Grief Diaries: Surviving Sudden Loss

By Lynda Cheldelin Fell and Maryann Mueller

People who experience sudden loss of a loved one find themselves shocked and stunned, and often struggle to find support to adapt to a life they didn’t plan. Friends, family, and others have little idea about how to help, leaving the bereaved feeling alone and vulnerable when they need support most.

Surviving Sudden Loss is a collect

• Language: English
• Publisher: AlyBlue Media
• Release date: Jun 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950712045

Lynda Cheldelin Fell

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL is an educator, speaker, author of over 30 books including the award-winning Grief Diaries, and founder of the International Grief Institute. Visit www.LyndaFell.com.

Book preview

Grief Diaries

SURVIVING SUDDEN LOSS

True stories about surviving

the sudden loss of a loved one

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL

with

MARYANN MUELLER

Foreword by

MARYANN MUELLER

Grief Diaries

Surviving Sudden Loss– 1st ed.

True stories about surviving sudden loss of a loved one

Lynda Cheldelin Fell/Maryann Mueller

Grief Diaries www.GriefDiaries.com

Cover Design by AlyBlue Media, LLC

Interior Design by AlyBlue Media LLC

Published by AlyBlue Media, LLC

Copyright © 2019 by AlyBlue Media All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-950712-04-5

AlyBlue Media, LLC

Ferndale, WA 98248

www.AlyBlueMedia.com

This book is designed to provide informative narrations to readers. It is sold with the understanding that the writers, authors or publisher is not engaged to render any type of psychological, legal, or any other kind of professional advice. The content is the sole expression and opinion of the authors and writers. No warranties or guarantees are expressed or implied by the choice to include any of the content in this book. Neither the publisher nor the author or writers shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial, or commercial damages including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible for your own choices, actions and results.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

GRIEF DIARIES

Testimonials

CRITICALLY IMPORTANT . . . I want to say to Lynda that what you are doing is so critically important. –DR. BERNICE A. KING, Daughter of Dr. Martin Luther King

INSPIRATIONAL . . . Grief Diaries is the result of heartfelt testimonials from a dedicated and loving group of people. By sharing their stories, the reader will find inspiration and a renewed sense of comfort as they move through their own journey. -CANDACE LIGHTNER, Founder of Mothers Against Drunk Driving

DEEPLY INTIMATE . . . Grief Diaries is a deeply intimate, authentic collection of narratives that speak to the powerful, often ambiguous, and wide spectrum of emotions that arise from loss. I so appreciate the vulnerability and truth embedded in these stories. -DR. ERICA GOLDBLATT HYATT, Chair of Psychology, Bryn Athyn College

HOPE . . . These stories reflect the authentic voices of individuals at the unexpected moment their lives were shattered and altered forever. Moments of strength in the midst of indescribable pain, resilience in the midst of rage; hope while mired in despair. —SHERIFF SADIE DARNELL, Chair, Florida Cold Case Advisory Commission

"ACCURATE . . . These accounts portray an accurate picture of just what full-force repercussions follow the taking of a life." JAY HOWELL, U.S. Senate Investigator and Cofounder, National Center for Missing & Exploited Children

VITAL . . . Grief Diaries: Surviving Loss of a Pregnancy gives voice to the thousands of women who face this painful journey every day. Often alone in their time of need, these stories will play a vital role in surrounding each reader with warmth and comfort as they seek understanding and healing in the aftermath of their own loss. -JENNIFER CLARKE, obstetrical R.N., Perinatal Bereavement Committee at AMITA Health Adventist Medical Center

SURVIVING SUDDEN LOSS

Dedication

In loving memory:

