Here it is once again, Friday! I find it so hard to believe how fast the days turn into week which turn into months. And right around the corner is a new year. Time does not stand still even when I feel like I am standing still. But on Friday I like to write, along with a group of people who follow the Five Minute Friday prompts left for us by Kate Moutaung. This week the prompt is: prepare. We write for 5 minutes. No editing, no backtracking to make it perfect. Just writing. From the heart.
GO
I really thought I could prepare. But I was, oh so wrong. You cannot prepare yourself for the death of your spouse. You can see it coming. You can get yourself ready. But there is just no preparation that will make it anything more than the most powerful experience you will ever go through in your life. The biggest event. The saddest. The most horrible.
I saw him start to fade in the early part of July. I knew he wouldn't make it through summer. I talked with a cool head to the hospice nurse. I explained it carefully to his grandchildren. My son and I stood in the kitchen, with our arms wrapped around each other, and knew it was coming. I told myself it was going to be okay. His suffering would end. And we would go on. And it would be okay. How hard could this be anyway? I had witnessed death before. I had lost my mom, my dad, grandparents, a baby girl,a mother-in-law, a brother-in-law, a sister-in-law. I had stood in the room with hundreds of patients and their families as their loved one had slipped quietly away. Some we fought hard to save. They didn't go quietly. But I had witnessed death. And I was prepared.
And then he died. I was in shock. I felt as if I was walking through mud. I got up each day and went through the motions of living my life. I made the preparations for his memorial service. We took care of the finalities of his very long and loving life. We said good-bye. We tied up the loose ends.
And then in the weeks that followed the grief hit me. It was more powerful than a tsunami. More powerful than a tornado. I cried enough tears to flood our town. My heart ached. It still aches. I couldn't move. I couldn't stand. I couldn't think. I'd turn to say a word to my husband; only to find him gone and start the grieving again. I couldn't prepare. There isn't a plan. Grief has gripped me in his ugly hands and squeezed my heart until it bursts. And then it happens again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next day. And on and on and on.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.....
Stop
Wow.
ReplyDeleteI'm from FMF, and I just...wow. My heart goes out to you.
See, I'm the guy who's dying - should be gone already, or so my doctors say. But I am very well trained to survive, and Scout/Sniper never had "giving up" as part of the curriculum. So here I still am.
It can't last forever, and I am trying to make sure that my wife is as ready as possible, at least from an emotional point of view. To a degree that involves stepping back from a shared life, and encouraging her to build friendships (NOT male friendships!) that don't involve me. Kind of a lonely and spooky thing to do. Doesn't seem to be much to choose from, there. Cling to her, and she'll have a harder time. Let go, and I hope it will be easier.
I've seen a lot of death, but very little by natural causes. Far better to die in a gunfight. This slow decline stuff is awful for everyone.
I hope that you'll be feeling God's presence in your valley of the shadow. I hope that my prayers will be of use - because they are there.
I hope tomorrow is better for you, dear wounded heart. I truly do.
http://blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com/2014/12/prepare-to-meet-thy-god-five-minute.html
Andrew,
DeleteMay God bless you for trying to protect your wife....may he also show you how wrong your decision to cut her off is...Please give her the opportunity to spend as much time as she possibly can with you, loving you, laughing with you, building memories with you. These are the things that will sustain her when you are gone.
Wendy, thank you for taking the time to comment on my comment...you raise a good point, and it's one that I honestly did not consider. My background is somewhat specialized, and of its nature demanded that individuals were expendable, with little room for sentiment.
DeleteApplying that to marriage is, on reflection, moronic.
Thank you for visiting Andrew. I am so sorry about your condition. Your perspective on dying is very valid. Although I have to agree with Wendy here. Not that I think there is anyway that you can prepare your wife emotionally. Like I said I thought I was prepared. But my grief has struck me in such ways that I could never have imagined. I miss my husband so much that there are times the pain is unbearable. But I do know that there will be a day we will be reunited in some way. And until then that is what sustains me.
DeletePaula,
ReplyDeleteI was so saddened to see Andrew's response to this post. I think you made it very clear that you don't regret one moment of the time you spent caring for and being with Richard. Death is hard. Nothing makes it easier but I have to believe that there is great peace in knowing that not one moment with Richard was wasted.
Thank you Wendy! I do not regret anything that Richard and I ever went through. And some of it would cause one to have regrets. But now that he is gone all of it is special to me. I never, ever wasted a single moment taking care of him. Even in the darkest hours!
DeleteMay God continue to wade through the mud with you, Paula. He is but a whisper away from you. Here's my hug for you this day! < > (inadequate, I know, but it's a virtual hug ;) ).
ReplyDeleteA hug from you will never be considered inadequate in my view. Thank you so much!
DeleteHugs to you, Paula; like I said before, I know you and Richard shared a very special love.
ReplyDeletebetty
Yes we did Betty! And I will forever be so grateful to have found him.
DeleteI have not lost my spouse but your grief story resonated with me in so many ways. I too have seen a lot of death. And get gripped by grief anew over and over again. Know that you do not walk through the valley alone. I hope there is some relief for you soon.
ReplyDeleteThank you Colleen. I am not looking for relief. I love every moment of the grief. Even the pain. Because it is allowing me to bury the memories, not only in my heart, but in the hearts of all who knew Richard. This way he will never be forgotten!!
DeleteI can but try to imagine what your grief is like, but it's as futile trying to imagine being on the frontline in a war, which is something else I've never done.
ReplyDeleteI've often marveled at how well you're doing based upon the fact that you're able to post about other subjects, and able to be attentive to other people's blogs. Such things give me reason to believe that as the years go by, your grief will lessen.
My wish for you is that you would go to a doctor and do some of the preventative things that I mentioned earlier. I bring this up again because grief lowers your immunity, and I fear that you will get a cold, and that it will go to pneumonia, or that you will get shingles, and the pain won't go away. Bitching at you about this is one of the few things I can offer you with any confidence that I know what I'm talking about. You say you don't fear death, but I'm not so much concerned about you dying as about your already considerable burden being made greater. Please, listen to me about this. I love you, my friend, and I want the best for you more than I can say. It's also true that taking such preventative measures would be a life-affirming action, and I want that for you.
It is futile to say the least to try to imagine what it is like to lose a spouse. Believe I tried all of that before Richard died. And it wasn't anything like I expected. I don't know if I am doing that well with the grief or just able to pocket it so that I can do other things. As for the third paragraph...you are so sweet Snow. I love you too my friend. And you don't know what it means to me to have you care about my health. It is in my New Years Plans to take better care of myself. :)
DeleteHa! Ha!
DeletePaula, each time I read of your journey I think (your message) couldn't get any more poignant, or powerful, even.
ReplyDeleteThen, you do it again and I'm humbled all over again.
Thank you for making a difference!
Thank you for continuing to be my 'cheerleader' Myra
ReplyDeleteThere is so much heart here, Paula. I missed out on the prompt this week - it would have been a good one for me too. Being prepared for life just doesn't always happen. Thanks for pouring your heart out for us. :)
ReplyDeletePouring my heart out seems to be what I do best these days!
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