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When I received the phone call that my 47-year old husband had died of a heart attack, I was pushed into a dimension of existence I had been unaware of so far. I was unable to eat or sleep for three days and nights, running on something unknown inside of me. Once fitful sleep returned for a few hours each night, I fought waking up in the morning, knowing that something dreadful was going to overwhelm me once I would become fully conscious. During my waking hours, I felt locked into a concrete cell of pain which I was unable to escape. Only death would provide relief, as I knew.

Talking with friends and family, I was amnesic – forgetting in the middle of a sentence what I had intended to say, and never sure whether I was not repeating an earlier part of the conversation which I no longer remembered. I would get into my car to drive to a specific destination and, half an hour later, found myself in a completely different location without any recollection of how I had gotten there. Often, I was standing next to myself, watching me, the robot, wondering how it managed to function.

At times, I had to force myself to even move in slow motion, and the uttering of every sentence required a superhuman effort. The world around me seemed unreal, and I had angry outbursts at what I would have considered insignificant before. Never given to colds, I suffered through an endless series of sore throats and laryngitis. Gastritis seemed to be my chronic companion, causing frequent stomach pains. I had no appetite and lost weight but managed to eat at least some of my favorite foods to keep my body functioning. Eventually, I developed excruciating back pain, tentatively diagnosed but never confirmed as a herniated disc.

So what I am having right noow is normal. All those pains and feelngs are normal. Even my driving when I forget where to go....Sore throats...

Why there is no government support to grieving people in the United States?