Never in the farthest reaches of my mind did I think I would
be burying my wife before we would have spent years graying and losing our
hair, getting fat and having our joints ache and creak at every move. No I never thought that our time would be cut
short. Never thought I would be a
widower at 48. Never thought I would be this
intimately connected to grief. No I thought we were going to be together
forever. But forever would have been too
short too.
Oh my sweet;
Oh my heart.
The first time I saw her, she was singing. I had finished with some court business and
needed a drink. I didn’t know it was
karaoke night. I had just about walked
out when I heard her sing. It was hauntingly
beautiful; it cut straight to my core and shook it, violently. Her voice upturned my whole world. I walked mesmerized to the bar and never took
my eyes off her. Nor did I take my eyes
off her our whole time together. Even
when I slept, it was her face, her smile, her laugh in my dreams. But the real thrill was opening my eyes to
see her lying next to me, my dream come true. How am I supposed to manage now
only seeing her in my dreams?
I couldn’t believe my luck.
Here, the most beautiful woman in the world let me in hers. She let me love her; she let me make her
laugh; she let me wipe her tears and caress her hair and hold her close. She let me kiss her; she let me make love to
her. She let me listen to her sing. She
let me love beyond what I thought was humanly possible. And we were happy, so happy.
When she was diagnosed with cancer, she looked even more
beautiful to me. We approached the news
with heavy hearts and minds. The doctors
said it was a complicated case. We tried
everything conventional and everything alternative. We flew across the country seeing
specialists, getting IV therapies, seeking second, third, fourth opinions. Many sleepless nights I scoured the internet
for any news, any hope that we would be able to cure this horrible
disease. She was my world, the reason the sky was so
blue and the stars twinkled at night.
I felt helpless as she took the treatments and I watched her
body, at first, rally and fight the cancer.
But the days extended to months
and once we passed the projected one-year mark, we both knew that her body
wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer.
I remember when she told me she was done fighting:
With tears spilling from her eyes, she said she didn’t want
to do any more treatments. She was tired
and couldn’t bear to deal with any more medicine or the side effects. She said that she wanted to use whatever
energy she had to hold my hand and lay in my arms. She said she wanted what days we had left to
be about us and not about doctors and cancer.
She said “I’m absolutely and totally devastated and gutted that I won’t
be around longer. But I’m done being
sick and I’m done being angry. I just
want to be surrounded in your love. Will
you do that for me?” I grabbed her and
pulled her to me, my tears never enough to relieve the sadness inside. “yes, yes” I whispered to her. And we just stood there, holding each
other. I felt if I held on to her, no
one, and especially not cancer, could take her from me. So I stood as tall and strong as I could and
let her pour her heart and soul into mine.
I would carry all that she needed.
I would be her protector.
After she made the decision to end treatment, her body had a
slight rebounding. I naively hoped that
it was a sign that she was getting better and wasn’t actually dying. But about a month later, it was rudely
evident, like a serrated-knife cutting skin rude! Looking back, I’m glad we had that month. We did as much on her bucket list as
possible. She asked me one morning to
take her out again on the bike. She said
she was feeling strong enough to hold on and wanted to enjoy the sensation of
the speed, the wind and the vibration of the bike again. I’m telling you, I took us on the longest,
most beautiful ride ever. I tried to
look at the scenery from her perspective and I think God made the colors that
much more vibrant, and gave the wind a touch of cool. I could feel her smiling behind me and every
so often, she would just give me a little squeeze. I whispered back, I love you too.
I hate this. I hate
remembering! I don’t want this to be
past tense. I want her here. I want to be touching her and holding
her. I want to be kissing her again. I want to see her walk through the front
door. I want to listen to her sing
again. I don’t want to be talking and
thinking about the last time we did this or we did that. I want to wake up from this horrible dream
and see her smiling face lying beside me.
When we made love, time stood still for us. Even on those instances (they were RARE
instances) when I came too quickly, time still stopped for us. Our lovemaking was beyond instinctual; it was
as if our two bodies were made exactly for each other. Everything fit so well from our brains to our
souls to our body parts. I would say
that when we made love, it impacted the universe but I might just be
overcompensating for the fact that she is gone.
But I do know that it changed me, every single time.
The last time we made love, she initiated.
She said “please honey.
Would you make love to me? “
I stammered “won’t it hurt?
I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t think so.
Take it easy and slow, sweetie.
Please.”
“okay.” I hesitated. “ I’m scared though. I might break you.”
“Then dammit, fix things so you won’t break me. Christ, I just want to get laid! Did you forget that I have cancer and I’m dying!?”
I looked at her shocked.
I stammered over my words, “I, sorry, I , oh, uh, gawd, give me a
minute. I’ll be right back”.
I left the room so I could get my shit together.
Bear with me, the
memories are just...
After a few deep breaths, I returned to our bedroom. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with
her back to the door. Her shoulders were
drooped and I could tell she was crying.
She said “I’m sorry, dear. I’m just
scared. I wish I weren’t dying,“ she
paused to catch her breath between sobs, “I only wanted you to make love to me
so I could feel you inside once more. To
have time stop for us.”” She turned to
look at me. Her eyes were swollen from
the tears. Her body was so much thinner than I remembered. Her remaining hair was doing a poor job of
hiding her skull. The scars from her
surgeries, the stretch marks from childbirth and that spot by her heart where
the chemotherapy port used to be, glistened and shimmered in the light from the
windows.
“God you’re beautiful.” I said and walked over to her. I took my time with her. I touched every inch of her body making a
mental map. I held her close and made love to her to last for an eternity. She cried when I entered her. I thought I was hurting her. I asked her if I should stop and she said “no,
please don’t ever stop loving me. Don’t
ever stop.” I replied back that I loved
her more than I could ever show.
Afterwards in our bed, cuddling and talking, she took my hand
and weaved her fingers in and out of mine.
She looked up at me and said, “Darling, I keep thinking I need to tell
you how much I love you and how sorry I am that I got cancer. I keep thinking that I need you to know how
thankful I am to have been your friend, lover, wife and that if I could change
things, I would stay alive forever to be with you.”
I tried to shush her but she continued. “please know all these things. Please know that for everything I have said,
there is so much I didn’t know how to say; that my love for you goes deeper
than the words available to describe it.”
She wiped her tears. “And that there
would never have been enough time. But I
thank you for everything. Everything.” She sobbed through those last words. I can still hear her say it. I can still feel her chest heave with the
tears and the breaths. I can still feel
her body fall into a slumber while I held her.
And I can still feel the sting of my tears.
She didn’t last much longer.
She was surrounded by her family, her children, a few close
friends and me. I was sitting beside her
cradling her in my arms, her children touching & holding her as well. The morphine eased her pain. I told her it was okay to go. That I loved her and I always would. And with her eyes closed & using all the
strength she had left, she squeezed her kids’ hands, took three breaths and
stopped.
And she was gone.
Just like that.
