u/Entire-Ganache-1893

My beautiful partner, Brendan, passed away one month ago (April 11th) at the age of 38. He is Catholic, and I had considered entering the faith while he was alive (we planned to get our previous marriages annulled and be married in the church). Now that he is gone, I feel this pull towards it to feel closer to him and hope of being reunited when my time comes.

I grew up without any defined religion. I was Muslim for about 13 years during my previous relationship (I converted and wore hijab), but after the (happy) dissolution of my marriage, I struggled with religion and how I saw it being used to subdue and control me.

I am open to God or a higher power, and want to explore Catholicism more. I attended mass yesterday. My 5th time going (the 3rd time being the day after his death to had his name read at Mass and the 4th time his funeral Mass). I felt so close to him while I was there, especially that it was his church and the stained glass features his favourite colour, purple, prominently and the Priest makes movie references (my Brendan is an avid movie lover!).

Sorry this is long. I guess the TLDR is: what is the best way to go about learning about Catholicism and seeing if my beliefs align? I’m not sure where to start.

I am in Ontario, Canada (in Durham Region for those who may be local)

Thank you!

I lost my (38f) husband (38m) 26 days ago, on April 11th, 2026 and I still don’t know what killed him. He left our house that morning, and I am so glad we both said “I love you”, and shared a kiss and he said “I’ll call you later” and I watched him as he walked down the street. I am so glad I did because the next call I would get is from his uncle that he was dead. The words “I have terrible news, Brendan has passed away” ring in my ears and I swear my blood drained out of my body entirely at those words. I remember I was laying down in our bed at first, in his spot, just relaxing and scrolling before going about my day. I have three kids from a previous marriage who I had dropped with their dad so I had an uncharacteristically empty house and I wanted to just watch some shows, and waited for his call. I wish I had called him. I wish I just called him instead of waiting. I wish I had been the one to be told first to be with him. I don’t know why I wasn’t the first one called when he was taken to the hospital.

He was found behind a building by someone. Just laying there. Unresponsive. No idea how long. His last call/text he sent/made was around 9:45 and his TOD was listed as 11:27 so there is a good chance he may have been dead and laying there, waiting to be found, for at least an hour before 911 was called.

I remember the silence and weight of the uber ride to the hospital. Convinced they got it wrong. This was so elaborate hoax or mistake. I had JUST seen him. He’s ONLY 38.

When I got to the emergency department and said his name and saw a social worker and nurses meet me, I wanted to ignore it. When I saw his mom, aunt and uncle in a room to the side, I thought they got it wrong. He was simply on life support. Had to be. He isn’t gone. He isn’t gone. That walk to the room where he was felt so long. The room was so white and quiet. His brother and sister and dad and stepmom were there. All I saw was him and he was so…still. Quiet. He is never quiet. He snores so loud. He was just laying there. Chest bare, his sweater and T-shirt I had handed him that morning in shreds around him, along with his leather jacket he loves so much. His chest exposed with electrodes on it they had used to try and revive him. The tube in his mouth they had used to try and inflate his lungs. He was so cold already. He was always warm and now he was cold. I begged him to wake up. I begged him to open his eyes. It’s ok, he can come back to me. He can wake up and no one is mad. He just lay there. The first time I ever touched his hand and he didn’t hold me back. I saw the blood had already started to settle and he was so completely still. Looked like he was just asleep. I kept willing him to breath. Willing him to move.

I stayed while they prepared him for transport as he needed to go into the city for an autopsy. I watched as they moved his body, wrapping it in a blanket, and placing him into two bags. I watched the love of my life being bagged and tagged. I wanted to scream they got it wrong. How can they tell me they tried every life saving measure and he isn’t here. I wanted to scream at them they made a mistake and they didn’t do enough and he is alive and he can’t breath in the bag. That he needs his glasses. That he is cold and needs a blanket. He needs me.

Seeing him at the viewing in the clothes I picked out for him and all the items and photos we wanted him to have with him. He looked like himself and yet he wasn’t. His chest was so sunken, he was freezing cold, the parts of his body not given the cosmetic treatment were blue. He was sleeping but not waking up. I knew he couldn’t because he was autopsied and embalmed and yet I begged him to wake up. Why could he wake up?

He has two kids and seeing them broke my heart and I just hugged them so tight. I was grieving potentially losing them, too.

I turned 38 the day after he was buried. We had only moved in together on Nov 28th after years of living apart due to my divorce (it’s a long story). We didn’t even get to have 6 months living together before it all was taken away. We had just bought a car for our family of 7, taken our first family trip. We were both finally getting the love and family we worked so hard for.

I miss him so much and sit with his grave for hours every day because I just need to feel close to where he is. I don’t know how I can potentially live without him for years or decades. I lost myself and my future when he died. He took me with him. He took the version of me I was finally happy to be.

Love does not end with death or a funeral. Grieving is forever and so is love and I will never not wish he was here with me, as selfish as it may be, I wish he were here to help me cope with this.