I lost my Beloved, my “Significant Other,” on a shocking morning in the middle of the cold month of February—in Wisconsin. He had had a serious surgical procedure the day before he died and as I dozed on a couch in his hospital room, I awoke to see him sitting dazed on the floor beside his bed!
Then, I watched as my Beloved had a heart attack there on the floor in his room and nurses and other medical personnel flooded into his room, intent on saving his life. I watched dumbfounded as this “Code Red” unfolded before me. But it was obvious. This was my Beloved’s End of Time on earth.
A kind-hearted nurse led me out of the hospital bedroom and into the hallway, as the battle wore on behind me. But I felt and feared I was never to see my Beloved alive again.
The kind nurse had her own similar story to tell of Death in her family. She did her best to help me understand what was happening in the nearby room where the heart attack had proceeded. And eventually a doctor came to offer further explanations. He advised it was time to stop the heroics and truly face the fact: John was a lost cause. And I agreed.
And then, thank heaven, my dear son arrived– the best comforter a mother could ask for in this kind of situation. I cried and held him, and cried some more.
Then, my son and I walked slowly back down the hallway and entered the hospital room and saw what I did not want to see. When we entered the hospital room, there was my Beloved who had grown still, and silent, and motionless. A sheet covered everything but his face, which was a pale, grayish pink complexion.
For a while, we just stood and observed. Slowly we assessed the situation. I touched John’s beautiful white hair. I cut a tiny piece to keep!
We decided his body would be taken to a funeral home near my house….and so on and so forth. We decided to wait to warmer weather to have a service outdoors. And so on and so forth.
Time marched on and my son has a life to live and a family to attend to and soon I was left alone in the lovely house where my Beloved and I had settled over the past two years. February 17 was John’s death date and as I write, it is March 30th. During those four weeks I have cried on and off – like I have never cried before! I wanted John back!!!! I still do.
My husband had a goodly number of friends living everywhere from Hawaii, to California, to Texas to Virginia. All of them wanted to hear the story of John’s passing. It was very heart warming, though somewhat difficult to tell the story, over and over.
BUT, well—I am definitely getting better. I have spent hours now simply pouring over my iPhone’s photos and sending them to John’s friends and mine. Sweet years of memories have come gushing toward me. My walls are covered with such photos.
I don’t cry nearly as much as I did a month ago. But I wonder. And wonder. And wonder. What is Death? And why?
To be continued…
