This is part of the It’s Complicated series.
I am a widower.
My wife, Thea, slipped deeper into sleep this morning, April 17, and finally found the rest that she had been longing for. She was 42 years old.
I visited her every evening after work to tuck her in because the caretakers couldn’t figure out how to make the bed the way she wanted to.
I bought her a little TV to have by the bed-side because she couldn’t get to the TV room and we had a training session the last thing before I left every night to refresh her memory on how to work the thing.
I also made sure every night that the last words she heard me say were, “I love you.”
The last few days, though, she was just so tired and didn’t even care about the TV so I would just sit with her and hold her hand in silence while she labored through her breathing. Last night she was sleeping when I arrived and she told me she just wanted to continue sleeping and that I didn’t have to stay so I squeezed her hand and left.
I’m in shock right now; I didn’t think it would be this fast. People are asking me which mortuary to send her to and what to do with the remains and it hadn’t even occurred to me to figure those things out. I thought I had time.
Her room and her bed are exactly the way she left them and her car is still parked as crooked as she parked it the last time she drove. I have kept everything in a state of expecting her to come home even though I knew that she wouldn’t.
Her dog has been missing her so much and he knows that something is wrong with me this morning; right now he’s sleeping on my foot. I wish I could tell him. And then I am glad that I don’t have to tell him that he will never see her again.
I know that Thea wanted to be cremated and when I gave the news to her mother this morning, she expressed a wish to keep the ashes in her house. I think Thea would have liked it; this way she gets to go home to mommy.
Safe travels, Thea. You will be missed by us left behind but for you the adventure has just begun.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Dear Dreamwalker,
I just came upon your site this week and I cannot stop reading your words – I am so deeply moved by your writing, your honesty, the beauty conveyed, your courage
love,
Evie
I’m so sorry for your loss, Dreamwalker. I haven’t been here to your blog in a while, so I’m just seeing this. I hope that time will help ease your pain and torment.
klg
*whispers*
Thinking of you. I hope you are getting the love, support and rest that you need. Come back soon
Thank you, everyone, for this incredible outpouring of love and compassion. I have received comments and private emails and phone calls and I have not responded to a single one of them. Please accept my apologies; I have more or less locked myself into a dark room and tried to sleep as much as possible. I guess that’s my way of handling it when I get emotionally overwhelmed like right now.
Yesterday, though, Thea’s brother called and threatened to come to Las Vegas and make me go out for pizza and beer. I countered that I’d rather drive to him because I had wanted to see his new house. I love him and his girlfriend and they made me come out of my shell for a day. He even took me out on his bass buggy (sort of a bass boat on pontoons) and unfortunately, since his girlfriend didn’t come along for the boat ride (she insisted that we needed some male bonding time), we didn’t have anybody to bait our hooks.
Instead, we sat in the middle of a marsh talking about life and death and I finally got to vent how pissed off I am about a woman dying from cancer at the age of 42.
It just fucking sucks. She had so many plans and so much to do and now she won’t get to do any of it. I am so angry about the waste. Everybody says that I did more than anybody could have expected and yet I don’t feel like I did nearly enough. And it’s too late now; I can’t fix it.
That’s the hardest thing of all; to be relegated to the side-lines and have to watch and not be able to fix it. I didn’t fix it and it eats at me.
I am in a weird place right now where I still think of Thea in present tense half the time and the other half in past tense. Sometimes I use past and present tense in the same sentence.
I thought I would feel relieved when this was over; she would be free from the pain and I would be free from the worry. But nobody told the worry to go away, that it’s not needed anymore. I’m still worrying about her and I just got the added guilt that I haven’t been to visit her for a few days now.
I did make the now familiar trip to the group home to pick up her belongings today. A couple of garbage bags with her favorite pillows and her favorite blankets. And the little TV I bought her recently. And even the sippy cups I got her once it became too hard for her to sip through a straw.
Fuck. This is not how 2010 was supposed to turn out.
I want my money back.
The blur that comes in one’s head and heart while emotions catch up with facts takes time to clear. We are told to take time to grieve. We are told about the ‘steps’ in the ‘grieving process’. What does that mean? It is not like you have done this before. How can you recognise these things mid process?
Farewell Thea. You were and are loved by an amazing man. He was already amazing but his expression of love in the last part of your life was extraordinairy. For those of us who go on in life with him now we have had a glimpse of character all too rare. Thank you for allowing us, and him, to see that. Farewell.
Thank you Dreamwalker for sharing your adventure. Not all adventures end like we expect but they are all of value.
Kia kaha.
{{{soft hugs}}}
Your words have moved me since finding your written world here and today is no different and it is entirely different.
I am sorry for your loss and pain. I wish I could offer some comfort. Provide a service to tend to you and your needs. Ease your pain for a moment. I am just so sorry that your transition from your marriage has taken this uncomplicated turn of events.
I use the word uncomplicated because it has been your choice, but we all know it is anything but uncomplicated.
Take care of yourself. Take your time to grieve and feel.
This is very sad and my thoughts are with you.
I am so sorry.
I’m so sorry. Hugs.
There is nothing anyone can say to make this easier or help you to feel better but know that I care and my thoughts are with you.