My Boyfriend Drowned

I have never blogged before, but now is as good a time as any to “tell my story”. Which, up until now, I assumed would be pointless and likely to fall on deaf ears. I wanted to post it on the Drowning Support Network webpage, but was unsure how to go about that. So, I posted it on link removed, but am not sure that's where people would go to read something like this.. So, I am re-posting it here, adding some things I later wished I had added to my original blog. I sincerely hope this is an “easy read” and not the ramblings of a lost madwoman. In an attempt to make it an easier read (albiet incorrect), I usually put my elaborations/descriptions in parentheses..and I put my “something I have to say now before I forget”s in parentheses too. I warn that I don’t know how long I will ramble on, as I have not journaled or put any of the experiences I’ve had into words, besides talking to friends here and there since my boyfriend died — until now. So, it’s all from the perspective of being 9 months into this. As opposed to most blogs I read, where people blog their experiences as they go along.

Some blogs I read made me feel hopeful; some made me feel like “Yes! That’s exactly how that feels. What a brilliant and candid thing to put into words.”; some made me feel gutwrenchingly sad for the writer, while also feeling less alone in the hole of pain; some made me feel like, “Oh no! It is possible to still be utterly broken hearted far into the future, when I already feel like I’ve been here, in this, for so long already.”; and some make me drift off to thoughts of “never-agains” (where I mentally list several little things that I will never get to do with him again, like order pizza, ride in the car, or decide on a movie). But, nevertheless, I’m always glad to have read them. Since I haven’t done any of the things suggested for me to do to help me through the grief process (like exercise, adequate sleep, avoiding excess amounts of alcohol, or therapy) I thought I’d at least try 2 of the suggested things: writing my thoughts and feelings, and attempting to be there for someone else that has either lost their boyfriend or lost someone to sudden death.

I am a 28-year-old girl living in Texas; and almost 9 months ago, when I was 27, my 24-year-old boyfriend drowned while wade fishing in dangerous currents.

We had spent every day and night together (besides working and the occasional night I’d go to visit my family 2 hours away) almost all year, and had basically just split our time between his house and my apt. We had only officially lived together in the same one house for 2 weeks before he died, and were still half living out of boxes — as neither of us had ever been “neat freaks”, and petty things like putting our clothes in drawers wasn’t as important to us as sitting on the porch with our feet up talking about how we should be cleaning. We are both the kind of people whose idea of matching socks is 2 clean socks. We had a lot of fun. Always. I am loud and passionate, and he was passionate about unique things, but pretty even-tempered and always genuinely paying attention (in a way that made you feel like he cares about what you’re saying — more than he’s thinking about what he’s about to say.) There was an ease about him. People felt at ease around him. He was 6’2″, good-looking, very smart, quick-witted, and knew a little about everything — all while never coming off as a know-it-all. And he had a captivating smile..one that would make anyone, including straight men think (and a lot of times Say..) damn, you have a bright smile..or something similar to that. People, not just me, were actually taken aback, in a way (‘warmed’ is the word I think of) by his perfectly straight, white-teethy, big smile. The look in somone’s eye while smiling greatly effects people’s perception of their smile. He had the perfect look in his eye when he was smiling — of a genuine interest and approval of whatever or whoever he was smiling at. People did seem to feel drawn to him. These are things I always Felt when he was alive, but have since had to put them into thoughts in order to have them as memories..since those feelings are no longer part of my everyday. (That’s what lonley is for me.)

He had just the right sense of humor for me. He "got" me. He made me laugh more than anyone else ever had. He was smart-funny, and quick to cut a look in my direction when a joke Needed to be made, but..had to wait until we were alone so no one's feelings got hurt, because our way of joking about things and with eachother was unique to us. Out of context, we ran the risk of being misinterpreted..but no explaination was required between him and me. Even if hours had gone by, and several things had happened in the meantime..the second we were alone, we would start laughing knowing Exactly what eachother was about to say about what ever funny thing had happened..that most like only he and I found humorus. That doesn't happen in life with everyone. It's rare. I loved it, and felt very lucky.

