Nicole's New Year's Top 10 "Advice to Those Supporting the Grieving"

December 31, 2012

I am posting this not as a dig or put down to those who have tried to be helpful and supportive during the last 6 1/2 months, I am writing this as a service to those who find themselves in that awkward position of trying to comfort the grieving either immediately after a death or during special occasions and holidays and don't have a clue what to say.  I will start out with "What NOT to Say" and finish with the top 10 "What to say or do".  This is not information from a therapist, this is my belief based on my experience being in grief and also from information I have put together from others who have dealt with many types of grief, losing a parent, spouse, child or other loved one.

I hope this helps others to know what a grieving person needs.  Plan ahead so you are not caught off guard.  Speak from the heart, but don't patronize.  The grieving person does not want to feel better, replace, forget, move on or be told how to grieve. All of these things will happen on their own time an no amount of words will cause them to happen sooner.  Do not offer advice on how to grieve - it's personal and nobody will grieve the way you might want or expect.  They want you to love them, spend time with them, offer to lift a burden or two or just give a call and talk about the person who died.  Mostly they want to know that their loved one will be remembered.  Sometimes the grieving person will need to vent and tell you things about the person who died that drove them crazy or made them angry - that is normal and should be supported just as if the person were still alive.  A grieving person still has all the feelings towards their loved one after death they had before, it's just not as acceptable to discuss frustrations or anger.    Do not offer advice on how to be happy or become happy.  Grieving people can sometimes be happy, but it will be different and it will happen when they are ready. 

Nicole's 2012 Top 10 things NOT to say to the grieving...

10. "When God closes a door, he opens a window.  Something good will come from this. "
9.  "God never gives you something that you can't handle"
8.  "At least he/she went quickly and didn't suffer"
7. "At least he/she isn't in pain any longer"
6. "You will find love again/have another child"
5.  "Try not to think about it, think happy thoughts"
4.  "At least you will always have your memories, he/she will be in your heart forever."
3.  "Count the blessings in your life."
2.  "At least you were lucky to have someone to love"
1.  "It's time to move on and forward with your life, you have to let go at some point."

Now, I will say that there are times when you will need to give the grieving person a push or a shove to get them out of a long standing funk, say they have been in bed with the covers over their head for a month - then you get to be a little more frank.  But if we are having a bad day or difficulty dealing with a special day, a milestone after the death or a holiday or anniversary - well, give us a break.  We just need to be allowed to feel sad.  Anniversaries, holidays, birthdays, special occasions and sometimes random events will bring out the sadness - that's just how it is going to be.

Nicole's 2012 Top 10 things you CAN say or do...

10.  Ask how we are doing and mean it.  Wait for the answer even if it takes a few minutes.
9.  Sit quietly, allowing the space of silence.  It is sometimes nice just to have someone there, holding our hand, without the chatter.
8.  Bring a meal weeks or months after the death and sit down and eat with us.  Most often, mealtime is where the loved one is missed the most and having company can be comforting.
7. Speak about the person who died.  It's ok, you are not going to cause us to fall apart just because you speak their name.  We WANT to hear your memories, stories and thoughts.  It makes us feel that our loved one's life had meaning to someone besides us.
6. Ask "What can I do?" and mean it.  Only ask if you are willing to actually put yourself out there and follow through.
5.  Acknowledge our feelings.  Don't fix, just affirm that you hear us.  Sometimes it's best to just repeat what you see expressed "I see you are feeling sad", "This is really rotten", "It really isn't fair you are going through this".
4. Take us out of our routine.  A night out with friends can be an amazing catalyst to happiness.
3.  Call or visit often. Even months or a year later! It can get lonely when people avoid us because we are the person whose spouse, child, parent, etc died.  Death isn't contagious - it's just a fact of life.  We might want to isolate ourselves, but don't let us - it isn't healthy for long periods. 
2.  Hug us, we really miss the physical contact most of all.  Hugging helps us connect to life outside our own.  It helps us feel loved.
1.  When all else fails, and you can't think of anything else to say - use this phrase.  "I am here and I don't know what to say, but I didn't want to say nothing."

Peace be with you and may the New Year bring about a positive change in our world.

Namaste,

Nicole

I'll Have a Blue Christmas Without you...

December 25, 2012

Christmas without you is just not the same. All the lights are hung, but don't shine as bright. The tree is decorated, but isn't as grand. The mistletoe is perched high above and yet you are not here to steal a kiss. The packages are wrapped and fill the space under the tree and yet the emptiness of your absence echoes in my heart. I have been cheery and bright because that is what I must do for our daughter and the rest of our children, yet it feels like I am somehow betraying you and our love when I laugh and get lost in the joy of the holiday. Despite the occasional festivities with various friends & family, these nights alone feel insurmountably lonely.  Merry Christmas my darling, I am trying to be brave and face this day knowing it will come whether or not I am ready. I would welcome the ghost of Christmas Past transporting me to a happier time to remind me of the glory of Christmas night with you.  Your Santa hat will sit empty Christmas morning and yet the day will be beautiful and magical and special and there will be happiness and joy and packages and wrapping paper will fill the air along with the laughter of our children - because that is what Christmas is all about.  Why can't Santa visit me tonight and grant just one Christmas wish?  Let me steal one last kiss, one last hug, one last caress of your face.  Alas, Santa will not visit me this year, it's just Christmas without you...another of many firsts I must endure.

    Ron was dressed as Santa for her school Christmas Party

How happy is she to have her daddy as Santa?

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I did well today, all things considered.  I think my friend of the day was actually the annoying head cold and chest congestion that kept me fuzzy headed and focused on breathing rather than my sadness missing my husband on the first Christmas without him.

I stopped at the cemetery on the way to my Mom's house with my 7 yr old daughter.  We sat and talked to him, wishing him a Merry Christmas and placing an amaryllis flower at his grave marker.  I didn't have the overwhelming waves of emotions I expected, just numb, mindless stares at the grave marker with his name.  It was as if I was not truly comprehending that he was buried 6 feet beneath me, the body of the man I had loved, held and caressed.  How strange to be so close to him - a mere step or two really, and yet all I could feel was the cold, moist earth soaking into my jeans as I kneeled at his gravesite.  I am sure a little part of me let go today.  I was able to allow myself to celebrate the day with our children rather than stay stuck in the magnitude of my loss.

A quote from today: This is pertinent to myself and so many others this holiday season. "We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, "Why did this happen to me?" unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.  Match our celebration and loss with the same depth of gratitude."

It is with gratitude for the life and love of my husband that I can move forward each day, taking grander steps towards my new normal.  I ask only "what next" with all hope and expectation for a positive and fulfilling response.  I am gearing up for a major change in my life in the next couple weeks and one of the next steps I need to take is to begin cleaning out the clutter and excess in my life. This is not only a physical letting go but an emotional one as well.  Ron isn't coming back. He made his decision a long time ago to have a shorter life and it is my task to live my remaining years (all 45+ of them!) with zest and vigor.   Letting go of the "stuff" in my home will allow me to also metaphorically let go of the excess bulk in my physical self.  The two are correlated for sure.

Soon, it will be time to ring in the New Year of 2013.  I intend to do so with less clutter in my home and less clutter within me.

