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Blogging... Cheaper Than Therapy.

Or so I am told. 

I am not a professional writer. I do not live in a big city with trendy people, high fashion or anything that remotely resembles Sex and the City. But I do have some crazy things to tell you about and my stories are very eye opening.

I am a 32 year old Mother to an awesome little guy, had the husband of my dreams and a pretty awesome life. I am in the restaurant business and live a very busy life balancing being a Mother and Business owner.

Flashback to August 12th, 2021... the last day my life was normal. My husband and I got ready for work, got the baby up, fed and going for the day, said our goodbyes and then we went about our day. Never in a million years would I have known that would be the last time I saw my husband... alive. 

That’s the thing about life, it throws the biggest curveballs imaginable. 

6:30pm that day I get a phone call saying that my husband has had a medical emergency and that I am to go to a local hospital. I get there and after a long drawn out series of events that I will go into much more detail about later- I was told the worst possible news I have ever heard. “We were unable to resuscitate him, he is dead”. 

My husband was in good health, was a professional athlete in fact. He dropped dead instantly of a heart attack at 42 years old. It took a long time to wrap my head around the fact that my husband was actually dead. It was not until I saw his body on the stretcher that the horrible look on his face laying there lifeless that it became real for me. I guess that is why doctors encourage you to see their bodies- definitely helps with realizing the severity of the situation. 

The craziest part of the hospital came after meeting with the Medical Examiner and signing all these forms for an Autopsy and the Death Certificate. Once everything was signed they just tell you “You’re free to go”. 

GO WHERE?!

I literally left the hospital, sat on the curb and tried to figure out who I was going to call first, where I was going to go... Do I just drive my car off the nearest bridge? No, can’t do that and have my poor baby grow up to learn both his parents died on the same day in different tragedies. 

First call was to my Mother. Second to my Best Friend. Third was to my husbands family. 

Not one day has gone by where I have not replayed every event from the night of  August 12th. It seems to be burned into my memory. Every detail from what I was wearing, the Doctors green eyes, the exact time when I got back into my car, the song that was playing and the last glance I ever got to see of the love of my life before they took him to get cut open. 

Sidenote:  Memories are such a strange concept to think about. It is bizarre how the brain holds onto certain details but not others.  

I am a big fan of Greys Anatomy. The show has gotten me through this whole tragedy by creepily mirroring my life in the most unexpected ways. 

More to come tomorrow, eyes are getting heavy and my little guy will be up early. 

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