He was a very enthusiastic saltwater fisherman; and he and I enjoyed fishing together as often as possible. He loved it more than I did; but I loved being out there with him, and grew to love wade fishing more and more as the summer went on. We always had a good time when we were fishing. I especially loved it when no one else went with us. Those are some of my best memories of our time together.

He got home from work at about midnight Monday night with plans to rest a while, and leave before sunrise to pick up his fishing buddy and head down to the beach. I watched the tide report with him that night, watched him pack up the cooler, and then I lay in bed surfing the Internet for a dress to wear to his best friend’s upcoming wedding, while he lay next to me attempting to nap before heading out. When the nap attempt failed, we got up, went downstairs, and talked on the porch for a while before going to lay back down. He then got up a while later, went into the bathroom to get dressed and brush his teeth, then stood over the bed to tell me goodbye and that he would be back to lay down with me before I had to go to work that afternoon. I reached up, lightly held both sides of his face and kissed him goodbye. I’ll never forget that taste of mouthwash on his breath in that moment. We exchanged ‘I love yous’, but I can’t remember who said it first that particular time. It was dark in the room, but I could feel that his five o’clock shadow had already made a slight appearance from probably not shaving before work the previous day. I could also feel that he had a bandanna on his head, but couldn’t see which color he had chosen. (I flashed back to that feeling when the funeral director handed me the bag of the clothes he was last wearing — I learned that he had chosen the burgandy one.) He only wore a bandanna for fishing on some occasions, but not every time. I then said ‘see you later’ as I watched his profile leave the crack in the bedroom door as he was closing it behind him. I then heard his car start and leave the driveway. I set my alarm on my phone, and then set it to silent (for the last time in my life — I will never put my phone on silent again.), tooled around on the computer for a little while longer, ate a bowl of the best clam chowder — for the last time — (he always picked it up for me on his way home from work), and went to sleep.

When I awoke several hours later, I looked at my phone to see how much longer I could sleep and ponder how much longer until he would be home. When I saw that I had 10 missed calls. I sat straight up, and my hands shook as I scrolled to see who they were from. 2 from his phone (which ended up being from his friend, although his friend doesn’t remember placing those calls and says that they were in fact my boyfriend trying to call me before going into the water..the timing doesn’t make sense, as I believe he was already dead when the calls were placed) and the other 8 were from his fishing buddy’s wife (who was not with them, but had heard the news from her husband). I immediately called my boyfriend’s phone, and when I got an answer my heart rate returned to normal and I inhaled air for the first time since seeing the missed calls. I felt relieved. That was short-lived as I quickly realized it was his friend’s voice, and not his.

I asked in a concerned, but not panicked voice, “What’s going on?”

His response was, “oh man, you mean no one has talked to you yet?”

“No, I just woke up. What?!”

“I don’t want to tell you over the phone, I’m on my way home now, and I’ll just talk to you when I get there.”

I jumped out of the bed, where I had been sitting with my feet on the floor — and in a demanding, angry tone screamed, “You have to tell me right now. You absolutely have to! Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

“Brian died.”

That’s how I “got the news”. The conversation continued in circles of disbelief, blame, cursing, begging, and back around again. All the while, I was running through the house opening and closing every single door — bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets — while violently shaking my head no and screaming No!No!No! repeatedly before finally squatting down and asking his friend, “How could you do this to me? I was supposed to marry him!”

In that moment, every item in my line of sight seemed to scream, “He’s never coming back for this stuff..any of it!” So I ran outside to call my grandmother, and ended up sitting Indian-style in the front yard pulling out handfuls of grass and vomiting.

