Death
I'm sitting in an apartment and there's nobody home. I'm alone. Scared. Can't breath sometimes. Everybody is dead: the dog, the bird, my husband. I am alone. I walk to the window, look out. Everything seems normal. Cars where they should be. People walking together, but I'm alone 'cause everything is dead in my tiny apartment.
I had that vision one year before my husband died. Today, I'm hanging on to my sanity. Death is of the devil and it's his perfect weapon. I've seen God fearing people turn their backs on God after losing a loved one. I've seen them curse God, question God, beg God. Yet every life will end in physical death.
Today I was thinking of DH physical death. This triggered by a television program that had a prank where this kid pretends he's been hit in the head. There he is lying in a pool of blood, his head is surrounded by it, red ketchup, he says, but by then I'm back in March of 2010. It's the last day of DH life as I know it. I'd seen the episode before, but this was months before DH was found the same way. Now, I'm watching it, and remembering like some horrifying flash back. Suddenly I'm back at the hospital and the bathroom door is opeining and there you are, lying in a pool of blood. Tons and tons of it. The hospital staff is running, calling codes, screaming, and they're all around me, making sure I don't get in the way. But I don't because I've had medical training. I know the best chance for your survival is for me not to get in the way. So I scream out to you that you're going to be okay. And I remember my nursing school training that head wounds look worse than they are, so I hang on, looking perfectly sane, looking perfectly calm. You'd thought me cold just to see me, but inside, I'm running to you, trying to put the blood back in your head.
It's too late. And I know it.
Later, I'm sitting in the waiting room when a priest arrives. He's older, grey, with a perfect Irish accent and I know you're gone before he speaks a word. I know because I've got medical training. They send the priest when they think it's bad. I saw the minister when mom died too, so I know. So I pretend not to know and I'm hoping I'm wrong.
We sit there. Me and this priest. I'm not Catholic, but I feel as if I am. It's funny. We both were raised Catholic and converted, but on this day, this hour, I take comfort in the kindly priest. I call your daughter and give her the bad news. You're still alive, but I know you're not.
One hour later, the doctor calls me in and tells me about the ruptured aneurysm. The doc has learned to stay calm, to make things sound like they're going to be okay. I've had medical training so I know that and play alone. But how long could I keep it up? The answer two weeks. It took two weeks before they finally came back and told me you were gone. In all that time, I stayed by your side, and I prepared your daughter slowly for what was to come. And I never told anyone about the vision I'd had--a whisper in my ear from God.
What was to come? DH used to joke that I was psychic. Believe me I've had my share of knowing stuff that was impossible to know. I'm not psychic, but there is no word to describe how I knew.
When I was twenty-three, I had this dream that I would marry three times, but the third marriage would be to the same man--my second husband. The first marriage would end in divorce. And the second--widowhood.
I had that vision one year before my husband died. Today, I'm hanging on to my sanity. Death is of the devil and it's his perfect weapon. I've seen God fearing people turn their backs on God after losing a loved one. I've seen them curse God, question God, beg God. Yet every life will end in physical death.
Today I was thinking of DH physical death. This triggered by a television program that had a prank where this kid pretends he's been hit in the head. There he is lying in a pool of blood, his head is surrounded by it, red ketchup, he says, but by then I'm back in March of 2010. It's the last day of DH life as I know it. I'd seen the episode before, but this was months before DH was found the same way. Now, I'm watching it, and remembering like some horrifying flash back. Suddenly I'm back at the hospital and the bathroom door is opeining and there you are, lying in a pool of blood. Tons and tons of it. The hospital staff is running, calling codes, screaming, and they're all around me, making sure I don't get in the way. But I don't because I've had medical training. I know the best chance for your survival is for me not to get in the way. So I scream out to you that you're going to be okay. And I remember my nursing school training that head wounds look worse than they are, so I hang on, looking perfectly sane, looking perfectly calm. You'd thought me cold just to see me, but inside, I'm running to you, trying to put the blood back in your head.
It's too late. And I know it.
Later, I'm sitting in the waiting room when a priest arrives. He's older, grey, with a perfect Irish accent and I know you're gone before he speaks a word. I know because I've got medical training. They send the priest when they think it's bad. I saw the minister when mom died too, so I know. So I pretend not to know and I'm hoping I'm wrong.
We sit there. Me and this priest. I'm not Catholic, but I feel as if I am. It's funny. We both were raised Catholic and converted, but on this day, this hour, I take comfort in the kindly priest. I call your daughter and give her the bad news. You're still alive, but I know you're not.
One hour later, the doctor calls me in and tells me about the ruptured aneurysm. The doc has learned to stay calm, to make things sound like they're going to be okay. I've had medical training so I know that and play alone. But how long could I keep it up? The answer two weeks. It took two weeks before they finally came back and told me you were gone. In all that time, I stayed by your side, and I prepared your daughter slowly for what was to come. And I never told anyone about the vision I'd had--a whisper in my ear from God.