A Radical Shift

December 16, 2012

So, here I sit two days after the 6 month anniversary of my husband's sudden and (unexpected??) death from a heart attack and I am thinking about the next 6 months, year and life ahead.  What is it that motivates me to keep going and keep moving in a forward direction when I am constantly being pulled back by the memories of our love and life together.  I am starting to see the world a little more clearly now as the fog and haze is constantly lifting, but I am held still and unmoving with the tethers of my past.  With each passing day, it feels like I am pulling teeth from their sockets and ripping flesh, nerves and tendons that try to hold everything in its place.  I want to move on, but I feel guilty for leaving him behind.  I do not want to let go of my love for him or any of the wonderful memories we shared, but there is something I do have to realize if I am going to be healthy emotionally and physically going forward.  My Ron was not living a healthy life and everything he did was the antithesis of longevity.  He ate what he wanted, sat around and did not have a regular exercise routine.  He indulged himself any time he wanted and made no apologies for his behaviors, just excuses and reasons.  He would say to me as I was working out with my trainer "I love hard work - I could watch it all day!".  He would mumble through bites of a double bacon cheeseburger "I would rather have a shorter life eating cheeseburgers than a long life eating tofu!".  This attitude permeated our relationship and gave me permission to be fat, lazy and indulgent as well.  I allowed myself to be sucked into poor eating, lazy and sedentary life.  I get to suffer with the results today as a 46 yr old woman who is carrying an extra 100+ lbs of weight.  It is not Ron's fault this happened, it is completely mine and I have to own it.  With the owning comes the responsibility to do something about it.

I loved my husband deeply and neither of us were svelte, shapely or athletic looking, we sunk into a life that kept us from becoming individuals in our best health and fitness possible.  Now, he is dead based on those choices and I need to make a different choice for my life if I want to live.  I need to make a radical shift and envision a life of health and fitness that is just as satisfying and fulfilling as a life of indulgence.  Nothing else will create change - only adopting and buying into the new vision.

My challenge, purpose and intention is to create a vision that I can get excited about, buy into 100% and work towards each and every day.  I am going to start with a tool that I know works in any situation where a radical shift in my life needs to take place.  A Vision Board or Dream Map.  To make a vision board or dream map, you take a large sheet of paper or poster board and a pile of magazines.  You start by writing down things like "where do I want to be 6 months from today, 1 year from today, 3 years and 5 years".  This is basically a 5 yr plan.  You then find pictures that align with your vision for yourself in 5 years.  Once you create the vision, you can begin laying the stepping stones for getting there.  If everything you do is in alignment with your ultimate goal, you can't go wrong!  It's pretty cool and I know if one truly wants to create change, then this is the way to do it.  This is how I am going to put my life back on track for fitness, health, business and personal achievements.  My first goal is to release the weight that has been holding me back for years and keeping me from my true potential and to create cardio fitness that will sustain me through my golden years.  I will post a picture of my Dream/Vision map when it is completed!

Now comes the hardest part of weight loss.  Getting started.  It's the holidays - the perfect excuse for indulgence and taking on the "diet starts January 1st" mentality.  I know it is virtually impossible to make a radical shift when everything around is filled with sugar and cream so I am going to give myself permission to enjoy the holidays and the sweetness of the season this year and eliminate the stress of dieting.   I will create my Vision Board/Dream Map before the end of the year then get ready for an incredible journey!

The Sands of Time..

December 12, 2012

A year ago, I was so unaware how that joyful season was going to be the last time I would share a Christmas kiss with the man I loved. We kissed our little magical girl on her 6th birthday, two parents who were completely, 100% in it together.  A year ago, everything seemed to be ahead of us, doors and windows opened wide and we let abundance fill our lives. A year ago, we planned for a future traveling the world, enjoying our home, family and friends - together. What a difference a year makes.  While I really want to sink into the sadness and grief over losing my husband, I have to find that part of me that can move forward with the same joy, energy and expectations for a life of new experiences.

It is in my nature to draw inward when life becomes sad or stressful.  I tend to become a bit of a hermit and stay home rather than socialize in times of despair.  I am working overtime to change this habit and move into the mainstream of life and find my spot in the sun.  I need to change a lot about me to do this, but I'm almost 47 years old and change is not so easy to consider.

I posted something on Facebook last night, the night before the very last time we will see a repetitive date 12-12-12 and it was just my musings about the end of the world as we know it.  Joys, regrets and expectations we set upon ourselves:

If today was the last day you would be here on this earth, and the world ended tomorrow... what would you regret? What would you have done differently or better if you knew tomorrow was the end? What relationships would you have healed - or not destroyed in the first place? Who would you have called to say hello, I love you, I need you, I want you - or just stopped by to visit? Where would you have traveled to and with whom? Can you lay your head on your pillow tonight, content that yours was a life well lived? Does your legacy speak for itself? Does the thought of unfinished business leave you anxious and sad? What will you choose if the sun comes up tomorrow and the day is full of life and opportunity? Will your first thoughts be on intention and purpose or apathy and repetitive fear based patterns? I'm curious - will the magic of tomorrow and the unique numerology of the day create a positive shift in mankind? I'm ready for transformation - are you? You have one hour to decide.

 I am making changes daily and strive to keep changing and evolving as I move into the second half of my life.  I will not allow the sudden and tragic loss of my husband dictate a life of sadness and despair.  I will powerfully take a stand for purpose and intention and create amazing experiences so that on my last day, I can look back with a smile and say "Ya done good girl!".

Anniversaries and other such occasions

November 25, 2012      

Today would have been my 11th wedding anniversary. Instead of a day of special hugs and flirty kisses, I will visit the cemetery and his grave, resting my head on the ground so I can whisper "I love you" to the musty earth. I will busy myself with the hum-drum dealings of daily life and do my best to hold the floods of tears, so available these days, from creating a river of despair. I will remember our 12 1/2 years together, the beautiful home we created and the amazing blended family of 7 children that is the legacy of our love. I will remember the cold, crisp November day when we stood in our backyard, under the beautiful white chuppah he made, dressed in our wedding finest, amongst our children, family and friends and promised to love, honor and cherish each other through good times and bad, sickness and health, forsaking all others, until death do us part. We did honor our vows each and every day, loving each other amongst the trials of raising teens, running a business, jobs that came and went, the ever present water leaks that began the day we were married. We rode the waves of life hand in hand occasionally running from an unexpected high tide or rogue wave, but returning to the shore to view the sunset at the end of the day, knowing our life together was good, special, meaningful and blessed by the Universe. I love you so much Ron Weiler! Happy anniversary baby, you were my best friend, my partner, my lover and soulmate.

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The weather on the morning of our wedding was shaping up after the torrents of rain we had experienced for days on end.  The sky was clear with no threat of precipitation.  It was cold though, crisp and cold like a beautiful Fall day.  People were bustling about setting up tables and chairs, flowers adorned every nook and shelf space in the backyard.  The Chuppah proudly made by Ron stood in the corner of the backyard awaiting our vows. The kids had the sense of impending change and excitement as they dressed in the rented tuxedos and special gown for the ceremony.  Our guests arrived and took their place in the rows of chairs on our lawn.  A magical harp began singing in the background, summoning my arrival on the ceremonial carpet.

I was so nervous and excited at the same time.  I was taking a huge leap marrying a man so very different than I.  He was nearly 13 years my senior, a New Yorker and a Jew.  We had so many things about us that were different, but those differences seemed to draw us in and make our curiosities grow.  We were so interested in each others lives, upbringing and history that it was those differences that helped define our relationship.  We always had our little saying "The Wonderful World of We".  It was going to be he and I and our kids against the world.  Nobody was going to get in between us.  We had each others back and love would see us through anything.

We had written our vows, designed our rings and took a leap of faith right into each others arms.  We were in love and everyone could see it.  The ceremony was beautiful with the most spiritual and meaningful service conducted by a Rabbi.We danced and laughed and kissed every time we got near each other.  Our love had a magnetism that drew us together passionately.

We ended the evening with my gift to Ron - a bottle of Camus XO Superior Cognac straight from France and a couple fine cigars.  We sat in our wedding clothes sipping cognac and puffing on cigars stealing flirty glances and planning a very long life together.

Til death do us part.

Through the Looking Glass

November 22, 2012

It seems the holidays are a mirror for what is working or not in your life.  The stress and pressure brings out the subtle nuances of one's personality putting a magnifying glass to each quirk or character.  When you add to it a recent loss of a loved one, the smallest issues can quickly explode out of proportion and cause complete break down.  The stress of a holiday can also highlight the hidden strengths and powers often set aside when unused or not needed. 

Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving without Ron.  It is important to point out that Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday.  He loved the food, the welcoming of people into our home, the football games and of course, the annual Thanksgiving Poker Tournament.  At the beginning of the holiday meal, he would stand at the head of the table looking down the two rows of guests, usually around 35-40 people in all, raise his glass and say "I just want to thank you all for coming today and sharing on this, my favorite holiday.  It's my favorite holiday because I get to look down this table at so many people, family, long time friends and friends we are just meeting.  This is is a home where everyone is welcome!"  He would then begin our gratitude chain.  He would say something he is grateful for then it would go around the table with each person expressing something they were especially thankful for.  It was a real feel-good moment where we all were in a place of contentment.  We would acknowledge those who were not with us any longer or who were temporarily away, due to wars and deployments overseas, logistics or other obligations.  He would sit and smile, give me a kiss now and again and enjoy the wonderful selection of foods.  Mostly, he would smile a lot.

Long before the meal, there were days of preparation that took place.  Both Ron & I would do the shopping, meal planning and  make sure we had enough of everything to feed the masses.  We did it together, as a couple and we were good.  I look at all I had to do to prepare for Thanksgiving this year and realize, I am a strong woman.  I am strong and capable.  I CAN do it all, but when Ron and I were together, I didn't HAVE to.  We were such a team sharing responsibilities and dancing our duet in the kitchen like old pros.  We knew how to move to allow the other to respond in kind.  Sometimes bumping into each other, then stepping back with a smile.  It was as if we choreographed our dance eons ago.

This year, it was all on me.  I did an extraordinary thing - I planned ahead!  I started my food preparations on Tuesday  and by Thanksgiving Day all I needed to do was complete the appetizers and enjoy!  The food preparation was also made easier with the help of my two daughters.  It was hysterical watching them fight over who got to do what in the kitchen.  One is 6 and the other is 22 - you would think there would be no conflicts, but the two prattled on like they were 4 and 7!  It was oddly enjoyable watching them learn to make pie crust, helping with pie fillings and all of the other dishes while arguing over whose turn it was to push the button on the food processor.  This was a first for me, having my two daughters helping with the Thanksgiving meal preparations.  I had longed for a day like this for many years.  Bittersweet.

Thanksgiving morning, I awoke early, around 7:30, but decided to stay in bed for a bit.  I had been up until 12:30 am the night before putting the final touches on the pumpkin cheesecake I made.  The first thought as I opened my eyes, as it was on most mornings, was that Ron was not lying next to me in bed.  He wasn't in another room or downstairs making coffee.  He was gone, dead, never to be again.  The tears erupted without sound and soon soaked my pillowcase.  I looked over at my sleeping angel daughter and hoped she would stay asleep a little longer so I could just sit in my sadness, thinking about my empty, aching heart.  I needed this time, when all was quiet, to feel - really FEEL my loss.  "It's going to be a long day" I thought to myself.

Soon, I rolled out of bed, dressed and headed downstairs to make coffee.  Coffee was my morning jewel and ritual.  It summoned the day to do it's best and take a stab at me - cuz once that first cup went down the hatch, I was fired up and ready to tackle anything that came my way.  I went about the morning finishing up the last minute details and giving instructions for clean up and set up in the patio.  The ovens were on, turkey was cooking and the beautifully decorated appetizer and dessert table was set.  I poured myself a glass of wine, looked around and smiled.   

As the time to put dinner on the table came closer, I felt a twinge of sadness and excitement at the same time.  I missed him so much and I knew I would have to be the one to raise my glass and make the toast in his absence.  I didn't want to break down and sob while all eyes were on me, but I knew there was no stopping the inevitable tears.  At the same time, I was a little excited and had such a sense of accomplishment.  I had done it.  I had put together Thanksgiving Dinner for 23 people and everything was cooked to perfection and all came to the table at the same time.  I always felt the only way I was able to do this all these years was because Ron and I did it together.  I did have plenty of help, but the core of the meal and coordination was on me and I did it!

As I think about all that I love and have lost when Ron died that day, I  know I am so lucky that I was and still am a strong woman who can accomplish anything if I set my mind to it.   As I take a long look into the "Looking Glass" of life, I know the reflection that stares back at me is that of a beautiful, strong, intelligent, wise, caring, compassionate and loving woman who will take on the second half of my life with the same grit that got me through the first 46 years.  I thank Ron for being a part of my life and for blessing me with his charm, smile, wit, intelligence and most of all unconditional love.  I thank him for standing strong beside me and allowing me to either flex my muscles or lean on him.  I am grateful for our life together and the gifts he left behind.

The Mourning After

June 20, 2012

It had to come, the endless days after the funeral.  In the Jewish tradition, the first 7 days are called "Shiva". This is an official time for friends and family to come and pay respects or pay a "shiva call" to the family of the deceased.  There are rules that go with sitting shiva and I was trying to comply as best I could even though Ron wasn't a completely observant Jew.  I covered the mirrors and lit the yahrtzeit candle. I stayed home, not driving or going shopping.  I mostly just rested and cried.  The table in the kitchen had an array of pictures of Ron throughout his life, but mostly our life together.  It was my shrine to our oh so short time together.  I would walk past the table and caress the photo of his face, and sometimes an overwhelming urge to place my lips to his would come over me.  I knew it was only going to be the cold glass kissing me back.  I so longed for his warm, sweet kiss.  As the day dragged on, occasionally, someone would knock on the door and walk in exploding with tears as they hugged me.  I often was able to keep it together until such a visit and then I would break down and cry yet again.  Other times, I had been crying so much that I had nothing left and couldn't join in their emotional greeting.  When I was shut down like that, it almost made me want to laugh that they were so sad and I felt nothing, numb clear to my soul.  This constant swing of emotions was exhausting and sometimes I wanted to go into my room and sleep, but I didn't.  I refused to allow myself to completely shut down. I was going to be tough and get through it like I did every other obstacle in my life by taking one step in front of the other.

I found myself moving through daily events like a robot.  Obeying the social commands to stand when someone entered or left the room, join in on conversations sometimes about Ron, sometimes not.  I was starting to dread the inevitable, the shift to being alone and figuring out my life without him.  I was so surprised by my deep deep sadness and how much I missed him.  We had been together 12 1/2 years after all and, well to be honest there were things he did that made me a little crazy.  It's horrible to say that at times I would think "just go away already!".  Oh if I could have only known and not wasted a second on such negativity.  I know it happens, my goodness, I realized we had spent nearly every moment together since we made our relationship official.  We worked together, played together and lived together every day.  Now, the silence was deafening.  At night, the horrific ear shattering sounds of his snoring were nothing in comparison to the intensity of this silence.  I missed the sound of his feet pounding up the stairs at night, or pounding down the stairs when I walked in the door during the day.  I missed his constant phone calls, so often within minutes of us parting ways.  I found myself reaching for the phone to text him or call him to share an interesting piece of news or a funny antic I witnessed with our daughter.  I wonder when that goes away?  When do you stop thinking your loved one is still alive?

Far too soon, the well wishers and friends start to go back to their homes and their lives. We had buried him on a Tuesday and Friday was my first day alone.  It wasn't the full 7 days, but everyone else had to get back to their lives.  Summer was starting and it was time to celebrate the new season.  I was bitter and angry about this.  I didn't dare say anything out loud and appear ungrateful for all that had been done for me, but deep inside I really wished someone would have stayed with me a little longer and allowed me a few more days to put reality aside.  It wasn't to be, and here I was alone and needing to find something to do with my life.  That Friday morning, I cleaned up the house, showered and dressed myself and Alexandra and prepared to enter back into the world, the world of the living.  I walked past my shrine of photos with the burning yahrtzeit candle and said an apologetic "see you soon" to my Ron, locked the door behind me and drove off to meet Kerrie and her daughter to see a movie.

