Flashbacks and remembering those last days and moments

Did any of these ever happen to you? You wake up and realize something is terribly wrong? You get a call in the middle of the night or a policeman at the door saying, "There's been an accident." You're sitting reading the newspaper or on a walk and, suddenly, a medical emergency for your spouse or parent, followed by 911, an ambulance arrives, flashing lights, a frantic trip to the emergency room. All terrifying.

This is one part of death seldom discussed or mentioned by most bereaved: their own experience and pain the last weeks, days, hours. Perhaps it's just too private to recount to anyone. It's awful, I can attest.

To me, it seemed beyond grief, beyond horror. This probably is especially so for those dealing with a sudden death or the unexpected - an accident, a stroke, heart attack or other unanticipated tragedy. A spouse, a parent, a child.

Unless it's been a long terminal illness, I think most of us are not at all prepared for those final hours or days before a beloved dies. I certainly wasn't, even after seven weeks living in the hospital with my husband, through ups and downs of his treatment.

And these days, the doctors usually tell you the truth. Yet still we are not ready, not really prepared.

It's truly one of those times where most others will not be able to understand the enormity and intensity of the grief. Sensing this, many in grief probably just keep it to themselves. In my experience, it is very difficult to even think about, much less talk about, even to my closest family and friends, even now 8½ years later.

As many know, my husband died after an unexpected stroke. We had just come home from his excellent annual health check up. So I was completely unprepared. Nor for the second stroke while in the hospital, on the night before he was supposed to go to rehab with a positive prognosis for recovery.

So I do think about it - the night it happened and those last seven weeks Think about it, over and over, not all the time, but many times. Did I miss something? He was very tired when we arrived home late one afternoon from that trip to Minnesota. We had supper on trays watching the news. Baheej had driven the whole distance home from LaCrosse, Wisconsin, where we'd stayed overnight on the way. So I thought he was tired from the long drive. (I'd had some stitches from a little medical procedure and wasn't supposed to drive.) We had a nice lunch at a favorite restaurant on the way home and a pleasant drive. He only seemed tired the last half-hour or so.

And we had such a lovely day and overnight before driving home. We went on a paddle boat up the Mississippi near our hotel where we stayed. We enjoyed a sunny day, lovely views, river turtles basking on rocks in the sun, a bald eagle flying over head. Beautiful. So happy.

Now there are the flashbacks. These thoughts and memories often come as flashbacks, very vivid flashbacks, essentially reliving the night of the stroke, the last weeks, last days. This happens while awake, not in dreams, and are very clear.

It's odd how such flashbacks get triggered. Sometimes it just happens on a bad day when personal coping defenses are down. Sometimes they come before falling asleep, or just waking up, or because of some event. Recently a friend mentioned how the sudden death of a friend triggered flashbacks of her own recent loss. Sometimes we just identify, I think. And the recent death, though not quite the same, just brings it all back.

The point is: This is a difficult topic and I address it here, not to wallow, but because I am sure many, many people also have their own experience with those last days, last hours and moments. I thought of writing this as a testimony to how difficult it is, and that this is part of grief as far as I know.

Usually we don't know the exact details of the bereaved's experience at that time. But the bereaved knows the details and carries them with him or her. I imagine it may be good for friends and relatives to be aware of these usually invisible aspects of long-term grief; it may allow one to be more supportive of your friend or relative as the years roll on.

• Susan Anderson-Khleif of Sleepy Hollow has a doctorate in family sociology from Harvard, taught at Wellesley College and is a retired Motorola executive. Contact her at sakhleif@comcast.net or see her blog longtermgrief.tumblr.com. See previous columns at www.dailyherald.com/topics/Anderson-Kleif-Susan.