What was to come? DH used to joke that I was psychic. Believe me I've had my share of knowing stuff that was impossible to know. I'm not psychic, but there is no word to describe how I knew.
When I was twenty-three, I had this dream that I would marry three times, but the third marriage would be to the same man--my second husband. The first marriage would end in divorce. And the second--widowhood.
Replies
Wow! You must be psychic to have the dream that you would marry three times and, also, to dream about the apartment in so much detail. Did you and DH live in an apartment when he died along with the dog and bird? Are you living in an apartment now? God must have whispered in your ear a few times. I think you are one of the lucky ones. I never got the whisper from God at all. I dreamed about Smokey when he died and ran out looking for him but couldn\'t find him. It is natural since he died. After that, I have never had a dream again. I think last night for the first time ever, I did dream but can\'t remember much about it. I used to dream all the time. I don\'t write them down at all cause I don\'t care. Life has a way of turning things topsy turvy. It is never the way that you expected it to go. When you pray that God answer pray one way, the answer comes in a completely different form. I don\'t even know why. It simply amazes me. In some ways my life improved and in some ways it seems like God put me on hold. Its just not the way that I wanted it or expected it to be. I thought God would answer my prayers in a completely different way. I went to church today and still could not figure a darn thing out for myself. In a nut shell, I am mystified. It is the best that I can do at the moment. It\'s just a thought the way my life seems to be unfolding at the moment. I figure its not good or bad but just the way it seems to be for me. I hope you life unfolds in a very positive way. From Diane B.
It has got to be so hard taking the step, getting your apartment. I wish I could say something comforting. You have suffered so much loss and change. My heart goes out to you. Hug, Donna
l hope things start to improve for you now that you are in your apartment.You are bound to be asking yourself questions and going over things in your head.When Frank first died l did this all the time,l was so full of anger for everyone who dealt with him,l felt as though he was neglected,but now l just accept that this is the way of life,we all pass,no one has more life than they are given.l hope you start to settle and you start finding some peace at last
Alice
It\'s all the changes that make it even harder..our lives will never be the same, this we know. The accepting of it that is the most difficult. And you are so right about death...it is going to happen to all of us sooner or later...life is a challenge...for some harder than others...why some seem to have more thrown at them.....who knows...but having this site is a comfort knowing you can come on here and write your feelings and get replies that help you through..hugs Ellen
I heard it too.....the whisper of death....more than once in the year before Jim died. I ignored it....thought it was just my mind on overload.....the borrowing of trouble when there wasn\'t any. It was a mistake to ignore it.......one that I will never make again.
It will get better....for you and for all of us. The hand is already dealt and we must try to make the best of it and go on. I hope today is better for you.
Hugs, Dianne
I used to check on my husband in the mornings, he wasn\'t usually a late sleeper so I go watch to see if he was breathing, I call out to him \"Are you alive in there?\" and he would answer that he was getting up. I had no real reason to do this, no reason to think that he would die. He had gone through a valve replacement surgery and of course we were concerend and talked what if\'s then but he recovered very well. It is strange that this is how he died, in his sleep and I went in to check on him. Was God in some way preparing me? I don\'t know. I have no physic ability and steer clear of that phenomenon. You are so right about the devil, he is the greatest deciever and would have you blame God for all of his evil doing. He will do anything to have you turn away from God, don\'t be fooled.
You are sitting alone in your apartment, your move made and the turmoil of living with your father is not there to have to deal with. You are so used to having to deal with anxiety and resentment and guilt, you don\'t quite know what to do with yourself right now. Relat and enjoy your peace. Take time to grieve, time to re evaluate, time to heal. There is that word again..Time..but it is necessary.
You\'ll get there, sorting things out finding your new life. Now at least you have the opportunity to focus more on yourself and the process of getting there.
Day by day,
Hugs Linda
I\'ve heard this from many widows - the premonition. I had one, too - but what to make of it? What to do? There\'s nothing we can do. It\'s usually only in hindsight that we realize what we\'ve seen, or felt. Be easy with yourself - it will take time to become comfortable in your own place, and in your own skin. Come here and talk every day - we\'ll be here. It WILL get easier. Hugs, Marsha
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I understand your feelings of being alone - losing everyone and everything that was dear to you. And seeing the rest of the world go on as normal, that can almost seem unbearable at times. Just a couple of months ago, I had to put my dog to sleep - he had developed a very aggressive brain tumor. My husband and I had raised him from a pup. It was almost like losing my husband all over again. Of course, being the person I am, I arranged to adopt a new puppy from a dog rescue in Utah. This pup is so... sweet and has a temperament like my hubby. Can\'t help but wonder if hubby is looking down with a look of approval on his face.
Krisanne AKA kredgie