My worst fear was that he would die at work, and Id not know what happened.. I dont feel good one way or the other, I just know, it was horrific... I hope as time goes on, you will have more peace.. Much love carla

My husband languished for two and a half weeks in a coma before he died. I was with him when he took his last breath and for that, I am very grateful because he did not die alone. My biggest fear was that I would only remember the last few months of his life as he became a shadow of the man I had known for so many years. I am relieved to relate that that is not the case. In time, most of my nightmarish memories have been eclipsed by joyous recollections of our lives together .

This may be a bit lengthy, but here is a somewhat condensed version of my experience. We were visiting my parents for Christmas. It was a Sunday at 10:30 pm. I left the room to go to the washroom and within minutes, my mom was shouting for me to come back. She thought my husband was having seizures. I immediately suspected a heart attack. She called 911 while my dad was looking for aspirin. I stayed with him. He was gasping for breaths and then went still. At that point my dad and I moved him to the floor and started CPR until first responders arrived. They had to shock him twice, so he had most definitely died. They got him to the hospital and we had about 36 hours with him there, although he was sedated for nearly all of it.. We were about to remove supports, but his heart stopped without us having to do that. It was definitely a trauma, but I am glad I was there with him through all of it (although I wished I had been there more, but the medical staff at times, would not let me in - while he was first in the ER, for example). Of course, there are more details and I could tell you each one of them, almost to the minute. I have just passed the 4 month mark - heart attack was December 27; he passed on the 29th. For about the first 2 months, I replayed those times in my mind every single morning. It was how I woke up. I think about it less, but I do still replay it all from time to time. In fact just today, I was thinking of it all again, and what I wished I would have said to him in the hospital.

And it just dawned on me....I am visiting my parents right now and happen to be sitting in exactly the same place he was when he had the heart attack. This is the house I grew up in, so luckily have many other memories of this house and space other than that.

Is it worse one way or the other? I suspect none of us can answer this as we only have lived our own situation. But I definitely can relate to reliving those moments over and over. Someone suggested that I try EMDR. I looked it up on YouTube and tried something that I hoped was it. I don't know if it was mind over matter, but after trying it, I found I replayed the scene less often. It might be worth a try.

Peace and love,
Kate

Each journey is so unique. My husband died at home. He had a nine month battle with stage iv cancer and the last month he had hospice care. I held his hand, and my other hand on his heart as he took his last breaths. Tears still come when I remember that final moment...

Hello,

Firstly, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing.

Personally, I keep coming back to the time when I found her where she was, in bed. I keep wishing for one moment. One last moment to have the chance to say something, anything.

I'm not sure if that would have been more painful or not but then I guess we all look at that situation from every possible angle. It's been a few months for me and I still do. Every day.

@fuchsiasky - I wondered whether he heard us? As his heart attack happened (his 3rd) after a lengthy illness, all he said was uh-uh and his hand dropped. Could he hear our panic? Did he want to calm us? Or was he gone. His eyes never changed from then on. He'd just taken a chocolate from my son's hand that he'd brought for him. I can't remember if he said thank you? ! I think he did, but I honestly don't want to ask my son to make him relive it. And then he was gone. True after the long gaps between 3 breaths and the body fighting to stay alive. We tried to attend to him, I couldn't remember where his heart pills were? But he'd specifically said he doesn't want to be revived this time. And funnily he knew he would die in August / October. He warned me. I just refused to listen! And there it was. 22 August 2015. Why didn't I say more? He had just cuddled me in bed, said I love you and kissed me on the cheek. I wanted to turn around and look at him when I replied to him that I loved him very much too. But I didn't. I just leaned into his cuddle. 2 minutes later he was gone.

It is an honest question and a topic most of us have and continue to struggle with... On the morning my husband passed , I had spent the night between his room and the ER department with our daughter who was hit with flu like symptoms and needed I.V. treatment (probably the stress of seeing her dad this way and only being 19) . The ER department finally released her at 9 am and we went up to palliative care to see him and knowing my sister and a very good friend was with him left the hospital and drove home for a quick shower and nap . When we got home 10 minutes later the message was already on the answering machine to call the hospital back. He was gone... The nurse had just urged my sister and friend to go grab a coffee while she bath him and they had just left the room. Ever the protector, I knew in my heart that he once again was protecting us...

In February I lost my dad and was with him...As hard as it was to watch him take his last breath...It was comforting to know that we were there for him . But I know in my heart that it is what my husband needed more than what my needs were so I had to make peace with it.

While grieving we tend to want answers to everything as we try to make sense of the tragedy. It's in our human nature. We heal and progress by learning to cope and accept rather than finding those answers that are just not there.

xoxo

Cliff was fine the night before, complained of some indigestion, that was all. The next morning, he woke me up gasping/choking. He had sleep apnea and had done that in the past so I tried to wake him up. That's when I realized it wasn't his sleep apnea, that he was dying. I ran down the hall, banged on my older son's door and hollered to call 911. This woke up my younger son, too. I ran back to our bedroom to Cliff and both of our sons were standing in the doorway when Cliff died in my arms, with me screaming "Don't leave me!" I watched the light of life leave his eyes. I was completely oblivious to him having said he didn't want to be resuscitated if that ever happened. I started doing CPR while my son tried to phone 911. He couldn't answer the 911 operator's questions so I had to run to the phone, talk to her, then run back to him and continue CPR until 8 paramedics showed up and took over. They tried everything and couldn't save him either. It was a freak show, a circus, a nightmare. I will never forget it as long as I live, and neither will our sons.

