Hope

What greater thing is there for two human souls,
than to feel that they are joined for life -
to strengthen each other in all labor,
to rest on each other in all sorrow,
to minister to each other in all pain,
to be one with each other
in silent unspeakable memories
at the moment of the last parting?

~ George Eliot

This has been a month of contemplation for me.  The one year anniversary of Tom's passing comes on March 14th and my mind reflects on the past 2 1/2 years.  Much of that times is foggy in my mind.  I have to ask others about the sequence of events or who was present when.  I struggle to remember the detail of that day.  I rely on my kids and my sister to fill me in.

I awoke at about 2:30 and my room was silent.  I laid still and listened and did not hear snoring or even breathing.  I propped myself up on one elbow so I could listen with both ears.  I did not want to turn the light on.  Perhaps if I don't turn the light on it won't be real.  Maybe I can just pretend this isn't happening.  I dreaded this day.

  I turned on the bedside lamp and looked at Tom.  He was so still, (not uncommon towards the end).  I didn't want to check.  Fear, panic, grief took over.  I got up and went to him and could not feel a pulse or feel any breath.  Damn.  Damn that I slept through his final moments. Perhaps that was a gift to me but I vowed to be there till death us do part. Damn this life and this cruel world.  Damn, Damn, Damn.  I'm sorry but for those of in the trenches sometimes that is just the best word to describe the utter frustration of this life.

   Now what?  What should I do?  I have a house full of sleeping kids and really don't want them to wake up to a house full of strangers  nor do I want to leave his side to get them up.  I called Tom's sister.  "Susan, tell me what to do".  God bless her.  She told me to call Sara because Sara could get here quicker . Susan lives 45 minutes away but she was on her way.  Emily and Kavin were asleep on an airbed in the living room.  I didn't want to leave the room so I texted her.  She came downstairs knowing.  Knowing I would not wake her up in the middle of the night for anything non-critical.  Please someone, take over.  Tell me what to do here.  I remember very little after that.  Soon my sister arrived and hospice was called.  It fell on Emily, my oldest, to wake the boys and tell them.  I'm sorry you had to do that Emily.  I am the parent, but I am so grateful you were here.  Andrea and Rhys were on their way.  I needed someone to take over.  I was frozen.  I wanted every second of that day to be etched in my memory but I remember so little.  I had asked the funeral director (a friend of mine) if at all possible could he do the removal himself.  He had a service that morning so it would have to wait until that was over for him to do it himself.  I could wait.  I wanted to drag this out as long as possible.  Don't take him away from me.  Please don't take him away.  Can't I have just one more lucid day?  Just one.  Please God, just let him tell me one more time that he loves me and that everything is going to be ok.  But it won't be and it wasn't.

   I worked in the funeral industry for 10 years so I had some very specific wishes.  I wanted to wash him and dress him myself.  My one final gift to him.  I did not want someone who doesn't love him taking his clothes off.  Jordan and I did it ourselves with the help of a hospice nurse.  I had bought him a brand new oregon ducks long sleeve shirt.  I did not want him to be cold.    His dog, Bella, a tiny miniature Doxie would not leave from under his bed so I picked her up and put her on the bed with Tom.  She would not go near his face which was very unlike her.  She settled in the indent between both legs where she stayed for 7 hours.  I never left the room except to help one of the boys who was struggeling.  He had already suffered so much loss in his life and that life of loss came crushing in.

   My mom came to cook for people and take care of the practicle matters.  People would need to be fed more than once that day.  I remember them bringing me food but I remember it being a struggle to eat.  My dad came to comfort me.  He has lost a spouse too.  My house was full but I struggle to remember the details.

    Nothing can prepare you for the moment they take your loved one away.  Nothing.  I had very specific ideas about what I wanted even in this.  Tom was going to be cremated so I had bought a white quilt for him to be wrapped in.  I had made him a quilt that I was going to have him buried in but we had decided upon cremation and I could not bear the idea of his quilt being burned up so I bought a plain white quilt. The kids spent the day huddled on the king size bed writing notes to dad on the quilt.  The dogs even left a footprint.  I did not want his face covered in my presence.  But nothing prepared me for how hard that moment would be when I knew I would never see him again.  I can't remember feeling that much pain.  It physically hurts.  It hurts even to write these words and I have not gotten this down without a good hard cry.  I miss that man.  He was so whacky.  I miss his bursts of laughter.  I miss his smack talking with the boys and their friends.  I actually miss being woken in the middle of the night by a shaking bed and a laughing husband even as he sleeps.

   I feel so blessed to have walked that road with him.  Blessed to have been his wife for 30 years.  Blessedd to have such great kids who love and look out for their momma.  Blessed that God showed up in amazing ways in our darkest hours.  Blessed to have friends who would light our way when we could not see through the darkness.  Blessed that I am on the climb out of the valley of the shadow of death even when it hurts like it was yesterday.

   I am a thankful and blessed woman.  I have a rich life.  Not the life I envisioned but I cling to the hope that God is true to his word.  That my future will be greater than I imagined.  I have no idea what that means for me but I hope.  And hope is a powerful thing.

Tricia Lott Williford says "I have a PHD in hope."