I have written about a vast range of emotions. There is one specific event that I have never really talked about, never written about, never really dealt with. I think it’s finally time to talk about it because it is one memory that I keep replaying…keep dreaming about. Maybe I just need to get it out.
That event is my last goodbye with Chris. When we checked him into the hospital that week, he promised me he was going to be fine. We talked about our future. We talked about all the things he still wanted to do with his life, and how I fit into every one of them.
He got worse and worse. Slowly his organs started shutting down…giving up on him he said. His doctor came in and broke all the news to us…it would all end within the next 24 hours.
That alone, was a blow I thought I would never recover from. How that feels…knowing that these are your last moments with one of the people you love the most in life. What do you say? What do you do? What do you talk about? You have one day to make sure that person knows everything you have ever wanted to say. It felt like someone had knocked me to the ground and suddenly I was gasping for breath.
I made the decision right then that I had to be strong…for him. That these last 24 hours were going to be the best hours he had ever spent with me. We spent those hours telling stories with his parents…talked about our very best memories. All the things that brought joy to him in his life. We didn’t talk about the future anymore. In those moments the only thing that mattered was then and there.
We didn’t get 24 hours. We only got 14. His parents knew it was coming and they just sat at the end of the bed, speechless, lifeless. They embraced each other because it was too painful to hold him. So I did.
I held his hand. I told him I loved him. I told him that he was going to be out of pain soon and he was going to be so happy in heaven. I told him he would always be with us, and to watch over us because we really needed it. I told him that he was loved more than anything in the world. I told him that we were all going to be okay. I told him that just having him in our lives made us stronger, made us better people.
I tried to be strong. His hand was in mine when he took his last breath. With his last breath he squeezed my hand. And then nothing. His arm was suddenly lifeless. His body unresponsive. I kept holding his hand in mine. I couldn’t let go. I still can’t let go. I looked up at his parents, the monitors flatlined into that awful prolonged beep. His mother stood up and stared at him, at the monitor, and then shouted “NOOOOO…..” as she collapsed into her husbands arms.
A single tear rolled down my face as I kissed him on the cheek, and told him I loved him. The whole time I just kept thinking, Please don’t leave me. Please stay here with me. I am not strong enough for this, please don’t go. I walked out of his hospital room and collapsed onto the hospital floor. That day, as he died, something died inside me. A hurt, a pain, I have never felt before. A void that is still left unfilled.
When it’s unexpected you wish for one more day, to say everything you need to say to them. I feel so blessed I got that opportunity. But I still wish for one more day. I wish to hold him in my arms one last time. I wish to feel him kiss my forehead. I wish that we could sit, with our feet in the sand one last time.
Everyone wishes for one last day. One day would never be enough. He should have forever. He deserves forever.