Cliff Backman

Tariq Caldwell

Brad Downs

Samantha Downs

Chris Dafoe

Eric Ross Faust

James Harms

Hailey Cyell King

Michael J. Rosenquist

Mark Mueller

Kevin Redmond

Randy Rollins

Sarah Rollins

Justin Smith

Kimberly Smith

Gabrielle Waugaman

Lexi Waugaman

Jennifer Zartman

SURVIVING SUDDEN LOSS

Contents

Foreword

Preface

The Beginning

Facing the Aftermath

Planning the Funeral

Braving the Transition

Handling the Belongings

Facing the Dates

Getting Through the Holidays

The Financial Impact

The Legal Paperwork

Posttraumatic Reactions

Impact on Relationships

Confessing our Struggles

Testing of Faith

Finding Support

The Broken Heart

Living with Traumatic Grief

Making Sense of Fears

Finding Hope

Walking the Journey

Meet the Writers

Lynda Cheldelin Fell

BY MARYANN MUELLER

Foreword

The trauma of sudden loss is something that stays with you for a very long time. How can you ever be prepared to lose someone you love without warning? You can’t. Losing someone you love is never easy. It is something that will change your life forever. Speaking from my own personal experience, I have lost many people in my life. My parents both died from illnesses, and there were those terrible days of sitting and waiting for that moment to come. Of course it hurt and I mourned their loss for quite some time. But losing my husband suddenly and so unexpectedly sent my life into a turmoil that can only be described as chaos. It didn’t appear so on the outside. My demeanor showed someone handling the details, and keeping a normal routine and getting through the days, weeks and months.

But it is inside that the sudden loss is endured. Wondering did we do enough to keep it from happening, did we see the signs; did we pay enough attention? The times when you keep waiting for them to walk back through that door, even though you KNOW you buried or cremated them. Your life is mostly lived in a fog, an internal mechanism to keep you from completely enduring an impossible pain. There were many days early on in my journey when I would sit on the swing in our backyard, and be waiting for him to walk out from the garage, cold beer in hand to join me. It was what my heart wanted. My brain knew the truth.

Everybody I have ever spoken to, or any interview I ever read regarding sudden loss seems to say the same thing. They didn’t get to say goodbye. There was no final smile, no loving touch. No way to tell them that you loved them. There is also that awful feeling of not knowing if they were in pain, or scared. The last word that my husband spoke was, yes, when I asked him if I needed to call an ambulance. He never regained consciousness. I watched as the paramedics tried to revive him for over forty minutes. It was something that played out in my mind again and again. It took me a long time to accept that experience as a trauma. Until I accepted that, I couldn’t begin to work my way through it.

Losing someone suddenly shakes you down to your very core. It makes you question everything and it teaches you that control is an illusion. All the plans and dreams you had for the future are now gone. And the first task you are faced with is how to survive. How do are you going to get through each day? Where do you find the inner-strength? This book will hold stories of how this was accomplished. Reading the personal stories of how people dealt with sudden loss seemed to help me the most. I hope this book helps you find your way from the shock and disbelief of sudden loss and understand you will one day feel healed and begin to live your life again.

MARYANN MUELLER

BY LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL

Preface

One night in 2007, I had a vivid dream. I was the front passenger in a car and my teen daughter Aly was sitting behind the driver. Suddenly, the car missed a curve in the road and sailed into a lake. The driver and I escaped the sinking car, but Aly did not. As I bobbed to the surface, I dove over and over again in the murky water searching for my daughter. But I failed to find her. She was gone. My beloved daughter was gone, leaving nothing but an open book floating on the water where she disappeared.

Two years later that horrible nightmare became reality when Aly died as a backseat passenger in a car accident in 2009. Returning home from a swim meet, the car carrying Aly was T-boned by a father coming home from work. My beautiful fifteen-year-old daughter took the brunt of the impact and died instantly. She was the only fatality.

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any worse, it did. My dear sweet hubby buried his grief in the sand. He escaped into eighty-hour workweeks, more wine, more food, and less talking. His blood pressure shot up, his cholesterol went off the chart, and the perfect storm arrived on June 4, 2012. Suddenly, he began drooling and couldn’t speak. My 46-year-old soulmate was having a major stroke.

My husband survived the stroke but couldn’t speak, read, or write, and his right side was paralyzed. Still reeling from the loss of our daughter, I found myself again thrust into a fog of grief so thick I couldn’t see through the storm. Adrenaline and autopilot resumed their familiar place at the helm.

As I fought to restore balance to my world, I discovered that helping others was a powerful way to heal my own heart. Grief Diaries was born and built on this belief. By sharing our journeys, our stories become a portable support group for others who share our path. It’s comforting to know others understand.

