The End
The irony of every widow's story is it begins at the end. As the last breath is drawn, as the news is delivered, as the EMT calls TOD.........however it happens, the end of her partner's life is the beginning of her widowhood. And no matter where she goes forward in life, no matter how many times she dates, no matter how many times she may remarry (God forbid it be another loss!) - her journey of widowhood is never over. Until she draws her last breath, she is forever traveling life as a widow.
On December 4, 2017, with our 4 month old daughter on my lap, I held my dearest love's hand as he drew his last breath, unable to process enough oxygen without the assistance of the tubes and other life support I had authorized removing just a few hours before.
There is no bigger gut punch than giving permission to remove life support for someone you would give your life to save. All the logic and knowledge in the world (and even the unanimous support of relatives in the decision) cannot lighten the lead in your feet as you shakily stand from their bedside, turning to walk the longest six steps you've ever taken in your entire life.
As I stood to free him from the prison of his body, I thought I would collapse. My legs did not want to hold me and my feet did not want to follow the command to walk. I pushed onward for him, knowing he depended upon me to have the strength to do this task. And so, I walked where I never wanted to go, with strength I never knew I had. There were forms to sign, words to say, and then we all gathered to wait.
In looking back, as hard as it was, the strength it took to perform this task was a drop in the bucket compared to what lay ahead. The journey begins with life crashing into nothingness. As you stare at the path that once stretched into infinity, (now a giant echoing chasm of nothingness), you feel totally and utterly alone.
On December 4, 2017, with our 4 month old daughter on my lap, I held my dearest love's hand as he drew his last breath, unable to process enough oxygen without the assistance of the tubes and other life support I had authorized removing just a few hours before.
There is no bigger gut punch than giving permission to remove life support for someone you would give your life to save. All the logic and knowledge in the world (and even the unanimous support of relatives in the decision) cannot lighten the lead in your feet as you shakily stand from their bedside, turning to walk the longest six steps you've ever taken in your entire life.
As I stood to free him from the prison of his body, I thought I would collapse. My legs did not want to hold me and my feet did not want to follow the command to walk. I pushed onward for him, knowing he depended upon me to have the strength to do this task. And so, I walked where I never wanted to go, with strength I never knew I had. There were forms to sign, words to say, and then we all gathered to wait.
In looking back, as hard as it was, the strength it took to perform this task was a drop in the bucket compared to what lay ahead. The journey begins with life crashing into nothingness. As you stare at the path that once stretched into infinity, (now a giant echoing chasm of nothingness), you feel totally and utterly alone.
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