Author Archives: Carl Quinn

Losing my wife suddenly has been one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to deal with. When Laurie had her brain aneurysm in our bathroom and laid in my arms on the bathroom floor waiting for EMS to arrive, I tried to remain calm to support her. But inside, my heart was pumping harder than it had ever pumped before. I don’t remember feeling the double beat. I just felt, thump, thump, thump. Seconds seemed like minutes. Minutes seemed like hours. EMS managed to move Laurie to the ambulance. For a split second I was relieved. She was in the hands of the professionals now. That thought was fleeting. I knew what we’d just experienced together. I knew what the likely outcome was. I knew I was going to have to drive to the hospital not knowing what I would face when I got there.

I knew it well. I’d had the same experience 6 years ago with Mom when she had her “grand mal” seizures at home due to Stage IV Terminal Brain Cancer. I was kneeling in front of my mother when the first and then the second seizure hit. I was standing next to Laurie in our bathroom holding onto her arms when hers hit. Both of their brains were being devastated by chaos; and there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it. I was powerless and I was scared out of my mind. I hope in the end, I made Laurie and my mom less scared by being by their side the entire time. It’s what they would have done for me and for everyone else.

Today, I continue to be scared. Scared for our family. Scared for my future. Scared for all of the unknowns that are coming my way. Having to be a widow scares me. Being a single parent scares me. Having no partner to talk about the everyday struggles of living life scares me. Having to meet with the lawyers, the banks, the insurance companies, the creditors…. All of it. All of it scares me because I never expected to be here. Everyone says “take time to process your grief”. It feels like there is no time to do that. There are things that MUST be done. There are things that can’t wait for this grief to subside; regardless of whether I’m scared about it or not. So each day, I put two feet on the floor and say, “It’s ok to be scared, but you WILL get through this.” My mind doesn’t always let me believe that. My heart for sure doesn’t feel like that most days. Regardless, that’s how I try to start my day. By telling myself it’s OK to be scared, but you are STRONGER than you think you are.

What I’ve learned in the last few weeks is that I’m less scared when I think about others that are in the same or similar situations as me. There are connections. There is help. There are people who will guide me and support me on this journey. Friends, family and co-workers. People who are strangers to me but knew Laurie. I know they are all here to stand, walk, cry, hug, and yes, even laugh with me.

Tonight, Samantha Van Alstyne has joined this blog as a guest writer of her own grief experience losing her mom 9 years ago. Although the relationships to our loved ones are different, Sam and I have commonality in our grief and being scared. More guest writers will be joining the blog soon.

During Christmas week, a client at work that knew what I was struggling with left a present on my desk for me with the assistance of my staff showing him where to go. I hadn’t arrived at the office yet. When I did arrive, I found a beautifully wrapped present and a card. I opened the card first to learn who the present was from. It’s a client we’ve been assisting who is also an incredible artist. Upon opening his present, I found the beautiful gift you see below that he handmade. A true work of art created by his own hand. It says “Everyone is a bit scared said the horse. But we are less scared together.” It is beautiful and touching! and is the perfect message that helps carry me through each day now. “We are less scared together.” I have it on my desk where I can easily see it throughout the day. Yes, I’m still scared. Yes, I still have a rough road ahead of me. but I can choose to surround myself with those I know will support me, love me and help me move forward one step at a time, because we are less scared TOGETHER.

Here it is, the last day of 2021. I can say that I never expected to be at this point. I never expected that Laurie wouldn’t live to see another New Years’ Eve. She has been gone 39 days today. The grief is overwhelming. The sense of loss devastating. I haven’t decided what’s worse yet….. 1) Waking up in the morning and not having her with me. As I would be on the way out the door, she’d say “Have a great day. Be amazing”. Or 2) Coming home at the end of the day and walking in the door knowing she’s not here waiting. Waiting with that smile she always greeted everyone with. The “Hi, How was your day?”. I took those things for granted. I expected they would always be here. I’m stunned that those things will never happen again. Most days now, I walk in the door to silence. It’s deafening. Even as I sit here now writing this, there is no noise of a video game. No music playing. No laughing at a funny video or Facebook post coming from the bedroom. I’d even welcome hearing a snore at this point. But all I hear is the second hand ticking on the kitchen clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. It is a reminder that time marches on. and it will continue to march on, regardless of whether I am ready for it to or not.

Today was usually a day of celebration. It is Bailey Dog’s birthday. He turns 9 this year. It would be a night of watching the ball drop on TV. Eating snacks as we went about the evening. All culminating with a kiss at midnight listening to whatever loud-mouth TV show host was on. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the togetherness. The anticipation and the hope of a new year. New excitement. New adventures. New opportunities. We’d talk about our ideas for the new year. We’d talk about when we’d start planning our next Cape Cod trip. And we’d cap it off with our usual ending to each other as we turned out the lights for the night. She’d say “me and you”. I’d say “you and me”. She’d say “Always”. I’d say “Forever”. I’ll miss her incredibly this New Years Eve. but I’ll still take time to remember. I’ll remember the “Always & Forever”. Happy New Year, everyone.

Take time to make time. Make memories. Live life. Tomorrow is promised to no one.