He never came home from his fishing trip that day. What I had to be thankful for immediately was that his body was recovered. (I never would have imagined how much I Needed to physically See him at least one more time). I can’t imagine this grieving process without having had that, and I hope and pray for peace for the people whose loved one’s body was not recovered. The next time I saw him was just his body, 5 days later, wearing his favorite suit that I had picked out for him. I remember how I felt the first time I saw him in that suit vs. how it felt to see him wearing it in a casket, which I also picked out. Choosing a casket to complement, and not clash with, the suit was not a styling decision I could’ve ever imagined I’d be making. Seeing his body was the only moment of relief I had felt all week, and I still don’t completely understand why. Per my request, there hadn’t been any makeup put on him yet. That wasn’t the best decision, but I had been to too many funerals of men that were made up to look like dolls..or characatures of themselves; and preserving the diginity of his masculinity for the last time anyone would ever set eyes on him was extremely important to me. I was very detailed in my request for how much and what type of makeup would be applied to him for the viewing/service. I regret that it caused his mother to have to see her son with a “gray palor” (as his dad put it). I remember Every single thing that happened, and how Every single thing looked the first time I was allowed to see him after he died. That is the only clear memory (that doesn’t just come to me in bits and pieces..or that I haven’t completely forgotten) that I have of the next two months after that (roughly).

I opted to have his lips flesh-toned as opposed to attempting to make it look like there was blood flowing through them like there is in life. He was lifeless. That was all there was to it. Putting lipstick or lip tint of any kind on a man, my man, was just not something I could get behind.

He looked as handsome as he always did..but in a “not in there anymore” kind of way. I’ve heard people say that they just hoped their dead loved one would open their eyes, get up, and wonder what all this fuss was about. That was not the case at all for me. He did not look like he was just sleeping. He looked dead. That was it. I would never touch his hand or face with life in it ever again, so I opted only to touch his hair. Other than not having any natural oils in it, it felt and looked the most alive to me. It will forever be burned into my body and thoughts what it felt like to touch him when he was alive, and I did not want to take the risk of having those memories replaced with what it may have felt like to touch his body after he had died.

Up until the funeral, and for a long period of time afterward, I lost my sanity. There is no other way to describe it. I even lost my mind (and all sense of what my actions might look like to others) at the burial. As his body was lowered into the ground, I erupted. That is the only way to put it. Embarrassing. For the next 2 or so months I was a chatterbox, whirlwind of hysteric sadness, that would either not leave the chair in the backyard all day, or would not stay in one location for more than a couple hours. Nowhere felt “right”. I wanted to get away from everyone without having to be alone. I could not sleep at all unless I accidently passed out for a while from over-drinking. I found that for the first few weeks, the only way to sleep at all was to pass out on any friend’s couch as opposed to trying to go to sleep in “our” bed.

I was all in all a mess. For at least 2 weeks I don’t think I slept at all. The adrenaline-pumped feeling I had would not ease. So I drank. Hindsight later made me realize that I was then just an adrenaline-pumped drunk, as opposed to calmed at all by the drinking. I would panic, and freak out. I would want to be alone simply so that I could loudly cry and beg for this to not have happened. People could see it all over my tear-ridden face that I had not slept..in God knows how long. But, I would “keep going”.

I could hardly be convinced to eat. My throat always felt tight, and dry — making it hard to swallow. And I never knew when I would start to “freak out” and start breathing hard and wanting to “get out”, so I didn’t want to inhale the crust corner of a sandwhich (people always seemed to gesture the corner of a sandwhich to me after a few days of not eating, saying “just take a few bites at least”).

Then a week or so after that “phase”, a mutual aquaintence of me and my boyfriend (late boyfriend is not something I can say yet..just talking about him in the past tense is hard enough) offered me to move into the extra bedroom at her and her roommate’s house. The house is awesome, and I can afford the rent right now, so it’s perfect. It’s still near enough to my job, but also near the cemetery (which is still important to me, but not Nearly as important as it was to me the first few months following his death). And her and I have become friends. She “gets me”, and is supportive of me “getting through this” while not judging me for the (sometimes poor) choices I’ve made to try to deal with everything. If I had gotten a place by myself, I would not be progressing at the same rate that I am. Her and I don’t get to spend a lot of time together due to her work schedule, but her being here..and understanding me in a unique way makes me feel less alone. She is a good person, and gave me a hand-up when I needed it most. I don’t remember now if it was before or after the funeral (which she attended) when she called me to give her condolences, and ask how I’m doing. The genuinely inquisitive way she said “and how are You doing?” made me drop my shoulders and take a deep breath, and tell her how I was Really doing. Something I hadn’t really told anyone for some reason. That call, and the friendship I’ve since developed with her..changed things. Changed me. I’ll be forever grateful for that.

