TheBanyanTree: Where was I?

[Margaret R. Kramer]

This is where I was two years ago:

Ray slid back a few steps yesterday. He looks terrible - tired and thin. He
was on oxygen. He said he had some Ensure and ate some peaches for dinner.
But he's still cramping. I stopped at the desk and asked the nurse what was
going on, but she couldn't tell me much. I asked her to make a note in Ray's
chart to have the doctor call me. I doubt that they will. So I'll have to
ask again tonight. When Ray was at the VA a few years before, we usually saw
doctors on their night rounds and I was able to ask questions. But in all
the times I visited over this past week, I haven't seen one doctor. Even if
they don't know anything, why can't they call me? I guess I'm overreacting,
like I usually do, but I miss Ray and I feel like something's missing. It's
kind of like being in limbo. I wish I could do something to make him better,
but no, I just visit him and spend most of the visit crying. It was very
loud last night as Ray got three roommates and they all had their families
with them. They weren't loud obnoxiously, but just the conversation level of
their voices was annoying. 

When I read the stuff I wrote two years ago, I just want to go back in time
and fix it, because I know what the ending is.  I wish there was some way I
could claw my way back in time, make the doctors treat Ray the way they
should, and he would be alive today and I wouldn’t be so sad.

Wait, grief is not sad, it’s yearning.  I read that somewhere this week.
Yes, it’s yearning.  It’s a yearning that will never go away and its
intensity doesn’t fade.

So what I’m doing now is reliving the days before Ray died.  I couldn’t do
that last year.  I couldn’t go to the dark place very often until just
recently.  I can visit the dark place, but I still lash myself with guilt,
why didn’t I do this?  Why didn’t I do that?  Why didn’t I hold onto his
hand so tight that his soul had to stay by my side?  Why didn’t he suck me
into death with him when he took his last breath?  Why?

Then I leave the dark place, drained and confused, and pick up my life
again.  The intense feelings go into the background for a while until I
bring them out and pick at them one more time.

Ray’s daughter and I have been communicating on Facebook.  She shaved her
head just for fun.  Ray’s last hair cut was a buzz job.  He got mad at the
barber and told him just to shave his hair right off.  I sent her the
picture of bald headed Ray.  She sent me this nice note the other day and it
made me feel happy and sad:

lol. i remember this picture. it's still in my NEW mail. the shape of my
head looks a lot like his. i can tell he's not really mad, just silly. he
definitely liked attention. i'm glad he had that positive attention from
you. his life ended well with you. i hope you continue to remind me of him.
i think of him everyday but it's not the same as a picture.

Sigh.

I think of him every day, too.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com
www.polarispublications.com
www.linkedin.com/in/margaretkramer

Love is a symbol of eternity.  It wipes out all sense of time, destroying
all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end. 
-Unknown