What a normal thing to do, go see a movie on a Friday morning, the first Friday of the summer.  I agreed to this only because I didn't want to sit alone in the house all day and it was the most reasonable thing to do with a 6 yr old.  We went to see Brave and while I tried to keep my eyes open, I just kept falling asleep.  Believe me, that is NOT an easy movie to fall asleep in.  It is LOUD, violent and annoying when you are not in the mood for a meaningful story line.  I kept trying to follow what was happening, but all I could think of was how horrible this movie was!  Wow, Disney really missed it on this one.  BAD, stupid movie!  Finally the torture was over.  I was completely exhausted despite sleeping through most of the show and all I wanted was to get in the car, drive away and be in my refuge, my safety zone, my home.

As each day moved into the next, it was apparent I was going to survive and I was going to make it to the other side of my grief and horrible loss.  I rarely had a day without tears, but there were more moments I was smiling.  I was even laughing on occasion, although the sound of laughter felt like a betrayal of my love for Ron.  I had so many people telling me it was OK to live my life and even experience joy on occasion.   I was doing my best which was better than anyone had expected.

At the one month anniversary, I posted this on Facebook:

I never thought I would make it through the first week let alone the first month without my beloved Ron. I have reflected over and over from the instant I heard his gasp on the telephone, to being his heartbeat and breath and finally to my ability to say "Stop" - how can this have happened? How can it be real? I am amazed by the Divine Providence that aligned with the Universe to put everyone in exactly the right places at exactly the right times to do exactly the right things - yet still have this horrible outcome. The gift of strength is my curse knowing I shouldn't be given more than I am strong enough to handle yet wishing I was too weak to take on such a heartbreaking task. I now must navigate through this new journey alone, but not alone, with a village of people, love, support, being open to the generosities of friends and strangers. I'm ready to declare a mission to uphold his name and memory and BE his ever glowing candle. It's through the manifestation of a new passion and purpose that I will get through the next weeks, months and years. I pray my village continues and sees me through.

 I need my Village now more than ever.  

Going to the Chapel....

June 19, 2012

The morning of Ron's funeral I was awake by 7, well to be honest, I was awake most of the night but I chose to get out of bed at 7.  My sweet little Alexandra was snuggled in by my side, safe and protected by her mama.  We got up, she had breakfast and I had my coffee.  I still wasn't eating, not like that would harm me in any way, I have padding to spare.  Food was still bitter and chalky in my mouth and I would only eat in the afternoon when I was too exhausted to resist those pushing food in my face.  The house was again full of people, I wasn't even sure what everyone was doing.  I just knew that in the past 5 days I had no clue if Alexandra had been fed, bathed or changed clothes.  I certainly hadn't been doing any of it.  She was alive and clean - that's all I knew for sure and for now, it was good enough.  As for her emotional status, I was keeping a closer eye on that.

At bedtime each night since Ron died, I would take Alexandra upstairs myself because she refused to sleep unless I was right there with her, holding her, and we would talk.  This was our "daily debriefing" our time to go over the day, talk about who had been visiting us and what we were feeling throughout the day.  To get the conversation going, I started the ritual of sharing our "Three feelings of the day" with each other.  First, she would come up with her 3 feelings and we would talk about them and how she was able to process through those emotions, then I would offer my 3.  I would always throw in one unusual feeling like "Scared", "Angry", "Frustrated", "Confused".  She would look at me with surprise to see that I was verbalizing these different emotions and not just sticking to the obvious mad, sad, glad.  "What are you angry about?" she would ask me.  "I am very angry that Dada didn't take better care of himself by eating better and exercising.  I'm angry that he died." I told her.  And I WAS angry, scared, frustrated and confused. I still didn't know how I was going to go on without him.  There was so much I needed to sort through with my life now.  Work, the house, the kids, money, the business, Alexandra's school.  Certainly not things I was going to go into detail with a 6 yr old!  We would talk about our feeling words and how sharing these feelings helps to work through difficult situations like losing someone you love.  Just like crying helps to get the sad out.  Alexandra would fall asleep in my arms, snuggled into me without the fear and anxiety I had expected so soon after losing her daddy.  Night time was our time, away from the hustle of the day with so many visitors.  For her, the daytime was like this amazing non-stop playdate!  All kids were welcome to come visit when their parents stopped by.  She was grieving too, in her own way, and needed her peers by her side, just like I needed my friends.

By 9:30 am, I mechanically went through my shower, hair and makeup routine not really thinking about how I was doing it, just taking the same steps I had for the past 30 something years.  Soap this, rinse that, dab here, mascara, curl, hairspray... whatever.  Not like I was needing to impress anyone, just that I wanted to look my best for my Ron.  Finally, I reached for my black dress.  Black, the traditional color of the grieving and I was being so cliche.  Black dress, black jacket to cover my shoulders in the chapel and black shoes.  So much black, but it was the color of my mood so I suppose I was color coordinated for the day.  I glanced at myself in the mirror and thought "Wow, you are WAY too young to be attending your husband's funeral.. this is so wrong".  I helped Alexandra with her hair and her dress telling her she was so pretty and Dada would be proud of her.  Funny, I can't even picture which dress she wore.  My eyes were seeing, but they just didn't process the images into my long term memory.  I was finding this to be true of many things, my memory was completely shot.  After a last glance in the mirror, I carefully descended the stairs on wobbly legs and joined the group of our children waiting below.

The driver arrived with our limousine and half of us crawled into the back.  Jon drove my car with the rest of the group and off we went to the cemetery.  Again, this was another trip I don't much remember.  I think it's a great idea to have a limo or other car take you to the cemetery because you really can't see much out the windows.  I remember staring at the row of champagne glasses with little white napkins folded in the cups thinking how badly I wanted a shot of something much stronger than champagne.

The limo finally arrived at Mt Sinai and we pulled up in front of the chapel at the top of the hill.  I just wanted my kids to be with me and wanted Alexandra close by my side the entire time.  I didn't want her subjected to anyone's thoughtless comments or feeble attempts at cheering her up.  I had no idea what people would say, just that it was nearly 100% likely someone would say something stupid.   It's amazing what people will say when someone dies.  Why are we so compelled to want to "fix" the situation?  I have heard so many comments after a death that seek to undo the hurt.  After a miscarriage; "You can always have another". After a long illness "At least they are at peace".  After a sudden or tragic death; "At least they went quickly".  As if the "at least" preface makes the permanence of the death more bearable.  No, We the Grieving do not feel better when you say those things.  We the Grieving feel like crap, do not comprehend the loss and do not want to feel better about how it went down.  My advice? Just say you are sorry, sad, frustrated, angry, confused and grieving with us.  And - be there.  Don't disappear soon after the body is in the ground, that is the loneliest time.

We were guided through the funeral by a tall thin man wearing a yarmulke - he was the funeral director I think.  The immediate family was given a black cloth button/pin with a black ribbon attached.  The ribbon was torn by the funeral director to show we were in mourning.  In ancient days, Jews would tear their actual clothing to show their grief, but in modern times things are done in a more civilized fashion.  The men were given yarmulkes to wear in the chapel and we were all given little packages of tissues.  I took several packets.  They also had bottle water with little Mt Sinai labels on them.  How strange, private labeled funeral water - but it came in handy.

In a Jewish funeral, there is no actual "viewing" of the deceased.  I learned that this was the tradition because it is considered rude or disrespectful to look upon the dead as they cannot look back at you.  Instead, they have an "identification" where the immediate family only look at the deceased and confirm that indeed this is the correct body in the casket.  Gruesome sounding for sure, but it is the last opportunity to say goodbye and I was not gong to pass it up.  Alexandra being only 6 was a little nervous about this part. We had a discussion the night before about the whole process of her dada's funeral and everything that would happen.  I repeated much of it that morning to make sure she felt completely comfortable with what was going to happen.  I promised her when the time came, I would look at her dada first and if he still looked like her Dada, then I would tell her it was alright for her to see him.  If he didn't look like "him" or was gross or scary looking, then I would tell her that and let her decide if she wanted to see him and say goodbye.

