Peace, Love and Grief… Will We Ever Understand?

When Bruce and I first met, one of the things we had in common was being health conscious. I was a runner. He was into body building. And we were both all about eating healthy. Admittedly, he was better about the eating part than I was… (I love sweets and Publix fried chicken.) However, he wasn’t a big fan of desserts or fried foods. He didn’t drink sodas and rarely had caffeine. (I was a Diet Mt Dew junkie.) Don’t get me wrong, he had his vices like the rest of us, but most of the time, he ate right and was constantly looking for ways to improve.

Early on in our relationship, I learned that he had high blood pressure (and, evidently, had for years). But it didn’t seem to slow him down, and I knew lots of people with HBP. Because of his job, he was required to have a physical every year by the company. Plus, he would have a second one by his own physician, putting him in front of a doctor every six months. To all of us, he appeared to be in great health… And very determined to stay that way.

Because of all that, his death came as quite a shock to all of us!

As for me, I was completely dumbfounded! How in the world does someone so healthy go to bed laughing and just never wake up again? I couldn’t understand it. I remember the ER doctor telling me it appeared that Bruce had suffered a heart attack, but the Medical Examiner would need to do an autopsy to confirm the cause of death.

In my naïve bubble of grief, I thought that would take just a few days… Boy, was I wrong.

I remember lamenting on FB after a month or so that we still had no answer. Some people understood the frustration and were quite encouraging with stories of their own. Then, there were others who sent me private messages telling me to “let it go” … “What difference did it make why he died, the outcome was going to remain the same.”

But, for me, it did matter! I needed to know why… It made no sense. Surely, there would be some hidden reason for his death… Surely, there would be an answer to all my questions.

Four months (and several phone calls later), just days before what would have been his birthday, I received a call from the medical examiner. He explained that Bruce’s heart had been enlarged – “almost twice the size it should have been.” He went on to explain how Bruce’s high blood pressure had contributed to that and how when his heart gave out and stopped that night there was nothing I could have done to save him.

We talked about how I had done CPR, and how in my own eyes, I had failed Bruce. He told me the only way Bruce could have survived would have been to have a heart transplant before his heart stopped. “Once it stopped,” he told me, “it was not going to restart. Nothing could have saved Bruce at that point.”

It was nice to have an answer, but I still found myself with more and more questions. I remember finding paperwork for some heart tests Bruce’s doctor had ordered (and Bruce had never done), but I didn’t really know what else there was to learn. My sister (a nurse) looked at the medications and supplements he was taking at the time, but there was nothing abnormal about those either.

Bruce’s Mom suggested I talk to Bruce’s doctor and see what he would tell me. I was hesitant at first. Bruce was always big on his privacy. He shared what he wanted to share and no more. He did share some things about his doctors’ visits with me, but if I pushed too much for details, he would just get quiet… But he was dead now… Was it really okay for me to ask? It felt like I was prying, but I really wanted to know if his doctor could tell me anything more.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to get the courage to call. The conversation was actually pretty short. Even though he was affiliated with the hospital where Bruce was taken, he had not been notified of Bruce’s death. By this time, it had been well over a year since he had seen Bruce, and he said he didn’t really remember too much about their last visit.

That was it?? … Yep, that was it…

Jump to the more recent past… Bruce’s Mom sent me a note asking if I had a copy of the autopsy report. I didn’t. Then, she asked if I would mind if she requested one. I didn’t mind at all… In fact, I asked her if she would mind sharing it with me when she received it. (I must tell you – she is a doll! She has always been so respectful to me as Bruce’s wife that she even confirmed my approval one more time, before she actually hit “Submit” for her request.)

I don’t know what I expected… I guess I just assumed we would have the same slow response as we did with the initial autopsy answers. I was wrong. The document came back the next day…

That was Thursday. Thankfully, I was home that day, because as I read through the document, the tears began to fall…

While it had a lot of detail in it, I can’t say there was a lot of new information. Except this…

I had to look up a lot of medical terms. As I looked those up, the medical examiner’s initial information made more sense. In fact, as I did more and more research, I learned a lot. I started to realize, we (maybe just me) had missed a lot of the signs that something was wrong.

I’ve always said, I thought Bruce knew something… After doing some research, I am even more convinced he knew something wasn’t right. I won’t say he knew what it was, but I definitely believe he knew something was wrong and his time was limited.

I don’t know how I feel about this report… I guess I had hoped it might bring a little more closure. But instead, I have found myself re-living a lot of those initial questions and feelings. Admittedly, it’s been hard to have all that brought back to the forefront of my mind again. Yet, at the same time, there is some relief to have a better understanding of what happened.

I don’t really know… I’m still trying to process what I know now and deal with this renewed sense of grief… It may be a hard few days ahead… I’m just praying for the strength to see it through and for some sense of peace…

What about you? We all know there will be times when our loved one’s death is front and center again in our lives. How do you handle that? Do you struggle to keep peace in your heart? Do you accept it and just let the tears fall? This journey is hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. We are not alone. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note.* Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

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