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My husband died today
- Post starter NarcSis
- Start date
- Status
- Post starter
- #902
I suck as a sister.
Ordered an expensive but super crappy take-out meal from a local restaurant tonight. I'm made to feel stupid and have to hear about how the burgers were cheaper at another restaurant and she would have liked their food...after she suggested this restaurant!!!!
All I wanted was a steak dinner. A half decent take-out meal, but when I pick my meal there's nothing she likes there so she suggests another restaurant (the one we end up with) - they don't serve steak! I am nice, I compromised and ordered fish & chips, not what I wanted but it's about her happiness. Well, the burger isn't cooked, there aren't any condiments.....etc, etc.
I felt like a stupid, stupid person. My fault. All my fault. :(
Hubby was my shield against this. Do you know how happy I was when he came into my life and started to protect me from that?
He's gone. I have no shield. I'm right back where I started, powerless to her bullying attitude again.
I want my shield back. I need him back. Where is he? Why can't he just come back to me?
Everywhere I go I remember him. We went sight seeing today, places he and I had gone together before. I don't feel closer to him in those places, I just feel sad and empty and the fact that he's gone just gets amplified.
I need him back with me. He kept me alive. :(
Ordered an expensive but super crappy take-out meal from a local restaurant tonight. I'm made to feel stupid and have to hear about how the burgers were cheaper at another restaurant and she would have liked their food...after she suggested this restaurant!!!!
All I wanted was a steak dinner. A half decent take-out meal, but when I pick my meal there's nothing she likes there so she suggests another restaurant (the one we end up with) - they don't serve steak! I am nice, I compromised and ordered fish & chips, not what I wanted but it's about her happiness. Well, the burger isn't cooked, there aren't any condiments.....etc, etc.
I felt like a stupid, stupid person. My fault. All my fault. :(
Hubby was my shield against this. Do you know how happy I was when he came into my life and started to protect me from that?
He's gone. I have no shield. I'm right back where I started, powerless to her bullying attitude again.
I want my shield back. I need him back. Where is he? Why can't he just come back to me?
Everywhere I go I remember him. We went sight seeing today, places he and I had gone together before. I don't feel closer to him in those places, I just feel sad and empty and the fact that he's gone just gets amplified.
I need him back with me. He kept me alive. :(
Heather
Diamond Member
@Medic72.. You are soooo strong and at some point you will be able to create your own shield.
I know in time you can achieve this.
Hugs..always thinking of you
For the longest time I had this on the back window of my car and I could see it through my rearview:
You never no how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.
I held on to that for months and it brought me comfort...I hope it brings you a bit too.
Heather
I know in time you can achieve this.
Hugs..always thinking of you
For the longest time I had this on the back window of my car and I could see it through my rearview:
You never no how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.
I held on to that for months and it brought me comfort...I hope it brings you a bit too.
Heather
- Post starter
- #905
I always feel like a bad person for just not being grateful that my sister didn't walk away from me like everyone else but then she gets in her moods and suddenly I feel like I'm sitting at the bottom of a huge cave all alone and wanting to die.
Then there are days when I don't want to go home to the silence, the empty rooms with no more laughter.
I miss him.
Then there are days when I don't want to go home to the silence, the empty rooms with no more laughter.
I miss him.
D
Deleted member 12723
I want to give you hope in your faraway distant future that you will be able to laugh again. I know this feels impossible at this time perhaps yet it is true.
I remember how everything seemed to bring me down and I did not get the emotional support that I needed so I can sort of relate, not the same situation.
Just keep on breathing, eating and sleeping and taking care of the dog, you will find healing eventually. You may never get over this perhaps, yet you will laugh again someday.:hug:
- Post starter
- #907
It's 300 days today.
300 days since he decided life wasn't worth living anymore. I was reading over my diary from the days leading up to his death - there's nothing to suggest anything was wrong. I wrote about laughing or something with him. I mean, 301 days ago he was smiling at me, laughing in the kitchen, hugging, kissing and saying, "I love you." to one another.
