In Retrospect...: Shelden Dunn Whittaker April 29, 1966

I understand and know that our loved ones who also loved Shell will be reading this and may relive their own pain all over again. However, I hope that you understand that I need to do this. I need to write and share some of my pain. I rarely talk about what happened now because it is even more painful than it was 7 years ago. I think it is because the longer it is, the more sacred my memories and pain are. The process of writing this blog will be extremely hard for me today but it is necessary and overdue. I don't expect a lot of you to ever understand the predicament I am in right now but all I need right now is to tell my story. So I, truly from the bottom of my heart, apologize in advance.

Seven years today, I find myself grieving for our loss of a wonderful man, a dedicated teacher, a loving father, and a very soulful and wholesome fiance. It is not just a one-time thing per year because I am constantly missing and remembering Shell. Neva Shell Whittaker is also a loving reminder of Shell and I am thankful and blessed every day that she is here with us today.

I keep going back to the fateful morning where I witnessed something that not many people experience in their lifetimes. Odd as it is, I am glad that I was there that morning with him. The image, the emotions I experienced that morning upon realizing that he was gone is as vivid now as it was seven years ago. It is amazing at how a day like that really stays with you for the rest of your life.

Typically funny Shell

The night before right before we went to bed, Shell asked me this, "Do you love me...like really love me?" I looked deeply into his eyes, smiled and said, "Of course, silly! I love you with my whole heart and being" and hugged him for a long time in our kitchen. Afterward, I went to Walmart to get something for his heartburn. I was just clueless. He wasn't feeling well that night and we decided to go to bed. I was exhausted from working two jobs and being 3 months pregnant. I laid my head on his arm and went to sleep not knowing that I was never going to talk, laugh, cry with him ever again. There are many days including today when I feel like it is my fault he is not here. Could I have and should I have done something differently?

Those regrets - those nagging regrets never have left me. Those regrets are what keeps me at nights thinking about "what if's". What if I was stubborn that night and fought with Shell to allow me to take him to the hospital? What if I was more awake and not tired, would I have noticed the symptoms he was having? What if I came home earlier and was able to convince him to go to the hospital? What if I was more pressing with the doctor we saw two weeks earlier at the emergency room about his blood pressure? What if? What if? What if? Seven years later, I'm still asking those questions. I know those questions will always be with me for the rest of my life and no one can convince me otherwise to stop asking.

That morning...I couldn't process what I was seeing. It was 10 minutes after 7am and I had set the alarm to wake Shell up for work. I woke up and realized Shell wasn't in bed and often he would go sleep on the couch in the living room because of the pain in his neck from an old injury. When I walked towards him, I saw that something was off. When I was with him, I paced across the room and my brain was jumbled. I never experienced this confusion/shock before. Can it be?! NO! I went back to him and tried waking him up and sat with him. I have no idea how long before it finally registered in my mind to look for help. We didn't have a phone, VP, and my Sidekick couldn't make 911 calls back then. I still have no idea why but I paged my sister who was living in Washington, DC at the time and uttered the words I never thought I would say. Then I realized she couldn't help me so I ran to the next door and banged at the door. A male in the late 40s came out looking like "What the hell!?" and I barely could speak but said "Please call 911. I think he's gone".

I felt helpless, lost, confused but not pain because I hadn't processed that Shell was really gone. It felt like hours I waited for help to arrive. I paced across the room and sat then paced and sat. The police came in first and then the paramedics. The moment the paramedics' people came and this lady, the very moment she set her foot in our house and saw Shell, she looked at me and said..." he's gone". I crumbled and fell to the floor and started crying. I did NOT want the confirmation. I begged the lady to bring him back and the sadness in her eyes told me otherwise. The police moved me into the kitchen and had me seated where I still could see Shell and I was grappling in my mind - it is so hard to describe how shocked I was and how feeble-minded I felt. I continued to cry and the police realized that they needed to move me so I wouldn't see where people were examining Shell. Then the same paramedic lady came into the kitchen and noticed our ultrasound picture of Neva was posted up on the refrigerator. Her eyes became bewildered and asked me if I was pregnant and I nodded and started to feel dizzy. The police asked me if I could have someone come and take me to the police station to make a statement and when I told them that I needed to page Meddra, they refused to let me use my pager. I was in no shape to reason with them but then the paramedic lady, to this day, I have no idea of her name but bless her, she figured that it was the only way for me to communicate and eventually allowed me to page Meddra. Then they took the phone so I couldn't make any more contact with anyone else.

Shell's classroom

At the police station, it was a very difficult time. As my mind was reeling back and started to process, I was also struggling to reach out to our families. I had no contact information for Shell's family and felt so helpless but then called my dad at work. At the time, he was working at Post Office and I knew he was almost getting off from work. So I got ahold of him and asked my parents to come from Wisconsin to Fulton, MO. to help me and they eventually came. My sister flew in and arrived later that night. So sitting in that room all by myself waiting for cops to come and take my statement, I just cried nonstop and it finally dawned on me...the baby inside of me. What will happen? It was a long time I was in that room, at least I felt. When they finally came in with the interpreter, I could see that the interpreter was crying before coming and I just broke down again. Then the cops started asking me questions and I was confused. Why were they asking me those questions? Why was I not just giving my statement? Yes, some of the questions were personal and private but after questioning, I was released and was told to go see my OB/GYN doctor. When I came out of the room, I saw Barbara Garrison, the superintendent of Missouri School for the Deaf standing there and offered her sympathies and hug. I later learned she was the one who alerted Shell's family in Illinois. My doctor was on stand by awaiting my arrival. I was puzzled and wondered why but looking back now, I was glad I went. Few words were exchanged at the visit. She offered me some anxiety pills and of course, I asked if it was ok because of the baby. She said that if I take it, the stress on the baby will be less so yes it was safe. That definitely helped me through the funeral.

