ONE HUNDRED S1XTY NINE DAYS AGO, I lost my wife to the Big "C", a hateful, spiteful disease that creeps up on you like a cat on a sparrow. It tempts your happiness for just existing. It's a killer.
My wife went quietly, surrounded by family, Dignified but still gone. I held her hand as her life force drifted away. She had raised 3 great children while I had shuffled along for the ride. You see everything that is good in our family can be traced back to this wonderful woman.
At first, I didn't grieve too much; after all, she was just out shopping and would be home in an hour or so; and when she gets back we will talk , but.......
She can't be dead! We had plans......
A moment arrived and settled all around me. It crept into my body and ruffled my brain, plying me with its syrupy proclamation. She is dead! I saw and felt her last breath. She is gone. She is dead but I will always have her with me. My memory of her smile and her lilting laughter is etched into the ether. That memory will never die.
I saw them take her away in a plain, very nondescript body bag and I made room for a twinge of reality.
Sudden grief flooded the surface of my being. She was not shopping, she was gone forever. Would I ever wake up from this hideous nightmare? When will the grief pass?
My kids have been great, keeping me occupied. They worry too much. I doubt I would be able to see a future for me if I didn't have their help and support. but....
But when they leave after visiting and I am alone, the silence can be deafening.
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