July 14, 2017

That day is forever imprinted on my mind.  I find myself constantly replaying moments over and over again.

Getting up, my husband grumbling as I convinced him to get out of bed.

Him mentioning he had coughed up some blood, again.

Him telling me as we walked out the door that the worst that would happen that day is he would die of a brain aneurysm.

Making the decision that we, he, needed to go the Emeragency Room.

Them taking him back for a CAT Scan, twice.

The nurse joking i was more nervous then him.

The ‘news’ that stopped our world, but that we thought wouldn’t turn deadly.

Then that moment, the moment thaact is seared on my memory.  The moment that everything changed and I learned that nothing is guaranteed.

There are even more moments.

His best friend coming to the hospital, trying to understand what I said between screams and sobs.

His other friend, showing up to walk with me back and forth as I didn’t want to say goodbye,

Another close friend, stoic in the corner as they all come to support one another, to support myself.

The screaming had given way to an eery silence as the day wore on.

Making the calls, numbing myself each time I walked into the hospital room to say goodbye one last time.

By the time i left the hospital 10 hours after we arrived, I was in some form of shell shock.  I remember saying ‘I can’t do this’ over and over again and then saying ‘I can do this’ as I walked away.  As I left the last place I was to touch my husband.

This was the end of the life I knew, but the beginning of another.  Life before and life after.

A Widow’s Song.

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