How to Survive When Your Spouse Dies Early
In the space of four years, I was a widow
In the space of four years, we married, had our daughter, had our son, and then, my husband died.
A tragedy.
Someone’s mistake caused our world to collapse. Caught in the aftermath, I struggled to survive.
After an all-night vigil by my husband’s bedside, a social worker ushered us into a conference room. It was a sterile room with lights so bright their lumens irritated my salt stung eyes. I sat at a long wooden table flanked by my mother, mother-in-law, sisters, and some in-laws. We waited for the doctors to arrive. The hand on the clock ticked off each second we sat there. The ache in my head grew. I lay my head down on the table. The coolness of the wood veneer offered a welcome respite.
The door at the back of the room opened. Those same doctors who worked through the night to save my husband entered in single file. The social worker called my name.
I looked up and watched the doctors enter. Each one averted their eyes as I scanned their faces for an answer to Guy’s prognosis. The last doctor was new to the case, and she failed to shutter her gaze.
Before they spoke, I saw her message. It was bleak. I had a decision to make.