It was time for the identification and I asked to go see him alone first.  I think one of the boys or maybe a couple of them came with me to hold me up.  The funeral director lifted the pine cover to expose Ron's body.  There he was... clothed in the simple white linen shroud, his shoulders draped with the blue and silver threaded tallit.  His hands were not visible which was disturbing to me.  I wanted to see his hands...even though I knew he wasn't wearing his wedding ring, I wanted to see his hands.  The hands that held me, stroked my hair, scratched my back when I couldn't sleep or lovingly caressed my body when we made love.  It wasn't fair that his hands were now concealed.  At that moment, I was so relieved that Jon was able to get his ring off soon after he died.  I was so surprised he was able to since his hands had been so swollen.  I was wearing it that day, his ring, as I had since Jon handed it to me in the Emergency Room.  I looked upon the face of my love, my Ron.  He looked serene, although a little grumpy.  His lips were pressed together as though in deep thought, and a little pensive like he wasn't exactly thrilled with his situation.  I can imagine his thoughts "This really pisses me off and I do NOT like my shoulders touching the edge of this box!"  I know people would think me nuts, but I wish I had a picture of him like that.  For those moments when I absolutely don't believe he is actually gone - to look at and remind me that this was indeed REAL, he really did die.  Ron looked good, considering, well considering he was dead. I remember all the funerals I have been to in my life - mostly open casket, Christian based funerals, where everyone who walks past the casket whisper to each other "She looked good, didn't she?" or "Oh, he REALLY didn't look like himself...." Funny how people must qualify the quality of the dead.

I went out and spoke to Alexandra.  I told her that her Dada looked very good, not scary at all.  I said to her "I really think it is OK to come see him.  We will be with you the whole time.  You need to say good bye to your Dada".  Oh that sweet brave little girl!  She walked in and peeked into the casket.  She wanted to have me hold her, but I had no strength.  I had Chris pick her up and she leaned down and said quietly "Bye bye Dada!" OH MY HEART WAS TORN INTO PIECES!!!!!!!!  I completely lost it. She should not be doing this at 6 yrs old!  She should be laughing, skipping and holding our hands saying "Swing me! Swing Me!" as we walk together.  Will she remember how much he loved her and enjoyed every minute with her?

The funeral proceeded as most do, a couple songs, a prayer or two, his friend and sister came up and gave a eulogy, then all 7 of our kids went up on the stage.  Each child had a moment to say goodbye in their own way.  It was funny how it naturally came together, they went from oldest to the youngest, each showing up with their unique personalities and their personal relationship with Ron.  Some had written a speech while another may have jotted down a few notes and some just got up and spoke from the heart.  It was silent in the chapel except for the occasional sob that someone could no longer stifle or the blowing of a nose here and there.  Every once in a while you could hear someone getting up and walking out, no longer able to handle the overwhelming sadness hearing the kids speak about their dad and step dad.  I just sat in the front row, squeezing my tissue in my hand, laughing at some of the funny stories and crying when something stabbed at my heart.  Even Alexandra at 6 yrs old had written about her Dada, but when it came time for her to read it, she got shy and asked her sissy to help.  Honestly, there wasn't a dry eye in the place after that.

I knew I would never be able to stand up in front of everyone without breaking down so I wrote my letter to Ron ahead and had the Cantor read it for me.  My heart poured out in a letter to Ron, our lives together and my promise to him to go on, care for our daughter and family and to LIVE.

After all the speeches, songs and prayers the Cantor invited the group to walk past Ron's closed casket to pay their last respects.  I had not really looked to see who was there in the chapel so when I saw the endless stream of friends and family walk past me, I was completely overwhelmed.  So many people I hadn't seen in years!  Friends from far away, work associates, Girl Scout families and their kids.  It went on and on.  Over 300 people were there!  I couldn't hold back my tears and racking sobs.  "Oh my G-D!, Oh my.. OH MY!" Thank you all, thank you for being here.. Thank you for being a part of our lives and his death.

The graveside service was short and simple.  The Cantor offered information to those attending who were unfamiliar with Jewish tradition about the burial process.  Susan placed a bottle of wine into the ground on top of the casket then we began the internment.  The Jewish way is for each of the immediate family to start shoveling dirt into the hole.  Then, another person comes and takes the shovel and continues.  It is considered a Mitzvah (good deed) to assist with burying the dead.  One by one, people stepped forward to take their turn.  I watched as my beautiful husband became more and more a part of the Earth again.  Then, I was amazed to see my little Girl Scouts surrounding Alexandra helping her with the shovel as she tried to move the dirt into the hole.  She was struggling with the weight of the dirt so her friends all grabbed a part of the handle and helped her.  It was the most amazing sight to see those little girls working together helping their friend bury her daddy!  This was another point in which I wish we had a camera.  It was glorious and gut-wrenching at the same time.  Children can be so pure in their love.  They don't edit or qualify, they just BE.

Finally, it was over... Everyone began getting into their cars and driving off to the house.  I just stood there looking at the partially filled hole in the ground.  I didn't want to leave him here, all alone.  How could I leave him behind?  How could I take these steps into my life without him?  Each step was an admission that I was no longer a part of a couple, we were no longer a "WE", I was a widow.  With tear soaked eyes and a final "I love you", I turned and walked away from my husband's forever grave and took the first steps into what would become my "New Normal".

Grave Decisions

June 15th 2012

Early the next morning after Ron died, the kids - all 7 of them plus their significant others if they had one gathered at the house.  I am not sure what time I got out of bed that morning or if I showered, brushed my teeth or hair.  I think I had some coffee, but food was something I had no desire for.  I do remember looking around at the people collecting in my house and thinking I had no idea what was happening and who they were.  Someone was busy in the kitchen and things were being moved around and cleaned up.  Of course, couldn't I have just cleaned things out and had a neat spik and span house?  No, it is a disaster and not fit for company.  Food had already been delivered to the house from those who had already heard the news.  Such a socially acceptable thing to do, bring food to the grieving family.  I looked at the food with disgust.  I couldn't imagine eating any of it, it was like accepting that Ron was dead if a single bite crossed my lips.  Grief food is what other people have, not me, if can't be me this time!

My friend Val came to the house early with her notebook in hand, already filled with notes and to-do lists.  Little did I know that morning she was to become my winged angel through the transition to becoming a widow and burying my husband.  Certainly she was brought to me by the great Universe because I would have had no clue where to begin.  She gently offered suggestions about what to expect at each step and kept the kids involved with what needed to be done.  When the time came for us all to get in the car and go to the cemetery, Val went with us. 

My memory is still so vague about that day that I can't even tell you WHO was still in my house when we left, but I know Kerrie was.  She was my angel with chef's hat in place.  Kerrie handled the coordination of my home and all the food.  I had NEVER allowed someone to have as much control over my house as I allowed Kerrie during those days.  I just closed my eyes and trusted her.