Which brings us to this book. Helen Keller once said, Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light. This is especially true in the aftermath of loss. If someone you love suddenly and unexpectedly died, the following stories are written by people who share your path and know exactly how you feel. Although no two journeys are identical, we hope you find comfort in our stories and the understanding that you aren’t truly alone, for we walk ahead, behind, and right beside you.

Wishing you healing and hope from the Grief Diaries village.

Warm regards,

LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL

Creator, Grief Diaries

www.LyndaFell.com

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

A lifetime is not enough to know someone else.

It provides a brief glimpse. -SIMON MCBURNEY

Every loss journey is unique as a fingerprint. To fully appreciate the different perspectives, we begin with the moment when our worlds were shattered, when life as we knew it ended and a new one began.

*

RYAN BACKMAN

Ryan’s 56-year-old father Cliff

was murdered in 2009

My dad and I hadn’t always had a close relationship. He and my mother divorced when I was very young and, while they attempted to work things out on several occasions, I don’t have many memories of us all being together. When I tell the story of my childhood, my dad’s involvement is in and out, mostly out. For many reasons my real relationship with my dad didn’t start until I was twenty-one and an adult myself. From that point forward we developed a very loving and consistent father-son bond. We spoke regularly and as luck would have it we found ourselves working in close proximity to each other. Friday lunches together became quite regular for a while. Over the next ten years we became closer than we had ever been.

On October 9, 2009, I spent close to an hour on the phone with my dad. We laughed, joked and solved all kinds of worldly problems. I sat in the driveway of my house for the last twenty minutes of our conversation. I was careful not to let him know I was home because he would have rushed the call to an end. It was important to him that he not take me away from time with my wife. We were just a few days away from celebrating our second wedding anniversary and my dad knew that.

On October 10, 2009, while getting ready to go to a friend’s house, I noticed two missed calls from a blocked number. I had a single voicemail from a detective with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office telling me there had been an emergency and I needed to call them back right away. I did, and as thoughts of emergencies raced through my head I settled on a car crash. I assumed my mom had been in some kind of wreck and was probably at the hospital with a few broken bones. But when the detective answered the phone he told me he was turning into my neighborhood and would tell me what was going on once he got to the house. I quickly went for the front door and yelled to my wife that something bad had happened and police were on their way to our house. We met two plainclothes detectives in the driveway, and they delivered the news that would flip my life upside down. They said, We hate to have to tell you this, but your father was murdered this afternoon.

It was a Saturday, and my dad had picked up a side job to make a little extra money. He worked as a construction superintendent during the week, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to do small odd jobs on the weekends. His wife, Jane, was suffering from stage four cancer and both worked six days a week to make ends meet. On this particular day he was working alone in a newly constructed office building on the south side of Jacksonville. Detectives believe that while my dad was vacuuming up drywall dust, the unknown assailant saw an opportunity. He walked into the building, shot my dad in the back, grabbed his wallet and walked out. My dad was able to call 911 and give a brief description of his attacker before losing consciousness while waiting for help to arrive. He was pronounced dead at a local hospital a short time later.

Like most people who have never experienced the loss of a loved one to homicide, I had some rather poor assumptions about how the investigation would go. I assumed (wrongly) that an arrest would be made and that it would be made quickly. Within a few weeks of my dad’s murder my boss had already put me on notice. He made it clear that he wasn’t happy with my distracted presence at work. Letting him know how willing I was to trade the distraction for having my father back seemed to seal my fate. He let me go a couple months later.

Still in the throes of grief and trying desperately to figure out how to cope with this traumatic loss, I was now unemployed as well. It was then that I received a phone call from an organization that served families of homicide victims inviting me to a men-only support group. It was the first step in an ongoing journey to heal. The decision I made to go to that support meeting changed everything for me.

A month later I was volunteering for camps with children who had lost someone to homicide. A few months after that I was offered a position within that organization as a victim advocate. For over four years I worked with and helped other families experiencing what I had. A great deal of that time was spent in court escorting families to trials and sentencing hearings.

