Helpful or Harmful?
February 4, 2023Grief and Relationships
February 7, 2023
Where to begin? Where do I start in telling this completely life-altering event? The saddest day of my life happened on October 10th, 2021. But let's start from the beginning. In August of the same year, my wonderful and loving husband contracted COVID-19; he struggled to control his fever and symptoms. After battling his symptoms for some time, he decided it was time to head to the ER. I drove him to the nearest one, but I couldn't go in with him because I had COVID too, and our children were with me.
While hospitalized, he told me he was improving and feeling good. The treatment he was receiving seemed to work well, and we both thought recovery at home would be a good option. Discharged from the hospital against medical advice, we brought him home. However, COVID already damaged his lungs, and his fever came roaring back. I looked online at low oxygen levels and expressed concern for his condition, so we drove him to the VA hospital in Durham.
That afternoon he was sedated and intubated to help his lungs heal. Doctors were worried from the start, and I remained in prayer for him - hopeful for a full recovery. A few weeks turned into a month. Eventually, his condition showed slow but stable improvement with some setbacks. At one point, they could lessen the dosage of the sedatives, perform a tracheostomy and insert a feeding tube. We could talk to each other and love one another despite the lines and wires running to him, coming from him and attached to him. We were able to share some adorable and loving moments. It was a rough road, and there were more obstacles to come, but I remained hopeful that God would answer my prayers to fully restore my husband.
In the early morning of October 9th, I received a call from the doctor saying things weren't looking good for him. They said he had a significant setback on Friday and had to increase his sedatives again and his ventilator settings. The doctor recommended I show up as soon as visitors were allowed, but I asked him if I could head over there after our phone call. He agreed to make an exception for me. When I arrived, I had to meet with the doctor first so he could explain just how severe Jamaal's condition was. He didn't give a high likelihood of survival but said that things could go either way. I still held onto hope and continued praying.
I stayed by his side Saturday and Sunday; on Sunday, they told me that they had done everything they could for him with no improvement. They did not believe that he would make it through the day. I stayed by his bedside, rubbing his hands and chest, massaging his feet, cutting his fingernails and toenails, praying over him, and loving on him in any way I could.
As the day wore on, his blood pressure started to drop, and I watched my husband gradually slip away from life. He passed away at 3:10 PM on October 10th at 36 years old. I was shocked and completely devastated. That was the first time I ever experienced heartache. Suddenly, many things didn't seem to matter. I couldn't focus or bring myself to care about most things. Having to head to my parent's house to tell our children was the hardest thing I've had to do (they were only 13 and 9 at the time). After I told them the news about their father, the first thing I did with them was pray, the three of us together in my parent's living room, asking God for strength, comfort, love, joy, peace, patience, healing, guidance, and His continued presence with us.
I felt lost, scared, emotionally numb to some things, and highly emotional towards other things. I kept thinking, "what will I do now"? And wondering how I would go on. I honestly wasn't sure that I'd smile or laugh again and wouldn't be able to feel much of anything again. There's so much about him that I miss, and it's missing that hurts the most. His mannerisms, actions, voice, laughter, affection, attention, and love that we shared. Sleeping alone in bed was difficult, and I cried myself to sleep so many nights after it happened. Birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries were so tough and sad the first year, but God was there throughout my deep sorrow. He was with me throughout it all, and He sent help. God blessed me despite my challenging and frightening circumstances.
Jamaal's death was an unexpected and devastating loss for me. My husband was (and still is) so much to me and for me. His support and encouragement were unwavering; he had complete faith in me and believed I could handle anything I thought of doing. He was always in my corner - helping me and comforting me. His comfort is something I cherish. He is the love of my life, and my heart belongs to him. Although my life hasn't been the same since this happened, I have grown in my relationship with God and know He cares deeply about me.