Love hurts
Afterlife,  Angels,  Caregiving,  D.G. Kaye,  Emotions,  grief and loss,  Heartache,  Memories,  Observations

Obituary – The Send Off – Love, Loss and Grief

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of an incredible man, a wonderful Husband, Father, Grandfather, Great Grandfather, and Brother. George Joseph Gerald Gies passed away peacefully at home on Wednesday, April 7, 2021 with his loving wife by his side, Deborah Gies (Cub).


Things we see and say that stay


The hardest part is getting over the visuals of you drifting a little further away from me daily. And looking into your eyes as they wanted to say so much, as pieces of you disappeared daily. I know your beautiful smiling face. I know that face that lights up whenever I’m in your presence. I still knew that face that could no longer speak, but you spoke with your eyes. You know I always knew what you meant, even if you couldn’t articulate it properly to me. I read your pain, I read your sadness, your fear, and your undying love for me remained always in your eyes. When your voice left us, I asked a million questions that you could still nod yes or no to. Until the day you died, when you couldn’t even do that anymore.

You couldn’t speak the last week you were here. I still scream and cry when I think about every little part of you God took away from me, a little each day. At first you could no longer walk, the very next day, you could no longer speak. But then I remembered our little hand signal we made up for each other. I still can’t remember how it came to be, but I think it was me who once said – as a joke- that in case something ever happened to you or I and we couldn’t talk, we had our own secret hand signal for ‘I love you’. I pulled that old trick out of the bag and would make that signal to you and you did the same back to me. You see, after all, my silly little games did come in handy.

You ate your last meal six days before you died, the day you came home from your last hospital stint, six days before you would die at home in our bed. I know I got lucky one morning after and fed you oatmeal. There was no more after that. I fed you your juice, water, gingerale in short sips, til another day passed and I’d cut the straws to help you sip the liquid your constantly dry mouth yearned for. The next day you blew bubbles in the glass, no longer having the strength to suck up through the straw. But I was well-armed with ideas. The next day I fed you water by teaspoon, like a battered little bird, mama bird did her best to get liquids into you. The next day I was resolved to dipping the sponge sticks in water to get some liquid into you. Eventually, you couldn’t suck on that anymore either. I kept putting Vaseline on your parched lips, intermittent between my kisses. I lost count on how many times a day and night I told you, “I love you Puppy”. I never felt it was enough. I never wanted you to forget. Kind of like one night only two weeks before when we could still converse and even make the odd joke. You stirred in your sleep that night and woke over a dozen times calling me, “Cub, Cub.” I snapped my head up in fear and asked, what’s the matter honey, and you’d reply the same thing each time I asked.

“I love you Cub.” Maybe it was two dozen times, I didn’t think then to count, but I’ll always remember that night you felt compelled to tell me you loved me, many times over, as though urgent that I know. But I know. And I knew. I always knew because you never ever let one day pass without kissing me, hugging, and telling me how much you loved me. In my worst and ugliest moments, you had the face to still call me your ‘beauty queen’. I was the luckiest girl in the whole world to be so loved by one man. And now I’m only the loneliest girl in the world.




I held your hand in your hour of passing. I shared your pillow and wrapped my arm around you and kissed your ashened, boney face – the face that was once full chipmunk cheeked with an always rosey complexion that had become a mere little boy face. You struggled to breathe as the fluid was drowning your lungs. I knew God was taking you away that morning. I never left your side. The gurgling brook within you stopped, I felt your heart flutter for an instant and your throat appeared as though there was a golf ball in it. And you went silent. Only then did I give you permission to leave. I jumped off the bed and opened the window wide and set your soul free to be taken by the angels. And that was the last moment of US.

There are no other words to describe the boulder that resides in my chest now. The boulder that is crushing my heart and making it difficult to breathe so many times a day – and night. Is it any wonder I don’t eat? Who can eat when they’re perpetually full – full of heartache, crushing pain filling me up where the digestion system usually alerts to feeding time. I’m blocked in head and heart. And the pain is unrelenting.



I’m so far from acceptance as I still talk to you and hug your pillow anytime I walk into our bedroom. The loss of you will never be filled by anything or anyone else. I love you too much, as I know you loved me. You know I always worried about you, and that doesn’t stop. Or, it won’t stop until I receive a sign or visit from you, so that you can let me know you’re all better and in your new life, and perhaps you could leave little signs that you are around and you will watch over me. Just maybe then I can stop playing those movie reels of your sufferance over and over in my mind if you come back and let me know you are in peace. Maybe then my own hell will begin to ease, and with patient baby steps, I may finally reach that bridge to acceptance that you are really gone.


I love you to the moon my Puppy.

Your forever Cub. 💕




Miss you


Follow Me on Social Media!
More Sharing Buttons - The WP button is for reblogging!

D.G. Kaye is a nonfiction/memoir writer, who writes from her own life experiences and self-medicates with a daily dose of humor.


