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
24th – 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 2nd, and ended December 10th,
2018) because burning candles in hospitals I not allowed. Hanukkah
this year will begin 3 days before Christmas … and end the day after my 63rd
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 30th, 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?
