Hi, I’m not sure how to go about this as it’s new for me. I met the love of my life at college orientation in 2003. We dated for a few years and then decided to see what we wanted out of life separately. We spoke frequently throughout the years and still loved each other like crazy. In 2016 we decided we had wasted enough time looking for whatever else was out there and got back together and got married that year. In 2017 we had a son. We knew that my husband had Sarcoidosis (an autoimmune disease) but didn’t know he would die from it. So in September 2018 after 2 years of finally being back together after married he died of a heart attack. I was 33, he 32. We were house/dog sitting for his mom while she was in Italy. I was watching our son in the basement and my husband was upstairs not feeling well which was unfortunately normal. I went to check on him one late afternoon and saw he was not in bed as I had left him. I looked to my left and saw the bathroom light on and it took me a moment to realize that he was sprawled around the toilet, his upper body sprawled inside the bathroom closet onto a mid level shelf, arms sprawled out. I will never get that image out of my mind, ever. He has passed out before so I tried to wake him. After he wouldn’t wake up I started to panic and without realizing it really I started smacking his cheeks, yelling his name and yelling at him to wake him, more desperate than I have ever felt in my whole life because in the back of my mind I knew. I really knew when I suddenly stopped because I realized how cold and moisture-less and HARD his skin felt. My mind was screaming NO and suddenly I realized I was wasting time. I grabbed his phone from the room and ran out the side door to call 911 (I needed to see the address) and then as I told them I thought my husband might be dead I realized the door had locked behind me and my toddler was alone in the basement. Firemen had to break 2 doors down to get into the house. The house was full of police officers, firemen and paramedics. I threw up everywhere from panic and fear (I have an anxiety disorder to begin with) and was guided to a chair. Paramedics spent a while upstairs with my husband and came down the stairs and I asked if he would be okay as a fireman played with my son trying to keep a “happy” atmosphere and they simply said, “He’s passed ma’am.” I just remember repeating no, no, no, no. I’d just gotten him back. We’d just gotten married. We had just had a child. We were going to have another child. We had planned trick or treating. He was 32. I was/am 33. I can’t find anything on google on how to be a 33 year old widow with a 2 year old. The world just keeps going and I am lost. He was the love of my life. He was my best friend in the whole world. He was who I talked to. I’m angry that he left me alone. I know it’s wrong to be angry with him but he left me alone and I have so many questions for him that he can never answer. He loved me like people need oxygen. He treated me like a Queen. I don’t understand. I will never understand. It turns out even concentrating on his autoimmune disease his doctors hadn’t even noticed he had a heart disease as well. He had a heart attack and died all alone upstairs as I played with our son in the basement. And if I had just checked on him sooner he would still be here. But I left him all alone as he asked. He died as I was just downstairs. I failed my best friend in the worst possible way. And I failed my son. I can never forgive myself for this.
I don't even know where to begin really. My husband was 39. Died from Melanoma, two weeks ago. I'm 35. I never thought I'd be here. I'm sure no one does. Even though his disease was progressively worsening and we were told he had some time, he died 24 hours after being moved to hospice. I feel guilty, too. I was at work when he went unresponsive. I had seen him the evening before and we had talked about the kids coming to see him the next day. I thought he would be ok. I think guilt and anger are part of the normal process. Whether it's sudden or expected. I haven't reached anger yet. I'm sure I will at some point. Right now I just miss him so much. It's hard to not feel guilty for not being there. For not saying goodbye. I constantly feel like I should have been there to comfort him. It wouldn't have saved him but at least he would of had familiarity. Someone that loved him. I hope for you and for myself that the guilt does go away eventually.
