HOW I GOT HERE

          Let me tell you a bit about myself. My marriage lasted for 52 years, 364 days. Yes, my husband, John, died the day before our 53^rd anniversary, but we'd actually met one and a half years before we married, so 54.5 years together. I asked him to because I wanted to mourn that day and celebrate the following day. He had a stroke Sunday morning and became nonresponsive late that day. The doctors didn’t expect him to live through the night, but he was still there Monday. Back at the hospital, I washed his face, rubbed his hands and laid my head beside his on the pillow. 

              “John, it’s okay if you go today. I want you to go today and please know you will be missed. We’ve had a great life together, raised terrific kids, have wonderful  grandchildren, but it’s time for you to go. I know my daddy is waiting for you. He’s waited so long and I know he’ll be so excited to see you. You won’t be alone.  

 “Okay, okay, I know exactly what you’re thinking in there. You’re thinking, Paula, I wish you’d just shut the fuck up, but you know what. You can’t actually tell me that so I’m just going to keep talking.” 

I don’t really remember everything I said, but I tried to make it loving and caring and positive so he’d feel comfortable enough to just let go and move on. John must have heard me (supposedly, the last ability you lose is being able to hear) because less than an hour after I left, the doctor called to say that he was gone. 

The rest of the day was spent in mourning and trying to envision my life now that my husband, the one constant in my life for so long had passed on. The following day I celebrated our anniversary by going to the movies. I chose Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, a Quentin Tarantino movie because QT was John’s favorite director.  

Instead of going to dinner at what had become our favorite restaurant, I ate popcorn at the movies…they pop it fresh and it has real butter…excellent. Then I went home and cuddled with our doggies and watched TV. It wasn’t really very different than most nights had been when John was home. It wasn’t any different than when he’d have to go the hospital or rehab except this time I knew he wouldn’t be back. 

A part of me was relieved the difficult years of John’s failing physical health were finally over. A part of me was desolate to know I’d never see him again. But, this was just the first day of my widowhood. I had no idea how this new journey would be and in future posts I’ll share what I’ve learned, celebrated, enjoyed, grieved, missed and any other observations or thoughts that appear no matter how sad, funny, amazing, ridiculous, selfish or mundane.