An hour! He was gone from the house for an hour to that stupid physiotherapists appointment and that's all it took to push him over the edge and ruin his life.
He was smiling. He was happy. He was himself. He came back from that appointment destroyed. He was crying. My man who never cried was crying. He said they told him he had an enlarged heart on x-ray. He became obsessed with that fact, seeing only doom and gloom in his future.
I couldn't stop it. The ball was already rolling downhill without me. How did he go from "What if I've already had one (a heart attack)?" to dead!?
I don't understand. God, why does this not make any sense at all!?
Every other woman says their husbands had diagnosed depression or other mental illness, there was drug or alcohol addiction, a fight to trigger the suicide...there was none of that with us. We weren't fighting. He wasn't drinking. He'd never done drugs in his life.
He was under a lot of stress. He was bothered by pain. He was losing sleep....
But 301 days ago he woke up the same as we'd woken up on his days off so many times. "Good morning husband."; "Good morning wife." A warm embrace, a loving kiss. Who would have imagined that in 21 hours he would kill himself?
It will never make sense. 300 days and it makes no more sense than it did that day. 300 days without him.
I have 65 days to go.
300 days since he decided life wasn't worth living anymore. I was reading over my diary from the days leading up to his death - there's nothing to suggest anything was wrong. I wrote about laughing or something with him. I mean, 301 days ago he was smiling at me, laughing in the kitchen, hugging, kissing and saying, "I love you." to one another.
An hour! He was gone from the house for an hour to that stupid physiotherapists appointment and that's all it took to push him over the edge and ruin his life.
He was smiling. He was happy. He was himself. He came back from that appointment destroyed. He was crying. My man who never cried was crying. He said they told him he had an enlarged heart on x-ray. He became obsessed with that fact, seeing only doom and gloom in his future.
I couldn't stop it. The ball was already rolling downhill without me. How did he go from "What if I've already had one (a heart attack)?" to dead!?
I don't understand. God, why does this not make any sense at all!?
Every other woman says their husbands had diagnosed depression or other mental illness, there was drug or alcohol addiction, a fight to trigger the suicide...there was none of that with us. We weren't fighting. He wasn't drinking. He'd never done drugs in his life.
He was under a lot of stress. He was bothered by pain. He was losing sleep....
But 301 days ago he woke up the same as we'd woken up on his days off so many times. "Good morning husband."; "Good morning wife." A warm embrace, a loving kiss. Who would have imagined that in 21 hours he would kill himself?
It will never make sense. 300 days and it makes no more sense than it did that day. 300 days without him.
I have 65 days to go.
D
Deleted member 12723
:hug:
- Post starter
- #909
I'm home.
That's pretty much it. Silence other than the tv.
When I used to come home before, he used to be happy to see me. He'd put aside whatever he was doing and he'd run to the front door to hug me and kiss me or doggy-hump my leg and lick my face. He'd tell me how much he missed me.
In recent years there was none of that, of course I rarely went anywhere but when I did and came through the door, he wouldn't even bat an eye at me; no "Hi", no "How was your drive?" and no "I missed you." It was just silence and I'd see him entranced by his laptop playing whatever game he was playing. I don't think he even noticed me until an hour after I returned. It hurt. I used to wonder if he even loved me anymore.
I missed the guy that used to run to me, hug me, appreciate me. That guy died a long time ago. This guy was only parts of him.
Braised lamb shanks. That guy who was full of zest and life, he came back one night about a week before he died. I made him his lamb shanks, a first for me, he took one bite and stood up, grabbed me exclaiming, "I love you!" And he kissed me as hard as he could. You know the joy in my heart seeing the man I so loved again resurrected before me...in that moment Id thought to myself that everything was going to be fine with us for a very long time to come. He was still in there. There was hope for him coming out of his funk. I could get him back.
I didn't get him back. I lost him.
Uggh, my heart aches.
That's pretty much it. Silence other than the tv.
When I used to come home before, he used to be happy to see me. He'd put aside whatever he was doing and he'd run to the front door to hug me and kiss me or doggy-hump my leg and lick my face. He'd tell me how much he missed me.
