I thought that when Jim died I would be ready. I have known that day was coming for a really long time. There was always the off chance I would end up dying first, but the disease took my love from us on April 2. I was supposed to write some blog pieces by now, but when your brain is frozen and non-functioning, it is hard to write. This is my first foray back into the arena.
I wrote about our experience before Jim passed away on my personal blog, www.missingjim.com. Since then, I have been functioning with erratic stability, with moments where I think I can embrace this new chapter of my life and times I can barely function, unable to think clearly enough to carry on a conversation let alone make any decisions. Sometimes I don’t even remember the conversation or who I was speaking with.
How can I be so ill prepared for a time that I not only have prepared and thought about anxiously over and over again for years? How can the finality be so shocking? How can I be so sad, so sorrowful, so emotional, so devastated? Haven’t I been grieving Jim since the day he got diagnosed in 2011?
Yet, I mourn. I mourn the loss of him, of our family, our children’s father, my best friend and the man that made the world a better place for all of us. I long to look into his beautiful blue eyes again and then it hits me: he isn’t just down the road at his home but he is gone and I will never see those baby blues again. I will never hold his hand again. I will never feel his touch, however weak or changed it had become, ever again. He will not miraculously recover and come home to help parent our kids. He will not aggravate me anymore.
I feel panic. What was his favorite movie? What was his favorite restaurant and meal? What was it we did last year for our anniversary? My own brain has started to let me down. I can’t seem to be clearheaded enough to recall all the little details I am desperate to hold onto.
How could I have been so stupid as to delete his voicemails? I saved one. ONE. Out of the hundreds. But my voicemail always got full and there would always be more from him, right? The only one I did keep doesn’t have the three words he always said to me, almost to a point of annoyance….I love you. Why? Why didn’t I save one of those messages?
Is it possible to miss someone who has been gone for years? Yes my friend. Yes it is.
I am grateful to Home Instead Senior Care for their support, understanding and patience during this time. And I thank you, my faithful and caring readers for your thoughts and your prayers.