  • Pete Springer

    There are no words to describe how beautiful this is, Debby. I love that the two of you had a secret hand signal for “I love you.” The things that only a spouse knows are what make a marriage special. I know your heart will ache forever, but I hope that the pain will lessen some over time.

  • Carol Taylor

    Oh, Debs…I have no words to heal your pain but your words showed me that you knew how loved you were and that is special… it is also that which will bring you comfort through the coming weeks and months…Gentle hugs xxx

  • Miriam Hurdle

    Debby, I wrote a long comment from my phone but didn’t know if it went through. I’ll try to recreate the message on the computer. That’s what I said:

    I read every letter, every word, every phrase, every sentence, every paragraph, and the entire message. I could feel your pain minute by minute. I could feel George losing his physical ability to talk, to move to eat, to drink, and to sip or suck. You didn’t want him to go but you had to open the window and set him free and hand him over to the angels. He left his physical body and his physical body left you but he didn’t leave you. You’re still his Beauty Queen. He loved you and still loves you. Yes, nobody has ever loved you the way he did and still does. Your love for each other will never die. <3 <3

    • dgkaye

      Miriam, thank you for your most beautiful and heartfelt comment. And thank you for going to the trouble of rewriting because of danged technology. Your words have moved me immensely. Thank you my friend. <3 xxx

  • Miriam Hurdle

    Your scream and cry don’t have to stop until your heart is loosened up and tells you you could stop crying! <3 I agree with Pete your secret language of "I love you" is beautiful.

  • Robbie Cheadle

    Hi Debby, I am really sorry to read this post. A terrible time for you both to go through. I have no words to ease your pain but things will get easier with time and you will remember the best of your times together.

    • dgkaye

      Thank you so much Robbie. There aren’t really a lot of words. And I do look forward to the part when I can look back on our happier times and the stitches begin to mend. <3

  • sally Cronin

    Debby this is a loving tribute to G and your love. The pain that you feel is a reflection of all the love that went before and I am sure that you will find a sign to let you know that he is always looking after you. Thank you for sharing this with us. It must have been very difficult to put into words but you last acts of love over the weeks will have given G peace even as it has intensified your grief.. You did good my friend…♥♥

    • dgkaye

      Thank you so much Sal for all your love and support, and your always wise words. Funny, I have a difficult time right now talking without crying, but the mighty pen has been carrying me through. <3 xxx

  • Trish

    That very closeness that the two of you shared, and which is causing you so much pain now, will also bring you healing comfort in the future. I’m sure you’ll receive the signs you need that he’s in peace when he feels you’re ready for them. <3

    • dgkaye

      You said it Trish, it feels like the deeper the love, the deeper the wound. And let me just say, I’m so ready for the signs. 🙂 Thank you for your love and friendship and for all your beautiful cards. <3 xxx

  • Daniel Kemp

    I can’t imagine what it took for you to write that obituary, all I know is that I would not be able to. You have an inner strength that has to be your guardian angel from now on. It’s obvious how much your departed husband loved you and how you loved him in return, relying on each other to fill your lives. Now there’s only half of that whole. I’m a stranger and have no right to pass comment on your life, all I can say is that it’s a joy to read your blog articles. Please continue.

    • dgkaye

      Danny, you are good for the soul. Words of grief come too easily to me in this new life of mine. Sometimes I just can’t talk right now, but the pen has always been my voice. Thank you so much for visiting. <3

  • Marian Beaman

    Oh, my dear Debby. This is the most detailed, poignant tribute I have ever read of your Puppy’s last days. I was all wonderful, but these items stand out; your own secret hand signal, blowing bubbles in the glass, putting vaseline on his lips, hugging the pillow afterwards.

    I apologize for naming your sweet George erroneously as “Gordon” from time to time. I guess I remember wrong from your memoir Twenty Years After “I Do.” So sorry. Now I realize his real name is actually “My Puppy” –ha! You describe heart-ache as a boulder. It’s okay to grieve, to feel angry, to feel suffocated by sorrow, but I hope you also focus on the wonderful memories on days you are able to do thiat. I love you, Debby, and hope you can see a bright spot or two in your day today. ((( )))

    • dgkaye

      Thanks so much Marian, for your love and support and making me both, smile and cry with your words. And no, you weren’t wrong. In my books I changed all my family’s names. I’m sorry if I didn’t mention that to you in passing, or you didn’t catch it on social media. Thank you for your big heart <3

  • Hilary Melton-Butcher

    Dearest Debby – that was so wonderfully sad to read … you’ve given your all and expressed it here – it’s never enough – but our life is like that … it ticks along taking us in its path. I so feel for you … and think of you … just desperate sadness – fulfilled with such wonderful memories – not the same … but a life lived to its fullest with you by his side … with love and hugs – Hilary

    • dgkaye

      Thank you for your beautiful words and sentiments Hilary. I am waiting for the part where I can think about our happier times without falling apart. <3

  • Lana Broussard

    Dear Debby, my heart is still breaking for you. It is a once-in-a-lifetime love, what a perfect and beautiful thing. Death is the most profound loss, but I am one who believes that we will see our loved ones again. You are in my thoughts, much love dear friend.