We pulled into the property of Mt Sinai mortuary and cemetery.  I was carrying my ever-trusty refillable Camelback water bottle.  My lifeline.  Little sips kept me from passing out and calmed my nerves.  We walked in, told the woman at the front desk we were here for our appointment and were directed into a room in the back.  We walked into a large room with a big round table.  Interesting, a round table to gather and make decisions.  Like the knights of Arther's reign... here we are.  All the kids, Val and I sat down.  Looking around I tried to focus my eyes and think about the things Ron and I had discussed over the years regarding funeral planning.  What he wanted, didn't want, what was the "Jewish Way" an what specifically WASN'T.  He was an interesting man when it came to being Jewish.  He didn't do Chabat or eat kosher.  He loved his bacon for sure!  But, when it came to the traditions of being a Jew, he was very specific.  Pine box, shroud, in the ground in 3 days or less, light the yartzeit candle on Yom Kippur.  The man who was asking all the questions about what I wanted was offering his thoughts, but he was a stranger to me and I had no reason to trust this yarmulke wearing salesman.  I felt like we were on the TV show Millionaire and kept "phoning a friend" or using our lifeline.  Ellen and Saul, Ron's sister and brother in law were my source for all things Jewish.  "Do you want your husband to be buried with a yarmulke and tallit?" Huh? I have no idea, we never discussed this!  Adam - Call Aunt Ellen...   "Do you want him buried with soil from Jeruselum?"  What? is this standard?  Adam - Text Aunt Ellen.  "What is his Hebrew name?"  Oh crud, I know this.... I think....Shit, Call Ellen and ask Nanny, she will know for sure.  Steven piped in "Channah Lippa ben Mortichai Shlomo".  Ok, let's double check this...

After all the endless paperwork was done, we then had to pick out his casket.  Why does dying have to be so fucking complicated?  I felt beat to the bone already and now I had to stand and walk to the casket room.  Thank goodness the boys were there.  I had no bones in my legs and I felt like I was walking the "green mile" myself.  They literally carried me.  When we turned the corner and I saw rows upon rows of caskets, I lost it completely.  I couldn't hold myself up knowing my love, my husband would be in one of those boxes.  NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!  I can't do this!  I can't do this! I don't want to do this!  Slowly, we walked towards the plain pine boxes.  I wouldn't even give the others a second glance.  This was one of those hard line Jew things... "Only a pine box - no fancy caskets" he said when we discussed his funeral so long ago.  I saw one with a Star of David on the cover and my heart softened and I felt a connection to this box... Oh, my sweet baby... this is where you will lay your head... this is the one you will be forever buried, in the ground, away from my arms.  I lifted a shaky finger and pointed.  "This one... this is the one.  He would have like this one."

Next, we had to decide if he would wear 100% linen or cotton shroud.  Seriously?  Is there a difference?  I don't know if it really matters.  The cotton shroud looked so clean and neat, while the linen was frayed at the edges and had a more natural look.  I like the linen. Adam and Steven were huddled together in front of two gowns and they both silently pointed to the same one... the 100% linen.  Done. No discussion needed... Next?

We then had to decide about the tallit.  I thought maybe he should be buried with the one from his Bar Mitzvah.  I loved it so much and how it looked on him.  Draped over his shoulders as we entered Temple on the High Holidays, he was such a proud Jewish Man.  The man could see my distress over this seeming simple decision and said - "you keep his tallis, we will throw one in - no charge".  I just looked at him thinking "what a salesman he is... selling death."  But wait!  There's more!  Do I get a set of Ginsu Knives with the deal?  "thank you" I said to him quietly.  I was so happy to see the one they were "throwing in" looked exactly like Ron's.  It was perfect.

So many details, sign this, write a check, sign that, here's your box of goodies... yes, you get little door prizes when you plan a Jewish funeral.  A whole set of minyan books, a huge pile of yertzeit candles for this year and the next 10 years. One you start to burn the day they are buried then let it burn for a week.  Boxes of strange little tokens, like a coin set from the year he died, boxes to collect money in his memory, information on the Jewish grieving process.  What? there's a manual for that too?    How to get through the first week.  "This is Shiva... the time of intense mourning." One week they say.  So many rules when you are Jewish.  You get one week to be sad?  Really?

With our bags of parting gifts for the dearly departed, we all file out of the mortuary.  The funeral was set for Tuesday.  This is Friday.  Ron had the bad manners to die the day before Shabat and the Thursday before Father's Day.  No funerals on Shabat and they held no services on Father's Day.  Monday was the carry over from all who died before Ron so we had to wait until Tuesday.  He is going to be so mad.  He was very specific... THREE DAYS.  It will be 5 days on the day we bury him.    How am I going to get through the next 3 days waiting.  Waiting to place my husband's body in the ground - his body.. the one I held and who held me back, the one I kissed, made love to, tickled and tantalized.  The body that was warm and comforting at night and made me feel safe and loved and needed and alive.  My darling's body was not mine any longer, it now belongs to the earth and his forever grave.

A Spoonful of Sugar....

June 15, 2012

The song tells us "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down".  Well, it will take a hell of a lot of sugar to help me swallow the bitter pill that my husband's death has prescribed. 

I hardly remember leaving the hospital that night, leaving him behind.  His body growing cold and blue.  Stuffed into the black plastic bag from the morgue.  I know I must have made it home somehow, but I don't remember, even today, how it happened.  That's the mind's way of preserving sanity I think, blocking out spaces of time so you don't have to recall the emotion and pain.  I know at some point I took a half of a Xanax so I could quiet my brain and try to get some sleep. It didn't help much, I was up every 20-30 minutes, walking around the house, looking into rooms, listening for something that would say I had been dreaming this whole event.  I would go to his office, get on his computer and read emails but not comprehending the English language.  I remember feeling like half of my body was gone, like I was a vapor moving through the walls of my home seeing our life played out like a movie I was eerily a part of.

At 1:00 in the morning, my house phone rang.  It was One Legacy and they wanted to discuss organ donation.  They had 45 minutes worth of questions to ask me to evaluate if Ron was a candidate for organ donation.  I was exhausted and wanted to hang up, but I knew they had a ticking clock to harvest anything usable so I sat up in bed and began answering her questions one after the other after the other. I suppose the clinical side of me took over at this point because there was nothing left of me from the emotional side.  The interview was unbelievably intrusive.  They wanted to know details of our sex life together, in years before we were together, did he ever have gay sex, sex with animals, STDs, other communicable diseases, world travel, places of work.  It was endless.  I had to keep thinking to myself "this may help someone see again, walk again, have normal skin again...." Finally, after an hour and 20 minutes (WTF didn't they say only 45 minutes?) it was over.  I tried to lay back down and fall asleep, but all I could think about was my husband - the organ donor. 

I knew there were people I had to inform about his death before it became world wide news on Facebook.  Damn Facebook!  I was petrified - some people have no self control and will post all kinds of crap before they even know if his family has been told.  I was scared to death that someone would post something and his cousins in New York or San Francisco would read it. What a horrible way to find out someone you care about has died.  Thankfully, nobody did and at around 6 am I woke up and started to text and call my friends.  My friend Jaime would be up getting ready for work and she should hear this from me, not of facebook.  I texted her "Call me if you are up".  About 15 minutes later, she called.  I told her I wanted her to hear it from me and I heard in her voice she was in disbelief.    By 9:11 am, I had confirmation that all of Ron's family had been informed of his death.  I found a picture that I loved of him and posted to facebook that he had died.  This began a cascade of emails, posts, messaged and phone calls.  It was strangely mechanical to be telling the story over and over again.  It was like a script; trying not to cry, getting to the point, allowing the other person to express their shock, disbelief, condolences and trying to get off the phone before I completely lost it again.  It was it's own form of torture as the morning wore on.

During all of this time of informing the masses, I was also dealing with the logistics and decisions about where Ron was to be buried.  He had a family plot in New Jersey and his father was buried there.  We had talked about his burial many times during the past 6 years since his first heart attack and his other health issues.  We just assumed he would be buried with his family.  "Put me in a box and put me on a plane" he would say.  But, now that reality had hit, it wasn't so easy to do. How could we have really known all that needed to be done in such a short amount of time.  My heart was aching and I didn't want him so far away.  Plus, I rationalized with my sister in law - It's not like he proclaimed "When I Die - Bury me in Jersey"!  Finally, after spending some time with all the kids, they expressed it would be nice to have him here so they, Alexandra and I could visit if we wanted to.  My sister in law confirmed with her Rabbi that I wasn't breaking some obscure Jewish Law by essentially going away from his intention to be buried back east.  Done. Decided.  He was born a New Yorker and will rest in the Paradise of California.