In recent years there was none of that, of course I rarely went anywhere but when I did and came through the door, he wouldn't even bat an eye at me; no "Hi", no "How was your drive?" and no "I missed you." It was just silence and I'd see him entranced by his laptop playing whatever game he was playing. I don't think he even noticed me until an hour after I returned. It hurt. I used to wonder if he even loved me anymore.
I missed the guy that used to run to me, hug me, appreciate me. That guy died a long time ago. This guy was only parts of him.
Braised lamb shanks. That guy who was full of zest and life, he came back one night about a week before he died. I made him his lamb shanks, a first for me, he took one bite and stood up, grabbed me exclaiming, "I love you!" And he kissed me as hard as he could. You know the joy in my heart seeing the man I so loved again resurrected before me...in that moment Id thought to myself that everything was going to be fine with us for a very long time to come. He was still in there. There was hope for him coming out of his funk. I could get him back.
I didn't get him back. I lost him.
Uggh, my heart aches.
D
Deleted member 12723
:hug:
- Post starter
- #911
Obviously I'm not done yet today, the mind just keeps spinning.
"I miss you." This is what I started saying to him about a year ago when he'd come home from work.
"I miss you."
There was so much more behind it that went unspoken and I guess he just thought I meant I missed him while he was at work but the truth is, I missed HIM. He wasn't himself. He was grumpy, angry, sullen, quiet and withdrawn. I missed the guy who used to smile at me and be happy to come home to me, not this guy who dragged himself in the door, no longer allowed me to embrace him or said something negative the second he came in as if to slap the joy from my face.
I missed him. I truly missed him while he was away but last fall I was really missing HIM. All the time. Sometimes he's be right beside me on the couch and I'd gaze over at him immersed in his laptop and I'd just automatically say, "I miss you." He'd look at me annoyed and say, "I'm right here."
He never got it. I never tried to tell him.
I missed him every day before he died. Those little glimpses of the old him that shone through when we were doing things, I loved those. The smiles. His eyes lighting up. The giggles. The playing. The man I wanted to grow old with. The man who would say he wanted to grow old with me. The man who wrapped me in his arms and kissed my cheek. I missed him.
Missing him isn't the same now. It's deeper, more intense, more painful. He's really gone now. At least before I could see him but now, I never get to see him ever again.
At nights I would roll over and whisper, as he basically ignored me and turned his back, "I miss you." I was always met with silence, sometimes I'd turn away with a tear in my eye. His sudden inclination toward ignoring me led me to depression and despair. I knew it had to get better. I just held out hope that he would get better with time as things started to settle again; as his shoulder healed, as his neck got better; as we lost weight again.
He was barely living. He was merely walking through his days and lying awake at night wishing the pain away. I couldn't help him. I didn't know how.
He wasn't living anymore. He was holding on by a thread. The thread broke. I couldn't fix it.
I miss him.
Hey, Tin? Do you hear me still? I miss you.
"I miss you." This is what I started saying to him about a year ago when he'd come home from work.
"I miss you."
There was so much more behind it that went unspoken and I guess he just thought I meant I missed him while he was at work but the truth is, I missed HIM. He wasn't himself. He was grumpy, angry, sullen, quiet and withdrawn. I missed the guy who used to smile at me and be happy to come home to me, not this guy who dragged himself in the door, no longer allowed me to embrace him or said something negative the second he came in as if to slap the joy from my face.
I missed him. I truly missed him while he was away but last fall I was really missing HIM. All the time. Sometimes he's be right beside me on the couch and I'd gaze over at him immersed in his laptop and I'd just automatically say, "I miss you." He'd look at me annoyed and say, "I'm right here."
He never got it. I never tried to tell him.
I missed him every day before he died. Those little glimpses of the old him that shone through when we were doing things, I loved those. The smiles. His eyes lighting up. The giggles. The playing. The man I wanted to grow old with. The man who would say he wanted to grow old with me. The man who wrapped me in his arms and kissed my cheek. I missed him.
