This is the next in our series The First Moments. Those awful phone calls to make. These are the first phone calls one makes after learning their loved one has died. If you have someone to help you make these calls and be there with you, that is ideal. This is not easy and writing about it years later is still gut wrenching. We share our experiences with the first phone calls below as means to support you through your grief.
Jeni’s first phone calls
So, obviously my first phone call was 911. I had just found my husband lying in front of the shed…not breathing and unresponsive. To this day, I don’t even want to think about that call. It was just plain awful. I can’t even imagine how it sounded on the other end.
Ma’m, do you know CPR?
In my head, I knew I had been trained…but I couldn’t think. So, no….just tell me what to do. Keep me thinking. I am yelling at him to breathe. Dammit! Breathe! Come back to us!
He can’t be dead. He just can’t.
I hear sirens. People are arriving. I am swirling in my head. They come and start to work on my husband. I see them take him to the ambulance. They are working on him as they move him toward the ambulance. I will never forget that sight.
My kids…where are they? Why aren’t they home? Thank God they were not the ones who found him….but where are they? They were supposed to be home from school. Someone (I think a police officer) tells me they will find the kids as I shove a picture in his face.
His parents. My mother. Who do I call first?
I vaguely remember calling both and telling them to get here. I found Bob in front of the shed. He wasn’t breathing…can you just get here? We are going to the hospital…just get here. Then, I called my assistant from work. I tell her to call whoever is necessary. She later tells me that she had never heard my voice like that . She knew from the moment she answered that this was not your average call and that something very tragic had happened. I hope that I never sound like that again.
I don’t remember much of any of these conversations. They are a blur. They are what had to be done at a time when I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process it. All I could do was act and react.
I am placed into a vehicle and driven to the hospital. Here, I am sent to a conference room where family and friends begin to gather as the news begins to spread. We wait for confirmation of what I know in my head to be true…but my heart does not want to accept.
Tomorrow, there will be more calls. I can’t even fathom at the moment how many I will have to make. I can’t catch my breath. Life has changed for me in an instant and I know it will change for others as each call is made.
Teresa’s first phone calls
After being told my husband was killed in a motorcycle accident in the crowded principal’s office, I was handed a yellow legal pad and asked to write down next of kin and people to notify. I remember sitting there thinking I cannot be doing this, this is awful.
I numbly remember through my tears writing down my parents and his parents, his siblings, and our pastor. Someone asked me if they want me to have them call. I sharply replied, No, I have to do this. I need my cell phone. Someone had already gone to my classroom and grabbed my stuff.
The family services woman urges me to not make these calls as I need to conserve my strength. No, I need to be the one, I have to, I insisted. She hands me a notecard with a script on it. There is no way I could figure out what to say. It’s short and simple black and white.
- Dial phone number
- If they pick up, ask if they are seated.
- Say, I’m sorry, (name of deceased) has died in an accident.
- Hand phone over to the Police, First responder or State Trooper
- Do not leave a message.
I’m not positive who I called first, I think it was his father. I don’t remember the conversation, other than he answered and I quickly blurted out “I have terrible news, Kris died in a motorcycle accident.” I hear his strangled cry as I fling the phone to the state trooper as I dissolved into tears again.
The next phone call, I knew would be awful, was calling his mother. I call her and remember to ask her if she’s seated and read the script to her. The screaming and wailing, “No, no not, Kris!” unbearable sobs and wailing was more than I could take. The state trooper took over and I was torn in half again by the anguish.
Lastly, I remember gathering myself together to call my parents. I read the script to them as they are on speaker phone. I whine, I need you Mom and Dad. I hear Mom and Dad asking all kinds of questions as the state trooper again grabs the phone from me.
I didn’t make any more calls that day, I was crushed and someone took over notifying the rest of the family and pastor.
I still have that darn yellow legal pad, it became my lifeline of what to do, a place to write down necessary tasks, people to notify, his work, insurance, banking and on and on. It was the beginning of several awful phone calls when your loved one died.
We all have different first phone calls to make. They are not easy and some of the hardest things we do at the very beginning of our grief journey. Our hope is that our stories of our first moments will provide you hope and comfort.
If you have a first you experienced that we missed in our list of topics, please let us know. We would be happy to write about a topic you need to hear about. We invite you to give us a story to include if you like to share.
Please like and share.
Peace & Blessings,
Jeni & Teresa
PS: For additional support you can download our free copy of 10 Ways to Move Forward After Loss
Torn in Half: The First Days as a resource for the first days after a loss – available on Amazon in paperback and ebook.
