by Pamela Rodriguez

Created on: November 02, 2008

"I am sorry, your husband has died - we did all we could...." the rest of the words echos off to someplace in oblivion. Words fall out of the attending physicians mouth in an effort to make me understand, but there is no understanding. Shock is beginning to take hold and it will be weeks before it loosens its grip on me.

These are the words that spin your world off its axis, these words burn to the very core of your life and touch you in a way that nothing else can.

The only word that I could utter that horrible morning sitting in the very nicely, well appointed private room that I imagine they take all family members to when they are about to pull the rug of their life out from under them was "no!".

I was blissfully ignorant and arrogant as I strolled into that room at the request of the pastoral person on duty just a few moments earlier. Well, I must be something special to be pulled into a quiet room away from the loud children vying for their parents attention, the mumblings between family members in the waiting room of the hospitals ER. I wondered if my husband was sicker then I thought. Maybe they have to operate or even worse, his illness is beyond the capabilities of the little county hospital and he needed to be air evac'd to a bigger city. As I take a seat in the quiet empty room with the pastoral care person attempting to make small talk with me while we wait for the physicians grand entrance, I start to go over the check list in my head as to what I would need to do if we were going to have to be taken to a bigger city for my husbands care. Kids to be cared for, pets to be cared for, jobs to be notified. Do I have enough food in the house for the kids if I will be gone for a few days?

Then he enters the room and without even once looking at him I know that my world is going to be smashed, and it will never be the same again. I will not walk out of this hospital the same person who entered it just an hour ago.

I left the hospital not even an hour later as a widow. I entered the bright hot sunlight looking around stunned. People passing me by must have thought that I was having sun stroke as vacant as my face must of looked. What I was looking for would not be found. I was searching for some sign, something in the trees, on the grass, embedded in the sidewalk that would have been my warning not to enter the hospital two hours ago. Surely something as significant, as devestating and earth shattering as this can not be allowed to happen without some warning.

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