Sitting on the bed, I held his head to my chest. My arms wrapped as far around him as they would go. He clung tightly to me and my body shook with the power of his sobs. I felt small and helpless; inadequate and insecure. He soon changed position and lay his head down on my lap curled almost into fetal position. Even though it was a California King, he looked enormous even curled in a ball. I stroked his head (I won’t say hair because even years after discharge, he still wore his Marine Corps high and tight). His tears soaked through my jeans. Mine flowed freely down my face and I didn’t bother wiping them away because it would require I take my hands away from him. The room filled with his grief; his sobs audible and deep. We stayed in that position for 10, 20 sometimes 30 minutes. Eventually, his sobs would lighten, his body would relax and blessed sleep would overtake him. I would hold him in his slumber for as long as I could before I had to get up and complete the tasks of the day. When he awoke, after a cup of coffee or two, his stoicism once again plastered on his face, he would dress and get ready for work. Each night, I brushed imaginary specks of lint off his uniform, patted his chest right beside his badge and kissed him goodbye.
My husband is a police officer. His mother died of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), better known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. It was a dreadful disease and a horrible way to die. With full cognitive capacity, her body betrayed her as this rapidly progressive, fatal disease affected her nervous system until it no longer communicated with any of her voluntary muscles, including her diaphragm and chest and she eventually suffocated to death. As she moved towards death, my husband held her. I held him. I adored my mother-in-law and watching my husband lose her was one of the toughest things I have ever faced. In addition, because he was a police officer--a strong, powerful, in-control guardian of the law—I felt even more helpless. To see him beaten and sobbing was almost more than I could bear. I’ve heard from other significant others who have faced similar situations, and even those who have experienced the collective grief at an officer’s funeral, and all agree that it’s a unique challenge to hold up a hero. Here are a few tips.
Being Present
This is a time where you have to just stop doing whatever you are doing when your officer needs you. The dishes won’t rot. The laundry won’t get up and run away. Even the important article you are trying to finish by deadline will wait. Stopping what you are doing and focusing completely on him will mean the world during a time when he feels so alone and out of control.
Listen & Let Go
Learning how to actively listen and then employing those skills during times when your hero is hurting can make a huge difference. Along these same lines is the ability to let go of the notion that there are solutions to whatever the problem is. I am one of those people who want to come up with ideas to fix something that is wrong--immediately. In this situation I learned: First, there wasn’t a solution. My mother-in-law was going to die. Period. Second, my husband wasn’t looking for an answer. He was looking for a place to feel safe in his grief.
Physical Touch
Never, ever, ever, ever underestimate the power of physical touch. I found the most important thing I could do for my husband during this trying time was just hold him and be intimate. It allowed him to physically feel the love I had for him. Our closeness meant safety. It meant security. It meant unconditional love. I was a refuge to him in a world that was unkind and unfair. Our intimacy was also a way for him to expend some of the stress build up. Often, afterwards, he would finally sleep well.
Cry
Don’t be afraid to cry along with your significant other. You’re not expected to be stoic. Whether it is a personal issue that is affecting both you and your spouse, or it’s a work family issue such as a line of duty death, it’s okay to feel your own feelings. Although I was devastated to be losing my mother-in-law, I cried more out of anguish for seeing my big, strong husband shattered and fragile. At first I tried to be strong for him and not let the tears fall, but eventually I couldn’t stop them. Finally, I learned it was perfectly fine and definitely healthy for me to let them flow—both while he was with me and when we were apart. I stopped trying to hold them in. I learned it was okay to grieve.
Lean on Others
One of the most important things to remember is to utilize your own network of support. To maintain your own strength, you also need to reach out to people who lift you up. At times like these, you may not feel like you can lean on your spouse because you are afraid to add burden. But, it is essential to find your strength as well. Friends and family who love and support you can let you vent, cry or just be with them. The bigger your support network during rough times, the stronger you will feel.
Holding up a hero while they are suffering, broken and vulnerable is one of the hardest things I ever faced as a law enforcement spouse. I’ve never felt so unprepared and inadequate. Even years later, the memories of watching my husband struggle still brings tears to my eyes. I’m not sure I did everything right during this time, but I know I did my best. We both did.
Michelle Perin
Michelle Perin has been a freelance writer since 2000. In December 2010, she earned her Master’s degree in Criminology and Criminal Justice from Indiana State University.
