16 Days

I haven't paid a lot of attention to the "stages of grief" idea. I know everyone reacts to something like this in their own way, and I'm still early in this, but I think I am deep within a stage of guilt and regret right now.

I was looking through older photos of us from a couple of years ago when we had lost weight, were feeling great, and had high hopes of going into the future fit and healthy and active. The one goal we both had at the time was to be at our goal weights before we turned 50, because the last thing we wanted to do was let our health get so bad that we wouldn't even live to see 50. And we were doing so good... then one day we both fell off the diet wagon, we began to reward ourselves for our hard work, we started back on our old plans, and the weight came back. All of it, for me, and at least 75% of it for my husband. 

The past few months we'd both felt ashamed of ourselves for that. We noticed the burden the weight was putting on us, the achy joints, the extra effort required to get out of a chair, the lack of desire to go anywhere that required walking around. We were right on the verge of getting back on our plans and losing that weight once and for all. We were recommitted. Health was in our future.

Then, of course, what we had always feared came to pass. He was three months shy of turning 50. 

Now all I can ask myself is, what if we'd kept on track? What if we'd just followed through with our fitness plans and stayed active? Would it have headed this off? Would it have made him strong enough to fight through? And I feel as though it's my fault, because I never even tried to insist we stick to our diet, I was just as happy to go along with the idea of a weekly pint of ice cream. I never resisted, I watched both of us grow larger and I didn't do anything. I'm not sure I will ever get over feeling as though I am partially responsible for this, and if only I'd been better, if only I'd had enough willpower to carry both of us through.

If only I'd have forced him to go to the doctor the second he said he felt bad. 

If only I'd done something. Anything.

I suspect this is a common reaction and it's something I will never know the answers to. I don't know exactly what caused my husband's heart attack, he had never been diagnosed with any cardiac problems whatsoever. I can ask myself question after question about what I could have done to prevent this but I will never know if it were possible.

If only.

Day 7, part 2

And so the cards, the book, the memorial candle, and the DVD are all ready for the service. They had so many choices for the books and cards, some of which may not vary much from place to place because I recognized the designs from other funerals. I went with a plain book, I don't think my husband would have been too excited to have a floral theme, and certainly not the default dove launching into flight. Besides, does anyone sit down and go back through the books after a funeral? I have a few for parents or grandparents and I don't think I ever looked in them again after the service.

People expect to have them, though. It's important for them to leave their condolences. I wish it were all electronic though. Signing a tablet would be much nicer. That has to be right around the corner, if it's not a thing yet.

So. I fell into a billion pieces watching the dvd, as happens when I have been looking at photos already. For some reason today it was a lot worse, though. Is it because I keep looking at the date and thinking: exactly one week ago at this time my life still made sense. Everything was still okay. I could still snuggle up against my husband. He could still reassure me that he just felt a little off but he was sure he was fine.

Meanwhile I am trying to watch my regrets. I have too many... why didn't I pressure him into going to the ER the moment he said he felt off? Why didn't I ride in the ambulance with him? Oh, that one is killing me right now. If only I'd done that I could have held his hand a little longer. We could have shared an "I love you" one more time.

Tonight I will drown my regrets in donuts, I think. After a week of barely eating I think it's time for comfort food.