January 29, 2014 was the day my dearest husband took his last breath. A life cut short due to cancer. He was freed from the illness after a great and determined fight. My heart broken.

I remember leaving the house that morning carrying my younger daughter and we both said “Bye Daddy/David” a routine message as I left for work and took her to school. I knew death was looming but could never have prepared for it.

I remembered getting to work that day and putting great energy in my work. Had some meetings and also a few causal conversation with co-workers. As I completed a meeting, I got an email from my older daughter’s principal because she was concerned that my older daughter had casually mentioned to her teacher that her Dad was very sick.

At the beginning of the school year, I informed the principal that David was ill.  However, I did not share the full extent of his illness, also David’s health continued to deteriorate. I called the principal and explained that David was very sick and under hospice care. The support she offered was remarkable.

During the call with the Principal, my Mom called me. I called her back and she said that David was asking for me and I should come home. I did not believe this so I asked what exactly was going. The hospice care nurse was at the house for her routine visit so I asked to talk to her. The nurse informed me that David’s blood pressure was very low. I asked her to quantify, it was 40/20. I knew what this meant.

Calmly, I gathered my belonging and left the office. I called my Sister who was already clued in and causally and sarcastically said to her “I am leaving my office a married woman and would return a widow (a word I hate).

I had an overall sense of calmness as I drove home.  My only hope was that David would be alive when I get home. From the look on everyone’s face when I walked in the door, I knew he was gone. Still, I asked, is he still breathing? They shook their heads.

I yelled at his body, “why didn’t you wait for me”? And immediately, I realized that I did not mean that. I did not need to see my dear husband take his last breath. The nurse and the home care aide (who was also there for her routine visit) said they believe David felt the same way and knew I was on the way home. Knowing him, this makes sense. He probably felt like there was nothing charming about me watching him die and he would have done anything to prevent that.

Then, I looked at my Mom and asked if he was comfortable. She said he was, he passed away peacefully as my Mom (God bless her) prayed with him.

That was it, David was gone forever. I touched him, his body was still warm. He looked peaceful like he was in a deep sleep. Then I realized it was no longer David, since the essence of David has left the body. It was now a body, one that was stricken by cancer and needed to be moved before my daughters came home from school. David and his essence  would live on in me and in our children.

Soon after I arrived home my Sister also came to the house. Much of the rest of the day is vague. I remember watching the video from our wedding, telling my daughters that “Daddy died” (the hardest thing I had to do) and talking to David’s Mom and my brothers.

It felt like my world was collapsing. I could not let this be, I needed to be stronger. For me, for David, and for my children. That night, I could not sleep, neither could my Mom or Sister. Between the tears, the name of the blog, Victory Chest emerged (thanks Sis). I was determined not to lose sight of the family David and I had worked so hard to build.

This is one of several posts that details our experience with bladder cancer. A concise summary of the overall experience can be found in the blog post titled “breaking the silence”.