Category: The First Year

A Promise

Published on by kerrymckim5 Comments

During Bryon’s final hours, one of our closest friends and I sat in his room and we would take turns going over to him to talk to him.  He wasn’t conscious at this point but no one really knows how much he heard or if he could even hear us at this point.  But we continued to talk to him.  I am not going to tell you about everything we talked about but I am going to tell you about one promise I made to him.

I was probably rambling at this point.  But I started talking about our travel maps.  I struggled on a good first anniversary paper gift but decided that we should buy a large map of the U.S. and a huge map of the world and put them on large bulletin boards and pin all the places we travel.  True to my nature, I even found a way to make it more complicated by adding color coded pins to denote places that only I had traveled  (blue) and places that only he had traveled (green).  We used red pins for the places we traveled together and yellow pins to denote places that we both had been but not together.

In a perfect world, I would have made these maps for him and given them to him as a gift.  But I knew that there was no way I could hide them.  So I presented my idea to Bryon and he liked the it and true to his “take charge” nature, he located the items online, purchased them and put the maps with the adhesive onto the bulletin boards. He did let me help with the assembly.   He even indulged my system of color coded pins.  Though one day as a prank, he put one of my pins in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia even though I have never been to Africa and didn’t tell me.  He waited until I figured it out.  He thought it was the funniest thing ever so I left the pin in place.

Anyway, as I was talking (or rambling) to Bryon during his last night on Earth, I started talking about these maps.  I remember saying that I couldn’t believe that there wouldn’t be any more adventures together.  We loved to travel.  We had so many plans and so many places we wanted to visit. We would never go to San Diego and visit all the Top Gun places.  We would never go to Branson, Missouri (it was always his dream to go to the Nashville of the Ozarks.  A dream I never understood).  We would never go to Scotland, or Seattle, or London or Texas.  Travelling with Bryon was amazing because he was a planner and he would make the best of wherever he was.  We could be in some random place but give him 5-10 minutes on his phone and he would figure out the top tourist attractions, the most random tourist attraction, what famous (or not-so-famous) person lived there, if there was a Waffle House or a Chick-Fil-A nearby and what the best local places to eat and grab a drink and he would come up with a plan to see it all. Literally, all I had to do was show up and enjoy the amazing vacation.

Our adventures were going to be over.  We wouldn’t put any more red pins into our map.  But I told him that I promised that I would still take our daughter on adventures even though it would be hard to do it without him. Bryon would want her to see the world.  We brought her everywhere with us.  By the time she was 16 months, she had already been on two Caribbean cruises.  Bryon wouldn’t want us to stop travelling.  I even bought special pink pins to denote our girl trips.

So today my daughter and I embark on our first adventure without Bryon.  It is going to be hard without him.  It will be the first time I will fly alone with my daughter.  We will be going to a place that Bryon had never been but always wanted to go.  We will be spending time with my best friend and her two year old daughter.

So get ready Las Vegas.  The McKim girls are coming.

To the new widow(er)

Published on by kerrymckim5 Comments

Since I joined the Widows Club last August and even since I started this blog last month, many people have approached me about friends of theirs who have become young widows.  (Nothing against the guys but there seems to be a lot more of us younger widows.  I hear that the statistics back that up but I am too lazy to research it.)   It breaks my heart that so many people have been joining the club that no one wants to be a part of.  I am about five and a half months into my widowhood and I wanted to give some unsolicited advice, widow to widow(er).

First of all, I am sad that you are part of this club. You have just lost the love of your life, your best friend, other half, soulmate and partner in crime.  I don’t know the circumstances whether it was a long illness or a sudden accident but either way, it isn’t fair.  None of this makes sense.  You were supposed to grow old together.  Grief is rough regardless of who you lose but you will probably find that this is the worst grief you have ever had.  Whether your spouse may have died suddenly or been sick but there is nothing to prepare you for this.  My husband was sick for five months and came close to dying several times and I still wasn’t prepared for it.  I thought I was but I wasn’t.  Nothing can prepare you for the void you are going to be feeling.

You may not want to get out of bed.  You may not want to shower.  You may not be able to sleep.  You may need to be told where to sit and when to eat.  You may forget things.  This is called “Widow Fog” and it is real.  My parents and I spent an hour looking for my phone only to find that I had put it in the fridge.  I am sure I must have had a good reason for that.

