TheBanyanTree: If I Shall Fall Behind

[Margaret R. Kramer]

My husband, Ray, died on Monday, February 25.  He was taken from his general
hospital room to ICU on Friday, February 22.  The doctor called and told me
he was seriously ill.  I called one of his daughters in Milwaukee and
suggested that they should come.  And then I drove to the hospital.

Susan, my son, and I kept a vigil at his bedside through Friday into early
Saturday morning.  We thought Ray was going to pass that night, but he hung
on, and finally told us to leave around 2:30 am in the morning.  I was back
at 7:00 am, at his side, holding his hand, and loving him.

Two of his daughters, along with a husband, and a grandson, arrived on
Saturday afternoon.  I left them with their father, and I went home to take
a nap.  I spent the rest of Saturday with him.  His family visited again in
the evening.  Ray was stable and I went home at 9:00 pm.

Sunday brought good news.  Ray seemed to be getting better.  His family
visited one more time before they left for Milwaukee.  Ray kicked me out of
his room at 11:30 am.  I went home and paid bills, took care of the dogs,
and napped a bit.

I was back at the hospital by 4:00 pm.  They had moved Ray out of ICU and he
was in what the VA calls “medical stepdown,” a level between ICU and a
general hospital room.  He had a private room to himself with a big sunny
window.  Ray said that was the first time he saw the sun in almost three
weeks.  We watched the Academy Awards together.  The nurse came in and out
to change him.  He still had bloody stools and that was worrying her a bit.
He seemed to be OK, I noticed his heart beat on the monitor was a smooth as
it was in ICU.  I kissed him good-bye and went home around 7:30 pm.  I was
going to take the next day, Monday, off from work and spend it with Ray.  I
wanted to spend time with him while he was getting better instead of
spending time with him when he was so sick.

I slept that night better than I had in weeks.  I woke up feeling optimistic
and strong.  I went to workout at the club.  I felt a surge of almost
indescribable joy pass through me as I was sweating on the treadmill.

The phone rang shortly after I got home.  It was Ray’s doctor.  I was sure
she was going to tell me good news, but instead she said that Ray was
failing fast.  They had already done CPR on him once.  He had lost
consciousness.  I called my son and Susan.  I got in the car and raced to
the hospital.

I’m not ready to write about Ray’s last couple of hours, but I’m glad I was
with him when he took his last breath.  I’m glad I was holding his hand
tight.

The day he died was a horrible one for me.  I was a walking zombie, and I
still am in many ways.  Later that afternoon, we went out for dinner.  When
we came back to our house, we saw across the street, frolicking with the
wild turkeys, a deer family, a doe with twin fawns, and a buck, who stopped
and stared at us as we stared at him.  Bucks don’t usually hang out with the
does, except during mating season, but there he was, proudly standing at the
edge of the woods.

I shouldn’t have stayed alone that first night, but I thought I could do it.
I’ve never experienced anything like it.  I’ve lost my parents, my
grandparents, and other close friends and relatives over the years, but I
have never, never experienced a grief this intense and overwhelming.  I didn
’t sleep at all that first night, instead spent most of it crying and
ranting and reading when I was calmer.

I wanted to go back in time and change everything so Ray would live.  I
still want to do that.  My heart twists in the wind when I read his last
emails to me, see his last calls to my cell phone, or see the last time he
used his debit card.  I want to grab onto those things and use them to yank
him back to me.  But it doesn’t work and time continues to move forward
without him.

These last few weeks have been consumed with what I call the business of the
dead.  Ray had no life insurance, so I had to pay for the cremation and
memorial service myself.  Fortunately, as a veteran, Ray was eligible for a
“free” plot at a national cemetery, and he’s there now, at Fort Snelling
National Cemetery.  I’ll join him when it’s my time.  Although I’m not
suicidal, I wish I could join him now.  I would do anything to be with him
in the earth.

I had to call social security, his work place, and meet with the funeral
director.  I had to plan for myself financially.  Thank goodness, I just had
filed our taxes, and those refunds were set to hit our bank account.

My son is my sanity.  He spent that first week with me.  I set small goals
for each day and he would help me accomplish them.  We worked on the
memorial service things – a brochure, a collage of pictures, and the service
itself.

I went to the library during the afternoon, as I couldn’t stay in the house
very long by myself.  All things Ray started screaming at me and I couldn’t
stand it.  I didn’t associate Ray with the library, so I spent afternoons
there in a big comfortable chair reading grief books and trying to
understand what I was feeling.

In the evenings, when the dead are the closest to us, I would go to my son’s
house, and sit there like a blob on the couch.  I would read or cry or stare
into space and no one expected me to interact with them.  I liked listening
to my grandsons’ voices, but I didn’t have to do anything, and that was
exactly what I needed.

I went home around 9:00 pm, because I wanted to, and after that first night,
I didn’t have so much trouble being alone during the deepest hours of night.
I’m not sleeping well, but it’s getting better, and I understand my dreams
and I’m not frightened by them anymore.  I wake up around 11:00 or 11:30 pm
every night and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why, and then it
came to me.  Ray usually came to bed around that time.

I went back to work that second week.  I’m not all there yet, but it helps
to have a focus, to be around people, because I am such an introvert.  My
coworkers are extremely supportive.

We had the service last Saturday, March 8.  That is a whole separate
chapter.  Ray’s children and grandchildren came and it made for an
interesting weekend.  Let’s just say, thank goodness it’s over and I have no
reason to have contact with them ever again.

This past week is the first time I’ve been free to grieve the way I want to
and not have to walk on eggs in order to keep his family, who have barely
spoken to him for the last 10 years, from going ballistic.  Why didn’t they
just have their own service for him in Milwaukee is something I’ll never
understand.  Oh, wait, that’s right, they didn’t want to pay for it!

I put the service behind me yesterday.  I wrote thank you notes and then put
all the sympathy cards away.  I’m watering and taking care of the plants.
Some of them will go into our garden in the spring.

I also went back to gym this week.  I cry a lot while working out.  I cry
when I’m at the store.  I cry when I’m doing chores around the house.  But I
laugh, too.  And I can think about other things besides Ray.  But thoughts
of Ray envelope me like a warm, snug blanket.  And I never want to give up
that security.

Several years ago, Ray’s mother gave us some violet clippings from her
violets.  We still have them and they’re going strong.  They bloomed on the
day of Ray’s memorial service.

Our bathroom faucet had a slight leak and to stop it from constantly
dripping, I would have to push hard on the faucet handles.  I noticed
yesterday that the leak is gone.

I joined a grief support group that first week after Ray passed, because my
emotions are so out of control.  I can’t tell you how great it is to be with
other people who are going through what I am and not have to explain
anything.  They know.

If I Should Fall Behind
By Bruce Springsteen

We said we’d walk together, baby, come what may
That come the twilight should we lose our way
If as we’re walking a hand should slip free
I’ll wait for you
And should I fall behind
Wait for me

We swore we’d travel, darling, side by side
We’d help each other stay in stride
But each lover’s steps fall so differently
But I’ll wait for you
And if I should fall behind
Wait for me

Now everyone dreams of a love lasting and true
But you and I know what this world can do
So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see
And I’ll wait for you
If I should fall behind
Wait for me

Now there’s a beautiful river in the valley ahead
There beneath the oak’s bough soon we will be wed
Should we lose each other in the shadow of the evening trees
I’ll wait for you
And should I fall behind
Wait for me
Darling I’ll wait for you
Should I fall behind
Wait for me

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com

www.polarispublications.com

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in
truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
~Kahlil Gibran
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