That was November 2007. For weeks, it played in my head like a tape loop - 24/7. Finally, I got out a notebook and wrote it all down - every last horrible detail, crying my eyes out as I did so. Then I closed the notebook and told myself that if I ever needed that information that it was safe in the notebook, I did not need to carry it around in my head 24/7. That helped stop that replay going on. You might try that - there is something about the act of writing it down and closing the book on it that stops it.

My kids and I all had counseling. That was very important for us. It helped, too.

Am I glad I was there? Yes and no. Yes, because just being there meant his last moments were surrounded by us. No because the trauma was hard to shake off, and it changed the 3 of us forever. All 3 of us had survivor guilt, guilt over not being able to save Cliff like you always see in the movies. The movies don't tell you 4 out 5 heart attacks are fatal and that the majority of those that do survive are permanently disabled/incapacitated from it. Anyway, it has taken a lot of work to get through it.

I am years farther down the road. His death doesn't haunt me except near the anniversary date. In the early days, I woke up every month on the date of the month he died and at the exact time he died. Thankfully, that eventually stopped. Counseling, journaling, and all the rest of it helped. I don't think of him as the dying Cliff. I think of him as Cliff, and he regularly shows up in my dreams, too. The last one he showed up in was really funny, too. That seemed impossible early on as well. It was all nightmares back then. Now when he appears in my dreams, he looks wonderful, and usually we are having fun.

Whether we are right there holding them or not physically by their side when they die is actually kind of irrelevant, in my opinion. You loved each other and you both knew you were loved, and that to me outweighs everything else. It is also my own personal belief that there is such a thing as a soul and that the soul doesn't immediately disappear from the area where they lived. They know our hearts break, they know we loved them, and it is probably one of the hardest things for them on their journey out - to see our pain.

It is hard for you right now, but you will get through this, it will get less painful. It takes awhile. Don't give up. You and the kids will be all right. It is going to take some work, but you will make it.

Love and Hugs,
Martha

I wasn't there and it kills me because Brian's biggest fear was dying alone. But honestly, I think either is terrible. Losing them is awful, period, whether we were there or not. I wish I was there however, as I have so many unanswered questions. I want to make sure he wasn't suffering. That he was sleeping. Things like that. I think I could be more at ease just knowing.

Thanks for that Martha. I know people keep saying it will get less painful. I can't see how it is possible. But I certainly hope so. I too made a promise that I would take care of our kids. And I know it was a relief to him when I made that promise. I so clearly remember the look on his face. I will honour my promise. Which kinda means that I have to stick around. In the end he used to call me his Bambi because he was scared for me. He knew how hard it was going to be and tried to protect me. I was so stubborn. Trying to pretend for him that I am strong enough. Haha. What a joke. I guess that's love. But I would do it all over again.

Martha, I think you raise a good point about writing it all down. I have felt, at times, that my mind keeps replaying the scene because I am worried about forgetting it. I tried to write it all shortly after it happened, but was exhausted by it and did not finish. I may try to finish it off soon. Thank you.

Kate

I found my husband on the patio in a chair, unresponsive. I pretty much knew he was no longer alive, yet I tried CPR as the 911 operator instructed. Paramedics arrived and did nothing. No paddles, no injection. I have since heard that after 5 minutes, there's brain damage and it's too late. No prior illness or heart problems, he had successfully passed two stress tests. I'm guessing it was aneurism or electrical imbalance of the heart. Who knows? He certainly did not look like he suffered. He was sitting peacefully in a chair, like he was asleep.

While this was a hard vision to see, I try not to think of it too much after 2+ months. I try to focus on the fun things we did and the love we shared. I'm guessing "sudden death" is harder than a death after a loved one suffers and you are supposedly "ready" for the inevitable, but I'm not sure. You still have the same ending...they are gone. But no one wants them to suffer.

This topic is helpful and certainly not insensitive. Thank you, Lost4.

Lost4Heart - I've had several deaths in my family, including my infant son, mother, father, and husband. (in-laws too)
For two, I was present, and holding, speaking to them as they left us. One, I heard that evening - hours after the fact. I'm still angry at other family members for not contacting me immediately. One, I discovered myself the following morning (my husband).
Honestly - I would rather be with them. The memories I have of them dying are forever etched in my mind. I will never forget the looks, the smells, the feeling as they passed. But I would honestly rather have been there.
The pain and trauma have lessened with time. I still dream of my son, but remember with gratitude the love and support we received when he passed.
For one, some self-directed art therapy helped. I wrote, drew, painted the experience. I wrote letters to the person - that helped me enormously. It might help you, too.
I wish you peace and comfort at this difficult time.
- Jacq.

Which ever way we lose them it's not easy. I believe the important part is not who was there when they leave this world, but who was there every day and that loved him and that would be you. He was loved and he passed with that love in his heart. Your physical presence doesn't change the love you shared. You had no way of knowing when he would leave, but you loved him through it and your spirit was with him as his remains with you.

It seems impossible now that you will ever heal from the pain that fills your life. I felt the same way. For now just take a day at a time and often moment by moment. You are not alone. We understand. Sharon

Thank you.