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March 21, 2005: Today started with the realization that my love had been gone for about 48 hours. Actually, I didn't realize until 10:15 a.m. when it had been 54 hours. It's amazing how time flies when you're in a daze, confused.

I spent today going through things in my head, blaming myself for not being there at the end properly, wondering what I was going to do and just crying off and on. I tried to comfort the kids the best I could, talking and remembering their mom. It has been really tough today.

The tears came and went, while we spent the day figuring out what we were going to wear to the viewing and the funeral, and contacting people about the times and stuff. The notice was supposed to be in the paper today, Diane's ex-sister-in-law was seeing to that, but it didn't make it today. I'm hoping it will be in tomorrow's. I phoned around today and started to get all the wheels in motion for this and that, all the little things you have to take care of. It seems to be never ending.

Here I thought I was going to be able to relax today. No such luck. By afternoon we realized we were going to have to buy some clothes for the kids, so we went to Zellers (the only thing open after 6:00) this evening and got a few things, mostly for our oldest. They didn't have a lot of what we needed, so it looks like we'll go into Richmond tomorrow, maybe check out Sears and other places.

The kids and I went out for dinner, and it was a somewhat somber occasion. The kids are dealing with this in their own way, each one completely different from the other. I'm coming to the realization that I have a big job here, and don't have any time for myself yet.

March 22, 2005: Funny, the morning Diane died it was pouring rain. The rain continued through to Sunday, and lightened up on Monday. By today, the day of the viewing there was almost not a cloud in the sky. It was a beautiful day for a viewing. However, the notice still wasn't in the paper this morning and I'm pretty upset about that.

This morning I took the kids into Richmond. The viewing was this afternoon, and they didn't have any clothes to wear. We started at one end of the mall and went to the other, finding almost nothing. On the return trip via the other side of the mall, I managed to get our daughter a nice outfit, and man, does she look like a woman now! That's scary. We kept looking.

Our youngest son, I got him a nice outfit, complete with his first tie. By the time we left there, all the kids were set with new clothes, and I stopped at the McD's drive-thru to get them something to eat.

I noticed today that the kids have gone through some changes. Prior to Diane's death, the oldest wouldn't speak of her illness much, our daughter had convinced herself that her mom was going to be ok, and the youngest put all sorts of energy into prayer and went for some counseling. Our older son went to counseling once, and our daughter had said she would only go to counseling if Diane did, which she did, and I still couldn't get our daughter to go. Grief counseling, even while a person is still alive, is something I'd seriously recommend to anyone. I myself went several times, and I think that really helped hold me together for some time.

The day Diane died, our oldest hid himself in his room for several hours, then came out and started talking. The way he dealt with her illness was in silence, apparently typical of anyone in the 16 year old range. Now he's been talking quite a bit, and it's good to see him getting it out. Our daughter, in her early teens, had been crying just about all weekend, wrapped herself up in her mom's robe and stayed mostly in her room. Now she's running around making sure we're all eating properly, and fussing over everyone. I'm just letting her go with it, but I must make sure she doesn't try to take over the 'Mommy' role. That's too much responsibility and wouldn't be fair to her at all. The youngest son is surprising me. This pre-teen who had talked most about it, who I was least worried about how he'd handle it, we've almost had to force-feed him. He walks around dazed, not talking and looking so alone and forlorn. Our oldest has definitely taken him under his wing, and is keeping me informed of his and our daughter's status.

I've watched them all grow up the last couple of days, and it breaks my heart to see it. Kids shouldn't have to grow up like this.

This afternoon we went to the viewing. Diane looked beautiful in the dress she wore at our wedding. It's a peach coloured dress with lace sleeves that she had custom made when we got married. The funeral home people did just an incredible job on Diane, she looked just like we did when we got married. I could envision her standing up, and when I compared that vision with my memories of seeing her walking towards me when we got married, I was floored by how identical those two images were. When she was standing in front of me listening to our marriage ceremony she closed her eyes and time seemed to stop for just a moment. Seeing her in her casket this way was identical. I looked at the peace on her face, the lines from stress and illness gone, and this was the woman I had married. It seemed like 10 years had just disappeared. I can't say enough about how beautiful she was.

I must also note here that the children looked just fantastic in their outfits. Two young men and a young woman, I almost couldn't see them as 'kids'.

When we first got there, it was just me and the kids. You come into a main 'lobby' with a few couches and stuff, and then there's a small waiting room in front of you with a couch in there, and beyond that is the viewing room. The viewing room had a big over-stuffed couch, 2 armchairs and 2 wingback chairs. The casket is along the one wall. Our viewing time was from 2:00 - 5:00.

