The Story of Charles' Death: PART 4

Charles' spirit left his body, and I became a widow. I sat in the cold, hard, hospital chair, next to his lifeless body. I was alone. It was just me, and Charles' mortal husk. I sat there quietly in shock. I was not sure what to do. I had just seen my husband take his last 3 breaths, and pass from this world into the next. It felt like I was dreaming -- there was nothing real about it -- it still feels like a dream. That same morning he was talking to me, aware, awake, and alive. And by that afternoon his body was cold, limp, and empty of his spirit.

Dead. Charles was dead.

There is no way to describe the way it feels to lose your reason for living. My world revolved around this man whose empty body lay on the hospital bed. This was not the way things were supposed to be! This was not the way our story was supposed to go. We were supposed to grow old together, raise our children together… be grandparents together. We were both supposed to live! 

Everything was going horribly wrong. 

I held his hand, touched his face, and I spoke to him.

I knew his spirit was not in his body, but I also knew he could see and hear me, still.

What I said was too personal. But, I love Charles. I cannot express how much. There are no words powerful enough -- he knows how much I love him.

He looked more at peace after taking his last breath. His body was not twitching, or convulsing, from the machines that were breathing for him. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was merely sleeping. But his skin was cold to the touch, his hand did not respond when I held it -- that feeling still haunts my mind. Charles was always warm, naturally tan, and his hands were always ready to hold mine. He had strong hands -- workingman hands. His hands were one of my favorite things about him. To feel them cold, see them white, and have them non-responsive was, well, again… there are no words.

After awhile, I decided to let a few others in the room. My Bishop came in, and Charles' best friend, Tyson, came too. (He is also a member of the Bishopric.) We all spoke for a moment, with tears, and shock covering our faces. This was so unexpected for everyone. Tyson quietly whispered that, "Some men are good, but Charles was one of the greats." I readily agreed.

Charles is one of the greats.

The Bishop slipped off Charles' wedding ring, and mentioned it would be too hard to get it off later. He handed it to me, and I placed it on my thumb -- where I wear it even now.

I then had a Priesthood blessing, and I have no idea what was said during it. I just know that the feeling in the room was almost too much for me to bear.

Then it was time to leave the room. It was around 5:00pm. I took a few more moments with Charles, touched his hand, and left him with a kiss. My parting words were simply, "I love you." 

And then I did perhaps the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life… I walked away from him. 

I looked over my shoulder, and I took one last look at his body, as I left the room through a curtain. Closing the curtain behind me felt very symbolic, since there is a curtain -- or veil -- that parts us now.

After closing the curtain, that became the last time I saw him. (We never had a viewing.) 

I cannot express how my heart wanted to die in that moment. Dying, and going to be with Charles, sounded like the best option at the time.

But I also knew I had to keep living. I had 4 children that were waiting for me to be their mother -- their one and only parent. They were at a friend's house (the Harlins), and they were completely unaware that their lives were about to change forever. My heart ached in agony, as I was not sure how I was going to tell them that their hero had just died. (I will blog about that in another post…) 

After leaving Charles lying lifeless, I returned to the waiting room attached to the Cardiac area. I sat in shock, as a member of the hospital staff came in just a few moments later. He asked me a question I will never forget...

He asked me if Charles was an organ donor, and if they could take Charles' organs, and tissues. I said, "Yes." I was then read a list of things that they would like to take from his body, and use to help other people. I had to respond to the items verbally with a yes, or no.

Now, the concept and reality of helping others live through organ and tissue donations is a wonderful one -- I get that. But when you have just walked away from losing the love of your life, and they ask you if they can take his eyes -- his beautiful brown eyes, that were just looking at me that very morning -- it caused me to feel sick to my stomach, and I wanted to scream, "Are we even sure he is really dead, before we start taking him apart?!" But instead of screaming and lashing-out at the medical staff, I signed the life-saving, time-senstive, paperwork.

I was visited by a few more hospital people, of whom I do not recall their purpose. But I do remember the Chaplain. She helped me prepare for my departure from the hospital. It was really that quick. Charles died, and then I was leaving the hospital maybe an hour later. Charles' death occurred all within a regular 8-5 workday.

I briefly spoke to my mother on the phone, who was in the car driving to Idaho from Utah, with my dad. I told her, "Charles is in another world." She thought I meant he was just out of it, or something, but then I said, "No, he is gone." That was all I could say. And I hung up the phone.

I was now in zombie-mode. People were just guiding me here and there, and I was just doing what I was told. My neighbor was still with me, and she was ready to drive me home. We walked through the hospital -- the same hospital I gave birth to Henry in -- and we made it to the exit.

When I stepped outside, it was pouring rain. The rain matched my pain.

The Heavens were crying with me.

And then we drove home. I stared out the car window, and my heart fell like the raindrops.

My husband, my love, my Charles, was dead. 

My neighbor dropped me off at my empty house. I opened the door, and I began pacing and praying. I was waiting for my children to come home in just a few moments. Tyson and Rachelle had them at their house -- they had to keep the information from them -- and Tyson had to drive them home, without saying anything to them, and without losing it completely.

At this point, I was not sure if I was strong enough to keep living. The thought of telling my children this horrific news made me want to pass-out. I felt so weak, and scared. I just kept praying for help, and to know what to say to them, and how to comfort them, while needing comfort myself.

As I waited, I walked around my house. The first thing I noticed was that Charles' suit coat, and tie, were still lying on the floor -- right where he had pulled them off earlier that day, as he was struggling to breathe. I gently picked them up, held them, and cried. It seemed so symbolic, somehow, that in his final moments, he ripped off his monkey-suit, to try and be free. In his last moments he was ripping off his suit and saying, "I can't breathe!" Charles wore a suit to work everyday, as an Attorney, but he loathed it. Watching him violently ripping off his suit, was like watching the final battle between him and the things of this world.

I then went to our room, where I noticed that Charles' smoothie cup was still sitting on the nightstand, from earlier that morning. I thought about saving it forever, but instead I took it to the sink, and washed it out. Everything that was once normal in my house -- family pictures, Charles' clothing, the house itself -- all became objects that stirred great emotion in my heart.

How was I going to go on without Charles? 

As I stood in my home, waiting for the kids, I knew my life was never going to be the same -- ever, again. I knew I was about to do the second hardest thing I had ever done in my life -- I had to tell my children that their father had died.

And then, I looked out the front window, and I saw all 4 of my children happily bouncing towards the front door.

"Hi, Mom!" they all said, with joy.

I forced a smile, I gathered them all in the house, and then I closed the door behind them, and braced myself for what was to come.

"You guys, I have to tell you something…"