One Year Later

If you’ve followed my blogs, you’ll realize this week is one I’ve dreaded. Tuesday will mark a full year since Cindy suffered her first seizure. Thursday will mark a full year since she died from this sudden, unexpected illness.

This week in 2007, we planned to watch the Ohio State/Florida game for college football’s national championship. At a few minutes past 6:00 on the evening of January 8, 2007, I finished making a simple dinner – pizza and soda. After her shower, I hear a scream from the bathroom.

I asked, “Cindy? Are you OK?” Alarmingly, no response. I ran to the bathroom to witness the fact Cindy had suffered a seizure. The nightmare was underway.

To give a detailed description of the events of that night would be too graphic in nature. I still have flashbacks of parts of those harrowing 48 hours – from the time she was in the emergency room later that night to the brighter signs in ICU a day later to the major setback the next day.

A lot of pieces have been picked up from this tragedy. But I’m nowhere near the Doug Morris I once was.

Ever since I returned to professional responsibility after taking care of some important family members for nearly a month, I’ve made a brief on-air mention of the Cindy Morris scholarship fund on Rock 104 RockTrax at least once a week. Yesterday, I additionally acknowledged on the radio show this week marked a full year since Cindy died. I nearly broke down on the air – which wouldn’t be the first time. Near breakdowns have happened off and on throughout the last 11 months.

Also throughout the last 11 months, I’ve done a lot of networking with fellow widowers and widows. Some of them have treated me to lunch or dinner – which provided a chance to just talk. With others, I’ve called and just chatted on the phone – if only to blow off some steam or help me through those sleepless nights. I’d name names of those who’ve helped in some way – but I’m afraid if I started listing names, I’m going to forget someone. So I’ll simply say – thanks to those of you who’ve shared your stories of love and loss with me. It’s meant a lot.

I will try to live this week as if it were normal – or whatever passes for normal – but there will be some moments I’ll need to take time out and just reflect. Perhaps another look at scrapbooks Cindy put together is in order. Her mother told me opening up one of Cindy’s scrapbooks is as if she’s still talking to us.

As I’ve learned, I’ll never get over suddenly losing Cindy. At the least, I can get through it. As I do attempt to get through it, I always know Cindy’s free of suffering and has spent the last year reconnecting with her father, Marvin, and her boss at William Carey University, Dr. Larry Kennedy, in Heaven.

And on this week of this unfortunate anniversary, the Ohio State Buckeyes are making final preparations for another national championship football game as I type this. This time, the opponent is LSU. I’m hopeful Jim Tressel and company will triumph in this match-up. A win certainly won’t erase any pain from the last year. What a victory will do is make me smile; a victory will also put a smile on the face of Cynthia Deann Morris.

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