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Hijacked – March 1, 2020
I hold her hand while gently talking to her. She labors through her breathing in the last hours of her life. I want her to let go, for her struggle for oxygen to be over. I watch her take her last breath. And just like that, my world changes. This last breath extinguishes our dreams. Eliminates hope. Sunsets a miracle. All the future plans for our lives together are irrelevant now. Christy dies shortly after midnight on March 1, 2020. Four hours earlier, I climbed into the back of an ambulance arranged by hospice. They advised me she could die en route. I get to make this decision for her…
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The Hijacker Called Covid-19
Today is her birthday. Was her birthday. Past tense. Forevermore her life was, no longer is; so past tense. She’s gone. Passed away. Dead. She died just short of her 56th birthday. Thirty-seven days ago death hijacked life’s journey I expected to take with my wife Christy and put me on another path. The one without her on it. The one all widowed spouses travel. I’ve never done this before, this widow thing, but I saw my father and others navigate life after the death of a spouse. Same path. Different journeys. I have certain expectations about what the upcoming weeks and months will be like for me. I suspect…
