Two Years Ago

What a difference two years can make.  Two years ago today, in the early morning I went to see my husband who was in the hospital.  He looked good when I saw him.  He was witty, like he always was, he was grateful that I brought him in some underwear and his toothbrush and he was happy to see me.  He reached up and gave me a big kiss from his hospital bed.  I ran my fingers through his hair trying to tame the back from sticking up. The truth is is that he had very little hair left after his chemotherapy.  We had a good conversation about us, about the kids, about our hopes and dreams and about his illness.  He had extensive Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC) and the prognosis wasn't good.

Over the past few months I watched as he became a little more tired each day.  His bright green eyes had grown dim and reflected a man who was ready to meet his Maker if the time would come.  During his illness, he made peace with his Creator.  He came to know him on a higher level than I had ever seen.  He trusted God in all things.  He trusted God with his life but he was still a little fearful to leave me.  He told me he prayed about that fear of leaving me daily.  I'd say something stupid like, "we might beat this and then you'll have to live with me forever," but we both knew that he wouldn't.  He had reconciled to meeting his Maker, I had not.  I still had fight in me.

During that day at the hospital, I'd nod off briefly and he kept telling me to go home.  I had been up all night with him and the "all nighter" had taken its toll on me. I didn't want to go home.  I wanted to stay there until that evening and then go home to my empty house.  I wanted to crawl in the bed with him and cuddle him like I used to do when he was sick.  I wanted to kiss his soft lips and tell him everything was going to be alright.  But I couldn't do that in the sterile hospital room.  What would everyone think?  I wish I had crawled up beside him, damn what everyone thought.  This was my husband of many years, I had the right to hold him; but I didn't.  I simply grabbed his arm and burrowed my head in his chest.  If I was quiet I could hear his heart beat and he would do what he always did when I cuddled him like that - he'd stroke my hair or play with my earlobes.

He finally told me it was time to go home and since I was nodding off most of the time, I agreed.  I went home, fed my dogs and let them out and started to get ready for bed.

It was 9:30pm when the phone rang and a fire sensation enveloped my entire body.  I knew what the phone call was, I knew it, yet how?  He was good when I left him and he was getting ready to be transferred from ICU to IMC the next day.  The call was what I expected and I told them I was on my way.  My brother took me to the hospital with my daughters meeting me there.  It was a site I did not want to see and he had not want to happen.  He arrested and was ventilated.  I knew he didn't want to be on a ventilator but I didn't know what to do.  I cried.  I looked up at my daughters and they were crying too.  I looked back to my husband and told him.....cried to him.....I don't know what to do!  His eyes were the brightest green than I had seen them in a long time.  I looked at him for what seemed a long time but was only moments.  I screamed out, "I don't know what to do Bill, please help me."  He did.  He helped me even in his dying moments.  His heart rate decreased and I told the nurses, "no more."  They stepped back and I moved forward.  I lifted him into my arms and told my sister-in-law I wanted the tube out.  She immediately extubated him for me.  I kissed his lips.  I kissed his check.  I rubbed my hand across his bald head and just cried.  The day had started so well and ended with Bill moving into glory.

I have never met a man more loving, more kind and more humble than my husband.  He had that quiet knowledge that whenever he opened his mouth, you listened.  I once teased him that he doesn't have a bad word for anyone.  All he said is that everybody has something that's good in them, you just got to find it.  I asked him what was good in me, he laughed and said he's going to stick around util he finds it.

I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone in my life.  I can't describe the devastation that I experienced and at times, still do.  We had a dream.  Our dream was that we would grow old together.  That dream will never come to fruition.  Now all I have is memories and while I know memories are good, sometimes they are just not enough.  I still, after 2 years, long for his touch, his breath against my check, the odd way he held my hand and how he used to tug at my earlobes.  If I close my eyes tight, I can see what our future would have been, but that happens only in my dreams.