You might hear a lot of about stages of grief.  It is total B.S.  First off, the emotions of denial, anger, bargaining, desperation and acceptance are only a fraction of the emotions you will feel and those feelings will not come packaged to you in perfect little stages.  You will probably have periods where you feel numb as well as periods where you feel every emotion at the same time. You may feel emotions you never knew existed.  There is no textbook process of grief.  This will be unique to you.

Don’t listen to people who tell you how to grieve.  You will grieve in your own way, on your timeline.  You can wear your rings for as long as you want and there is no rush to clean your spouse’s clothes out of the closet.

People are going to say things that don’t make sense and may upset you.  Just remember that people mean well.  They want to help the situation but they don’t know the right words.  So if their words upset you, just try to remember that.  I know right now you don’t care if “this is part of God’s plan” or that “you will find love again” or that “you should be thankful for what you have” and you know very well that sometimes God does give you more than you can handle.  There might be truth to those words (except that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.  I vehemently disagree with that one), people don’t understand that that isn’t what you need to hear right now.

Widowhood is lonely.  In addition to losing your spouse, your friends that have been checking up on you will thin out as time passes.  They might see you and think you are doing okay.  They may think you need your space.  They might not know what to say or do.  They may be afraid to bring up your spouse in conversation because they will be afraid it will make you sad.

For the friends that do stay around, take comfort and spend time with them.  Try to engage as much as possible. Try not to isolate yourself.  Remember that those friends are grieving your spouse too.

Grief shopping is a real thing.  I know I got too familiar with Target and Amazon Prime.  Santa may have taken his grief out on Amazon this year but my daughter didn’t seem to mind.  It was to numb my emotions and it is important to not let it get out of hand.  This goes the same for other destructive behaviors.  Do what you need to do to take the edge off but just make sure you are still taking care of yourself and those around you.

You will feel like you are going through the motions.  I still feel this way.  But many experienced widows have told me that you need to fake it until you make it.  Continue living your life and someday you will be happy again.  Again, I haven’t gotten there yet but I am trying because I figure it is better than letting life pass by.

Seek out others who have gone through this.  There are tons of groups on Facebook.  There are also a lot of books written by widows and you can get many of them used for a penny on Amazon (with $3.99 shipping.)  I read as many as I could get my hands on because I wanted an idea of what to expect.

It is okay to cry and scream.  It is okay to smile and laugh.  It’s okay to pamper yourself.  It’s okay to spend time doing things you enjoy.  It is okay to not be okay.   It is okay to let people know you are not okay.  I know that one is easier said than done.  I am one of those people who feels that I have reassure everyone that I am okay even when I am not.

If it is all too much to handle, it is okay to see a grief counselor or therapist.

You are going to feel lost.  You were part of a couple, a unit.  Now you need to figure out who you are as an individual.  I imagine this is a long process as I am still figuring it out.  Don’t be afraid to try new hobbies or pursue new interests.

And lastly, you will never look at the world the same way again.  You will learn not to take certain things for granted.  While the world will be a sadder place, you will see more beauty in it.

Getting pretty for him…one last time.

Published on by kerrymckimLeave a comment

Wed-Thurs

August 24-25, 2016

It was late August and Bryon had been sick since March and I clearly had ignored my appearance.  I hadn’t worn makeup during that time.  My nails were bitten off due to the stress and I don’t want to think about how many gray hairs I had.  There were several instances over the course of Bryon’s five month stay in the ICU where he came very close to dying and I was too afraid to leave his side and went days without showering and I would wear the same clothes for days. Before this health crisis, I never would have dreamed of going more than 24 hours without showering or wearing dirty clothes but I learned that showering and clean clothes were actually optional.

Amidst planning Bryon’s funeral/farewell party, I realized that I needed to do something about my appearance.  I was talking to my good friend (and daughter’s godmother) and we both agreed that I shouldn’t look like a tired widow and that Bryon would actually be hurt if I didn’t get all prettied up for him and his farewell party.

My hair needed the most help but I was dreading going to the salon I had been going to.  Normally I don’t mind small talk but the last thing I wanted was to have to talk to the hairstylists.  I hadn’t been to salon in awhile and I know I would be asked about what was going on in my life.  I did not want to talk about how my husband died.  I shared these concerns with my friend and she told me not to worry.  She said she would call her salon and get me an appointment with the instructions to just do my hair.  The owner of the salon did my hair and she did talk to me but did not bring up Bryon’s death.  We chatted about how we knew mutual friends and we talked about our kids.

