Today

Today isn’t any easier. I want to cry all the time. I kept seeing him in my dreams, dead. For a brief moment this morning when i woke I had forgotten the horrible truth, but that passed quickly, and all the pain and hurt came back in a rush. In a sense I’m glad he’s gone, glad for him, that his pain is over. I should be happy in some small way, but I selffishly hurt for myself. I hurt for my husband, I feel the pain he feels as well as my own. The truth is Jess left us mentally several weeks ago, but you’ed be surprised how attached the human race is to pyschical aspects. Knowing he is actually gone, and never coming back hurts so bad. He did not deserve to spend the last few months of his life is unimaginable pain, even with the pain meds we kept him on. He was a great man, a great husband, a great father, and he would have been a damn good grandfather. I’m sad for our baby that she’ll never get to meet her papa. The nurse from hospice told us on Friday he had 24-48 hours, and even with that warning it doesn’t make the hurt any less. You’ed think the human body could only hold so many tears, but they haven’t stopped yet. Saturday was our last day with him, and we were lucky to both be able to spend it here at home with him. We said our goodbyes and I even placed his hand on my belly, so he could feel the baby before he left this world. Saturday Jess cried several times, just tears rolling down his face. I think he knew he was leaving us on Sunday, and was saying his goodbyes to us the only way he could. I’m glad he was at home, in a house with people who loved him, and who he loved, when he left. I woke up several times during the night on Saturday to check on him, once every hour and half about. At 5:30am he was still breathing, although rapidly, but his eyes were open. I woke again at 7am as did Chris. Chris got up first, looked in his room and looked back at me, and I knew. I got up and checked, and then brought his mom in to see him. Chris was numb. So was I, but I knew he was in no way going to be able to deal with the professional side of things. I called hospice, and they were here about an hour later. After she cleaned him up, and brushed his hair, we went through getting rid of medical supplies and medications in his room. The hospital equipment still sits in there now, apparently even death has to stop for a holiday. They’ll be here tommorrow to pick everything up, and until then we’ve been keeping that door closed. It’s too hard to look in there and see an empty bed. He wasn’t my father, but I love him just as much as I do my own father. I know I should find comfort in the fact he’s better off, but that doesn’t make our loss any less hard. The world lost a great man yesterday. He served our country for 20 years, he was an avid coin collector, and he had a crazy sweet tooth. He was bright and friendly, and his smile lit a room right up. He loved to fish, watch football and westerns, and he loved his son and wife very much. He made my husband a great man, and showed him how to treat women right. How does it get any easier? I know we should celebrate the life he had, and remember good times, but it’s so fresh it’s hard to focus on anything but my own pain.