Not to be a downer...

 

Finally last night the dam broke in my heart and I had a long long quiet pity party for me. I realized that the house was going to be so empty when he is gone. The concentrator which has been a part of our lives for the past 10 years will be gone and quiet....
I won't get the tapping of the coffee cup in the morning and the question...

"Coffee made yet?" It used to irritate me so much as he'd say that before he'd say Good Morning. 
or "Hey what's for supper? Did you make it yet?" each afternoon. He knew how much that would get me going.

I'd laugh and threaten to hire a real cook. Our tiny house will feel empty after 30 years of the two of us knocking about inside of it.

Then I started thinking of all the paperwork I'd need to do. I mean, why not? These are things one thinks of at 1AM. 

I did decide to start a memory book though. I've taken years of photos of him. Mentally, I started to organize them in my head. To provide a distraction, I put on my headphones and turned on some 'Chill Out Music' to relax me.
So when this song came on unexpectedly .... 

Yeah so I totally lost it...but silently ... with salty tears dripping down my cheeks. 

The first few lines just slayed me...I've heard this song before and I know how it effected me then....

I know it hurts
Its hard to breathe sometimes
These nights are long
You've lost the will to fight...

And we all know how You tube works, they find this song in a play list and the playlist just kept on beating me up with songs of love and loss. But I needed it so I felt it in my heart.

As I listened and let my heart open to the emotions, I mentally started to list what I'd need to put a book together. I started smiling through those tears in the dark. Our memories, how we met, what we did...our crazy chance meeting. The instant knowledge that I'd met my once in a lifetime soulmate.

Handsome, funny, truthful, very OCD, PTSD'd veteran, all male, all full of himself, kind, honest, trustworthy, intense, fierce, difficult, loving man. 

In truth, he was a difficult father and husband in the first years he came back from Vietnam. Demons chased him constantly.  He didn't understand what was happening to him as so many veterans suffered the same unimaginable issues.

Perhaps he wasn't the best dad in the world but he sure tried hard when the grands came along.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for all of his grandkids. He still feels that way.

So now I am concentrating on a project. A photo book. Something that I can look at and remember.

It gives me a sense of direction and distraction right now as I watch his body deteriorate. This too is a process of living. I won't ignore it, I don't want him surrounded by strangers.

He is comfortable even though his body is showing signs of organ failures. He is home with his silly dog and his nutcase wife. His edema is beginning to rage all over his body but he is concentrating on the things he loves and holds dearly. He is not afraid, he is not in much pain. And he still taps his coffee cup for me and grins like the devilish fun guy he has always been.

And that is good enough for me.