The Day Life Changed Forever
I lost my ex-husband unexpectedly on February 20th, 2024. It was my brother’s birthday – we had celebrated it that past weekend. I had just finished writing a heartfelt note inside one of my favorite children’s books, Love You Forever, for a baby shower. A few minutes later, I received a call from my mom. She told me that my ex-mother-in-law had tried contacting both her and my dad, saying it was an emergency and to please call her. Given the legal situation we were in during that time, the urgency behind her phone calls seemed suspicious – almost as if it was a ploy by my ex-husband to get in contact with me. My ex-mother-in-law ended up texting me while I was still on the phone with my mom. She again stated that it was an emergency and to please call her. At this point, I pictured my ex-husband threatening suicide or acting irrational and her needing my assistance in getting help to him (she lived out of state). I returned her call, annoyed, explaining that she should not be in contact with me regarding my ex because of the order of protection that was in place. She cut me off and said, “JA’s DEAD!”
I screamed, “WHAT?!”
“HE’S DEAD,” she stated so matter-of-factly. She went on to explain that he had died in a car accident earlier that evening. Just as quickly as the phone call had happened, she frantically ended it stating she had other calls to make and that she was sorry she had to tell me this way.
An immediate overwhelming feeling had taken over me and tears were uncontrollably streaming down my face. I had walked out to the garage to make the phone call to my ex-mother-in-law so that my children wouldn’t be privy to the conversation. In complete disbelief, I walked out of the garage. It was dark outside. Cold. Still. I couldn’t breathe. I called my parents, hysterical, and told them what happened. I was nauseated at the thought of having to tell my children. I needed my parents there; I couldn’t do it alone. I called work, asking for a social worker or a Chaplin to respond to my house. I was desperate for any kind of immediate support I could have available for my children. Trying to get the words out to my coworker that my ex-husband had died felt like it took everything out of me. How was I going to keep it together to tell my children?
After panickily making phone calls, I went and sat down on the cold driveway, barely clothed enough to keep myself warm, but I was numb. I looked up at the sky and just cried. I heard the door open. My back was to my children. I have never cut off such a heavy emotion as quickly as I did in that moment. They knew something was wrong, and immediately began asking what happened. I explained to them that Grammy and Grandpa were on their way over to talk about some things. You could hear the uneasiness set in in their voices as they pleaded with me to tell them what was happening. Luckily, my parents rounded the corner and were pulling up to my driveway at that moment. The children ran to their car asking them what was going on. My dad suggested to them that we all go inside. We all anxiously walked to the living room. The children began asking if it was about their dad. There was a brief silence before my dad began the conversation with them.
At that point, I blacked out. It was like an out of body experience where I was watching everything unfold. I don’t remember the words my dad said, or how he said them. I just remember the scream-crying coming from my children; pleading ‘no…no!’ We all started crying. My son got up and began pacing around the room – crying, pleading, questioning if we were telling him the truth. My daughter remained on the couch, crying. My brother hugged her, because at that moment, nobody knew what to do. We all took turns rallying around the children as we wrapped our arms around them and cried together.
The social worker (who I now consider a friend) I had been working with at work had shown up by now. We were all in the living room trying to process everything, while the children and I continued to cry. Suddenly, the power went out; and it never goes out. The children and I immediately looked at each other and felt it was a sign from their dad. My parents and I began running around the house trying to find candles to light. My son then went upstairs. A few minutes later he began throwing clothes down to the bottom of the stairs. He decided to clean the upstairs, saying how his dad always liked a clean house. He hastily moved from room to room. I looked at the social worker with concern, but she assured me that this was normal, and everyone deals with grief differently.
We reconvened in the living room. My daughter still on the couch, crying off and on again. The death of her dad began to set in with her – she would never get to see him or talk to him again. She became more upset when she realized the last time she got to talk to her dad was the day he got arrested. She began bargaining, wanting just one more chance to talk to him.
The power restored about an hour later. It was late. I could see the exhaustion in everyone’s face and demeanor. I told the social worker she could go, that we would be okay, and if I needed anything I would call her right away. The bustle of the house had quieted down. The children and I were just a shell of ourselves. We sat there, empty, full of questions. Eventually my mom and brother headed back home. My dad stayed behind with us. He decided to spend the night in case we needed anything. Later that night, I remember having a conversation with him, asking if he thought God would forgive my ex-husband for what he did and let him go to Heaven. My dad began tearing up. He told me he believed that God forgives all, and that my ex-husband was in Heaven.
That night, the kids barely slept. I couldn’t sleep at all. We moved their mattresses into my room and spent most of the night crying and talking, trying to keep ourselves distracted with mindless television shows.