That Dying Thing
We sat there by her bedside, watching over her, with Erika doing
the actual checking and administering pain meds as needed. We spoke with her and
listened carefully to see if we could detect her voice trying to speak. Then finally, she stopped breathing. Her brain
gave out and she was gone. No more pain, but also no more life. And Carol was
gone. Yes we use this term to imply a voyage of some kind. But in reality her
voyage simply ceased. Her brain ceased
to function and that signals the end of life.
And then I sat there looking at her, or rather looking at
what used to be Carol. Because Carol,
the longtime Love of My life, had just ceased to operate. And I continued to function, thinking of her.
I might speak with her, but she would no longer respond, because her brain had
ceased to function. And now, I was
actually alone. She is in my brain
still, but she is all part with me. My brain is now Carol’s.
And now, weeks later, I still sense her presence. I will be
sitting watching television, and I turn to her next to me to ask her something.
But next to me is now empty. Well, Midnight
our cat might be next to me, but he does not speak in a language I comprehend. And I go to sleep at night in our bed, still
in my accustomed place on our bed. And then, in the middle of the night, I
awaken slightly because I think I feel her moving next to me. But No, it is again
Midnight.
And then I vaguely awaken. It is 5 o’clock, still too early,
but my brain has begun to function, even if only half functioning. But my awakening has begun. And then I decide to awaken and arise. Now my
brain begins to function. But then, for
the rest of the day, I will function with her at my side. And I have begun to think of this phase as
some early dying stage. I am still functional, but something is missing. Maybe
the dying has begun. But how long will this last . . . until I actually die in
X days/months/years? Maybe. Perhaps this is life AFTER losing the single most
important thing in your LIFE. Odd . . .
very odd.
