Just one more....

Becoming a widow at 47 was a turning point for me. Every single thing in my life changed. EVERYTHING. We was now Me. Us was I. My family of 3 was now a family of 2. My home seemed empty. Our bedroom once bustling like a small hospital was not eerily quiet. The spot where his hospital bed was is now empty. There was a huge stain on the carpet from the feeding tube. The Nurse never turned the machine off and it kept pumping out the formula all over the floor. She also never capped the catheter. All the supplies still on the shelf. The get well cards and posters still hanging up. His cologne still lingered in the air. I wanted to run after the funeral home vehicle and scream...

I found myself begging God, Allah, even Yoda to give me just one more minute with my husband. 60 seconds. Not much. I bargained. If I could just have that minute I would spread the word of goodness. Tithe. Volunteer more. Go to church every day. Whatever was needed, I would do it. I was so pissed that he was taken from me. Why?? What good will this do anyone? Yes, he suffered, but he seemed like he was ok. Stupid me. How dare I turn a blind eye on what my hubs was going through. It wasn't selfish, really. I just refused to see it because then I would have to believe that he was dying. I was not ready for that. No fricken way. Every emotion all jumbled together. It was horrible.

I had that minute planned out. Each night before going to sleep I pray. I have a "script" and then I add whatever else needs some extra help. I sort of expected that my minute would come in a dream. And I also knew that it probably would not be as I wanted it. I was open though. I never got to say goodbye to my husband the way I wanted to.

Four months almost to the day of his passing, I did have an amazing dream. I have to believe that it was a dream and didn't actually happen. I had my minute, not as I wanted it, but I have to believe it was as it needed to be. My husband's visit was not going to be on my terms. It provided me with such a great deal of comfort I still cry thinking about it. I can remember it vividly. I know that my husband is safe, whole and free of pain from that bitch Multiple Sclerosis. I also know that he did this for me because he saw how horribly sad I was.

I have come to realize that I will get what I need. It may not be what I pray for, what I wish for or what I want. It is not about that. It is, though, about being ok with my feelings. I have nothing, not an f'ing thing to feel guilty about. I was not supposed to be home when he passed. That wasn't the plan.

The anger is finally gone. It has been 2 years but it is gone. One victory for me on this journey.