SUCH A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME

How can SO MUCH happen is such a short period of time?

Tonight, last year, Bob had been moved from ICU/ER back upstairs to another private room – it was not fancy like the first room when we had arrived at OHSU, November 24^th – this one was much smaller, and in the older end of the Ward. Familiar faces were noticeably absent: his attendants were still very nice, very attentive, and johnny-on-the-spot … but, the atmosphere had changed. Staff moods were more low-key – not so peppy; those who checked his vitals wore a concerned expression now – not the cherry smiles face’s wore before.

Bob slept. A LOT. Attendants were still monitoring Bob’s heart, and tried to relieve the excess water weight – MPO is that the saline drip was the main culprit in that instance. When he as awake and alert, physical therapists arrived to “get him on a schedule”, but it wasn’t working: he literally could not walk, he’d been bed-ridden and on heavy narcotics for too long: they managed to get him propped up in a recliner, using the sling to transfer him from bed to chair … and that worked for a few days. But, over the course of the next few days, the Word Search Puzzle Book lay on his table-stand, untouched: I eventually put it back in my duffel bag. His laptop joined my laptop on our laptop shoulder bag; and I played music pretty much straight through the days because it soothed both of us.

Bob & I knew he was slipping away.

I was brave for Bob.

The Medical Team and attendants told me I was ‘a strong woman’.

Inside, I was quaking jello – and desperately crying out to Yeshua. I spent a good part of very day standing by my husband’s bedside; holding his hand, telling him I loved him, and avoiding Dr. Gilbert’s sympathetic gaze when she dropped in for a quick visit. Dr. Morgan and her entourage made morning rounds (OHSU is a learning hospital; it is run like a University) – they came through very early in the mornings, and I was always awake: I rarely slept more than a few quick snatches of shut-eye – I didn’t want Bob to leave Earth without knowing I was aware of his leaving.

We missed lighting the candles of Hanukkah last year (began December 2^nd, and ended December 10^th, 2018) because burning candles in hospitals I not allowed. Hanukkah this year will begin 3 days before Christmas … and end the day after my 63^rd Birthday: hopefully, it will be a joyous celebration this year.

I would stand by my husband’s bedside, holding his hand, and remembering how he used to chuckle and squeeze my hand; commenting on how small my hand was in his large hand. I remember watching my husband doze, and thinking how I loved how Bob was made: he was a good man. Bob was a giant of a man with a heart to match. Bob was solid. Kindhearted. Gentle in character, and strong in spirit. Bob was a man of confidence … not in a bold or splashy way, but he was a man comfortable in his own skin – a man who knew he was a man who could carry his own weight, and help shoulder someone else’s weight too, if needed. When Bob walked into a room, the energy in that room changed – Bob commanded attention in an unassuming way. There was a quiet, yet unmistakable authority in the way he stood, the way he moved, the way he surveyed the dynamics in the room. But, always, there was a gentle aura about him that showed itself to be present in his beautiful eyes. Bob made fast friends, wherever he was – whatever he was doing: I saw. With my own eyes, the way people were drawn to his character, and would want to be in his presence. Bob had an engaging smile for everyone; that smile would light up a room (and he had a sexy smile he smiled just for me – he never aimed that smile at anyone else after we started dating/married 44 years ago. Ever). Bob was an easy, laid-back man who was genuine and true in whatever he did or said.

Bob loved life; Bob was a man easy to love – everyone who came in contact with him, loved him. To know him, was to love him. People couldn’t help themselves. Bob was an easy conversationalist: he was genuinely interested in what others had to say, and would lean into conversations easily … he could have engaging, heartfelt convos with the waitresses; as well as the owners of the restaurants we frequented. He regularly engaged in lengthy chit-chat sessions with people of means, we’d meet hiking, while on a daytrip jaunt in either State the Columbia River sliced its way through: and just the same, he easily and effectively entered into bartering venues with the working men and women. I remembered the time Bob was logging a stand of timber along a stretch of the Longbeach Peninsula, and when he came home one night, he had a huge bucket of unshucked oysters with him. When I saw them, I squealed with delight and asked where they came from – Bob told me that one of the oyster farmers flagged him down one night after work and asked about getting a load of firewood from the landing gleanings; and Bob worked out a deal with the guy: a good size load of firewood waiting with a trade-off of a bucket of oysters to bring home to me. What a guy!

