Today my daughter and I went to the cemetery to visit my husband's site. We didn't get to go for the 4th of July as we had hoped my younger daughter and grandchilden would be here so we could all go and they didn't come and we didn't get to go. I could have gone by myself but was busy with things around here and didn't but I was determined that after the long hot spell we had in late July and for the month of August that I would go up on the first cool day we had.
So today, the day before Labor Day, we made the trip. It is always hard on us when we go but for some reason, today was especially hard for me. I almost didn't go as I wasn't sure I could but I did and now I'm glad. The tears are still flowing as I think about him but I imagine they will continue to flow for a long time.
He wanted to see the military cemetery at Ft. Gibson after he found out about it, but because of his chemo treatments and the illness they caused, he never got the opportunity to actually go see it in person. I know he would have been delighted to know that would be our final resting place.
It is kept up meticulously and when you drive in through the wrought iron gates, you immediately feel the reverance there. Looking across the field of perfectly placed stones, a lump comes to the throat as you know each and every stone has its own story, one of the brave man or woman who died during battle in defending our country or later as a veteran of serving his or her country. You can't help but feel the pride and wish that you could honor each and every one of them there for what they have given. It truly is a place of honor.
When we found out my husband's cancer had returned with "a vengence" as the doctor told him, it was shock beyond belief. He'd been doing so well with good checkups every three months and then to have this smack us out of the blue was almost beyond belief or comprehension. It turned our lives upside down and inside out and we started on a roller coaster that we knew would crash but not when.
It was late October, 2009 when we got the diagnosis that the Melanoma had spread into the liver and spleen and lymph glands around the esophagus. He'd had surgery to remove the lymph glands in his left groin in April of 2008 and they took all of them in hopes that they had got it all and it was over, but there was one tiny, microscopic cell that must have escaped and found its way to the liver where it hid in the folds, undetected until it had divided and spread taking over.
He started chemo the first of November 2009 going every two weeks for a week at a time. At first it wasn't to bad but then as the chemo began working, the pain grew and only morphine would help. As the dosage of morphine increased, he began losing his sense of time and had to be reminded of the simplest things, when it was time to eat or take his medicine or even to go to bed, although he gradually took to his bed, a rare thing for a very active man to lie down, almost as if he had given up. He hadn't as he was still fighting but the medicines were taking over now, controlling him and he couldn't stop them.
In December, he spent a week in the VA hospital due to a blood clot. He came home for the weekend only to have to go back to start a week of Chemo and was in a weakened condition so that he shuffled when he walked as he felt his legs and feet were to heavy to lift.
On Christmas day, he got up and came out to the living room to unwrap the gifts he had and watched as we unwrapped ours as my daughter and grandson were here with us. But then he told us he wanted to go lie down. He had looked at his gifts and laid them on the table next to his chair and never held them again.
The only time he would leave his bed was to eat, go take his medicine or go to the bathroom. The rest of the time he slept or would lie there listening to the TV in the other room or visiting with me, his daughter who had moved next door to us or on occasion when a friend would stop by. He never got out of the bed even to visit as he felt sick when he did.
We knew our time was short but didn't know how short and on New Year's Eve, he got up to come out to the dining room to wish us a happy new year and then right back to his bed.
It is the most helpless feeling a person can have when they see their loved one slowly fading away and there is nothing that they can do. Just be there for them, hold their hand, talk to them and give them all the encouragement to keep fighting and positive thoughts.
It was the second week in January and he rallied around some. A long time friend from Arkansas had driven over to see him and he did sit up for a little bit but then laid down and he and John sat in the bedroom to have a long visit. My husband was awake and very talkative and seemed to be a little better. The next day he seemed even a little more stronger, getting up to see what was going on with the trailer being set up for our daughter. I had my hair done and he remarked how he liked it and that it looked nice and that evening he even ate some solid food as said he was hungry.
The evening was pleasant and he was in a good mood. He got a good nights sleep and awoke the next morning getting up to fix some breakfast of toast and some of his homemade jelly. For lunch he requested some left over from the night before and ate a good helping but within an hour, he became violently ill and when we got him settled down, he went to sleep.
Seeing him sleeping and hearing his snoring, my daughter and I decided to let him sleep the rest of the afternoon and when I went to wake him at 6:00 PM, he was gone. He had slipped peacefully away in his sleep without a final good bye or hug but he was at peace.
I cried, I felt I was in a bad nightmare and begged him not to leave me, not just yet as I wasn't ready to let him go. I don't think I would have ever been ready to let him go, but to have him go so quickly was unbelieveable and for days I lived in a bubble, not really noticing what was going on around me. I had my daughter and grandson here with me but I felt alone.
I've been to the cemetery several times and each time, the tears come and stay with me. I know they are tears for me and my loss as I know he isn't in pain, he is at peace but it hurts to know I will never hear is voice, see his face or feel his arms around me. I try not to cry and to be strong but the pain inside won't let me. I ask, why he had to leave us so soon. It wasn't fair. We had so much to talk about and we wanted more time. We wanted to say a proper good bye.
We had over 48 years of marriage and living and working together and it was gone just like that. We had known each other for over 52 years having met as teenagers. He was more than my husband, he was my friend and he was a part of me as I was a part of him. One day we will be together again as he found out when he learned about the cemetery, that I will be there with him one day. It gave him a peace knowing that we might be separated for a while but that we would be together again for eternity. Maybe then, the tears will stop.
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