The Sober Widow

Tony died on May 4, 2023. Easily the worst day of my life. Heart disease runs in his family; in fact, his father died in our house on Thanksgiving in 2009 of cardiac arrest. Tony had had a minor episode a few years earlier where he had to have a stent put in, but it didn’t give him constant trouble or anything, and he saw his heart doctor regularly.

Earlier that day we had joked about “May the fourth be with you.” (I cringe when I think about that.) At that time, I was on short-term disability from my job because I was so sick, and I slept a lot during the day while he worked downstairs.  At about 4:45 I woke up from a nap and texted him to say “hi, what would you like for dinner?” He didn’t respond. I gave it a few minutes and texted again, “hello- are you there?” Oooof.

I came downstairs and saw him slumped in his chair. I knew immediately, but I rushed over to shake him because maybe he was just sleeping. No response. I called 911 right away and bless them, they were there in 10 minutes.  I would have tried CPR myself, but I couldn’t get him out of the chair.

I had four paramedics, a cop and a couple of firefighters in my kitchen trying valiantly to save his life while my dog is outside freaking out. Finally, they bundled him in the ambulance, and I called our closest friends and his siblings to meet me there.

That’s where I got the worst possible news – he was gone. Cardiac arrest. I saw a post on Facebook recently that said what to do if you feel like you’re having a heart attack and you’re alone. Good advice – my takeaway was lots of deep breaths and coughing which keeps the blood flowing while you wait for help to arrive. I SO wish that he knew that when things started happening. And I hate that he was alone.

I’ll save discussion about grief for another time. Right now, I’ll say that we had a great marriage. Sure, there were squabbles, but I think we only ever had a handful of big fights in our almost 23-year marriage. Part of that is because we were just so right for each other, and we had excellent communication skills. And frankly, we never stopped loving each other to the exclusion of all others.

When I was on one of my hospital stays, and Tony visited me, a nurse watched us together and after he left, she asked me what was the secret to a happy marriage. I was stumped for a minute, and then I said that for me, I chose the right person. He and I laughed a lot, talked a lot because we truly found each other interesting, kept no secrets from each other (that I’m aware of anyway) and he was my favorite person in the world.

You hear this a lot in wedding toasts today, but many years ago Tony said to me that when you have your “person,” the bad times are cut in half, and the good times are doubled, because you have someone to share all that. And he was so right.

I think that right there is a sign. If the first person you want to share good news or bad news with is your spouse/partner, then you’ve chosen well.

God, I miss him. I’m tearing up as I write this.