Woman Loses Husband To COVID-19: 'I Can't Live Without You'

EAST QUOGUE, NY — Just last month, Peggy and Tom Mendenhall were happily planning the route they had take this winter in their new motor home— sharing the next chapter in a love story that was cut short after Tom died Monday following a fierce battle with COVID-19.

And now, Peggy is left reeling, wishing things were different — wishing they had known to seek a doctor sooner after what they thought was a sinus infection took a dark turn, and her beloved husband began coughing violently and was unable to catch his breath. She wishes he had agreed to wear a mask —and get vaccinated.

Her husband was afraid the vaccine might make him sick, she said.

"I just lost my husband, the love of my life on Monday because he was afraid of the vaccine. If only he'd had the vaccine and worn his mask, I may have had him another 25 years," Peggy wrote on Facebook, urging people to heed the warning cry as the delta variant races through the country.

Tom Mendenhall leaves a legacy on the East End: The longtime owner of Mendenhall Fuel, he served as a medic in the Vietnam War and upon returning to his hometown, worked alongside his father at the family comany. He worked his way up to president, his obituary said. He semi-retired in 2017 and served on the board of directors there.

He was a member of the East Quogue Fire Department for more than 50 years, past chief, captain of the fire police squad and recently was elected to be their chaplain. One of the proudest moments of his life, Peggy said, was when Tom was appointed to the title of Chaplain of the Fire Chiefs Council. He was also a member of the WHB VFW Post 5350, a lifelong member of the East Quogue United Methodist Church, a member of the East Quogue Historical Society, past president of the East Quogue Methodist Men, and many others where he dedicated his life to serving others.

He was a devoted family man and husband who lived his life selflessly helping others before himself, Peggy said.

He didn't want to go to the hospital at first, even though she, too, along with a daughter and two grandchildren also were diagnosed with the virus. He believed he would get better. One day he was so sick that Peggy said if he refused to get in the car, she'd call an ambulance.

But when his blood oxygen level dropped to 70, Tom knew he had to be hospitalized, and from that moment, everything changed in a heartbeat, Peggy said. "In the end, they were pumping 100 percent into him and he was only at 79 percent. He had good days — but not many."

The last time she was able to speak to him was when she came to his hospital room to leave his cell phone.

Still recovering herself, she was not allowed to stay in the hospital for those first few days, Peggy said. "I begged him to forgive me because I had to leave. He tried to take off his mask to say 'I love you.'"

Even when he was so gravely ill, her husband's last thoughts and words were on her, that she was healing, Peggy said. She is haunted that he may have died not knowing that she recovered from the coronavirus — but takes comfort in knowing that even on a respirator and unconscious, he could still hear her voice, reading John Wesleyan to her husband, a man of great faith in God.

Even on Saturday, when the doctor told her family the unthinkable, "He's never coming home," they were unable to digest the words. "We still had hope," she said.

During the last days, Peggy and the couple's blended family came to the hospital, sanitizing their hands and wering masks. "I would hold his hand as I was reading and just talk to him," she said.

Her son thanked him for being the father he'd never had; he loved her two children as deeply as he did his own four, Peggy said.

There was one day, last Tuesday, when she went to the hospital and entered his room to see Tom responding to his daughter Sarah, "shaking his head 'yes,' shrugging his shoulders. I couldn't get my mask on fast enough. It was so uplifting. But that was it. After that, it was nothing."

This Monday, the doctor told Tom's family that his blood pressure was dropping quickly. I was with him, reading, and I just stopped. I said, 'I can't live without you. I'm trying so hard to be strong, and I'm lying to everybody —but I can't lie to you.' I stopped reading and I put my head down, and I just held his hand."

Later, after she'd gotten home, she got a call soon after from Tom's daughter, who was crying. "She told me I'd better get back," Peggy said.

His beloved wife and children stayed by his side all that afternoon and night, when he was removed from the ventilator and his breathing became shallow as nurses administered medication for the pain.

He died just before 10 p.m.

Despite the agony, Peggy said she is grateful that she could spend those last days and hours with her husband. "We were so fortunate to be allowed to be there. I can't even imagine all those people last year, who were not able to be with the ones they loved who were dying."

COVID-19 is casting a long shadow even now, Peggy said: The rooms near her husband's and the ICU were full.

That's why, Peggy said, her mission now is to sound the warning cry, urging people to be vaccinated.

Remembering her love, Peggy said they met in an AOL chat room in 1996. "We had our first dat in 1997 and we knew we wee brought together for a reason — and the rest was history."