Missing him isn't the same now. It's deeper, more intense, more painful. He's really gone now. At least before I could see him but now, I never get to see him ever again.
At nights I would roll over and whisper, as he basically ignored me and turned his back, "I miss you." I was always met with silence, sometimes I'd turn away with a tear in my eye. His sudden inclination toward ignoring me led me to depression and despair. I knew it had to get better. I just held out hope that he would get better with time as things started to settle again; as his shoulder healed, as his neck got better; as we lost weight again.
He was barely living. He was merely walking through his days and lying awake at night wishing the pain away. I couldn't help him. I didn't know how.
He wasn't living anymore. He was holding on by a thread. The thread broke. I couldn't fix it.
I miss him.
Hey, Tin? Do you hear me still? I miss you.
- Post starter
- #912
I was lying on the floor tonight, the same place where he and I were lying the night before he died. I was lying there and thinking about that night, how it seems so unreal that he's dead, how it seems like it was just yesterday we were lying there together. I could almost feel myself rubbing his back and hugging on him.
It doesn't seem real. How can he be dead?
I said aloud the exact words I said to him that night, "You're not going to die, Tin."
How did he die? How could he have died? Was he angry because I kept telling him he wasn't going to die? Did he do it just to spite me? Was it because I wasn't as caring and loving as I should have been?
He wasn't going to die of a heart attack! His heart was fine, he'd just had it checked! He wasn't going to die that way! Why couldn't he just see that? Why couldn't he see that there was nothing wrong with him or his heart and that stupid physiotherapist is NOT qualified to read an x-ray anyway!! The physiotherapist was WRONG - every heart appears enlarged on x-ray! There was NOTHING wrong with my husband!!!!!
He killed himself for nothing. He killed himself over some ridiculous idiot who didn't know what the hell he was even looking at! He was NOT going to die. He wasn't going to have a heart attack. His heart was FINE.
Why wouldn't he listen to me? Why couldn't he see that I was trying to help him? I was trying to appeal to reason and he was upset and lost in emotion. He ruminated over it all night. He didn't sleep much at all. I on the other hand slept like a rock up until a loud noise woke me up, a crash of some kind. He knocked something over? Oh God, I think about it now and I hear velcro opening - is that real or is that my mind just playing with me because I know things now that I didn't before? Like, how he kept the bullets in a pouch with a velcro seal. How the door to the nightstand sometimes slams shut. He kept his fireproof box in the nightstand. The velcro pouch was inside the fireproof box. Did I hear him getting the bullets out?
Uggh. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. He did this right under my nose. He already knew he was going to die when I woke up and asked him what was wrong. When he told me his back was sore and he couldn't sleep, he was lying to me. I hammered away any chance of him changing his mind when I got up and said, "Are you sure it's not shingles? I mean, it's not going away with physio...maybe you should ask the doctor when you see him if this could be shingles, like, on the inside, so you can't see it." I brought up his pain again. I doubted him. Maybe he thought I was doubting the severity of his pain. He had this thing about people doubting him, especially when it came to his medical issues. I didn't help.
I went to the bathroom and then got back in bed. He didn't lay down again with me. I tried to reach out to touch him but he moved away from me. He got up to leave the room shortly after that and I said, "Tin, you're getting up already, it's still really early." He said, "I know, I can't sleep anymore." He paused on my side of the bed to say, "Do you need anything?" and I just said (slightly annoyed because he was being moody again and I was confused about the question), "No." He left the room.
I heard him on the stairs. Not long after that I heard him going to the basement. I think at some point I heard a noise like a door slamming but it sounded like an interior door and not our front door. I didn't hear him start his car or drive away. I don't know if I feel asleep. I do know at one point I was surfing the internet looking for mattress pads in an effort to help him with his pain. I gave up after 20 minutes of searching and getting frustrated. I may have laid there trying to sleep for another 20 minutes. I do know it was 8:10 when I got up and came downstairs. Was it 5:30 when he got up? 5 am? Was he already dead by 6 am? When the person found him and reported him to the cops, had he already been dead an hour? When I got up had he been dead already for two whole hours!? When I drove by that scene was he already dead for 3 entire hours!?
