April 8, 2026 – Today is my late husband Gary’s birthday. Since his passing, I cycle through grief for losing the man I loved, gratitude that he no longer suffers, and relief from watching his decline. Some days, the grief feels sharper. His birthday is one of those days.
While decluttering more of Gary’s things yesterday, I happened to come across his favorite water tumbler. It is a beautiful brushed golden metal color, stainless steel lined, and holds 40 ounces. This one still had a hospital sticker on it. On Sunday, December 17, 2023, early in the morning, Gary told me that he was feeling suicidal and wanted to check into a psychiatric hospital.
This golden tumbler reminds me of his car crash in Everett MA on October 25, 2023. He totaled his car. When I received a call from the fireman who rescued Gary, he said “In 30 years of using the Jaws of Life, I have never retrieved anyone who was alive. Your husband is alive.” Gary had some bruises, but he was going to live. The fireman continued to tell me that Gary’s blood glucose level (BGL) was 450, which is probably why he crashed.
When I heard his BGL was 450, the thought crossed my mind, “Was this a suicide attempt?” I came to find out that before he left his sister’s home in Scarborough, Maine, he drank a whole liter of regular Coke, ate a bunch of candy bars and basically got high from the sugar. This brought on a wave of dialectical feelings, including grief, rage, frustration, fear, tender sadness, and compassion for my very sick husband.
Uncontrolled food addicts and diabetics who have high BGLs in a car accident don’t get a DUI, but they do get a letter a few days after the accident saying “You are an unsafe driver. You can no longer drive.” I’m paraphrasing what the Department of Motor Vehicles says about driving under the influence of sugar. Gary was delirious. The fireman said he thought he was driving back from New Jersey. He had no idea where he was. Gary lost his car, and lost his drivers’ license that day.
He spent almost three weeks in Everett Hospital, which was one hour south of our home. (He had missed our exit and crashed in Everett.) While he was in Everett Hospital, my younger sister Amy was in hospice care in New York City. That month was the most challenging time of my life. I was watching both my sister and husband wither away. Amy died on November 8, 2023. Gary healed his bruised ribs and other injuries from his accident and was then discharged to Westford House Nursing Home for rehab.
At Westford House, I finally asked him if his car accident was a suicide attempt, and he said “No.” But then after he was discharged from Westford House, he told me he was suicidal and needs to be in a psych unit. That was December 17, 2023.
Gary spent a few months in a psych facility in Ayer, MA. It was a horrible place, they only administered medication, offered no therapy. “We use the Medical Model,” the psychiatrist said. Lots and lots of pills. Electroshock therapy, and very poor food options. I wanted to check him out of there and put him in another psych hospital, but he refused. He just wanted to come home.
This tumbler brought it all back. After the car accident and time in Ayer psych unit, Gary declined further. He was no longer able to walk, and had multiple traumatic medical issues related to his diabetes. Eventually Gary had a permanent placement in a long term care facility in Nashua, NH. He spent his last year there, until he died on January 19, 2025.
Why am I writing this here? Because I am trying to process my grief out of my body. Writing is one of the ways I can do this. “The issues are in our tissues.” The tumbler triggered up more sadness, rage, frustration and grief, and writing brings relief. Writing on my blog is different than writing in my journal, because I feel as if I am being heard.
I am risking being judged, or being shamed, for sharing these details, but I think if one other person can relate to this and feels validated by my story it is worth it.
Plus, it’s as if I need to hear “I understand what you went through, and you’re okay. You’re moving forward, slowly, towards your new life.” This is why I have not sold my house yet. Processing emotions takes time.
I’m supposed to be decluttering my house and moving on. Gary’s tumbler set me back a few days. I’ll return to decluttering soon enough, but first I’m writing out the December 17th story so I can breathe fully and move on. I had a full body grief slam when I saw that psych hospital sticker on Gary’s tumbler yesterday. Now I can unclutch from those memories and feel more peaceful. The writing works.
The Lighter Side of Transformation 