I decided to get acrylics put on my nails even though I hate them because Bryon liked my nails long.  He didn’t care if my nails are real or fake, he just liked them long.  But I honestly can’t tell you which nail salon I went to.  I have no recollection of getting my nails done but I know I had them done.  Perhaps “widow fog” (it’s a real thing, similar to “pregnancy brain”) was beginning to set in.  Keep in mind, I can remember the conversation I had with the nail tech that did my nails for my cousins wedding in Florida in 2004.  I can tell you about the conversation I had with the nail tech who did my mani-pedi in New Orleans in 2014.  But I can’t tell you which salon I went to the week Bryon died.  I just know that I got my nails done and that they didn’t do a good job because they started popping off a day or two later.

I needed something to wear for the wake and the funeral.  I had a few tired black dresses in my closet that I have worn to countless weddings and they would have worked but I felt that these events deserved their own specific event dresses.  It was weird to buy a dress for Bryon’s funeral without Bryon there.  Bryon was a “guy’s guy” but he was a stylish dresser and many times he would find clothes for me try on.  I preferred shopping with him over anyone else.  He knew my style better than I did and he was honest about how items fit.  I always valued his input.  But I was going to have to do this one alone.

I began my search at a store that is local to us in Upstate NY called Boscov’s.  For some reason I usually have good luck in that store.  I don’t know if Bryon was guiding me but I made my way straight to a rack that had black dresses with white polka dots.  Bryon always liked me in polka dots though they were my thing long before he came into my life.  I decided that I could wear this dress for the wake but I needed something more somber for the funeral.  Something that was solid black.  I did not see anything else at Boscov’s so I made my purchase and then head over to my other “tried-and-true” shopping options- Macy’s.

At Macy’s I selected a few dresses to try on but as I passed the clearance rack on the way to the fitting room, a black dress caught my eye.  It was my size to I grabbed that one as well.  I went into the fitting room and tried on my choices but they didn’t work.  I tried on the clearance dress and it fit perfectly.  This was the dress.

As I looked in the mirror, I had another “punched in the stomach” moment.  I realized that this would be last dress I would buy to wear for Bryon.   This was it.  He was dead.  There would be no more dresses.  No  more celebrations.  No more anniversaries.  No more weddings. No more fancy dinners.  No more formal nights on cruises.  This would be the last time I would get pretty for Bryon.  I cried in the fitting room.

Before I purchased my dress, I went to the toddler section because my daughter needed dresses.  My mother had bought a white dress with black polka dots that she had seen in passing knowing how much I liked polka dots.  But we needed at least two dresses, preferably three because I wanted an extra dress in case one got dirty.  It was a little hard to find a mourning dress in the little girls section but I found two black and white dresses that would work.

The last thing I needed to look pretty for Bryon’s funeral was makeup.  I hadn’t worn makeup in over five months and I couldn’t remember the last time I bought makeup before that.  So I went to the Mac counter within Macy’s.  I must have had a blank stare on my face because the makeup artist came over and asked me if he could help me with anything.  I just blurted out “my husband’s funeral is on Saturday and I don’t want to look like a tired old widow.”  He was sympathetic, sat me down and got to work picking out some simple makeup.  He said that we should skip the mascara and I agreed.  I bought the makeup and I was ready to go.  Bring on the wake and the funeral.

I want my old life back

Published on by kerrymckim4 Comments

Bring a widowed, single mother has been fun but I am ready for my old life back.

Lately my two-year-daughter has been struggling with transitions.  Each morning we go about our morning routine but getting her out the door has been a struggle.  She wants to stay home and play with her toys and watch Disney Jr.  Then when I pick her up from school, she doesn’t want to leave.  She wants to stay and play with the toys and stay with her friends.  This might just be normal behavior but it’s frustrating for me.  I am tired.  I no longer have Bryon to tag-team with.  It’s just me.  I don’t have Bryon to take a turn if I am feeling frustrated.  I also wish Bryon were still here so I can have a break when I need it without feeling like I am an inconvenience to people.