I brought the kids into the waiting room and closed the door. I told the funeral director we wanted to be alone, and he assured us he'd keep everyone away until we were ready, which he figured would be about 3:00.

I told the kids I would go in first and would let them know what to expect. I wanted to see what kind of job the funeral home had done, and the layout, so I could prepare the kids if there was any problem and what to expect.

I went into the viewing room alone and spoke to Diane. I probably spent 15 minutes with her, just by myself. Then, I took a deep breath, and went back to see the kids. I told them what I had seen, and asked them if they wanted to see her. I told them I'd take one at a time in. An important thing I did (which anyone reading this should do) is tell the kids not to touch her face. If you want to touch your spouse at the viewing (assuming you have a viewing), and unless you've worked around dead bodies a lot, DO NOT touch anything but their hands. Their hands are cold, but you can rationalize that with any time they've been out in the cold and come inside. The touch and texture of their hands are very similar to coming in from a winter night without gloves on. If you touch their face or chest, or elsewhere on their body, that touch will haunt you for a long, long time.

Myself, I touched her, held her hands, kissed her and for some unknown reason I even lifted the drape over the bottom part of the casket and made sure she was wearing the nylons and underwear we had supplied. I suppose I was trying to preserve her dignity, making sure the clothes were just right, that everything fit. I admit I felt kind of morbid touching her body and doing minor adjustments so no one could see anything 'private', but I wanted her to have the most dignity she could. On the other hand, if I could have climbed in there with her and had them close the lid on both of us together, I probably would have.

I could handle the touches because of where I worked, but I can tell you that I can remember as clear as day the texture and feel of the first body I ever touched in the morgue. That was probably over 10 years ago and I will never forget it. If you aren't used to it, it will destroy any positive imagery you get out of the viewing. You will not remember the last time you touched his/her face, all you will remember is the time you touched the face of a cold, dead body. Don't do that to yourself.

I asked who wanted to go in first, as I would go in with each of them alone for the first look. As I took each one in, I was seriously struggling just to stay on my feet. I think this was about the hardest thing I had ever done. Each child said their goodbye's again, this time for the last time that they would see their mother, and it was heartbreaking.

I left them each alone with her for some time, and they each left a letter in the casket with her. This was suggested to me by a Hospice worker, and it apparently helps a lot with the grieving process, as they can write anything they wanted to say privately, and no one reads them, or they can simply put an empty envelope in with her along with their thoughts. I think it's the actual action of doing 'something' that helps mostly. For my part, I haven't taken off my wedding ring, and I am wearing hers on my pinky as well. I am also wearing a pendant I bought her several months ago on our last trip together, which was to Tofino on Vancouver Island.

Once the kids were finished, I went back inside by myself, and just stood there. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. The kids wandered in and out, we were in a combined state of confusion and I think just being there alone helped us all. I felt a connection between the four of us and Diane that transcended death, and I knew she was there for us.

We then let everyone else in, and people started coming and going. A couple of her friends (and one I knew) from work were the first to appear, and then more and more started showing up, mostly family members and her ex-husband and his mom (they showed up again this morning). There were a couple of comments made that made me extremely angry (such as her ex-mother-in-law making negative comments about the dress and why 'couldn't they have put her in something better'), but I knew Diane and I knew she'd just tell me to blow it off, so I did. I wasn't letting anything negative get to me today, it was a gorgeous day, I opened the blinds to let the sun stream into the room and light up the casket with natural light, and then people started talking. We ended up with a bunch of us in a semi-circle around Diane, and there were tears and laughter. Diane wanted laughter, and she got it. Overall it was a touching and beautiful experience, which I have to thank just about everyone for.

The rest of the day was kind of a blur, but I focused mostly on the children. They needed it, and I needed a focus. I went out with a friend for a while, and got my head together, then returned home. Once again I had to go and sleep in our bed. That is something I have such a hard time doing, but the Ativan helps a bit. I haven't changed our sheets, nor have I moved her pillows. I can still smell Diane on them, and on some of her clothes. I dread the day I have to change those sheets, and I don't care how bad they get I will only change them when I am ready.

I've played our song over the last couple of days, and been on and off of her computer, and this evening I found a poem she had written to us, and to everyone in general, called 'When the Time Comes'. It's an awesome reflection of exactly what her personality was like, and I'm going to have it read at the funeral tomorrow. (Note: That poem is on the front page of this site.)