I write this tonight with a heavy heart for my friend, Kathy, who lost her husband this week. I hurt for her and in putting myself in her position, the following was written. I warn you now that it is heavy.
Tear apart a team of two and what happens? One goes on to a better place and one is left behind with a hole
In her heart
In her world
In her life
In her home
In her mind
In her physical being
She has lost her soul mate, best friend, lover, support and playmate.
It hurts deep, real deep; deeper than the lungs, below the rib cage, in every fiber of her being, rips through her heart.
She misses him terribly. She’s scared. She’s lonely. She feels guilty.
She wonders how it was for him in those last minutes here on earth - What he felt, what he thought, what he prayed.
She tries to imagine her future without him but can’t get past catching her next breath.
Her children and grandchildren also miss him, their lives now changed. But they will go on after a time, live their lives, raise their family as she did, and the grandchildren will grow up and move on.
But she is stuck, left behind to make her way on her own. She will do it but she has no idea how. How long will she have to endure without him?
Each morning she awakes to an empty bed, no warmth, no smiles, no “Good Morning.” She’ll make her own breakfast and sit at their table alone seeing his space and wish he was there.
Food has no taste; she tosses it in the trash. She feels sick like something plunged inside her and is pulling her guts out. Her face is pale, her eyes withdrawn from this world. She can only deal with her own world, inside her head, her heart, her being. She can only handle one moment at a time. Her world is black and grey and white –there are no colors.
Her mind replays over and over and over the plans they had for the future, plans they will never fulfill. Memories of days gone by flood her mind like an uncontrollable rushing river.
Tears fall unknowingly at first before she breaks and lets out an agonized anguished sound.
Rest in peace, Wayne.