Always in the back of my mind I was wondering if I would ever have my day in court. Would I ever know what it was like to sit just a few feet away from the person who killed my dad? Would I ever look him in the eye? Would I ever be able to read a victim impact statement to the court and describe the emotional, physical, financial, social and psychological toll this loss had taken on me?

In 2014, my wife and I were expecting our first child, and a whole new level of anxiety consumed me. I was going to be a dad. I wasn’t going to be able to share that with my dad. He was never going to be able to hold his granddaughter. I was going to be responsible for protecting her from the evil in this world. She was going to ask one day where he was and what happened to him. When and how was I supposed to tell her? Her very next question would surely be about the bad guy being in jail. I would have to tell her that it doesn’t always work that way. The questions flooded my mind. What if something happened to me? How could I make sure my daughter never felt the pain I felt? There were so many questions and so few answers.

The organization I worked for was going through some serious challenges of its own, and the comfort, support and stability it once offered was gone. After months of discussions my wife and I decided that after her maternity leave I would stay home with our daughter and start a nonprofit organization to help families of unsolved homicides. When my daughter gets older and starts asking those questions, I will be able to tell her that she was my inspiration, and that I could not and would not sit back and raise a child in a world where it was acceptable for murders to go unsolved. The bad guys might not always go to jail, but it wouldn’t be because I sat back and accepted the apathetic status quo that typically surrounds cold cases. In 2015, I launched Project Cold Case Inc. and juggled being a stay-at-home dad and laying the foundation for a much needed organization.

*

CATHY BRYANT

Cathy’s 11-year-old handicapped son Justin died in 1996 and

her 25-year-old daughter Kimberly died in a car accident in 2014

My son Justin was twenty months old. I worked the evening shift and my husband worked the day shift, but there was an overlap of about three hours, so we had an adult babysitter who watched him in her home.

The day of his accident was the last day of September, and was the middle of the week. The babysitter had a pool in her yard. The day before Justin’s accident, I asked when they were going to cover the pool, because it made me nervous. The babysitter said they were going to cover it over the coming weekend, but the ladder had been removed so Justin couldn’t get in.

On September 30, my husband went to pick up Justin. From what I was later told, Justin had been outside with the babysitter, her husband, and their seven-year-old daughter. The babysitter went into the house to put supper on the table, the husband went into the house to go to the bathroom, and the seven-year-old went into the house to get a toy. Justin was left outside by himself.

When my husband arrived, they said Justin was in the yard. My husband couldn’t find him, so he looked again. He then decided to look in the pool and there was Justin on the bottom of the pool. He jumped in and pulled Justin out and the babysitter, a nurse, started CPR. Someone called 911 but they couldn’t resuscitate Justin until after they arrived at the hospital. It was estimated that he went without oxygen for about twenty minutes. Without oxygen, brain damage begins at six minutes.

Apparently Justin had climbed onto the pool filter and fell in. Nobody witnessed it, but it was the only way he could have gotten in. I can’t tell you how many articles I read after Justin’s accident about young children climbing on the filters and getting into pools, but it never occurred to me that this was possible.

Justin survived but was dependent for all his needs. He had to be fed through a tube, eventually required oxygen all the time and needed frequent suctioning. He needed twenty-four-hour care. Still, I took him home and cared for him for three and a half years.

His father had a difficult time with all this and was happy to work a lot. I cared for Justin. I then gave birth to Kimberly, our daughter. When she was about eighteen months old, it was hard to get nursing care for Justin. I had to make the incredibly painful decision to place him in a pediatric nursing home. After picking the one that best fit all our needs, we moved closer to the facility and visited during the week and brought him home on weekends.

As the years passed, Justin’s father and I divorced and I remarried. Justin’s lungs got worse and he was put on hospice. There was nothing more they could do and about five weeks before his twelfth birthday and the birth of his brother, Justin passed away peacefully in my arms. My mother said, You saw him take his first breath, and now you saw him take his last breath.

It had been a long road to Justin’s death. Although there is no greater sorrow a parent can feel, for me there was some peace. He was finally at rest in the arms of our Lord. That gave me some comfort.

On the day of Kimberly’s car accident, she had been upset about a recent breakup with a boyfriend who had betrayed her many times. My parents were up visiting from Georgia. They were staying in a camper in front of our house, and I was outside vising with them. Kim came over and looked so unhappy. She and I talked many times about this relationship, and she knew I thought she should move on.

