Barring any kind of God ordained miracle this will be our last year together.
Never in a million years did I think I would be doing this..caring for my dying man.
It's awful and heartbreaking. He has no dignity left and there are adult diapers in this house.
I'm lonely and stressed out. I don't want this to be my life, OUR life, and yet it is.
I'm tired and yet I can't sleep. I toss and turn at night while listening for him to call for help.
I miss being taken care of. I miss being a wife. I miss sleeping in the same bed with him.
I miss doing the simple things together like shopping for groceries or walking the dog.
I. Miss. Him.
I miss the timbre of his voice, I miss the way he always smelled like Heaven, I miss his sense of humor.
I miss the size he used to be...6' tall and 200 pounds.
Did you know that I can lift him up all by myself right now?
When I gently hug him all I can feel are his bones.
Cancer is a horrible disease...for patients and family members who love them.
I know how this will all end and truly I tell you I don't want to witness it, but I have no choice.
Just like he had no choice in getting afflicted with this.
I don't want to be a widow, I don't want to do life on my own but what choice do I have?
He is too ill to go on any last minute trips or make new memories together.
The RV sits in the driveway covered in snow while the Harley sits in the garage under a tarp.
Covid has prevented us from being with our adult kids and the grandkids as much as we'd like.
There is very little to be joyful about and I fear that this will be our hardest and saddest year together.
I wish with all my heart and soul that it could be different for him, for me, for us.
We fought against life and each other for the first 28 years of our marriage. It was so hard.
These last 11 years have been the best of our lives, and it has been so good and loving.
He spoiled me. He became my rock. We were gonna ride off into the sunset on our Harley together.
Guess he will go ahead of me. And I will meet him there when it is my turn.
When it's time for him to leave this Earth I will tell him:
"Go on Hon...you can go. Go hug our baby Abigail and give her a kiss for me.
Pet the dogs and cats and tell them I still miss them all.
I will look for you in the beautiful sunrises and sunsets for the rest of my days.
And at night I hope I'll find you in the stars winking down at me.
And Thanks Art. Thanks for loving me, thanks for the beautiful kids, thanks for everything."
Love, me. XO
