CINCINNATI -- On the morning of Oct. 8, Cincinnati Bengals defensive coordinator Mike Zimmer kissed the love of his life goodbye and went to work. That evening, he came home and found her dead on their bedroom floor. Vikki Zimmer was 50 and hadn't been sick.

You think the man is fretting about having to deal with Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger Sunday at Heinz Field?

Please.

Actually, Zimmer is thankful for the Big Ben challenge, thankful to have something so all-consuming to keep him busy and keep his mind occupied. The Steelers' terrific receivers? Bring 'em on. Running back Rashard Mendenhall? Bring him on, too.

Zimmer will take his chances with his guys. The Bengals' defense -- long the weakness of this laughingstock NFL franchise -- is a big reason the team is 6-2, right there with the Steelers in first place in the AFC North Division. It ranks second in the league against the run, behind only the Steelers' defense. The Bengals are fifth in fewest points allowed. The Cincinnati defense has become rock-solid just like its drill sergeant of a coordinator whose tough love and salty language for his players were such big parts of the HBO series "Hard Knocks" this summer.

Not that Zimmer seemed so tough yesterday before practice.

Not when he talked about losing his wife of 27 years.

You might have seen that same soft, human side of Zimmer after the Bengals beat the Ravens in Baltimore three days after her death. Television cameras in the locker room captured the NFL season's most poignant moment: Bengals coach Marvin Lewis giving the game ball to Zimmer, who told the team, "You know she loved every one of you," before breaking down.

Bengals rookie linebacker Rey Maualuga said Zimmer told his players before that game, "Don't feel sorry for me. This is your work. You can't bring personal stuff into it and still do your jobs." Ordinarily, the players listen to Zimmer's every word. Not this time. Seeing them swarm him after Lewis gave him that game ball made it clear this was very personal to them. They wrapped their big, sweaty arms around him, almost as if they were trying to protect him from his pain.

If only it were that easy.

"Monday and Tuesday this week were tough days for me," Zimmer said outside the Bengals' locker room at Paul Brown Stadium. "Here we are, 6-2. I'm working with a good group of coaches and with players I like and respect. We're playing pretty good defense. All of that, and I'm miserable. That's hard to live with."

All of it has been difficult. Coming home and finding his wife. Notifying their three children. Making all of the arrangements and getting everyone to Cincinnati for the funeral Oct. 13. Going back to an empty house after all the family and friends had left to resume their lives ...

That last part has been the hardest part for Zimmer. It was especially bad after the Bengals beat the Ravens again Sunday. The other coaches went home to their wife and kids to celebrate one of the great wins in franchise history. He went home alone and faced another fitful night of sleep on the family-room couch. He still can't bring himself to sleep in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

The past five weeks would have been so much worse for Zimmer if not for the support of everyone in the Bengals' organization. Owner Mike Brown and Lewis might not have won a lot of games over the years, but they are classy, caring people. Dozens of players and coaching colleagues from around the league also reached out to Zimmer. The NFL family looks after its own. But what overwhelmed Zimmer were the cards and letters -- more than 500 -- that he received from strangers. Each wanted to express his or her sympathy or share their stories.

"One guy wrote and said his wife died 24 hours after their only son was born," Zimmer said. "Another guy wrote that he just lost his wife and said he was really struggling and that he didn't think he could make it, but then he saw me coach at Baltimore and, if I can get through it, well, maybe he can, too.

"You don't think of those things or the impact your situation might have on others. That's not why I coached that day. I was just doing what I had to do."

Zimmer, 53, is a football lifer, the son of an Illinois Hall of Fame prep coach. This is his 30th season on the job. He has coached in the college game at Missouri, Weber State and Washington State and in the pros with the Dallas Cowboys, Atlanta Falcons and Bengals. He was the secondary coach with the Cowboys in 1995 when one of his players -- cornerback Larry Brown -- intercepted two of quarterback Neil O'Donnell's passes to beat the Steelers in Super Bowl XXX.

Zimmer needs football now more than ever.

The problem is his kids are so far away. His son, Adam, 25, who he said "called his mother every night on the way home from work," is an assistant linebackers coach with the 8-0 New Orleans Saints. His daughters, Marki, 22, and Corri, 19, live in Austin, Texas, with friends. "I'll call and one or the other of the girls will be crying," Zimmer said. " 'I miss mom,' they'll say. It breaks your heart."

The Bengals' off week after they beat the Chicago Bears Oct. 25 came at the right time for Zimmer. He was able to get to Austin and New Orleans to hug his kids, to cry with them, to hold them up and to be held up. Leaving to go back to Cincinnati was brutal, but, as he and everyone else who has lost a loved one knows, life has to go on.

For Zimmer, that meant another game -- that second game against the Ravens. Thankfully for him, there's still another against the Steelers Sunday with so much on the line.

Zimmer can't wait to get to Pittsburgh -- even if Roethlisberger, Mendenhall and the rest will be waiting there.

The thought of going back home is what scares him.