Life Lessons I’ve Learned Since My Beloved Wife Unexpectedly Passed Away

These reminders are crucial for any healthy relationship.

Lorie’s Story

I am a writer. Pounding my keyboard is, in part, how I am processing an entirely unexpected tragedy.

Lorie and I met on my birthday, January 14th, 2000. She quite literally walked into my life during a 2000-attendee-strong singles event when she assumed one of the few empty seats in an extraordinarily large chapel.

That seat she had taken was to my immediate right.

We wed on August 26th of the following year. I was 37. She was 44. We had bucked the odds as our marriage was the first for us both. We were arts and culture mavens (museums, theater, music, movies) possessed of a similarly twisted sense of humor.

As an example of the latter, Lorie was worried I’d burn my scalp while walking without a hat in a dog park. She stepped into the restroom, removed her bra and gave it to me to wrap around my head.

I did exactly that. No one seemed to notice or care.

We walked on.

Then there was the time we were in uncontrollable hysterics reading dirty jokes from our cellphones while dining at a prominent Los Angeles restaurant…

We were goofs, we were old souls…

We were two people madly in love, who celebrated our commonalities and our differences. She couldn’t quite sell me on opera; I couldn’t completely sell her on comic books, horror and science fiction.

I was stunned when she gave professional wrestling a shot, but that’s a story for another day.

Regardless, we had a loaded calendar moving forward… and then life turned on a dime.

Our Tragedy

My beloved wife suffered a major hemorrhagic stroke on November 20th, 2023, barely two weeks ago at the time of this writing. There were no warning signs. None whatsoever. The initial brain bleed was substantial. However, the doctor was able to drain much of the blood and within hours Lorie regained what was considered by medical staff a surprising degree of responsiveness.

She kissed me repeatedly, rubbed her nose against mine and whispered that she loved me.

Little did I know this would be the first of two times Lorie would (figuratively) say “goodbye.”

Hours later, she was transferred to another hospital with state-of-the art neurological equipment. She repeated the above actions, spoke to nurses, read aloud during a test and did well on a quiz. At this stage, her voice was also much stronger.

In short order, though, my wife could not stay awake. Lorie was suffering from a second brain bleed event, bigger than the first, and they had to put her in a medical coma to save her life.

Lorie passed on November 26th.

I was holding her hand, which by now was blue due to oxygen deprivation, when her heart beat its last. I held my phone next to her ear and played our wedding song — “On My Way to You” — as sung by Barbara Streisand. Could she hear a thing at this point? I have no idea; it didn’t matter.

Belief goes either way with medical professionals. For me, the effort was largely symbolic… with hope, of course, that within a realm none of us truly understands Lorie would somehow be reminded of the message:

“If I had changed a single day What went amiss or went astray I may have never found my way to you.”

— From the song “On My Way to You” as sung by Barbra Streisand; Songwriters: Alan Bergman / Marilyn Bergman / Michel Legrand

The above lyrics will continue to resonate with me like no other.

Lorie Girsh-Eisenberg was 66-years-old.

Lessons Learned

I was a single man for the first time in nearly 24 years, and the lessons of which I was reminded following Lorie’s passing beckoned.

Firstly, please do not take life for granted. It sounds like a cliché, and you hear over and again how things like this only happen to “other people.”

Outside of our own selves, we are all “other people.”

Secondly — perhaps another cliché but one that’s also true and bears repeating — please take care of your health and schedule regular checkups. In fairness, Lorie always did that, and though this particular issue was never detected my perspective tells me because she did take care of herself she may have added years to her life.

Two more pieces of practical advice based on this experience:

Many of us go to the doctors for colds, or see cardiologists to monitor our hearts. I’d venture to say most of us do not see neurologists unless something is wrong. Lorie passed of stroke complications caused by a burst aneurysm. Seeing a neurologist was never a thought as there were never any signs.

You may want to schedule a neurologist appointment to play it safe as aneurysms are ticking time bombs most frequently not detected without such an appointment and are often unexpected.

Further, chances are you cannot afford to die. I mean it. Please be sure to plan in advance. If you don’t, in the event of an unexpected passing you will most likely have to pay funeral expenses all at once.

Call your local cemetery, mortuary, et. al. when you get a chance and check prices. Not to be morbid but trust me on this. Please plan for you and your family.

And make a will!

I find myself writing these words in a world of pain, but Lorie would have wanted me to help others in this regard.

Reflections

The photo above was taken the day Lorie and I adopted KOKO in 2012. We had no (human) children, so we considered her our new daughter.

Minutes after this photo was taken, and a very serious KOKO was getting used to her new digs, Lorie began to cry.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m just so happy,” Lorie said.

As the years passed and KOKO aged, she developed a habit that at times drove my wife to understandably lose patience: So attached had KOKO become to mommy she would literally follow her everywhere, including the bathroom.

When KOKO was recently diagnosed with a major tumor, Lorie and I discussed that one day — apparently soon — we were going to miss such little things that made KOKO the blessing she’s always been.

In fact, we had been crying over KOKO’s future the night of Lorie’s stroke. My cries were louder. Lorie turned to me and said, “You’ve always been such a big softy. What would you do if something ever happened to me?”

Within moments, she complained of a massive headache. She panicked and shortly thereafter lapsed into unconsciousness due to the bursting of her undetected aneurism.

Thankfully, KOKO is still here and keeping daddy company.

I tell this story for reason, that reason being another reminder when it comes to human beings: We all have predilections of which someone close may not approve. Arguments may even ensue. But one day, when that person is no longer here, those habits are greatly missed, even lamented.

Today is just over two weeks since I lost my dear, sweet Lorie. For the moment I’m getting by but I ask your consideration of this reminder: Like my late father used to say, “It all goes by way too fast.”

Someone else once cannily wrote, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

Both were right. Consider this reminder based on my experience because there’s a better than average chance one day you too are going to miss it all.

Facing a New Chapter

A final note… as to why I’ve elected to openly share my grief:

Mainly, I want Lorie to be remembered as the rare soul that she was. The other part is I believe expressing my grief in this way shows others it’s okay to be vulnerable and real.

I cried for about an hour and a half today. I may or may not cry tomorrow. Whatever happens, happens. Self-care and not rushing are imperative. Bereavement groups, therapy… it’s all fair game.

My heart is broken; I’m not.

And, if I do break somehow I’ll pick up the pieces and try once again to put one foot in front of the other.

To that point, I am reminded of a common conversation among couples: “What happens if I go first?”

“You’re not going first. I’m going first.”

You get the picture.

“Why are you going first?“

“Cause I’ll never survive without you. That’s why.”

Thing is, one day one of you WILL go first and the survivor will have to deal.

Cherish every moment you have together but also be smart about your future and plan accordingly.

A message on repeat.

Lorie and I actually had an agreement in the event of a tragedy of this nature: We’d do our best to treat grieving as a process, not a malignancy.

Where I Am Now

I rage that my wife has left me so quickly. I am heartbroken that we will never again share meaningful things. And yet, somehow, I appreciate the void as it reminds me I once had a great love that made all the difference.

This has been #LoriesStory…