Bryon always seemed to make sure everything got done.  He made sure the bills were paid.  He made sure all the maintenance on our house and cars was up to date.  He made sure all paperwork was done because he loved to do paperwork.  When I had to fill out my FMLA paperwork when he got sick, I remember saying to friends that I hadn’t had to fill out paperwork in 7 years.  I wasn’t joking.

Sometimes I think all I did was change diapers, did laundry (which I never kept up with it) and make sure there was milk in the fridge.  Now I am trying to figure all these things out.  Luckily he bequeathed me many friends with strengths in many areas and I do have a lot of people looking out for me and my daughter but it can still be overwhelming.  Before Bryon got sick, I remember being worried and stressed all the time.  Bryon used to tell me that I looked for things to worry about because I liked to worry.  I wish I could go back to the older version of myself and tell her that she had it easy and to quit worrying.  I guess when you survive a crisis, it puts things into perspective.

Some days I am busy and I am distracted enough that I don’t need to think about being a widowed mother.  Unfortunately most days it is still all too clear the emptiness I feel.  Before Bryon got sick, he would regularly be in touch with me throughout the day whether it was to figure out what we were going to do for dinner, making plans if there were evening events or sometimes just to tell me a joke.  Now my days at work are long without him checking in.   We used to spend our evenings talking about our days and now I don’t have him to talk about my day.  We used to watch TV and now I watch our shows and I miss talking to him about them.

Sometimes I wonder if this is some sort of punishment for not being a good wife and mother.  This is some sort of lesson because I took Bryon for granted.  Every night I lie in an empty bed and I remember all those times I got mad at him for hogging my side of the bed. He would tell me that I hogged his side of the bed and I told him that was impossible because I was on the edge of the bed.  He claimed that he was on the edge of the bed.  I think about all those times where he wanted to cuddle and I would get annoyed because I just wanted to sleep.  I think about our nightly arguments because he liked to sleep with the TV on and I wanted silence.  Now I lie in an empty bed at night thinking about how much I miss cuddling and I would gladly sleep on the edge of the bed with the TV on just to feel his warm body next to me.

I wish I had my old life back so I can stop pretending I am okay.  

I wish I had my old life back because it would mean that I wouldn’t have to feel the sadness and pain I feel every day.

I wish I had my old life back because I am tired of feeling like I am going through the motions.

I wish my old life back because I want to feel alive again.

I just want my old life back.   But I am never going to get my old life back.

Finding the final resting place

Published on by kerrymckim4 Comments

Tuesday

August 23, 2016

Bryon and I were both fans of the show How I Met Your Mother.  Bryon liked to think he was like Barney because they both were full of snarky comments.  I saw him more him in Marshall, the lawyer.  Whenever Marshall would win an argument by logic, he would proudly proclaim, “Lawyered!” I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times Bryon “lawyered” me in an argument, however, I can tell that I have lawyered him twice.  One time may or may not have been an argument about one of our families so I will refrain from discussing that here.  The second time I lawyered him was an argument about cemeteries.

Bryon and I didn’t talk extensively about death.  We spoke about our parents plans for what they wanted to do with their remains.  I asked Bryon what he wanted.  He said to be buried and I was happy because that was what I wanted.  Bryon then said he wanted a huge obelisk monument and a bench and a courtyard for all his mourners.  He also thought it would be cool to buy a huge section of a cemetery so all of his descendants could be buried there.  He was not one to think small.  I told him he better start saving money because cemetery plots are not cheap.

A few years later, we got into a discussion about which cemetery we should be buried in when we die.  You know, decades later after we have lived long and full lives.  Bryon talked about his desire to be buried in Albany Rural Cemetery.  Albany Rural Cemetery is full of history and has many famous politicians buried there, the most notable being President Chester A. Arthur.  I said we need to be buried in a Catholic Cemetery because we are Catholic.  Bryon brought up that his grandparents were buried there and I pointed out that that section of the cemetery seemed to be crowded.  Bryon states that there we available plots in the back of that section, near the woods.  I ended the discussion by stating “Well, I guess whoever dies first loses this argument!”  Bryon just looked at me and I said “You have been lawyered.”  Granted I didn’t necessarily win the argument by logic but I logically ended the argument or at least pushed it to a later time.  I know Bryon would go into a court hoping to get the hearing delayed so therefore I think I can correctly considering this “lawyering.”

My two friends picked me up again the that morning.  We first had a meeting with our Parish Priest in the rectory to discuss the funeral Mass.  I was given a book full of readings to choose from and suggestions of songs, though I already knew what I wanted for music.  