I have read quotes from other people that have endured similar losses (and most early in life, similar to me) that have mentioned that the people you most expect to lean on may surprise you with their lack of presence. While the people you least expect to “show up” are the ones that trudge through it with you. That is exactly true. I think that sudden death of a young person opens a part of life that is just plain hard to experience and be a part of. Everyone directly touched by the tragedy (I feel there are directly effected, then there are people that are effected in less of a traumatic manner, and there are people that are effected by the way their loved one is effected by the loss..all feel it, but not the same horror of things “never being the same again”.) is almost completely unable to believe that this has happened. That is probably the hardest time to “be there” for the directly effected people.

That is also when people of all the walks of your life (and the deceased person’s life) feel the need to say Something. That’s when it gets awkward. What I soon gathered, and continued to remind myself was: The sooner you realize that these people have good intentions, but have just been blessed with never having to have gone through something like this..the better off you’ll be. Thank them. It was hard and awkward to approach you, but they genuinely feel terrible that this has happened. They came to pay their respects.

Then there are your best friends, and closest family members that just straight get scared. I realized how taxing it became for all the people closest to me to even talk to me for long periods of time. I think that when the people that have always known me, looked at me and saw how quickly something (beyond control) can Change a person instantly..and that there’s nothing anything or anyone could do about it..was scary. I was scared, too. That’s when the following people became the people that called me regulary, wanted me to talk to them about how I was doing and feeling, and wanted to be around me: the wife of one of my boyfriend’s high school friends that he hadn’t seen recently before he died, that I met Once at a bridal shower a few weeks before the accident; a mutual friend of a girl that I work with that I had hung out with a couple times as a group; and my new roommate. All three people I had never hung out with one-on-one before my boyfriend died.

After some time of not working, and moping around the house, and visiting friends and family, and not showering, not even touching my hair, occasional bar-hopping as a half-lucid passenger, and spending all the money I had socked away (for a vacation, or a rainy-day expense..whichever came first), I decided that I need to have some routine to “look forward to”.

So, after the 2 months of intensely painful sadness and a fierce attempt to “make it go away”, I decided that I couldn’t “go crazy”. I went back to work. (At a local bar..where Everyone knows what happened..that’s another story) And stopped drinking every day. At first, it took away the numbing..so I felt like I dwelled on negativity more than when I was drinking heavily. But, then after a while of managing my drinking, I started to feel more positive. I feel more in control of my thoughts now. I can drive myself places again. My friends call me to see if I want to go do something, instead of only calling to “make sure I’m ok”.

“Do you feel better?” or “Are you feeling any better?” are tough questions for me to hear..or answer for some reason. Maybe because to say “yes”, might mean that I’m no longer supposed to be having the “bad days” I so often still have. Or saying “no” means that I’m still perhaps feeling the “gut wrenching horror” (as someone put it in a blog I once read) as intensely..or often as I once was. Sometimes I don’t want to talk about it..it upsets me. But, sometimes I want to talk about it..but I don’t want to be a downer on the person listening. The timing of “talking about it” is the hard part. When I want to talk to someone who has lost someone close to them..to ask questions, or vent a feeling — what if they were having a peaceful night and don’t want it brought up? Or vice versa, if someone wants to talk about my boyfriend to me..I welcome it. Then, sometimes I start crying. Bad timing I guess..who’s to know? That’ a toughie.

That’s how far I’ve gotten. 9 months. Here I am. Feeling good sometimes, and bad other times.