Now, we had to make the trek to Mt Sinai Mortuary and Cemetery in Hollywood Hills to plan the funeral. 

A Morning Cup of Coffee

6/14/12 - My beautiful Husband Ron Weiler 5/23/53-6/14/12 Taken far too soon after a massive heart attack. My heart is broken today and our family has a huge hole that can never be filled in the way he did. We are devastated beyond belief. Thank you to everyone who has reached out, stopped by and shared in our grief. I apologize if I do not get back to each of you individually, but know your messages are being received. His children and I welcome your visits, but please give a quick call first to make sure we are not taking a quiet moment together. 

That was my first post on Facebook announcing so impersonally that my love, my best friend, my husband had died the night before.  It was one of many posts allowing me to express my pain, overwhelming grief, broken heart and sadness.  Facebook became my venue to connect to a world that I felt completely isolated from, even though I was interacting with people on a regular basis.  I would be awake at night, insomnia wrecking havoc on my brittle emotions and I just wanted someone to know, someone to HEAR me.

I am writing the story of that day because it was such an epic upheaval on mine and my family's lives that without the details, you couldn't possibly understand how much it has impacted on our family and so many of our friends.  If you do not want to know, please stop reading now. I warn you, this is as real as it gets.  This is not ER, Greys Anatomy or some other TV medical show, this is my life, and the end of Ron's as it happened that day, June 14, 2012.

That day was so much like every day in our busy lives.  Up early, take our daughter to school, home to work on household chores and handle business affairs.  We had become accustomed to sharing a cup of coffee leisurely together before we had to get serious about our "to-do" list.  Sitting at our kitchen table, I took for granted those last moments we would spend together in normalcy.  How could I have known it was our last morning cup of coffee?  It's amazing how that simple act of sipping coffee and talking about nothing in particular was our life.  We had moved past the giddiness of our newlywed days, dealing with endless teenage angst of our children from previous marriage, then the sleepless nights with a newborn to a place of comfortable mornings together, with our coffee.  Our middle aged-ness felt good, like a well worn sweater.  We had routine, and could count on each day starting pretty much the same.

We were such a team.  Whenever one was too tired, too busy or just overwhelmed - the other would take over.  That afternoon, it was time to pick up our 6 yr old daughter from school, only a quick 5 minute drive, but I was exhausted and wanted just a few minutes to lay my head down before the evening festivities began.  It was my twin's 22nd birthday and we were going out to dinner with our brood to celebrate.  Ron asked me if I wanted him to pick Alexandra up and while I was concerned about him driving her due to his recent increased fatigue and other medical issues, I gratefully said yes.   I no sooner put my head on the pillow of the couch when my phone rang.  It was Ron - he said to me "get her dance stuff together and just meet me here, they are having a big Father's Day event and she wants me to stay".  I laughed "OK, I'll rest a bit then be there in time to get her to dance dress rehearsal.".  I arrived at the school 45 minutes later to see my husband looking a bit distressed and very tired.  "We played soccer" he said.  "WHAT?  you played soccer?" I was a bit shocked to hear this as he had been complaining of being worn out and tired for a few weeks.  "By playing soccer, I mean I stood there and kicked a ball if it came near me".  OK, that made sense.  That little bit of exertion really wore him out, I could see it on his face, but he still halfway offered to take our daughter to her dress rehearsal.  Oh how grateful I am that I turned him down even though I don't think he would have actually followed through.  He was spent and needed a nap before we went to dinner.   Ron was dealing with a change in his health and had been treated for severely high blood pressure and other heart related issues.  He had a history of a heart attack in 2006 and other heart blockages and surgery in 2008 and 2009.  He wasn't a healthy man, but he also wasn't just sitting around.  I was always amazed at how much he was able to do on so little reserves.

While at my daughter's dance dress rehearsal, about 5 pm, I received a text from my son Chris.  "BBQ 7 pm Your House".  I started laughing.  I called him immediately "I can't pull together a BBQ in 2 hours!  I won't even be home until then!  He volunteered to buy the steaks if I bought the side dishes.  Still a problem - no time to go to store.  Next call was to Ron.  "Hi honey, kids don't want to go out to dinner, they want to BBQ instead... yea, our house."   He immediately responded with "what do you need me to do?"  That was my Ron.  He always had my back, was always ready to lend a helping hand to make my life smoother.  He ran out to the store bought everything and came home and start putting things together.  I left our daughter's dance dress rehearsal at around 6:15, called him at about 6:25.  We were laughing and talking about the kids and how nice it was that they felt a sense of home still after they moved out.  How wonderful it was that we were such a team and how much I appreciated him "having my back" when I had my hands full.  "It's what we do" he said to me.  It's what WE do.  WE.  I long for that word to be my reality again.  We carried on with our usual car-ride chat talking about our 6 yr old daughter and how adorable she was and how much we loved her, how much we were looking forward to her weekend of dance performances.  Her gift to him for Father's Day she would say.  "I just love that little Punkydoodle" he said to me... then he gasped "AUGH!.... SHIT!!!" and the phone dropped.  I heard a rhythmic, gurgling, raspy sound but convinced myself it was the electrical result of the phone dropping and being broken - not his last breaths, death rattles they call it.  It came and went a few times, then it stopped.  I called out his name RON!  RON! RON!  Answer me!  Are you ok?  Honey ARE YOU OK???  What happened?  HELLO???? HELLO??????? HELLO???????????  Nothing.  I toyed with hanging up and trying his cell phone, but hesitated.  Do I call 911?  Activate my On Star? Call the boys and have them come over?  All these thoughts ran through my head in an instant.  If I call the paramedics and they arrive while he is picking up pieces of the phone, he will be SO PISSED at me.  He hates it that I hover over him with his health issues... maybe I should try the cell.  Ok, hang up call his cell.  Dialing.... DAMN! Voice mail.. Call again..... Dialing.... AUGH Voicemail!  Call the house again... he's trying to call me back, that's it... Dialing... busy... yes, that's it, he's calling me... Ok, dial again.... Busy!  What?  What is going on? Cell phone - to voice mail again.  SHIT!  Ok, call the boys.  "Jon! I was on the phone with Ron and he made a weird sound and dropped the phone... I'm on my way home, on the freeway at Canoga....can you go over to the house????"  I hear Jon call to his brother "TIM!  Somethings wrong with Ron - Let's Go!" and he hangs up.  I am on the freeway driving, trying not to panic.  My daughter is in the back seat and she says to me "Maybe he had a heart attack?".  How can she be so calm?  She is very sure of herself -"Yes, I think he had a heart attack".  I try not to scream out and instead, I say in my calmest voice "Honey, let's hope not, that would be a very bad thing for Dada...he could die if he has a heart attack".  She doesn't say much more, just tries to talk in a rational way about how she thinks he had a heart attack, unlike a 6 yr old child.  But that is her - she is unlike most 6 yr olds...

