too fast, much too fast
I met Ron of all places in a yahoo chat room. What were the odds of meeting the love of your life online, at the ripe old age of 39? He was 45. We had both been married before and brought some baggage with us in spite of trying not to. I also brought a teenage daughter. Everything was NOT sweetness and light, be we loved each other through it. He was my life, my love, my best friend, I guess my soul mate. He was quite simply part of me. He was with me through my own bout with cancer in 2010.
When he started having chest pain, we were afraid it was a heart attack. The tests showed his heart was strong, but x-rays showed pneumonia. The doctors treated him for pneumonia for 2 weeks but he just kept feeling worse. I took him back to ER on the 15th. He was hospitalized, had a biopsy, ultrasound, a PET scan and an MRI. They diagnosed lung cancer, on the 18th. On the 19th, they added liver, brain, and bone cancer to the diagnosis. The prognosis changed with each test result. We went from 12 to 18 months to live to weeks, to days.
On February 25, 2013, one short week after the diagnosis, he stopped breathing. I started crying and he breathed again, once, with a look on his face like he was trying to lift a truck. I said, “go on baby, I don’t want to see you hurt anymore.” He died, and I became one of the crazy women on TV that falls in the floor screaming. My 20 year old daughter literally led me around by the hand, arranging the cremation and memorial service. Now that’s done and all I have to do is stay alive, whether I want to or not.
I miss him so bad. I’ve realized I have no life without him. Everything I do is something we did together, everywhere I go, he should be there. My house is full of his stuff, but it’s empty. It’s empty like my heart, and my arms. Everyone keeps saying I’m strong, I’ll be ok. If it makes them feel better who am I to tell them I’ve shattered like glass on concrete?
Would he have lived longer if I hadn’t said anything? Did I kill him? Would he be ashamed of me for being such a weakling? Why didn’t I see how sick he was and talk him into going to the Dr. sooner? How did he keep working up until a month before he passed away? He must have been in an amazing amount of pain. In the 8 short years we had together, he never once let me down when I needed him. I hate myself because the only time he needed me, I didn’t help him.