Today I feel normal. I am afraid to see tomorrow come because I don't know if my pain and lonesomeness will be back with floods of tears. I lost my husband on April 2, 2011. We were together 15 years. A relationship that started online. We did not marry until February of this year and had put off the official "marriage" for reasons that he and I had wanted our mothers to be there. Unfortunately when he was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in January, we decided that there was no time to wait, he wanted me to be his wife. So with that wish, and the uncertainty of what journey was to be in place, I said okay babe, here we go. There is a long history to our years together. One of no regrets. He took me on with a 15 year old daughter, and loved her as if he were his own. He was there for her and I no matter what.

Our days of camping, fishing, yearly halloween chili, death of my father, and our trips to Alaska and the Marshall Islands, he spoiled me rotten. In our 15 years, there may have been 5 serious disagreements, none of which lasted beyond bedtime. That was our promise to each other the day we committed to being together, forever.

Jim never had children. He always wanted them but could not. He always struggled with being a grandpa some day too. On December 11, 2010, our daughter gave us a grandson. Jim was the first to hold him. I told him that this was something he always wanted, and after all he had done for us, he was to be first. His heart melted, his tears of joy flowed, and he was the happiest man on earth. Shortly after he was born is when Jim started to get sick. We thought it was the flu, little did we know it was the S.O.B. Cancer. We quarentined him with is fever in the spare room while I tended to our daughter who had had a cesarian section (unplanned). Jim had been layed off for 11 months, and had lost his health care. I begged him in October to get married so he could be on my insurance but he persisted in that, in construction, he'd be back to work, and did not want kaiser for his health care, and not to worry. I did. He passified me. Finally, January 3, he was rehired but his health care did not kick in until February, so we thought. His tummy grew larger, and I grew more paniced. He agreed to go to the doctor and pay out of pocket. Next the cat scan. The office told us it would take a week to get the results. We did not make it in to the driveway when the doctor called to give the news. Not Good.  Sparing all the details, we were told with treatement, he may have 3 to 4 years. Without, 2 to 3 months. Well, as you can see, his time was short lived and from diagnosis to death was 3 months almost to the exact day.  

My hunny, my best friend, my lover, my rock, left me to the heavens after 2 weeks in the hospital. I struggle every day not knowing if he knew how much I loved him, how his last 6 hours in the intensive care unit was spent alone while I was at home asleep, knowing they would stableize him and I would have him one more day. Recieving the phone call at 6:17 am, with a doctor on the phone telling me they had been working on him for over an hour, that his heart had stopped? I don't understand it all. I was by his side every single day for those 2 weeks, going home for a few hours of sleep, then back for another day of loving him, bathing him, and trying to feed him. We had no time to prepare. I only guess at times that he did not suffer for years and years.... But I do miss him.

I fear the day will come when I can't smell him, or recall his voice or contagious laugh. These are the times I cry too. I get angry when I hear him say he will never leave me and I can't find him when I come home. Oh goodness, time to stop....here come the tears.