It's been almost 5 years since we lost my husband. I was looking at a post on a Facebook widow support group that I'm part of that asked the question, "What were the most/least helpful things you or others did, when you lost your spouse" and it got me thinking about that first year. His passing was a whirlwind in so many ways, leading up to his diagnosis, I was in my second year of nursing, working on my bachelor's and planning for me to go on to nurse anesthesia school. We hoped that I would be able to bust my ass for a few years and get us in a solid financial position so that he could keep working, but so that we weren't utterly dependent on his income and the whims of his industry. I knew I had it in me, with his support. Initially, his only symptom was indigestion. My advice to him was along the lines of "just take some antacids, you're 48 and drink a case of coors light a week, haha". From indigestion in September to jaundice in December, it was obvious that something else was going on. I can remember the day we went to the ER, thinking he had fatty liver or some kind of middle age, heavy drinker type of liver ailment. We went as soon as I got home from night shift and sat in the ER for a couple hours waiting for his labs to come back. I went home, to try to get a couple hours of sleep and he called me back to the hospital within an hour. I could hear it in his voice. Our lives would never be the same. He had masses all over his liver and they told him that they thought he might have pancreatic cancer. How could this man who had never been sick, literally only took work off for the birth of one of his kids, worked out every day and oozed balance between work, play and parenting have pancreatic cancer at 48???? He was admitted to their oncology unit and the too long process of official diagnosis, staging and treatment began. He lived for 16 months after that nightmare of a day. During that time, my big strong man became emaciated from the cancer, was in and out of the hospital for things out of our control and even had a few months where he positively thrived on chemo. We got married, we partied, we ate, we drank, we lived. That summer, both of us gained a good 50+ pounds, he got to spend time doing what he loved with the people who mattered most and we saw glimpses of hope. Eventually, he stopped responding to the chemo and I could see a change that his tried his hardest to hide. The last couple of months were awful, but my nursing background helped prepare me for what was coming. I put on a strong stoic face and I gave him unfettering support, allowing him total autonomy in his care and acting as his advocate when he couldn't. I wasn't alone, his brother and I were team JP and we gave him the best we had. We honored his wishes and ultimately we both know that we could not possibly have done better for him.
After he passed, I was in crisis mode. I had the kids to think about and I was overwhelmed with how much work our house needed. I couldn't see clearly, but I didn't know it. I made so many questionable decisions, all thinking it was the best choice. We got another dog (ours had to be put down two weeks before JP died), moved to a nearby neighborhood to a much smaller house and tried to start to put the pieces back together. That fall, my youngest went to a new school, her middle sister finished highschool and the oldest went on to her last year of college. Then, the next spring COVID hit. We were in the midst of the pandemic, adjusting to life without JP and I was still in crisis mode. I had only had a few months of time where I let myself slide down and start to actually feel the loss. That summer of 2020 the oldest finished college and as we were helping her move into her first place in Philadelphia, it became clear that something was wrong with the youngest. After 4 liters of drinks and 14 trips to the bathroom, I knew that she wasn't ok. We drove back to Pittsburgh and after a day on the road, at 3am she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Continued crisis mode.
The pandemic carried on and that fall was so hard, I grappled with knowing what needed to be done for our safety and the isolation that we all faced during that first year. I ended up leaving my job so that I could work around home schooling and crisis mode kept going.
The following summer the middle was diagnosed with type 1 too, she had lost so much weight and was losing her hair and the adults in her life were so fucking scared. Was cancer hitting us again? Would this 19 year old get a chance to finish school? Live her life? Hearing her tell me (the ER was still limiting visitors because of the pandemic) that she was a diabetic was honestly the best bad news I had ever heard. She was there crying and devastated, knowing what a hard thing diabetes is because of her sister and I was so relieved -I think I might have laughed. I knew it was awful, but manageable. She could do diabetes. We could handle this. This was not terminal cancer.
Things seemed to settle a bit until some things started getting harder with the youngest. There were outbursts where she was wishing she was dead, she had a hard time around other kids, she was not getting any help from therapy. I started with changing her diet, convinced eliminating this or that would end the behaviors. Shamefully, it took her coming home from school one day, having emptied her locker and saying she would never go back to get me to take her to the doctor for meds. She started with an antidepressant and a year later we added ADHD medication. We changed therapists (a couple times).
I can think of so many small decisions and a few big ones that I'm not mentioning here that I know were questionable, at best. I can also see just how incredibly hard the last 6 or 7 years have been for my kids and myself and I'm reminded that we are goddamned resilient women. All 4 of us have had lives that would understandably crumble the best of us, and we all found our ways through. I found a way to be home more for the youngest, who just needs her mom at home, the middle bucked up and managed the shit out of her diabetes (and is graduating college with a stellar first job) and the oldest has worked hard, grown so much and blossomed into the most amazing young woman. It's true that we have never had to worry about where we would sleep, or if we had food, but damn this life has not been easy.
All this rambling and reminiscing to remind myself that yes, I made some decisions that I may not have made with a clearer mind, but I also made it through one hell of a 7 years with the kids mostly happy, definitely productive and all of us intact. We have a happy home, we have each other and we all have the time and space to do what we need to do to live well. I think the best thing that other people and myself did during those early times and later was to just live, keep going, give grace and allow mistakes.
Oh, and by the way, I'm not in crisis mode anymore...for now, lol