He slipped away peacefully this afternoon, it feels strange knowing he’s gone. Knowing he’s not coming home again.
I’ve not been without him for almost 46 years.
It’s an odd feeling.
To look at his body there in the hospital bed–it was like looking at a stranger.
An empty husk.
The words ringing in my ears…”I’m so sorry, he’s gone.”
Rick being there with him, with me, I wasn’t completely alone in this. His grief is raw in him. I’m several steps ahead.
The five stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
I went past denial years ago, we’ve dealt with his MS since 1989.
The last several years I hit anger I was angry at the disease and angry at him for treating me like his house slave. The lying to me about how he did his exercises, the need of his pills more than me. The fact that he hadn’t bothered to hug me once in the last 4 years. (I’m a hugger, that was excruciating.)
Bargaining? I’d bargain with the devil himself if he’d brought back the man I once knew to me. I know that will never happen, never could happen, so I’m past that.
Depression…daily …watching him falter, listening to him moan and groan in pain, trying to understand him when his speech slurred.
Today he died.
I accept that death. I know he’s no longer in pain, weak, needing constant help, embarrassed, angry, or wondering what next.
All through it all, everything, no matter how much I bitched about it, I loved him. I still love him. I will always love him. You can’t spend over 46 years of your life with someone and not have them have a huge impact on your life.
Thank you, everyone, for putting up with me, for holding me in your hearts, for being there.
Tomorrow I move forward on a new journey. One I didn’t want to take.
Hey, if you want to make a fortune…buy stock in tissues…I’m going through tons.