A rude awakening

When the baby was 3 months old I was breast feeding him in the morning, laying in bed. My husbands alarm clock went off but he didn't wake up.

Not that uncommon though, he was a heavy sleeper. I kicked him in the butt to wake him up but nothing happened.

I finish feeding the baby and get up to turn the alarm of and shake him to life. Little did I know that this choice of words is very unfortunate.

I turn the clock off, grab his shoulder to shake him awake. No reaction. He is so cold and something isn't right. I shake him again as my mind starts to look for life signs. He isn't breathing.

I feel for a pulse. I must have done it 10 times, cant find any. I shake him again but his body is stiff. I check for a pulse again and finally it enters my mind. He is dead.

I´m in shock. I call emergency service and report his death. I call my mom and my best friend.

The ambulance arrives. One of them goes in to my dead husband as the other one sits down asking me a lot of questions.

I hear the ambulance guy use the machine that starts hearts with electric shocks. I remember thinking, let him be, he is already dead stupid. My sons wake up and I stop them from entering the bedroom, I dint want them to see their dad dead.

A doctor arrives, declares my husband dead.

By now my friend and my mother has arrived. They do most of the talking. I just do the things that has to be done. All the things that demands no thinking. Dishes, laundry. Setting the table, serving meals.

The police comes. As my husband died at home without apparent reasons his death is considered suspicious. They are the first to sit down and ask me how I´m feeling.

I have no words really, I feel numb.

They call the undertaker that removes the body from our home. They arrange for the removal of the bed and delivery of a new bed saying it will help me sleep.

Now suddenly I´m sick, alone and there is so much to do. Planning of a funeral and a lot of other practical things surrounding a death. Helping the kids deal with their grief, professional help was not available. Weeks turn into months and eventually I accept that I´m a widow at age 34.

Its a hard life but I do my best and try to get the kids the help they need.

I decide to move yet again. This time to come home to my heritage.

I find a new home for us and all is good. But by now I think you understand that its soon to change.