The worst part of now has to be the "panic attacks". I use quotes, because I have not received..or tried to seek out..a medical diagnosis. But panicking is what is happening. I did read online that upon waking in the morning, one's cortisol (stress hormone) levels are at their peak. That helps explain why they usually happen in the morning. It starts with a variation of this general thought: "Oh my God, he's really Never coming back. No matter what I do, or how bad this feels..I will never see him Again as long as I live. I will never smell his shirt as it lay on his warm chest ever again. I will never see him looking at me from accross the room with a proud smile ever again." And it goes on from there until I am sweating profusely, fighting to breathe through the tiny-feeling opening that it feels like my throat has become, burning hot in the face, shaking, freaking out that I may have a heart attack or pass out, pacing, vomiting, and desperately wishing I could run away/get away from myself and the feelings. The only thing I do my best to do is continue to rinse my face with cold water, as I try to breathe slower and more deeply, I chant to myself "I'm gonna be fine...I'll be fine, I will get through this in a minute. I am just panicking, and freaking out. There is nothing concrete to run from..or fight off, so I just have to move past this. The intensity will fade if I let it." And I then have to take off my sweaty clothes, and take a shower (especially if I've gotten any vomit in my hair, or splashed on my feet) and take a nap...for the rest of the day. That usually leads to a few days of only getting out of bed to make something to eat. At times, no matter how often or recently I feel like I've seen my friends, coworkers, customers, or aquaintences...I always seem to be getting asked "well, where have you been?"-type of questions. Or "long time-no see"-type of statements. Which make me realize I have spent the better part of the week in bed that particular week. To some friends, I tell the truth..(but in an "I needed to catch up on rest" kind of way..not in a "This sh*t sucks so bad, and I can't handle it sometimes. And other times..it's worse. Sometimes I am so mind-numbingly mad at the world, random people that have boyfriends, my dead boyfriend, etc.." kind of way. Because what the hell are they gonna be able to do about it? Not all people understand that just telling the dirty truth takes a little bit of weight off of me..a lot of people feel that after someone says something sad or frightening, they are supposed to offer comfort or solutions. And that just gets weird..and it's no one's fault.

I think of him all day, every single day.

Only like every few days do I think (dwell) on his death.

And a little less often than that, I go back and forth from believing that his friend that was with him that day did all he could do..to thinking a list of thoughts pertaining to how I feel it was his friend's fault. His friend had an inferiority complex when it came to my boyfriend. It was just a strange dynamic I picked up on when they hung out together. I get obsessed with figuring out how to put it into words, the correlation between that dynamic..and his friends inability (or lack of effort) to prevent my boyfriend from drowning that Tuesday morning. I try not to hate him. As I am aware of how much energy that zaps from a person..to hate another person, when Nothing can be changed. He has since become a strung-out "junkie", and I haven't heard from him in months. So the answers to the questions that I was waiting to ask until the tragedy was behind us..and there was healing to be done..I will never get. And, that is something that I will Never forgive him for.

And my relationships with various people in my life have changed. Drastically. For the better in some cases, and worse in others. That’s another story too. No one needs my life story of course..but having had a great relationship with my boyfriend before he suddenly died is what I wanted to speak candidly about. I have read others’ stories, and they have helped me have hope that I will one day be happy again with the great memories of him. Other stories have simply made me see that it is hard for Everyone going through this. And that no one has the “answers”. I just wanted to add to all of that somehow.

My heart goes out to you, and I think that, given the circumstances, you are doing really well with coping and getting back to a somewhat regular life. It's evident that you two had an amazing bond and a very strong relationship. It is never easy to lose someone you love, but I think you went into a tailspin because not only did you lose your boyfriend, you lost the future you two were just starting to build together, and it happened in the blink of an eye. Stay strong. I hope his friend will see the light and get off of those drugs.

Thank you for that. It was my first time to say the majority of the things I wrote, and before I even decided to go to bed, you replied with very encouraging words. That took away all the nervous feelings about putting those things out there that I had initially.