Bob effortlessly gathered people wherever he went; whatever he was doing. He could engage anyone, anywhere, anytime; and I liked watching it happen. With Bob, life was never boring – excitement and opportunities were continuous.

And I felt honored and privileged he was mine at the end/start of every day.

Watching my husband, tonight – last year, struggle to breathe easily (even with the nasal oxygenizer); and knowing time was wrapping up, all I could think was, “How can SO MUCH happen is such a short period of time?”

44 years sounds like a loooong time, but in real time, it’s not that long at all.

We had LIVED A LOT OF LIFE in those 16,060 days; and yet, looking at my husband, lying in that hospital bed; watching his chest jerkily rise and fall with every belabored breath … and watching the attendants monitor his heart monitor, suddenly it didn’t seem like enough life. I wanted more!

I kept waiting for the sudden burst of laughter and the impish “gotcha!” declaration.

I kept waiting for the nightmare to end.

But there would be no negotiating with The Grim Reaper – he had lost his grip on Bob twice before: he was not about to let go this time … even if all he got was the body, while Elohim got the soul.

And I got loss of identity.

ALL of my life was centered around my husband, from the time I laid eyes on him at 10 years old; when he walked past me. Bob was my “it” man. My Forever Man. The 1 every male after that would be gauged against … and found lacking, in some way. I did date before I met Bob – but I never said, ‘I love you’ to anyone but Bob. Ever. There were at least 2 close calls: but the words would never escape my lips.

Because my heart kept whispering, “They are not HIM; they are not ‘The face.’” I knew he was out there – somewhere. I didn’t know if I would ever get to meet him; but I knew I would always love him. And I knew it would be dishonest to say those words to anyone else when they were not really true. Did I have strong feelings for those other 2 candidates? Yes, of course – but I did not love them enough to want to be bound to them for the rest of my life.

When Bob & I finally met, and started dating, the words came easily … and so did the binding of our lives together. And we said the words for 44 years straight. Every day & every night. And we bound our lives together; blissfully losing ourselves in the passion, and shoring our life up, strengthening it when the storms of life assailed us and we found ourselves losing sight of the shore. Life is not guaranteed, and we didn’t want to leave any loose ends – we loved … and we said it. We lived it.

Tonight, this year, I am gauging my new life against my old life.

They are not comparable.

Not really.

Yes, in a parallel world, Bob can still see me. He can still hear me. He can even still walk beside me. My heart can whisper these facts to me, but my heart will never again wait breathlessly for him to appear in my life: that time is past. Bob will never again be available to me; in either life – this one, or the one I will eventually join him in.

For most of this year, after becoming a Widow, I felt the life I loved so much, was over – and it was. BUT, Life itself, is not over for me. There is still much life yet to be lived.

This new life I have been handed is not the life I imagined, before August 30^th, 2018, that I would be living. And, this new life I have, is not the life I have chosen.

But, it is the Life I have been given: my old life was exchanged for this, my new Life. I have to make friends with it and learn to make the best of it.

I have to find ways to create possibilities with whatever Life throws my way. Bob instilled confidence in me, but regardless of that, I find that in this new Life, I am unsure about moving forward without Bob by my side. Logically, I know that enjoyed a full life before Bob melded his life with mine; and I know I can enjoy a full life again – my options are only limited by me.

Today, last year, I was still a wife, a mother, a grandmother.

Today, this year, I have NO identity left: everyone is gone from my new Life.

For 44 years, I KNEW WHO I WAS.

For the past 11 months/24 days/9 hours & 4 seconds I have no idea who I am: I know what my personal information tells me – I know my Name, I know my address, ect.; but I have no fricking idea who I am anymore, beyond the basics.

And tonight, this year … just like tonight, last year, when I was standing by my husband’s bedside watching him slip away from me; the nagging query remains: How can SO MUCH happen is such a short period of time?