I sensed she probably wanted to talk, but knew I probably didn’t want to listen because I was visiting with my parents. The night before she had gone over to the ex-boyfriend’s house to pick up the last of her things. I don’t know exactly what transpired between them, but Kim said he was saying he wanted her back but another girl called while she was there. So she grabbed her stuff and left. She spent the night talking with friends and then came back home in the morning.

She was unpacking her car while I visited with my parents. We then decided to go out for lunch but Kim couldn’t go as she had to get ready for work. She was in the shower when we left the house.

While at the restaurant, I received a phone call from her dad saying Kim was in a car accident and was being flown to Boston. Fear ripped through me. This part is kind of a blur, but I remember saying, We gotta go. Kim’s hurt bad, we got to go to Boston.

We first had to go all the way home to get my son Michael. It felt like it took forever to get to the hospital. We hit traffic and the ride was way too similar to the ride into Boston twenty-seven years earlier when Justin was resuscitated.

The news about Kim was not good, and each day for nine days it got worse. I went every day to see her. I painted her nails, brushed her hair, talked to her, prayed over her, kissed and hugged her. Nine days of being led to say goodbye. I do feel blessed to have had those nine days, as horrible as they were.

Her loss was so tragic, unexpected and devastating, I needed that time with her to be able to handle her death. Still it hit me so hard. Even now, there are moments of almost completely unbearable pain. I miss her physical presence in my life, I always will. But I know she is still part of me and that gives me comfort.

Going back to the accident, from what we can piece together, Kim got out of the shower and got ready for work. Although there were no messages in her phone or on her computer, it appears she went back to the boyfriend’s house and found some work clothes that suggested he was working for another girl’s father. The clothes were found on the front seat of Kim’s car. This enraged her, because the night before he was saying he wanted Kim back. Someone witnessed Kim driving fast and hitting on the steering wheel like she was angry. She went to pass a car but lost control and hit a brick wall and tree, and was partially ejected from the car.

She had multiple injuries to her body, but the only one that really couldn’t be repaired was the brain swelling. On day nine of her stay in the ICU, we formed a circle around her bed and I sang Amazing Grace as my second child, and second loss, took her last breath.

*

TANISHA CALDWELL

Tanisha’s 23-year-old son Tariq (Jay)

died in a car accident in 2015

I will never forget the day: June 29. It started out as a normal day, warm, bright, and the sun was shining brightly! My husband had a doctor’s appointment, so I took him to work and then came home to lay down awhile. My daughter came to me and asked, Ma! Have you talked to Jay? I replied no, I called him Sunday but he didn’t answer. I then asked her why. As the words came from her mouth I felt as if I had walked into a nightmare! Jay had been in a car accident.

My son was of age and didn’t live at home so police didn’t contact us. His phone was damaged so his contacts couldn’t be retrieved. There were three other people in the car, and their families were notified. The accident was on the news and in the newspaper. We found out on the internet. Sad but true. My daughter saw it and informed me. I jumped out of bed to reach for my phone to check, and it was as if my world was crumbling. This can’t be true! This cannot be happening! Not to me! Not my family! Lord, please don’t let this be true! Please! I scrambled to call my husband at work. I just didn’t know what to do. I felt lost. I wanted time to stop and go back so this wouldn’t be real. I called the authorities, to get information. When the officer asked who was with me, and then said he was going to send over an officer, I knew my worst fear was a reality. My sweet baby Tariq was gone.

We gave him a beautiful homegoing service on July 9, 2015. One of the hardest days of my life.

*

JULIE DOWNS

Julie’s 21-year-old son Brad, his 19-year-old wife Samantha and

24-year-old best friend Chris, were killed by a drunk driver in 2007

Life was good until it changed in a blink of an eye. October 6, 2007, was a beautiful fall day. It was a Saturday and I had to work for my sister at the laundromat my family ran, and as I left the house that morning I felt blessed and happy. Bill and I had been married for twenty-five years and we had a good life with two beautiful children that we loved with our whole heart. Cindy, our mentally challenged daughter, went to work with me and I left Bill, Brad and Samantha sleeping. I talked with Brad, my twenty-one year-old son throughout the day. He had been married just over three months to the love of his life, Samantha. She was nineteen and her and Brad had so many hopes and dreams for their future.