Peggy, who was originally from Louisiana, was hesitant to call him, but her best friend Earline Richard got the number and made the call.

Earline, Peggy said, also died of COVID-19 — on Friday, three days before Tom.

The couple, although they met years ago, just married four years ago. "We always thought, 'What's the rush?'" Peggy said. "Now I know."

Her husband's life was marked by giving. "He was concerned over everybody. If he found out people needed food, all of a sudden there was food coming out of the rafters. He would always say if he won the lottery, he'd buy this person or that person a house because they were strugging."

Tom, she said, helped family and employees. When her mother was admitted into a care center, Tom bought her trailer home so she would "alway have a home to go to," in case she was released, Peggy said.

He brought all the grandchildren to Disney and even invited children who weren't related, whose parents couldn't afford the trip, Peggy said. He threw parties known for lavish food and his crazy costumes; one year he dressed up like a gorilla to make guests laugh, she said.

When they visited a diner down South on one of the many trips they took over the past few years, following Tom's dream to see the country and the world, they noticed the owner was struggling, and had been forced to let staff go. "When he got home, he'd send them money every week," Peggy said.

An avid reader, their home was filled with books, mostly on theology. "He loved God," she said.

And, she said, Tom loved her, with a steadfast devotion that never wavered. "When we first met he told me he would make sure I would never need anything for the rest of my life."

After he had an earlier medical scare, he told her, "'You're my wife, you'll be taken care of.' I told him I didn't want to talk about that. I didn't want to live without him. I still don't. Somebody has to wake me up, because this doesn't feel real."

Their life was filled with road trips; this year, he wanted to see the Grand Canyon and Mt. Rushmore — as well as Abilene, Texas. She wanted to go to Roswell, New Mexico. "I told him if you want to see cowboys, I want to see aliens," she laughed. And when she told her husband that there was a campground in Florida where you could wake to lions roaring but hesitated over the nightly rate — he told her to book a full week, so her dream could come true.

"Since we met in 1996, I can count on one hand how many times we argued," Peggy said. "Even if we had a difference of opinion, he'd leave and come back with a big milkshake. He bought me trinkets and plants, because I don't like to see cut flowers die. He was so loving."

Thinking back to July when her husband first felt sick, Peggy is plagued by what-ifs, what if they had known it was COVID-19. "But we just didn't know. It never even entered my mind."

COVID-19, she said, is insidious. "It just creeps up on you. One minute, he was fine."

Her own symptoms, she said, were mild, save her inability still to taste and smell.

Now, Peggy said she will dedicate her life to spreading the word. She thanked a man coming out of a store Thursday for masking his small children.

"So many parents don't mask their children. They'll regret it when they lose their little child," she said. "I will voice my opinion because yes, adults have a choice — but kids don't. We have to protect our kids."

She urged people to mask up, and get vaccinated. "I get so angry now. People have a choice but if they would at least just wear their masks then the rest of us wouldn't have to live in fear for the rest of our lives."

Her husband, whose life was shaped by giving, gave his final gift even as he breathed his last, she said. After his death, all the staffer at Mendenhall Fuel went out to be vaccinated. "He saved a lot of lives," she said. "He would have liked that. All he wanted to do was help people."

If she could speak to her husband just one more time, Peggy said she would say: "We all miss you so much, honey, but you taught us all to be strong and follow your example by being the best you can be every day, so we will. Enjoy your life with God."

Tom leaves behind his four daughters Rebecca (Matthew) Mendenhall-Atkins, Sarah (Erik) Mendenhall-Luhmer, Tracee Mendenhall and Jessica (Jay) Mendenhall- Kunkle, as well as his stepchildren Margaret (PJ) Bourque and Frank Sanders; ive grandchildren, Noelle and Jakob Luhmer, Alora Mendenhall-Atkins, Zachary Rushlo, Maxwell McMahon and his good friend Kevin Rushlo. He has also left behind a sister Ann (Tim) Cullum. He was predeceased by his parents Edna A. and Carleton (Bus) Mendenhall, a daughter Catherine and son Matthew.

Calling hours are being held at the Scott-Rothwell Funeral Home in Hampton Bays with a firematic service that evening on Thursday, September 2 from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. Funeral services will be held at the Christ Our Savior Church of Hampton Bays on Friday, September 3; time is pending, with interim at the Oakwood Cemetery in East Quogue.

In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in his memory to the Firefighters Benevolent Association in East Quogue or the National Cancer Society.