The Worst Day of My Life

Six months ago today was the worst day of my life.

That's because in the very early hours of that day, just after 3 am, I was abruptly awoken to the sudden death of my soul mate.  I don't intend to write the details of that night right now, though at some point I may.  I will simply say that on that night, my otherwise healthy and vibrant 32 year old husband was killed by a cardiac arrhythmia in his sleep.  While I woke up to the noises of his death, it's my belief (and most fervent hope), that he had no idea what was happening to him.  He went to sleep a happy, fulfilled man, and simply never woke up.  

Ryan was a remarkable man for many reasons, a man who was many things to many people, and had achieved much in his short life.  He was an intellectual, a family guy, a collector, a sports enthusiast, a goofball.  He was a man who believed in hard work, and priorities.  Just a few short weeks before his death, he was able to achieve his greatest dream - he graduated with his doctorate in history.  We put a lot of our personal life on hold until he could finish this professional milestone.  Ryan and I were both so looking forward to the next phase of our life, which was to include plenty of us time, a new house, and hopefully a family.  And then, on February 9^th, the two of us found out that after six months of trying, I was pregnant with our first child.  This was ten days before Ryan died.

I can't explain to you the twisting emotions of finding out about a pregnancy and losing the father of the child within two weeks of each other.  My heart doesn't know how to hold them together.  But, I will say that the baby is my little silver lining- and probably saved my life.  In the hours, days, and weeks after Ryan's death, knowing about her existence gave me my only reason for taking care of myself, getting out of bed, forcing myself to eat, and not allowing myself to sink into complete depression.  

During these six months of extreme grief, I've contemplated writing many times, but I think this is finally the right time.  I write for several reasons, first and foremost, as a catharsis for myself.  I hope that through the writing, and the act of publicly mourning, I can work to get some of the hurt out of myself and perhaps even work towards healing, which seems impossible.  If I’m very lucky, my personal catharsis can also help others who knew Ryan to grieve, and maybe those who didn't know him to grieve for someone in their own lives. 

I'd also like to use this as my own personal, ongoing tribute to the man that gave me the happiest years of my life.  As I mentioned, he was many things to many people, and at his memorial services I had the opportunity to hear many eulogies.  I wasn't strong enough to give my own.  I'd like to tell anyone kind enough to listen about my Ryan, someone who I think existed just for me, just as I in certain ways only existed for him.