In Memoriam

My wife passed away a few hours ago. She was the victim of a sudden, massive heart attack. I am beyond inconsolable. My life doesn't make sense anymore. I keep expecting to see her walk back into the room. What even am I without her? We've been married for nearly thirty years. I've never lived alone.

KJ has had chronic pain issues for years. Her right shoulder in particular has given her a lot of trouble. I swear some of our family thought she was faking it, but they weren't there those nights that she was howling in pain, waiting for the medicine to kick in.

She went to the doctor every three months for over a decade, but he never could figure out what was wrong. He did all sorts of tests. We went to various specialists, but no one could ever find the source. Part of it had to be the way she slept - ever since her hernia operation about six years ago, she couldn't sleep on a bed anymore. It just wasn't comfortable. So she slept in an easy chair, but she often stayed up until she literally passed out, and would fall asleep with her head leaning forward.

It was usually just the one shoulder that hurt. Tonight the pain traveled to her left side as well. We tried the usual tricks. Pain pills, Pepto Bismol, 7-Up (sometimes the pain was so intense it caused nausea). I used the massager on her shoulders.

She told me, "If it doesn't go away in 15 minutes, we're going to the hospital." I even put my jeans and shoes on, ready to walk out the door if we needed to. Then she had to throw up. I gave her the trash can and she sat cross-legged on the floor, spitting up into the trash can. Then she leaned into the trash can and just sat there for a while, trying to catch her breath.

I don't know when she died. She stopped whimpering after a few minutes, and I thought she'd fallen asleep. Sometimes the pain is so bad she passes out. I sat there for about twenty minutes, stupidly browsing social media while I waited for her to recover. I didn't want to wake her up if she was asleep, because what if the pain hadn't faded yet? It would be better to let her sleep through it. 

But at the same time, she was in such an awkward position, sitting on the floor hunched over the trash can.
I didn't want her to wake up with back pain. I waited an uncomfortable amount of time, trying to find that sweet spot between "wake her too early and she's still in pain" and "wake her too late and she throws out her back." I've woken her up too early before, and regretted it. But she was not in a good sleeping position.

I don't know how long I waited. I thought I saw her breathing the whole time, but I must have imagined it. Finally I touched her back, but got no reaction. I talked to her, no reaction. I shook her, no reaction. Then I moved over to her and looked at her face.

I will never forget that face. I'm going to see it in my nightmares, which is why I'm up at 1 AM typing this instead of getting into bed right now. She looked like a drowning victim in the movies. Her face was gray, her eyes were open and yellow. Her nose was running, and drool leaked from her lips.

I called 911 right away. They had me do CPR until they got there, but I knew she was already gone. There were just no signs of life. No warmth, no breath, no spark. There was nothing there to save.

When the EMTs arrived, they had me wait outside, and asked me a few questions. I collapsed on my lawn, wailing while I waited for them to come back and update me. They took an incredible amount of time. I later found that they'd gone through her purse for her identification, and they also went through her medicine cabinet to see what she'd been taking.

Finally one guy came out and informed me that she had passed away. I hate my brain. My thoughts were swirling with all the usual "How am I going to live without her" and "What do I do now." But thanks to all the true crime shows KJ watches, I also had "Does my grief look genuine enough, or will I be a murder suspect?" Ugh.

But no, the coroner told me later that it was definitely a heart attack. She said that there was nothing I could have done. Even if I'd taken her to the hospital right when the pain began, she would have been gone by the time we arrived.

Which should make me feel a little better, but it doesn't. Not even a bit. I'm going to beat myself up forever, wondering what I could have done to prevent it. We've lived in our new state since January, and she hasn't gone to the doctor since the move. We kept meaning to find a new doctor here, but she hates going to the doctor so much, we kept putting it off. Maybe if we'd gone, they would have detected something. Maybe maybe maybe.

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck fuck fuck.

I don't know where to go from here. She's a big part of why we moved where we moved. She just got a new puppy less than a week ago. We're going to give it to some friends. No, I'm going to give it to some friends. I have to start thinking like a single unit again. Everything in my head is we this, we that. And I keep talking about KJ in present tense, like the "she hates going to the doctor" above.

And then there's the intrusive, "maybe it's not so bad" thoughts. You know, like, "At least I won't have to buy her expensive Capri cigarettes anymore." Jesus Christ. I want to slap thoughts like that right out of my head. If KJ were here, maybe I could get her to slap me. I'd gladly let her smoke imported Cuban cigars for the rest of her life if it would bring her back to me.

We had plans! We were going to go to the zoo soon! In July we were going to go to Gatlinburg and get our chair lift photo - we try to do that every five years. This is just so sudden. Tomorrow I have to start thinking about things like closing bank accounts and whether I really need two cars.

I have no friends here. I haven't met anyone since the move. I'm alone in a strange city, with no job or life direction. KJ wasn't perfect. We disagreed on a lot of topics. Sometimes our shouting matches drove the cats into hiding. But she was still my reason for getting up in the morning, and knowing she was in the house helped me sleep at night.

This house is too big for one person. Maybe I'll look for a roommate, I don't know. Maybe I'll move closer to family. I don't know what I'm going to do. I know I'm not going to sleep tonight.

Rest in peace, KJ. I will always love you.