Three Months

Three months ago today, Ron died.

At this time on July 31, he had about 13 hours of life left.

At this time 3 months ago, I was watching him sleep, having spent the night at the hospital with him.

At this time 3 months ago, I was planning my morning: what time to go home for food, shower, clean clothes, a trip to the bank for money and return to the hospital.

At this time 3 months ago, I realized that Abby, who was going to relieve me about 7 AM, would not be able to get onto the ward because its closed off for an hour during shift change so I called lher.

At this time 3 months ago, I knew Ron was dying, but I didn't know that later in the day he and I would make the decision to remove the vent and thus hasten his death from a couple of days to a couple of hours. That decision, jointly made, will always haunt me and bring me to a grinding halt.

In all honesty, though, the loss is not as difficult as it was one month out or two months out. It's different, and I am adjusting to the new normal. Sometimes the tears come out of no where. Sometimes I go all day without crying. Ron being dead is no longer the first thing I think of when I wake. Then, of course, it hits me within a few minutes and I'm so sad.

I think my mind has gone numb, almost like the first days after his death, because obsessive thoughts of him don't haunt me on an hourly basis. I am adjusting???? I don't know. It is what it is, and if I'm less anguished because of the passage of time, I'm not going to question the gift or its reason.

The tears for him will never stop completely, but as much as I wanted the world to stop when he died, it didn't, and as I've said before, short of taking my own life (not an option) my life didn't stop either. I like to think that Ron's helping me heal so I don't cry as much. My tears always made him feel helpless and hurt for me, and if, wherever he went, he has any realization of me and my life, he would do anything to make me feel better.