Finally...I realized I couldn't go back home. I couldn't go back to that house. Meddra offered me to stay with her and I gladly accepted. I went in her home, sat on the couch, and cried myself to sleep. Hours later, Marla loaned me her truck so I could drive to St. Louis to pick up my sister at the airport. I don't remember the drive to the airport. I only remembered meeting my sister and crying in her arms. We then returned back to Fulton in time to meet my parents and have all of us stay with Marla and Lori.

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At MSD for Shell's Memorial

I was a zombie for a very long time. When I say a long time, I mean like for six months. I couldn't remember much about the funeral and wished that it wasn't so fuzzy. It was also when I first met many of Shell's family members and for my parents to "meet" Shell, the father of our unborn child. It was an awful way for my parents but it was the reality of the situation. I sat in the living room after the funeral thinking that this was Shell's family yet I felt so detached. It was like my body was there but my soul was gone. As nice and loving Shell's family were, I knew they were grieving and wished I could offer more but I didn't. I didn't know-how. When all was said and done, it was time for me to go back to Fulton without my family. It was a very lonely drive back from Perry and I kept thinking...now what? What am I going to do? I stayed with Marla and Lori for about three weeks until they offered me to live with them permanently with my two cats. The house Shell and I shared was left untouched for about three weeks. I couldn't bear going in there but knew I had to pack up his things. That process alone was so difficult. Margie flew from Washington DC to help me pack up the house. I was so glad she was with me through the process. I was happy when I finally could close up the house yet sad to leave my life with Shell behind. It took a while before I stopped driving by the house just to...be close to Shell, I guess.

MSD and KSD hosted a memorial in honor of Shell and it was nice. Students came up on the stage and talked about their memories of Shell. It was really heartwarming to hear about how loved he was. Later on, a tree was planted in honor of him.

Link to Shell's funeral information in 2004. http://www.airsman-hires.com/obituaries/viewobit.php?oid=964

For those who read the Twilight Saga, in the second book where there were no other words on the pages but "October...November...December...January". This was the same for me - life was uneventful after Shell's passing. Nothing appealed to me. Nothing seemed to lift my sadness away. I was working 2nd shift at the time at MSD so I averaged sleeping for 12 hours daily. On the weekends, I slept longer. Of course, I was grieving and it was the darkest times in my life where I felt this void constantly. I wished my life away sometimes but Neva inside me kept me swimming barely on the surface. Family and friends' supports were overflowing yet I felt I was alone in this cold cruel world. My relationship with God was nonexistent at the time. I was pregnant and I have only one picture of me and I didn't look like a normal happy pregnant woman. Whenever I look at the picture now, I feel pings of pain. I remember the feeling as if it was yesterday. When I talk about my pregnancy with other people, I don't share the common feelings and experiences like most. Although I was happy, blessed and thankful that I had something of Shell living inside me, I was stricken with sadness and fear. I remembered asking myself, "how could I be a mother if I'm like this?" It was a very scary and trying time.

Somehow and somewhere along the way when I was not sleeping, I reached out for help. I tried counseling once but never returned after they said they wouldn't be able to afford an interpreter and that sessions had to be conducted through paper and pen. So I went to get food stamps and services and applied for services with the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation. At the time, I had no idea what I wanted from DVR but only that I wanted to see through to my promise I made to Shell about finishing college education. They put me on waiting list so I forgot about it.

Neva Shell's first day at home

Joy finally came back into my life when Neva came on April 21, 2005, six months after Shell's passing. The experience of childbirth is no different from anyone else. However, the emotions I felt after Neva left my body was different for me. I was aware of the possibility of having post-partum but I was literally depressed already. I was surprised at how depression had lifted slowly and I never experienced post-partum which was a relief. However, the day we brought Neva home, my parents were with us and they stayed three days after the birth to help me out. I was so scared to have her sleep with me in the same room fearing that she'd leave me the way Shell did. I did not want to be fully responsible for her yet. It was unexpected but the fear was real. I let my parents keep her in their room at night. But those nights was the most lonely and I remembered crying all night long. It was simply because I didn't feel Shell inside me. I had unconsciously convinced myself thinking that Shell was still with me because of the baby inside me. However, Neva was no longer living inside me and I experienced loss all over again. It was just a strange time. After parents left, Marla and Lori helped out a lot and I quit my job at MSD to stay home with Neva.

Come June I received word from DVR that they were able to support my college education financially and they preferred to send me to Gallaudet instead of a college locally. I was surprised and did not see that coming. So that changed the course of my life as well as Neva's. We left Missouri in June to stay with my parents for a month then left for Washington DC in July to begin our new chapter. Leaving my life behind in Missouri was hard because I was leaving Shell in a sense. But when I was in DC, I realized that Shell was and will always be with us.

Seven years later with two college degrees behind me and an energetic 6 years old girl, I look back and am amazed at how things worked out the way it did and that in fact, I was able to live again. Of course, I'm never the same. I'm a changed woman after losing Shell and a huge part of me died with him that day. I'm a changed woman after being a mother to our child. Changes are inevitable and death is part of life. It is the loss - sudden loss that caused me to fall hard. I remember a friend who made a comment when I was pregnant with Neva that I should never ever live through her but to live a life of my own and to let her live hers. To this day, I appreciate that comment because this helped force me to do things for myself and to always push myself harder.

So yes, writing this really is doing something for me today after shedding thousands of tears. Seven years today, Shell, you are always loved and remembered. I leave you with this quote that Shell's family have for him:

"Our hearts still ache in sadness,

and secret tears still flow,

what it meant to lose you,

no one will ever know."