Originally posted on Socci.com November 10th, 2015

it was Sunday morning. Charley and I had been sleeping in separate rooms for over a year at this point. This habit started out of conflict and then became habit as I found I slept better alone. Well, thank goodness that is not a transition I had to make after becoming a widow.

but I digress….

it was Sunday. I woke up and decided I should let Lucy out first, many times I would let Lucy “sleep in” with Charley.

Then, I saw what no spouse should have to go through. At first it didn’t register with me, the dogs were on the bed and Charley looked strange. He didn’t stir like he usually would when I went to get the dogs. I noticed he wasn’t breathing, then I noticed he was cold, ice cold.

I can’t tell you how many thoughts ran through my head. I had found Charley OD’ed on psych meds in 2008 but was able to bring him round that time.

I called 911.

I knew he was all ready gone.

They still tried to revive him.

Then more police and firefighters came…the poor young volunteers that had probably never seen a dead body before.

It took 4 hours before they finally took his body to the ME office.

And then I was alone, and I had to start making phone calls.

It’s one thing when it is your own pain, your own despair,

but when you have to tell someone that their friend, father, son-in-law, died. you change their life forever too.

And it sucks.