...well, I won't repeat it here...and everyone else's is going on as normal.  Why can't things be the way they were 19 days ago?  Why was the guy in the truck in front of me able to go about his day with no worries while I was crumbling into nothingness?  I sincerely hope that the guy in the truck has no worries, not that I've a clue who it was.  I wouldn't wish this on anyone, least of all the guy in the truck who had no idea I was (am?) jealous of him.

I want to wake up

My son sent a text to me while he was at school today.  Said he didn't feel good and wanted me to pick him up.  I was running an errand so it took me about 30 minutes to get there.  Several people came up to me to tell me how sorry they were for our loss.  The tears started. 

After we got back to the house, I lay on his bed beside him and talked.  He mostly listened and told me everything would be alright.  I cried and told him I didn't think it ever would.  He's 15.  He's not supposed to be the level headed one.  I told him I was sorry that he had to go through this.  My dad died when he was about 18 months so he doesn't remember him.  That hurts me everytime I think about it.  Now my baby has lost his mother.  That hurts me constantly. 

I've been reading other people's stories that have been in similar situations.  I started to read a site last night where people post their stories.  I got about 3 deep and all I wanted to do was scream.  It's not helping me to read about others that have gone through this.  It just makes me angry because I don't want to share their stories.  I don't want to be part of this club.  I want my wife back.  I want my life back.  This isn't what we had planned together.  Together is what we planned.  This is not my life.  This is a nightmare from which I can't awake.

14 days

14 days.  Fourteen days.  A fortnight.  A blip in time, yet an eternity.

It was fourteen days ago today that I last heard her voice.  Her voice that woke me with a phone call telling me she was having a panic attack and needed me to calm her down.  I did just that.  As we talked, her blood pressure went back to normal, we talked about our plans for that day - hers, mine, ours.  It was a bit odd to talk about ours because it was a bit odd for me to be coming home on a Tuesday.  She was feeling better as our conversation neared it's end.  It didn't end as normal.  It ended with me hearing her last breaths. 

I avoided everyone and everything I could today.  Valentine's Day.  How am I supposed to celebrate a day of love when my eternal love isn't here with me?  Instead, I wondered from room to room in the house.  Not doing or seeing, just existing.  I celebrated the victory of getting out of the bed by soaking in the tub.  Our tub.  We kept laughing and saying that it was shrinking as the years passed as we didn't fit quite as well as when we first installed it.  It feels huge now without her in there with me. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Better

Someone, actually several someones, told me this week that it's going to get better.  I don't believe them.  I want nothing more than to hold her again.  I want to run my fingers through her hair.  To watch her chest rise and fall as she sleeps next to me.  To hear her voice again.  To look into her eyes and see the happiness that she felt looking at our son.  God, are you listening?  I MISS HER!!!!!

Angry

I left the house today for a few hours.  Had lunch with a friend from church.  I was a bit worried that it would be awkward and uncomfortable.  I was happy that it didn't turn out that way.  It was a good visit, nice to get out. 
Afterward, I took our son - he's not just mine, he's OURS and always will be - to our chiropractor's office for a massage and adjustment.  I had a good chat with the doctor.  I told him I thought I was doing ok and that I had been mad at God.  It was then and there that I realized I'm still mad at Him.  I want to know why my 40 year old wife is gone, I want to know His plan, I want Him to explain how He thinks that I'm strong enough for this.  I'm mad and I want answers that I can't have. 

8 days

It's been eight days.  Eight days.  Eight days - and nights - of loss, pain, sorrow, fear, anger, terror, and even more.  At 4:45 CST on January 31st, my wife of 17 1/2 years returned home to Our Heavenly Father.  I had the fortune to be on the phone with her as she took her last breaths.  I had the misfortune to be on the phone with her because I was 1400+ miles away in New Jersey.  This blog will be my journey through what it's like to be a 41 year old widower with a teenage son.  I can't promise it will be an easy read as it hasn't been an easy eight days.