Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Done
Bad news begets bad news. Bad luck begets bad luck. Bad karma begets bad karma. Eventually it just starts to feel like nothing good will ever again happen. It is too dangerous to hope or to want. I'm done.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Two Years
Tonight I lit a yaretzeit candle. Two years ago tonight was Brian's last night. Two years ago early tomorrow Brian died in my arms. He died peacefully. He didn't appear to be in any pain. I think he knew that I was there. He squeezed my hand before he took his last two breathes.
For me, it was horrible. The last two nights were excruciating. I knew he was going - that was no surprise, but I didn't know what he felt. I didn't know if he was scared. He couldn't communicate, and I didn't know how to help him.
I knew that that last night, when I hit the morphine button, it was for more than to alleviate his pain. I hit that button again and again, to end his pain. I didn't kill him; I would never have done anything to hurt him, but if the morphine could speed the horrific process of dying, I wanted to do that for him. I wanted to fix him, to bring him back to health, to spend the rest of my life with him; but the cancer ate him from the inside out. Death was imminent, and I wanted it to be peaceful for him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't want him to feel pain. I didn't want him to die, but I couldn't bear watching him live in the state that he was in. He couldn't communicate, he couldn't get out of bed, he couldn't control his body. He couldn't be Brian.
Two years later, and those memories are still so hard. Two years later, and I still miss him so much. I know he is gone. I know he won't come back. I know that my life has and is moving away from our life together. I have to live; and living without him means meeting people, doing things, experiencing life in a way that he will never be able. How can I be meeting people that he will never know? How can I be going places that he will never see. How can I be getting older when he had barely turned 48 when he was told that he was dying?
Brian and I did not make a decision to end our marriage. If he could be here, he would be. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave me. But he is gone, and he won't be back. Our dreams of getting old together were dashed. I need to live without him. I need to do new things without him. I need to plan for a life without him.
For two years I have been stagnant. Wanting to live, wanting to be happy, but not wanting to move away from the life we had together. But to really live, I need to make changes for myself. I need to leave behind things that don't enhance my life, and welcome new experiences, people and opportunities that can bring me happiness. I need to make changes in my life without being able to talk to Brian about them. I need to experience things that he will never know about. I need to go places that he has never seen. I need to move forward, but that means moving further away from the life that we had; a life that I loved.
It is lonely. It is terrifying. It is heartbreaking. I don't understand how I can want better things for myself, but be terrified of those opportunities because they move me away from my life with Brian.
Brian wanted me to live and to be happy. He would be so proud of me for risking change on my own. He believed in me. He knew that I could do anything I set my mind to.
I need to set my mind to living a life that is fulfilling without Brian. I need to set my mind to making changes that will enhance my life. I need to move away from the past and towards a meaningful life. I take him with me in my head and my heart, but he can't come with me into the future. I need to accept that memory is all that I have left.
I see the flickering of the candle, and I need to believe that his light is glowing in me. That I carry him into the future by living the best life that I can. I need to believe that my best is not in my past. I don't know how to believe that. I don't know how to look forward with excitement and anticipation. I need to figure that out. I need to start to do it now.
For me, it was horrible. The last two nights were excruciating. I knew he was going - that was no surprise, but I didn't know what he felt. I didn't know if he was scared. He couldn't communicate, and I didn't know how to help him.
I knew that that last night, when I hit the morphine button, it was for more than to alleviate his pain. I hit that button again and again, to end his pain. I didn't kill him; I would never have done anything to hurt him, but if the morphine could speed the horrific process of dying, I wanted to do that for him. I wanted to fix him, to bring him back to health, to spend the rest of my life with him; but the cancer ate him from the inside out. Death was imminent, and I wanted it to be peaceful for him. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't want him to feel pain. I didn't want him to die, but I couldn't bear watching him live in the state that he was in. He couldn't communicate, he couldn't get out of bed, he couldn't control his body. He couldn't be Brian.
Two years later, and those memories are still so hard. Two years later, and I still miss him so much. I know he is gone. I know he won't come back. I know that my life has and is moving away from our life together. I have to live; and living without him means meeting people, doing things, experiencing life in a way that he will never be able. How can I be meeting people that he will never know? How can I be going places that he will never see. How can I be getting older when he had barely turned 48 when he was told that he was dying?
Brian and I did not make a decision to end our marriage. If he could be here, he would be. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave me. But he is gone, and he won't be back. Our dreams of getting old together were dashed. I need to live without him. I need to do new things without him. I need to plan for a life without him.
For two years I have been stagnant. Wanting to live, wanting to be happy, but not wanting to move away from the life we had together. But to really live, I need to make changes for myself. I need to leave behind things that don't enhance my life, and welcome new experiences, people and opportunities that can bring me happiness. I need to make changes in my life without being able to talk to Brian about them. I need to experience things that he will never know about. I need to go places that he has never seen. I need to move forward, but that means moving further away from the life that we had; a life that I loved.
It is lonely. It is terrifying. It is heartbreaking. I don't understand how I can want better things for myself, but be terrified of those opportunities because they move me away from my life with Brian.
Brian wanted me to live and to be happy. He would be so proud of me for risking change on my own. He believed in me. He knew that I could do anything I set my mind to.
I need to set my mind to living a life that is fulfilling without Brian. I need to set my mind to making changes that will enhance my life. I need to move away from the past and towards a meaningful life. I take him with me in my head and my heart, but he can't come with me into the future. I need to accept that memory is all that I have left.
I see the flickering of the candle, and I need to believe that his light is glowing in me. That I carry him into the future by living the best life that I can. I need to believe that my best is not in my past. I don't know how to believe that. I don't know how to look forward with excitement and anticipation. I need to figure that out. I need to start to do it now.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Grief
It has been almost two years since I lost Brian, and while the grief feels different, it still feels fresh. I am anniversarying the last two weeks of his life, and the memories are painful. In the end, the decline was rapid. We had the chance to say goodbye, but it was too quick, too soon, too hard.
I miss him every day. I miss the life we shared. I miss the love we shared. I miss my best friend. Life goes on, but nothing is the same. It is hard every day.
This week I heard the horrible news of an online friend who just lost her infant son. He was a twin. They are now enjoying their beautiful baby girl, while mourning their beautiful baby boy. I can't imagine their pain. I know my pain. I know that Brian died far too young. How does one deal with the death of an infant? How does anything in life make sense.
I am heartbroken. For them, for myself, for Brian. It hurts too much. Every day is too hard. I need to find a way to be happy again, but I don't know how.
I miss him every day. I miss the life we shared. I miss the love we shared. I miss my best friend. Life goes on, but nothing is the same. It is hard every day.
This week I heard the horrible news of an online friend who just lost her infant son. He was a twin. They are now enjoying their beautiful baby girl, while mourning their beautiful baby boy. I can't imagine their pain. I know my pain. I know that Brian died far too young. How does one deal with the death of an infant? How does anything in life make sense.
I am heartbroken. For them, for myself, for Brian. It hurts too much. Every day is too hard. I need to find a way to be happy again, but I don't know how.
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