I want you to know every feeling you wrote and felt is exactally how I felt! You did help someone ME! Although, my boyfriend died in Nov 2006 it seems like it just happened. Me and my only friend I have left from this time just said " oh my god it has been 7 years since he died"

My boyfriend was also loved by most and just had that chaisma for life! And a beautiful smile that would light up a room.. Not a day goes by I don't think of him. I still miss him. And when you found out he died you were upset cause this was not in the plans.. Well I was so pissed at him for leaving me here without him.. The only difference is in the way they died I really really understand where you are coming from.. I am not going to say Im sorry lol... I would be irritated when everyone said Oh in time you will feel better! I just thought Really??? My boyfriends dead and this is what you have to say? But that is true.. It gets tolorable you won't ever forget. It is a tramtic event. Here one day and just gone??? I was 41 and so was he when he died. You two are young. I wish you never had to go through this but if yiu ever want to talk I am here

Xoxoxoxoxo

tjcalif: Not in the plans is exactly right. And at you and your boyfriend's, or me and my boyfriend's age..that's the meat and potatoes of what it is that sucks as bad as missing their presence. It wasn't in the plans. Plain and simple..and terrible. We got robbed. I never would have searched the Internet for people with experiences similiar to ours if this hadn't "happened to me", so I'm glad to be able to "reach out" to someone like you. But, really I wish this just hadn't happened to you in the first place. I won't say I'm sorry to you either because..so what if I..or anyone else..is Sorry?? is right. (Chelsea Handler says it best...when she has to mention to someone that her mom died, and they immediately say "Oh, I'm sorry." ..she says "Don't be. You didn't kill her.") Anyway, I do have Several questions about things that I've thought about/gone through (like my mom's way of 'being there for me', the flucuations I have in my "faith" so regularly, my "boy crazy"ishness that comes and goes, the "have I gone bat sh*t crazy for wanting to consult a medium?" thoughts...and all sorts of other ***?s) and would love to bounce them off of you (and welcome you to do the same with me if you want), but I don't know how to exhange Email addresses without broadcasting them.. and I'm going to read some of your older posts so that I don't end up asking stuff that you've already explained.

xoxo -and thank you for your candid, detailed reply.

-Someone just said to me the other day, "can you believe it's been 9 months since he died? almost a year." So, eventually...it's going to be "can you believe it's been 7 years?" for me. I don't dread that day any more than I dread tomorrow to be honest. But I don't look forward to it either. Asking you to describe the level of pain after 7 years is not the same as asking someone that has just had an operation to describe their level of pain as they heal. I can't wrap my head around the unimaginable. When girls that I know say "I'm trying to imagine how you must feel" it upsets me. So I don't want to be "that guy". But I would like to "compare notes"..is the best way to put it, I guess.

I wanted to say thank you for sharing your story. I only joined eNotAlone becuase a friend found this blog and sent it to me because the same thing happened to me last year. On June 09, 2013, my fiance and I were vacationing in Gulf Shores AL and he was caught in the rip currents and drowned. He and I had spend 5 years together and plan to wed April 12th 2014. I would like to reach out to you on a personal level if you are willing to let me talk to you and ask you questions. I hope you are still actively invovled with this blog because I look forward from hearing from you.

Hi Jessica. I am very sad to hear that this has happened to you. I know how terrible you feel. I check this forum every now and then for this very reason. I would be more than happy to talk to you. About anything you'd like.

I'm here because I'm now at the 7-year mark. I first posted, in this forum, 9 months after my boyfriend died; and you replied - candidly explaining your feelings throughout the years after your man died.

You were helpful in so many ways, some of which I couldn't even see at the time: you gave me a candid - no bull - glimpse into my inevitable future (one without him in it, ever again), hope that it IS possible to carry on - no matter how reluctantly, a better grasp on the Necessity to carry on, and the ability to recall some of the things you've written when I need to feel more at ease and less anxious.

For instance: I have, on several occasions, wished someone would just say something positive, aloud..to the group.

TJCalif: I've referred back to your wise, kind words a time or two, and reaching the 7-year grief milestone made me think of how far I've come...thanks, in part, to your candid reply to my original post.

I hope you're doing well, and if it's not too hard of a poking to ask you...how are you feeling now that it's been 13ish years?

I'm at work and tears are just leaking out of my eyes. I'm really sorry for your loss. I honestly can't even imagine. I don't know if I'd even still be here, if something like this happened to me.

I think you're courageous to want to keep going, and reading your story really made me feel grateful for a lot of things in my life. Thank you for sharing, and thank you for hanging on. I hope you are doing better.

I hope you are doing better.