Cassidy and I had been married for over 20 years. We have four beautiful daughters, and three grandchildren. But his blog isn’t about us, it is about my journey as a widower, so let’s just get into the details. First of all, I will not be censoring what I write. I apologize if the content is disturbing, but I want to be as honest and real as possible. My journey, of course, begins the day Cassidy died.

May 4th, 2022 was much like any other day. Cassidy struggled with multiple serious health challenges, both mental and physical, and May 4th was a bad day. Around 6:30 am, I said goodbye as Cassidy left to volunteer at the food bank, where she volunteered all day Monday through Thursday. I could tell she was in a bad mood, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Cassidy returned home from the food bank at around 3:00pm, and went to the master bedroom. Because of her health challenges, she would frequently go to bed between 3:30 and 4:00pm using a medication that made her sleep for 12-14 hours. This ensured she would get up in time to volunteer at the food bank. I went and talked to her in the bedroom, she was sitting on the bed and wasn’t very talkative.

On the days where she was very depressed, it was not uncommon for her to just go to sleep without interacting with me or our one daughter still living at home. This seemed like one of those days. I told her that I loved her and that I was going to take the dog for a walk. My daughter came on the walk with me.

When we got home from walking the dog it was about 3:40 and the door to the master bedroom was closed. I assumed Cassidy had gone to bed and went to my study. I made dinner about 5:00pm and sent Cassidy a text inviting her to eat with us. This is how I usually communicated with her in the evenings. If she were awake she would respond, but if she were asleep a text would not wake her. She did not respond, reinforcing my belief that she was asleep.

At about 7:15pm, I received a text from our church. Cassidy had had an appointment with the Bishop at 7:00, but didn’t show up or cancel. I told them I would check on her. The door to the master bedroom was locked, which was unusual. I unlocked the door and fully expected to see Cassidy asleep in bed. Instead I saw her laying in the middle of the floor. I stopped and stared for a moment as what I was seeing sank in.

I actually don’t remember much of what was there. All I remember seeing was that her chest wasn’t rising, her hand was motionless at her side, and there was a lot of blood on the floor. The next few minutes were a numb fog. I know as soon as I called 911 that my house would be filled with law enforcement, and that was one of the trauma triggers for our daughter. I called my brother, who lives a mile away and told him to come pick up my daughter, then I sent my daughter outside to wait for him. I only told her that her mom had hurt herself again. Then I called 911.

I sat in my dining room for hours while the police conducted their investigation. I was watched by an officer constantly. It was very stressful. During this time, I was trying to wrap my head around what happened. Cassidy was dead. She was really dead. Still lying on the floor directly above where I was sitting. Dead. There was a flood of emotion, and confusion. In the middle of this torrent of feelings, I felt a distinct peace, that Cassidy was ok. She was at peace. It was clear and distinct and come from nowhere.

When they concluded that there was no reason to hold me, they let me go to my brother’s house while they concluded their investigation in the house. I didn’t sleep well that night. I actually didn’t sleep at all. As I would start to sleep, I would jerk awake with the image of Cassidy lying on the floor. Dead. It was an image that haunted me. Who am I kidding, it’s been over a month as I write this, and it still haunts me.

So this is where it started. This is the moment I became a widower. Lost in an unfamiliar sea, drowning in my thoughts, memories, and emotions.