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Twelve Months

 I flipped over another page of the calendar hanging on the wall. December.  Twelve months have passed.  A year of firsts-without you.  I felt your absence everywhere, every day.

 Beside our bed, your cell phone sits on your nightstand.  The water bottle I filled the last day you were home sits beside it, still filled with the water.  The only item I can hold in my hands knowing that your lips last touched its rim.  I can’t yet bring myself move those items. 

 My mind wanders back to memories of you.  I bring myself back to the now, but my emotions are strong; my heart aches to be back with you and relive every moment.  I fear my mind will one day fail me and those cherished memories may fade with time. 

 I think back to the last day you were home.  Since then our house grew cold, sad, empty.  The walls heavy with memories, but the rooms echo my sadness.  No longer filled with love and laughter.  What lingers is emptiness. 

 My mind strains to remember as much of those last days at home, as I possibly can.  I close my eyes and can almost feel your arms around me; the rise and fall of your chest; your heart beating.  We’d sway to a song only our hearts knew.  My fingers remember your touch, your fingers intertwined in mine.  Every kiss from you provoked the same reaction – delicious anticipation, pulse quickened, heart fluttered, I’d catch my breath. The fullness of your lips as they touched mine. The passion. The love. The connection. Bliss.  

 I think back to that last evening you were home.  You were so tired that day that we went to bed after supper, to our island, our own little world impenetrable from life’s pressures.  We cuddled until you fell asleep, on your back with your arm stretched, a position which you found some comfort.  As many nights before, I moved my pillow to the foot of the bed, curled up to your legs, rubbed your feet, then gradually fell asleep.  Some nights I still sleep that way.

 Only a couple of hours later, you woke me.  Visibly uncomfortable and exhausted, you admitted you didn’t feel well.  I knew the last few days had been difficult for you but had no idea how much.  When I suggested we head to the hospital, you agreed.  My heart sunk as this confirmed you were much worse than I thought, but I had to maintain my composure, be strong for you.  I helped you dress and collect your urine sample.  My mind then panicked - your liver and kidneys were not functioning.  The ride to the hospital was a blur, but we got there.  Within a few hours I could see your discomfort, frustration, confusion.  Cancer was ravaging your body and I was helpless.  I couldn’t save you.

 The doctors advised they could do no more.  You didn’t cry, nor ask ‘why me’.  Instead you worried about me and our children.  There were hard and heartfelt conversations; and a multitude of hugs, kisses and I love you’s.  As you requested, we kept music playing in the background and I was by your side.  Those nights I lay beside you in that hospital bed, I watched you sleep, I tried to memorize every inch of you, burn your image in my mind.  I felt like we were living in a dream.  This couldn’t be real. How could God allow someone so genuine, so good, to be taken like this?  The pain in my chest was unbearable – but nothing compared to yours.

 Gradually you started to wade in an out of consciousness and coherency, I stayed by your side, holding your hand, trying to keep you calm and relaxed as possible.  That’s all I could do.  I wished it was me, not you, going through this.  You rapidly lost weight as your belly distended, you skin started to yellow, and I couldn’t stop it. Although you wouldn’t communicate, you’d reach for me, not the nurse, knowing I was there for you to help.  Although you were slipping away, you would respond to my voice, you still kissed me.  You still held my hand. 

 As your breathing shallowed, we could see it was time for you to gain your wings.  You were so fragile, so cold, so not the man who walked into the hospital five days earlier.  I would say I love you and ask for kisses, and you puckered your lips and could kiss me.  Oh God, it broke my heart that you had to go.  It broke my heart that I couldn’t save you.  It broke my heart that your children, Jase, and my children were losing you forever.

 When the nursing staff said they would freshen you up, you could still hear me. I told you I was going down the hall for a minute.  I told you that I loved you and asked for kisses.  You puckered up and kissed me back.  I asked for more kisses and you obliged.  I said I would be right back.  When I walked out the door, I worried that you’d slip away while I was gone to the lounge.  I promised you I would be there with you to the end. But when I returned, I knew you were gone, even before I opened the door.  This horrible weight in my chest crushed me, crushed the air right out of my lungs.  I looked at you in that bed – almost unrecognizable to those who hadn't seen you in a while.  I know you chose to leave after I had stepped away for those few moments, trying to protect me from further pain.   I lay my head on your chest. It was cold, hard, hollow.  Lifeless.  I held you. I kissed you. I cried. A piece of me went with you that day, where it belongs.

 I haven’t been the same since that day.  I promised you I would be fine.  And one day I will be.  I I’ve experienced loss before.  But not like this.  Our lives, our being, so intertwined, symbiotic.  Since that day, I’ve felt incomplete, almost hollow.  Disconnected.  All colour faded when you took your last breath.  I live in a world of grey.  This is grief.  It comes in waves.  At first crashing hard at my foundation, leaving sharp painful edges that I couldn’t move without feeling pain.  As the weeks go by, the waves vary, some massive, others not as strong.  As the months go by, the waves continue, some strong, others are ripples, yet massive ones still strike at times.  The sharp edges are gradually weathering down, some painful, others sadness.  But I keep moving. 

 It’s been one trip around the sun without you by my side.  But I carry a piece of you with me, deep in my heart, forever cherished. That piece sustains me, and my memories comfort me.   As days pass, I become more accustomed to life as it is now.  It’s different.  I’m different.  I try to honour you by living a life which you’d be proud of me.  To remember the things you’ve taught me, the love you’ve showed me.  I am a better person because of you.  I thank you for choosing me to love, to trust, and to bear your soul.  My best friend. My lover.  My happiness.  You were, you are the love of my life. I miss you often.  And love you always.  Sending my love and kisses to Heaven.

 

December 5,2020

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