I had almost forgotten that it’s been three months since my wife died until I got her death certificate in the mail today. Sitting here looking at her dc it makes me realize how final it all is. She is gone. Gone, just like that. One moment she was alive, the next, gone.
I love my wife, more than I could ever put into words. Notice, I’m not using past tense, loved. I still love her. I will always love her. She brought a lot of joy into my life. She made me happy. In the last few years, we had problems. At the time, I thought she had fallen out of love with me and was just pushing me away. I couldn’t comprehend how that could happen. I was still as much in love with her as when we met. It wasn’t until she was diagnosed with her illness that I came to understand that it was not her fault. The illness changed her brain, changed her personality. There was still a little of her left at the end though. The day she passed away, a few hours before she died, I had put her back into her bed after changing her bedding and giving her a sponge bath. When I set her back into the bed, she put her arms around me for the first time in a year and clung tightly to me, crying a little. She could not speak, but the way she held me told me she still loved me. I think she was saying goodbye to me. I think she knew she was going to leave me that night. I cried with her, holding her nearly as tightly, and gave her one last kiss with her still alive. When she was gone later that evening, I cried again, this time holding her lifeless body in my arms, while waiting for the paramedics to come. After everyone had left and we were waiting for the funeral home to come pick her up, I gave her one final kiss goodbye, and covered her face with the blanket.
This year the holidays mean very little to me. I used to love anticipating Christmas. She and I could never wait until Christmas day to open presents. We used to buy little gifts for each other and would give them immediately even if it was a couple weeks or days before Christmas. Now though, without her here, it’s just not the same. This year Christmas is just another day.
When I was in the hospital in 2000 for appendicitis, Kathy was scared I was going to die on her. She said “don’t you dare die again on me”, while I was awaiting surgery. She wondered why she said “again” after that, so we had past life regressions done on both of us, without saying anything about the “again” statement to the one who did it. We were told that we were together many times in the past. We were told that we keep finding each other in new lives, because we have “unfinished business” with each other. What that means I really don’t know, and how much I believe of it, I don’t know either. I’m not discounting it though. Maybe we’ll find each other again in the next life.
I miss you Kathy. Wherever you are, I hope you are no longer suffering. I hope you are happy, and I hope you are waiting for me to rejoin you someday. I’ll look for you. I love you.
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