Thursday, December 04, 2008

The past 13 days have been the worst of my life. I lost my husband. That sounds silly I didn't misplace him, he left this place, this world, my world. He was the finest man I ever knew. He was also the smartest. The men who worked for him and with him will mourn his loss as if he were their father. A tough man he knew how to be tender, he lived simply to help others. I had a marriage that most only dream of. We didn't argue and even after nearly 49 years still could find something to talk about and often did for hours. He was sweet, funny, loyal and a true romantic. We said our prayers together every day and now I am finding it hard to do. I'm not exactly mad at God, but I wish we had more time. He lived through a massive heart attack, through lymphoma , but all it took was a fall off of the roof to snatch him from me. It seems that as each day passes the pain is more intense. Normally I am a fairly funny person, but there is nothing normal about this, I fear I will simply dry up into dust, there can be no moisture left, yet still I cry. Tears won't bring him back, nothing will and I have to hang on for the rest of our family as that is what he wants me to do. When he had his heart attack nearly 20 years ago, he wrote me a letter to be opened only after he was gone. And as I promised to love, honor and obey I did as directed. When I came home from the hospital where he had been since he fell off the roof and broke his neck, I opened his letter. He thanked me for being his buddy, companion lover and wife and directed me to be strong and carry on as if he were at my side. And I'm trying, oh Lord I am trying. I must come to realize I was fortunate to even be in his company as all his life he lived to make me happy. He granted my every wish even those unspoken.
He'd been doing well in re-hab and they were going to release him earlier than initially planned. His vitals were taken five minutes before I came to the hospital and all was well, everything was in place for him to come home, but when I went into his room he was gone.
Now if anyone doubts the existence of a soul, I can attest it is a tangible living thing and its passing is as real as a slammed door. But it was a door he had to go through, without me, but as sure as I yet live I will once again see my beloved Bill on the other side of the door..