I Became A Widow At 25

It is a day I will never forget

I was asked to recall a day that I will never forget.

Let’s see, it would be easy to write about the day I got married. A special day to which many can relate.

Or I could write about the births of my children. Both are special in their own way and days I would never forget.

Instead, I am going to write about the day I lost the person most special and dear to me. The day I lost my husband is a day I will never forget.

The Day My World Began to Shake

He was just 25 years old when he was diagnosed with a rare genetic condition.

FAP - Familial Adenomatous Polyposis, causes growths called polyps in the bowel. If not removed early enough, the polyps turn cancerous.

His was a random mutation. This means he was the first in his family line to get this. So we didn’t know — until it was too late.

I was four months pregnant by the time his condition was discovered. We also learned that there was a 50% chance of our baby having this genetic condition.

He had hundreds of polyps and had to have an operation, to remove a section of his bowel, followed by months of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Despite all of this treatment, cancer had spread to his liver and close-by organs.

He was left thin, weak, and feeling ill most of the time. We knew his time was growing near when he began to spend more time up in his bedroom. Alone and contemplating what he could not avoid. Facing the inevitable.

Our daughter was just two months old by this time. I was a new mother, he was a new father.

We should have been spending time caring for her and enjoying being new parents.

We should have been showing off our new pride and joy.

We should have been planning our life together and raising our beautiful daughter.

Instead, I was faced with supporting my husband through his death.

As a young woman, I had yet to reach such maturity to enable me to cope with all that was ahead.

My mother-in-law and the Macmillan nurse were sources of great strength to me. They guided me along this unknown journey.

Fulfilling My Husband’s Wishes

Mark’s wishes were to be at home when his end came.

He did not want to be in a hospital, and I would not have wanted that.

He did not want to be in a hospice, and I would not have wanted that.

He wanted to be in his home on his last days.

He knew that this would be hard, with a young baby as well. He said to do what I thought best, and he would understand.

Difficult Conversations

We sat and talked in lead up before that fateful day.

This was while he was still aware.

Still lucid.

Before the morphine took effect on his brain and took over his awareness.

He didn’t want the morphine as he didn’t want to become addicted.

The doctor smiled at him and told him, “You will not become addicted, don’t worry.” This was a kinder way of saying you will not live long enough to become addicted. It was said out of empathy and kindness.

Mark was lucid when he asked me, “Am I going to die?”

What do you tell the one you love? How do you take away the last bit of hope that they may have? But at the same time, I could not lie to him. I could not hide the truth away from him. He knew but I guess he wanted to know if I knew. He asked the question not for himself but for me.

The Day My World Changed

On his final day, Mark was in pain, and we had to call the doctors out to help relieve his suffering. It was the early hours of the morning when the doctor came out to administer some pain relief.

The doctor called me up to the room and told me to hold Mark’s hand.

He said that this could be the end.

As the injection went in, I saw him becoming more sleepy but he did not go then. He was not ready. It was not yet his time.

He held on for several more hours.

We sat at his side. Me, his sister, and his mum.

The three women in his life.

All three with different feelings of love.

A wife, a sister, and a mother.

We took turns spending some time on our own with him.

To say our goodbyes and to tell him that we loved him.

I told him “I love you, I am sorry that you have to go, don’t worry we will be okay.” I needed to give him this permission. I think that is why he was holding on. He was worried about us and wanted to know that we would be okay.

Sometimes the dying need to hear this, they need permission to let go.

He made gurgling noises trying to say something but nothing comprehensible came out. At one stage he wanted to get up, but he was too weak. His body was giving up the struggle.

It was the only night that our baby daughter did not cry. That evening she made not a sound. Nothing from her room all night.

It was as if one life was leaving and one was just beginning.

I believe our baby sensed something unusual was going on in the house. She must have known something to make her so quiet all night.

An hour after he left the world, she awoke but even then, she did not cry like she usually did, she babbled to let us know she was awake and I held her. Cuddled her tight.

She was all that I had left.

I held her with tears coming down my face.

I held a bottle to her mouth to feed the life within her as one had been taken away from me.

It seemed so bizarre to continue in the face of everything that had just preceded us.

Mark lay on our bed upstairs. Alone and his body getting cold. We went upstairs to see him and say our final goodbyes. Seeing him helped to come to terms with the fact that he had now left us and moved on to the next realm. Seeing him lying there served to remind the brain that it was real. That this had happened.

The doctor came and certified him.

The nurses came and washed and laid out his body.

Death was new to me. Apart from my granny dying when I was about 8 years old, this was my first real experience with death.

I had no idea of what to do and allowed myself to be led by those more experienced than myself.

Frankly, my brain was in a fog, unthinking and in automatic mode.

I was steered to cope with each passing moment.

To get through.

To survive.

The next morning, the funeral undertakers arrived. My mother-in-law made me and his sister stay outside. She said that it was not a sight that we should see. She said that it could be upsetting. I didn’t understand why but I did as I was told.

I didn’t want to be upset any more than I already was.

We waited outside while he was taken out of our home.

He left on his own. Should I have been there to say goodbye?

To hold his hand on the final part of his journey. Or was I better off not seeing how he was carried down the stairs and placed into the back of an unmarked black transit van?

Yes, there are some days that you never want to forget because they bring you joy and happiness and there are some days that you never forget because they change your whole world around.

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