It drives me insane that I cannot remember what time it was he woke up that morning. I don't know how to reconcile that. I can't "accept" it. I know that it won't change anything. I know that knowing what time it was won't make any difference to the narrative but still it will plague me for the rest of my days. It is a source of extreme frustration. A source of doubt and mistrust of my own memory.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him. How can I be coming up to year already that he's been dead? He was just here. :(
It doesn't seem real. How can he be dead?
I said aloud the exact words I said to him that night, "You're not going to die, Tin."
How did he die? How could he have died? Was he angry because I kept telling him he wasn't going to die? Did he do it just to spite me? Was it because I wasn't as caring and loving as I should have been?
He wasn't going to die of a heart attack! His heart was fine, he'd just had it checked! He wasn't going to die that way! Why couldn't he just see that? Why couldn't he see that there was nothing wrong with him or his heart and that stupid physiotherapist is NOT qualified to read an x-ray anyway!! The physiotherapist was WRONG - every heart appears enlarged on x-ray! There was NOTHING wrong with my husband!!!!!
He killed himself for nothing. He killed himself over some ridiculous idiot who didn't know what the hell he was even looking at! He was NOT going to die. He wasn't going to have a heart attack. His heart was FINE.
Why wouldn't he listen to me? Why couldn't he see that I was trying to help him? I was trying to appeal to reason and he was upset and lost in emotion. He ruminated over it all night. He didn't sleep much at all. I on the other hand slept like a rock up until a loud noise woke me up, a crash of some kind. He knocked something over? Oh God, I think about it now and I hear velcro opening - is that real or is that my mind just playing with me because I know things now that I didn't before? Like, how he kept the bullets in a pouch with a velcro seal. How the door to the nightstand sometimes slams shut. He kept his fireproof box in the nightstand. The velcro pouch was inside the fireproof box. Did I hear him getting the bullets out?
Uggh. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. He did this right under my nose. He already knew he was going to die when I woke up and asked him what was wrong. When he told me his back was sore and he couldn't sleep, he was lying to me. I hammered away any chance of him changing his mind when I got up and said, "Are you sure it's not shingles? I mean, it's not going away with physio...maybe you should ask the doctor when you see him if this could be shingles, like, on the inside, so you can't see it." I brought up his pain again. I doubted him. Maybe he thought I was doubting the severity of his pain. He had this thing about people doubting him, especially when it came to his medical issues. I didn't help.
I went to the bathroom and then got back in bed. He didn't lay down again with me. I tried to reach out to touch him but he moved away from me. He got up to leave the room shortly after that and I said, "Tin, you're getting up already, it's still really early." He said, "I know, I can't sleep anymore." He paused on my side of the bed to say, "Do you need anything?" and I just said (slightly annoyed because he was being moody again and I was confused about the question), "No." He left the room.
I heard him on the stairs. Not long after that I heard him going to the basement. I think at some point I heard a noise like a door slamming but it sounded like an interior door and not our front door. I didn't hear him start his car or drive away. I don't know if I feel asleep. I do know at one point I was surfing the internet looking for mattress pads in an effort to help him with his pain. I gave up after 20 minutes of searching and getting frustrated. I may have laid there trying to sleep for another 20 minutes. I do know it was 8:10 when I got up and came downstairs. Was it 5:30 when he got up? 5 am? Was he already dead by 6 am? When the person found him and reported him to the cops, had he already been dead an hour? When I got up had he been dead already for two whole hours!? When I drove by that scene was he already dead for 3 entire hours!?
It drives me insane that I cannot remember what time it was he woke up that morning. I don't know how to reconcile that. I can't "accept" it. I know that it won't change anything. I know that knowing what time it was won't make any difference to the narrative but still it will plague me for the rest of my days. It is a source of extreme frustration. A source of doubt and mistrust of my own memory.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him. How can I be coming up to year already that he's been dead? He was just here. :(
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