When Someone Dies in Your Arms

My first “real date” in decades happened on February 7, 2019.  I had been married most of my life and the long divorce proceeding would be final in a few short weeks.  Dating was something I never thought I would ever do again. I felt giddy and silly and sixteen. I was also determined to get it right this time.   I was taking responsibility for my failed relationship and being very mindful in anticipation of my dinner date with Jerry.

Jerry and I met at the gym two years ago and worked out at the same time twice a week.  He had one of those smiles that lit up the room. He was kind and helpful to fellow workout enthusiasts and had an air of confidence about him.  He seemed happy in his own skin, which I admired. For 2 years we just smiled at each other and had a little friendly chit chat. The first week of February of 2019, at the triceps machine, we discovered we were both single.  So, we made a date for February 7.

We had an elegant dinner at an expensive restaurant and had fun.  Yes, fun. Honest to goodness fun. We hit it off like we had been happily married to each other in another lifetime.  We were both excited for our next date and the next one and the next.

Jerry turned out to be a truly lovely man.  Lovely is an odd word to describe a former college football player who, at seventy-one, still worked out every day and had the biceps of a young bodybuilder.  But lovely, fit Jerry perfectly. He was sweet, considerate, generous, and did I say fun?

On March 7, 2019, one month after our first date and after one month of getting to know each other, we were dancing in his designer kitchen.  Jerry loved to cook, so we would meet at the gym at 8:00 am and work out for an hour and then go back to his house and he would fix me breakfast.  On this particular morning he was playing the new Johnny Mathis music CD he bought for me. We were slow dancing to my favorite song after we finished our fruit salad.  One second, he was gazing into my eyes, and then, in an instant, they had rolled into the back of his head. I didn’t know it at that moment, but he died instantly.

I screamed and screamed, but nobody heard me.  I ran for my phone, but my fingers were shaking so badly that I couldn’t enter my code to unlock it.  I was hysterical. I yelled a prayer and the trembling subsided long enough for me to access my cell and dial 911.  I know I was in shock, but I do remember the woman on the other end of the line was patient and kind as she methodically instructed me on how to attempt to resuscitate Jerry.  I was trying so hard to follow her instructions, but my heart was beating so loudly I could barely hear her and asked her over and over to keep repeating the process. She patiently did.

The paramedics arrived so quickly I couldn’t believe it.  They expertly took over and graciously ushered me into another room to wait and pray.  I asked them what hospital they would be taking Jerry to, and they told me, but later when they said he wouldn’t need to go to the hospital after all, I thought it was because he was okay.  I didn’t understand it was because he had not survived. I had not understood he was already dead when they arrived. We were just talking about our dinner date that evening to meet his best friend and his wife.  He was bragging earlier that morning that he had had a recent physical and there was not a thing wrong with him.

Also, earlier that morning, unbeknownst to me, on his walk to the gym to meet me, he had mailed me a card that arrived on the Saturday after he died.  The touching card said that he was thinking about me.

When the police, the detective, and the coroner arrived they were as kind and gentle as the paramedics had been.  They worked calmly, efficiently, and quickly as they comforted me. My dear friend happened to be close by and immediately came to my side. Everyone I encountered that tragic day were all kind hearted compassionate individuals. I felt as though they had all been hand-picked by God to help me through this traumatic situation.

These are the seven reasons that I have written this blog:

1. To thank all the 911 operators, paramedics, police men and women, detectives, and coroners that have chosen to do this kind of work every day.  My grateful heart goes out to you. And a very special thank you to Michelle, the coroner, who is an angel here on earth. She made this catastrophic experience as good as it could possibly be.  
2. To thank my dear friend Cynthia and all the friends that will drop whatever they are doing to come to the aid of a fellow friend in distress.  
3. To advise everyone to know how to work the emergency features on their Smartphones.  I have removed the passcode requirement from my iPhone. I didn’t know that was an option.  
4. To suggest memorizing the phone numbers and addresses of those you hold most dear.  The 911 operator needed Jerry’s address. I had to switch screens with my quivering hands and search for it in my contacts, all the while I was panicked that doing so might be costing Jerry his life.  
5. To encourage you to take a CPR class, like I am.  I now know that I was not pressing hard enough on Jerry’s chest.  Sadly, the coroner told me that it didn’t matter. She later informed me that he was gone instantaneously, and nobody could have resuscitated him.  But, heaven forbid, it ever happens again – I will be prepared.
6. To remind you to live in the present moment and appreciate everything and everyone that you have in your life.  There are no guarantees. Don’t wait to say the things that you want to say.
7. To get some support in dealing with your grief and trauma.

I decided to take my own advice and became one of my own coaching clients in order to deal with the shock and grief over losing Jerry.  In coaching myself, I was surprised that it came

intuitively.  I had suffered another recent tragic loss, that sadly, had “paved the way.”  These were the seven immediate steps that I automatically took:

1. I found gratitude.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude for all those who literally “came to my rescue.”  I was grateful for the time that I had with Jerry and all the laughter that we had shared.  I was grateful that I was there with him and he did not die alone. I was grateful to be able to share with Jerry’s loved ones, that I knew he was happy and having a good time when he left this world.
2. I opened my heart and filled it with love and happy memories.
3. I prayed.  I have found that in situations like these, even atheists pray.  For me, prayer is powerful, as has been validated in numerous scientific studies. https://www.nationalreview.com/2018/04/what-prayer-is-good-for-and-the-evidence-forit/
4. I recalled the physics I had been taught.  We are energy. Love is energy. We learned in school that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, but only changed from one form to another.  We cannot see the wind or gravity, but yet we know they are present. I knew that Jerry had left his body; but his energy, his spirit, his soul, still existed.  I love what Dr. Wayne Dyer used to say, “The body is just the garage where you park your soul.”
5. I watched for signs.  In my experience, I have found that loved ones will send you indisputable signs, but you have to be open to look for them and acknowledge them.  I have had several distinct signs from Jerry and mind-boggling signs from others that I will detail in future blogs.
6. I raised my vibration.  Gratitude and love are powerful frequencies that can raise your vibration.  Those that physically die, and “crossover,” are vibrating at a higher frequency than we are.  By raising our vibration, it’s easier for us to “connect” with them. I have found that by elevating my vibration, I am able to receive more signs and that eases the grief in the moment.
7. I remembered a story.   There is a story that I often share with my clients.  I am not saying don’t cry, because I do believe tears are a necessary release, but this story helped me.

“There once was a procession of children marching in heaven. Each child held a lighted candle, and as they marched, they sang. Their faces shone with happiness. But one little girl stood alone. “Why don’t you join us, little girl?” one happy child asked. “I can’t,” she said. “Every time I light my candle my mother puts it out with her tears.”

I will close with this well-known quote, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, which is why we call it the present.”

If you are dealing with a loss or grief, please email me deeringdianne@gmail.com or call me 760-880-0374 for a complimentary 30-minute introductory discernment session.