I am exiting the freeway at a speed reserved for such occasions.  As I travel closer to my home, I feel in my bones that my life is going to change today.  I'm still hopeful that this is all a misunderstanding, a simple trip over the dog and the phone went flying, but he would have called me by now.  It's been about 8 minutes since he gasped and dropped the phone.  As I approach the intersection for my neighborhood, I just know if there was a problem, I would hear sirens.  I would hear the fire trucks, paramedics, ambulance... certainly the boys would have called 911 by now if there was a problem.  I open my window to listen, nothing.  No sounds, sirens or red trucks in view.  "Whew!" I think... it's a false alarm.  I relax a little and try dialing Jon again... he doesn't answer.  My heart quickens yet again... he would certainly answer if all was good.  I pull onto the block - still no firetrucks. Good.  Into the driveway... and then I see Jon running out the front door with his hands in the air, palms forward as if he was pushing something out of his way.  He was screaming to me "DON'T BRING ALEXANDRA IN HERE!!!!!  SHE DOESN'T NEED TO SEE THIS!!!!! TIM IS DOING CPR - WE CALLED 911!!!!!!!"  Oh shit oh shit oh shit! FUCK FUCK FUCK!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  I put the car in park, grab my keys and yell to Jon "Watch your sister!!!!!"  I run through the house "Where are you??"  I see the back door open and Chris, my other son screaming and crying.  Tim is hovered over my husband's body frantically pushing on his chest... counting out loud... He looks up at me and yells "Mouth to mouth... do the breaths!"  he is sweating and I can see he is crying.  I can't breathe for myself, how the hell am I going to breathe for Ron?  I lean down and start mouth to mouth.  All the years of being a nurse, all of the CPR classes I have taken and I can hardly remember how to breathe.  I lean down, put my mouth to his and blow twice...the air doesn't go in... I tilt his head back a little more and breathe again.  It goes in, but just escapes back through his mouth causing him to gurgle. I am  horrified.  Tim yells to me - "I'm getting tired.. get ready to switch.  28 - 29 - 30 SWITCH!" I move over to the place above Ron's chest.  I place my hands above his sternum and begin to push... counting "1, 2, 3, 4......"  "WHERE ARE THE FUCKING PARAMEDICS??  DID YOU CALL THEM?  CALL THEM AGAIN!!!"  "STAY WITH ME RON, MY LOVE! MY LOVE!!! Don't do this to me!!!!!  Don't leave me!  Don't you dare die on me!!! 28, 29 30 BREATHE!"  I am screaming and doing chest compressions one set after another.  Still no sounds of sirens.  OMG, is this really happening?  Finally, in the distance, I hear sirens.  We have traded off a couple times and are all just exhausted from crying, screaming and doing CPR.  I see Ron's face and it is cold, pale and blue.  I know in my heart this is not good.  His eyes are slightly open staring off into space - but not seeing.  They are dark, without his usual spark.  I know he is gone - I just know. 

The paramedics come into the backyard and take over the CPR.  They attach the AED to Ron's chest and to everyone's surprise, he is in V-Fib.  He has a shockable heart rhythm.  They shock him once, twice... nothing... CPR resumes.  Different paramedics and firemen ask me questions about his medical history, medications - I can't remember anything.  I know he is taking Plavix and some other blood pressure medicine, but nothing registers.  I look over and see them trying to start an IV and put a tube down his throat.  After several attempts, they seem to have the ET tube properly placed and they use the ambu bag to ventilate him.  I watch as Ron's face starts to turn a bit pink.  OH MY GOD NO.... It's been too long, he's been down too long.  He's going to be a vegetable, a gork, drooling out of the side of his mouth.  He is going to be so pissed.  I quickly realize where my thoughts have gone and internally beat myself up for going down that path.  How could I not want him to live? I do, I do want him to live, but as HIM, not a gorked out cucumber.  We agreed a long time ago about this.  Tim says to me - "There, he's looking better, there's hope, he's going to pull through this."  I look at Tim, my son who recently became an EMT and think "poor kid, he has no clue".  I say to him, it's not good Tim, it's not good at all.  "It's not over til it's over Mom!!".  Hope, that's what we have right now, just hope.  I watch as they lift Ron's body onto the stretcher still doing chest compressions and breathing for him through the tube.  I somehow gather the where-withal to fill my water bottle, grab my ID badge for the hospital and lock up the house as we all get into our cars to drive to the hospital.  I get my 6 yr old daughter, explain quickly to her what is going on and off we go.  I drive the 3.2 miles from my house to the hospital where I work and pull into the ER parking lot.  I walk into the lobby of the ER and flash my badge.  I go straight to the room where  he is.  Everything is in a crystal haze like fog.  I watch my ER colleagues work in a choreographed display of knowledge, skills and grit as they inject this, shock that, chest compress and rattle off vital data to each other.  The ER doctor is calm, giving orders for epinephrine, lidocaine, amioderone...."Hold compressions" I suck in my breath.  Does this mean we are done?  Is he dead?  Are they giving up?  Everyone's eyes are glued to the monitor, waiting for a blip, a sign that he is coming back, that his heart is working again.  Flat, silent and unchanging.  "Resume compressions!".  I realize I have been holding my breath for what seems an eternity.  I ask the DR - "What's happening?  What do you see??"  He looks at me and says we are doing all we can... his heart has stopped working, we are doing CPR which keeps his blood flowing.." I hold up my hand to stop him "I work here, I'm a nurse on 3rd floor".  His eyes barely register an acknowledgement, but he does shift and becomes much more detailed in his explanations.  "We have done several rounds of Epi and Lidocaine, we have shocked him a couple times, he is not responding.  What do you want us to do? How long do you want us to continue?"  I explained to the Dr. that my husband does NOT want to be kept alive if there is no chance for a complete return to normal.  No extraordinary means, no tubes, no vents.  We agreed.  I promised him - no heroics unless there is certain recovery.  "I know what I see Dr.  I know how long he has been down, it's been an hour.  I see his O2 sats, his blood pressure, his color. I am realistic, I am a nurse.  I know it doesn't look good."  The doctor tells me that they are going to do another round of meds then if it doesn't work, I need to decide if I want them to stop.  I tell him "You follow your protocol, you do this all the time.  You need to know you did everything by the book."  He turns to the team "Another round of Epi!" He calmly tells the ER nurse to continue compressions.  I walk out to the lobby to speak to my kids.  Ron's younger son is there and I explain to him that things do not look good, they are doing everything they can, but he is not responding, they are going to have to stop at some point.  It is what his dad wanted.  We talked about this and he didn't want to have unnecessary interventions.  "Are you OK with me telling them to stop CPR?".  Steven nods his head silently.  His eyes are brimming with tears and red from the effort to hold them back.  He looks scared.  My nurse mode is in full gear.  I am so clinical right now, talking to the kids, speaking with the ER team, cold and clinical.  I have somehow pulled myself away from this being my family, my love, my husband so I can say the words out loud.  I walk back into the room with my husband laying on the table, a tube is sticking out of his mouth, tongue swollen, belly bloated from air that has lodged in his gut, one arm dangles over the edge.  A sheet covers his naked body since they had cut off his clothes.  I look at him, walk over and take his hand in mine, hoping for a sign, a squeeze something to say he was still there, in the room, in his body.  Nothing.  Just his cold hand in mine.  I speak to him, tell him I love him and tell him I promise to take good care of our daughter.  "I will give her the love, time and attention we both want for her.  I will be there for your boys, our family.  I love you so much and I am going to miss you!"  I am crying now, no more clinical nurse, just me- raw, open and devastated.  My kids walk into the room and I look at them, shaking my head.  I look up at the ER Dr and say "STOP.  Stop CPR, Stop everything.  Just Stop."  He signals to the crew and they all step back.  I am outside of my body, looking down on this made for TV scene.  The monitor starts to hum this steady whine.  The room is silent, but for the electric noise of the machines .  "TURN OFF THE MONITORS!" I plead, choking through my tears.  They quickly turn off the monitors and I hear someone, somewhere close, but oh so distant.  "Time of death 1942"  I am instantaneously brought back to earth and I start to collapse.  "I don't know what to do!  What do I do?  What do I do?  I don't know what to do! Oh my God, Oh My God, he's gone!  What do I do?"  I realize I had been saying these words out loud, not just in my head.  I look around hoping someone will offer the answers.  The ER team is looking at the ground, they won't make eye contact with me.  Quietly, most of them start to leave the room.  My kids help me to a chair and I just sob, held together by their arms, we all cry together.  Our worst nightmare is happening.  Ron is dead, he died today, I lost my soulmate, my love, my best friend.  I am a widow with 7 kids at 46 yrs old.