Love is the miraculous

snowy lane

I blogged last week about my older friend whose husband passed away in May.  Since then, I received an email from her that has arrested my mind.  I asked if I could share it.  It’s a must-read. She writes,

Oh Sonya, thank you for your blog about our conversation last week.
You are so right, he is still part of my life, and YES, I am who he was, as much as he was a part of who I am. After 53 years, we didn’t always have the need to talk, we “felt” each other’s spirits, we “read” each other’s thoughts, and often would speak the same words simultaneously, and laugh at our timing.
We were “together” as one. At every opportunity, unconsciously, our hands would melt together in a bonding clasp, even when we slept. Our lips constantly, daily, reconfirmed our unconditional love for each other.
He stroked my face, smiling lovingly. When I drove the car, his hand was at the back of my neck, fingering my hair or rubbing my neck.
Sometimes, he would give me a goofy grin and wink at me, or we would play “heavy breather” on our cell phones from room to room, and demand, “who is this??!!! I’m calling the police!”, breaking out in uncontainable laughter.
On an inspirational card, which I found in a store, was a little poem by an unknown author which says,
“Your gentle ways, your loving touch, Will always mean so very much.
For all the Special things you do, I’ll always be IN LOVE WITH YOU.”
….and it’s true.
Though I have many regrets thinking of things I should have done when I knew he was dying, I love him still… I wish I could tell him again…. and again.
When I weep, I feel frustration…… after all, it’s been over 8 months, I should just shape up, snap out of it, get over it and move on. But I can’t seem to. The loneliness seems stronger now, the emptiness seems to close in on me when I come back to my apartment…. and he’s not sitting there watching tv or cooking something in the kitchen.
They knew he was dying at the hospital in March… and on Good Friday, they admitted him to long term care at a nursing home.
OH MY DEAR GOD!!! That was the 3rd worst day of my life, and his…Indescribable shock for me and total confusion for him. He was delirious, raving on about things none of us could see.
After a few days his mind grew clearer, but the separation was devastating. I cannot speak of those days… the pain is much too raw, even now.
In May, his children, our sons, came to visit him.. all but the one who had passed away the year before.
Then the horrible day came when I let him go…”Honey… I want to tell you something… even though I don’t want to do this, I know how badly you have wanted to get off dialysis. Well, you don’t have to go to dialysis anymore, if that is what you want. You know the outcome”
He lowered his head, nodding, and said, “you made my heart whirl.”
I asked him what that meant.
He told me, “You made me happy. Thank You. Are you sure you are strong enough?”
I reassured him that I was….even though I secretly doubted my words.
That was the second worst day of my life.
I hired a friend to take him….one last time… to visit our daughter, who lives in a nursing home in a neighboring town. I can barely stand to look at the photos.
Seventeen days later…… he was gone to be with Jesus. He never stopped praising God, and asking Him to take him quickly. He knew where he was going.
A friend had asked to take me to KFC for a pot pie, but on the way out of the driveway after our meal, my phone rang.
They called his death at 6:50 pm the 24th of May, 2013.
Later, as we sat there by his motionless body, I brought my face close to his, and looked deep into his half open eyes, saying “I love you” yet again. To my shock, his eyes focused on mine and his lower lip moved ever so slightly. Was this a dream?? Was this a product of fantasy? My grief-stricken imagination? Was this wishful thinking or panic?
His chest and body were still warm, but they told me that meant nothing… I had wanted to be there by his side when he left, I didn’t want him to die alone.
His body grew cold then… I believe God allowed us to have one last good bye.
Now you know why I had to share.  Love is the miraculous.
 
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4 Replies to “Love is the miraculous”

  1. My mom just lost her husband on January 23, 2014.
    (My dad for 40 years)

    I believe this story will provide some comfort to my mom. I am weeping. Please thank your friend for sharing

    Like

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