I walked into my bedroom this afternoon and there was a hospital bed with my husband in it, he died last year but I looked at him in shock and disbelief. I walked over to him and sat down as I gently wiped the blood from his nose and down his chin.
I asked him why he had come back and he said because “I needed him” and he wanted to be there for me in death when he wasn’t in life. I sat and stared at him and felt so helpless like I had when he was dying and the tears escaped by eyes in floods.
No one can ever understand the emotions that go along with the death of a spouse and no one can until they experience it. It doesn’t matter what the relationship status is because in the end, yes in the end the only thing that matters is the two of you and how you cope with the situation.
I am great at dealing with emergency situations but this was so far past an emergency there isn’t even a name for it. You no longer look at each other as separate entities but as one and all my will and might I could not breathe life back into his body once he passed.
I sat next to his bed for about an hour and I couldn’t move, I had failed in my mind’s eye, I had failed my children by letting their dad pass. I didn’t let anything happen, it just did as it was meant to be and I still see my hands covered in red from cleaning the blood of him.
Death is death but when it becomes a visual death then things get tough, real tough. I am finding out that there are not that many people that have put to rest their spouse in the manner I was forced to. The blood flowed freely from his body as I withdrew into myself.
I still sit and look out the window and see his face the day he died, horrific and painful at best and I just walked through the house not believing his body was in the bedroom, gone of life, love and laughter he was. No one can hold a bleeding heart as it passes from this world to the next but I am forever seeing him and hearing him.
I cry for the loss of him and I cry for our children and I cry for myself but none of it makes for a sweeter memory, no just a reminder of what once was. I remember so clearly the day Shelby and I went and picked out the headstone and crematory box.
I couldn’t think or focus and Shelby had to pick everything out but she did it with such ease and precision
The calls to the ems, watching him being taken out of the house, watching them shove a tube down his throat and the fighting. Always fighting with the doctors and nurses when he was in ICU the nurse had one patient, my husband and she tried to feel for a pulse on his ankle, she didn’t know he didn’t have a leg and it’s moments like this that make me crazy with anger.
I do not want to think about this any longer as it is to painful and still raw in so many ways. I have learned to never let a day go by without telling my kids I love them and never let a day go by blaming myself for his death. I sometimes feel like I am running through the forest in the dark during a rainstorm and I cannot find shelter.
There will always be times like this and memories just as painful and there is no hiding from it, ever. You cannot just watch someone die and think you will never think about it again or it will have such a profound effect on your life.
I have lost all desire for material wealth and have found the only thing in this world that is important is people not possessions. When you experience the depth of loss that I and so many others have, then and only then do you have the right to tell me it’s ok to cry.