They woke that morning energized to clean the back part of our property off so that they could put a trailer there to live in. They had been living with us since they were married and were looking forward to a place of their own. Chris who was a friend of theirs was living with us also. He was only supposed to stay for a couple nights but those nights had turned into almost a year. We had grown to love him like a son. He called us Mom and Dad.

Chris had gone to Jackson, Mississippi, for the weekend to see his girlfriend. As I got to the laundromat, my phone rang and it was him telling me that he was heading home because things didn’t work out with his girlfriend and he would tell me about it when he saw me. He was crying and very upset so I told him to settle down before he started home, and to call Bill to get directions to make sure he got on the right highway. I was worried about Chris, so I called Brad and told him to look out for him and that he was upset. Brad told me he would handle things and for me not to worry.

Bill worked periodically for us at the laundromat when he was needed and he was covering a shift that night because one of the girls had taken off. When he got to work, I ran and got us dinner and then stayed and ate with him. Chris had made it home safely and Brad, him and Samantha were going to go to the car races to get his mind off his girlfriend. Chris called to ask if I could bring them something home to eat, so as a joke I stopped and got them kid meals with the toy. When I pulled up at the house, Brad and Chris came running out the door to get their food. The expressions on their faces were priceless when they saw that I had gotten kid’s meals. They sat at the table joking and teasing as they ate and even played with the toys. Samantha gathered the toys up and gave them to Cindy who was excited to get them.

I enjoyed watching them interact and my heart smiled. Brad and Samantha had changed their plans for the night because of Chris being upset and I was grateful. They left the house only to return forty-five minutes later. The car races had been cancelled because it had rained earlier and the track was wet. Instead of them being disappointed they decided to change clothes and go to the movies. Brad and Samantha changed outfits several times asking me each time what I thought until they settled on white shirts and black pants. They were dressed alike. Samantha usually pulled her hair up into a ponytail but Chris suggested that she keep it down. They were laughing and teasing and were enjoying each other and life in general.

If I could stop here and rewrite the events, I would. Because when they left the house, life changed forever. I was sitting at the desk working on the computer when Chris leaned down to hug me. He said he loved me and would see me when they got home. I hugged him back. I wish now I wouldn’t have let go. Brad was walking by when Chris nudged him and told him to give his mother a hug. Brad jumped back teasingly saying, I’m not going to hug her! We all laughed as I popped him in the stomach and told them to go and have fun. I wish now I had hugged him. Samantha walked by following Chris and I told her she looked pretty. She smiled and said thank you. I wish now I would have told her I loved her.

When Brad got to the door he called my name, Mom. I looked around the wall that separated us and he said, I love you. I’ll see you when we get home. I told him that I loved him also and for them to be careful and have fun. These were the last words to my son. Why didn’t I tell him how proud I was of him and I was so honored to be his mother. Why didn’t I ask them to stay home? We could have popped popcorn and watched movies. Why didn’t I stop him? I didn’t know that when he walked out that he would never walk back in.

An hour later Bill called. He was on his way home from his part-time job to let me know he had to detour from his route because of a roadblock due to a car crash and he would be a little late. My maternal instinct kicked in and I told him I would call the kids to make sure they were okay, and tell them to avoid that area on their way home. Bill said the crash had both sides of the highway closed, and the night sky was lit up with emergency vehicles.

Brad didn’t answer his phone, which was nothing unusual when he was at the movies, so I called Samantha. When she didn’t answer I started to panic. Samantha always answered her phone.

I then called Chris but got no answer, and I knew. I knew they were somehow involved in that crash. I immediately called Bill and told him to go back to the roadblock and find the kids. I was going to get in my car and head that way but Bill, fearing the worst, told me to stay put until he found something out. To ensure I didn’t try to leave he called my brother Alan to come over and take my keys.

I paced the floor, calling Brad over and over again. My two sisters, Susan and Sandy, heard what was going on and