  • Jan Sikes

    Debby, tears are streaming down my face and my heart is constricted as if in a vice as I read your words. They bring back every crushing ounce of grief I felt when I lost Rick. And ironically, it was around this time exactly twelve years ago when I signed the papers for him to enter the hospice program and we knew he was leaving. He’d tried to prepare me for years, but nothing could. And now, twelve years later, the crushing pain still comes rushing back in, as if it never left. He abandoned his earthly body on May 1, 2009. I’ve had many “visits” from him and he has let me know he is at peace beyond the veil and you will have those too because love is the one thing that never goes away. This sentence you wrote resonates so deeply with me and it is true: “The loss of you will never be filled by anything or anyone else.” I send you love, light, and angel hugs, sweet friend. Just keep breathing. You will survive and you will thrive again because it is what he would want for you, just as Rick did for me.

    • dgkaye

      Oh Jan, I went through a couple tissues reading your reply. I am a novice at this heartache business, but you nailed it – like our hearts are constricted in a vice. I don’t need 12 more years to tell me my love or grief will never go away. It’s deeply rooted within. Thank you for your always encouraging – despite the pain. Love and light back to you Jan. <3 xx

  • Jim Borden

    that is one of the most beautiful memorials I have ever read, Debby. Your love for each other comes through loud and clear. I am sorry about all the pain and grief you are going through…

  • Christy B

    Oh Debby, I am so sorry to hear of your husband’s passing. I haven’t been on blogs much lately or social media so this is the first I heard of the news. My heart is hurting for you. I remember when you wrote of your vacations and other memories, and I’ve looked at you two as a loving couple for years. Please know that I care for you very much and you only have to say how I can help you and I will do so. Sending much love during this difficult time xo

    • dgkaye

      Thank you so much Christy. I have a difficult time speaking right now, but the pen helps my heart release what needs to come out. After I rise again, once I crash and burn, there will be much to write about. Thanks for your big heart. <3 xx

  • Norah Colvin

    Such a beautiful heartfelt post, Debby. It brought tears to my eyes. Your loss and sadness is overwhelming. Not everyone gets to felt as deeply as you and your Puppy did. I wish for you that he sends you that message soon so you can begin to heal. Hugs. xx

  • Pamela

    You writing, your words to your eternal husband, the love of your life, help. Writing out our pain helps, and you are doing it beautifully, Debby. You described the end of a life as I’ve seen it also with my dad. What a gift – to be able to be with a loved one at his last moment. For him to be able to hear your words of love as he passes to the next place. I know you’ll see signs from him soon. They are everywhere, and as you relax into your loss, you will see them and be filled with joy. This is my wish for you. <3

  • Michael

    What a wonderful and heart touching remembrance! I am feeling so sorry for you, Debby! My thoughts are all with you! Take care of you! Best wishes and blessings! Michael

  • Tina Frisco

    Such a loving tribute to George, Deb. When he completes his transition, you’ll feel him more. I’m holding space for you (as you know, we empaths can do that), hoping to ease your journey through grief, if only a little. I’m here for you, any time. Feel a big hug and much love ❤️❤️

  • Claire Fullerton

    I know that on some level you can feel all the love and support coming your way from those of us who have followed you as witness bearers during these past few months. All love to you, Debby. It is an act of bravery in the face of life-altering vulnerability to share what you’ve shared here, and I honor that you have done so.

    • dgkaye

      Thank you so much Claire for your ongoing love and support. I surely do feel the love from the so many, like you, who’ve stuck with me and have sent words of encouragement and caring through this most difficult journey of loss for me. <3 xx

  • Christoph Fischer

    Sending lots of love. A bitter sweet and lovely post. Huge hugs my dear friend, Stay strong

  • Deborah Jay

    I wish there was something, anything, I could say to make it better, though I know there isn’t.
    Take your time and take care. You are in my thoughts and prayers, Deb.

  • Cynthia L Knoke

    I can’t seem to comment. I hope this one makes it to you. I cried when I read this. I am so truly sorry for your loss and so moved by the love you and your husband shared. This love will never die. Please know I have been thinking of you and am sending you my love and prayers.

  • Vivienne

    Debby, I am so sorry to hear of your husband’s passing. Your tribute is so beautiful.
    I only just found out, or I would have sent my condolences sooner.
    Hugs. Sending love and thoughts to you.

  • Liesbet

    Heartbreaking and immensely beautifully written, Debby. The love you both had for each other was like no other in the world – so strong, true, ever lasting. Cherish those memories and that preciousness. It is a rare thing in relationships. But it makes the heartache, loss, and grief even worse. Sharing some tears with you again today, Debby. You’re in my mind.

    • dgkaye

      Thank you so much for your kind heart Liesbet. You summed it up beautifully “But it makes the heartache, loss, and grief even worse” with that. Yes, I have to believe the deeper the love, the deeper the grief. It’s pretty deep. 🙁 <3

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: