I had a similar, albeit slightly different, experience. After Cliff's death, I tried to make other guys with similar builds and habits aware that they needed to get their blood pressure checked. Cliff died of a heart attack - his first, last, and only - and had either of us known how dangerous his high blood pressure was, or known the other symptoms, well I just might not be here! I can spot the heart attack gut on a man at 20 paces now. It's always the same, big gorgeous guys, who seem strong and fit, except for that Michelin about the belly. It's a heart attack waiting to happen. I wouldn't wish what happened to me and my kids on anyone, and I did try to get some of the guys I knew to get checked out. Some did, some wouldn't. If we had the knowledge at the time, Cliff woul;d have been getting treatment. I found out later that the blood pressure readings he used to get at the self-service machine at the supermarket were so hight that he should have been hospitalized - frequently as high as 194/105. I think Cliff knew, but wasn't telling me the whole story. His blood pressure started to come down when he started losing weight, but it was too little too late.

I think part of it, the wanting to stop others from making the same mistakes, is a way for us to feel like the death and loss were not without any meaning. Obviously, the meaning to us is HUGE, but using what we know now to do good in the world makes it feel like we can extend or enhance their legacy. I am not sure I am wording this very well, but I hope you know what I mean.

I think I do know how you feel and what you mean.

Love and Hugs,
Martha

I like to tell our story too, but never thought of why. I think its just because he lived and I want others to know how important it is to me for them to know him. He was a good man who kept the faith in love and life and I miss him terribly. Sharon

Sharing our experience is sharing the love and commitment we had for one another. My Ron died at the end of March so the first real holiday that we had to face without him was Easter. We traveled to my sisters home, although none of us were in the mood for a celebration. During the meal my brother in law, who had worked with Ron, recounted a Sunday at work when Ron's team was playing football and winning, he fashioned a tomahawk out of cardboard and went riding through the warehouse on his forklift, doing the chop of the Chiefs. The next thing I knew my children were laughing, I was laughing, there was a moment of joy that day.
Ron was 47 he should not be gone, but he is. If I can share his medical story and it helps anyone else then somehow that gives a little bit of meaning to his death. Not much but a little bit. I have found that helping other caregivers who are going through my ordeal has also become something that helps me to heal.
Keep sharing his story and take care of yourself, Lori