After the meeting at church, we made our way over to Albany Rural Cemetery.  We arrived at the cemetery early so we decided to explore a little bit.  I showed my friends where Bryon’s grandparents were buried.  We drove by President Chester A. Arthur’s grave.  Then we got lost looking for the main office.  We continued to drive around the cemetery until we finally found a sign that directed us to the main office.

We arrived at the main office and met the staff member who would helping us select a plot.  We decided that it would be easiest if he drove around with us.  We drove to the first plot.  I stood on the plot and just tried to see what I felt.  The day before I experienced the most surreal moment of my life while choosing Bryon’s casket but this moment is definitely a close second. The cemetery worker asked me if I wanted to buy this plot.  I was not satisfied. I thought this was supposed to be like House Hunters.  I wanted to know what all our options are before making a choice.  This would be where Bryon would be located forever.  I wanted to make the right choice. I would be purchasing two adjacent plots even though I don’t know what my life is going to bring but I want to make sure I have a place for me next to Bryon should I need it.

I stood at the second plot.  Like the first plot, I stood on the actual plot but it did was not restful. I could hear lots of cars on a nearby freeway.  This was not our plot.

The third plot was off the beaten path in a beautiful, quiet wooded area.  We didn’t even get out of the car.  While Bryon would have appreciated that people had to drive out of the way to see him but he was the social and would want to be where the party was. It would have been perfect for me but it was not the place for Bryon.

We finally arrived at the fourth plot.  It was in a part of the cemetery with a more “populated” location.  I realized that it was the same section that Bryon’s grandparents.  Like Bryon has said in our cemetery argument, there was a row in back right before the woods began that was empty.  I stood on a couple of different plots to get a feeling and then I made my choice.  This was it.

We drove back to the cemetery office to finalize the purchase.  I was given a folder with cemetery information and a list of rules for picking out a headstone.  I asked a few questions.  I handed over my Capital One credit card.  With the swipe of a credit card, I bought my second piece of property and it was not the lakeside cabin I always envisioned.

My crash course in funeral planning

Published on by kerrymckim2 Comments

Monday

August 22, 2016

One thing about growing up Boston-Irish is that you are not a stranger to funeral homes. When I smell an abundant amount of flowers, I think of funeral homes.  My Uncle Peter (my father’s brother) used to refer to the obituaries as the “Irish Sports Pages.”   My father always said that his father, my Grandpa Sullivan, had impressed upon him that when someone dies, you must pay your respects.  Unfortunately through the years my family has lost three grandparents, two uncles (including Uncle Peter) and many great-aunts, uncles and friends.  And each time someone died, you paid your respects by attending the wake and the funeral.

Given our ages, Bryon and I did not discuss funerals in great detail except for a two day period where we attended the funeral of a close friend’s father on one day and the funeral of his best friend’s grandfather on the next day.  Bryon was always a party planner.  When we were planning our wedding Bryon was not the stereotypically passive groom.  He was not only involved in the whole process, but he pretty much organized the whole day.  He asked for my input and what I liked and factored that in. So it didn’t phase me when he started making notes for his funeral.  I told him to write it all down but he never did.  I had to rely on my memory because who plans on dying when they are 30?  

My two friends that were with me the previous day (My daughter’s Godmother and her significant other) picked me up midmorning and the three of us drove to the funeral home.  We were all completely exhausted and still didn’t know what had hit us.  We just knew that we had to plan the best farewell party for Bryon.  A farewell party that would be legendary.

I went into the funeral planning process with four major points: Top Gun had to be playing on loop during the wake, St Francis had to be the featured saint when it came to prayer cards and hymns, his best friend had to say a eulogy and it had to be better than his Best Man speech at our wedding and we had to have an open bar reception after the funeral Mass.

At the funeral home we were greeted by the smell of flowers and the undertaker named Nick.  Over the course of the next couple of days, we would start referring to him as Funeral Nick in our conversations because we kept confusing him with our friend Nick.  Funeral Nick had a last name but I was too exhausted to remember it. (Funeral Nick, if for some reason you are reading this, I hope you aren’t offended.  You did a phenomenal job.) Funeral Nick brought us into a conference room, gave us some bottled water and presented us with a binder that was full of funeral planning options.

Over the next several hours, we discussed many of the funeral details.  We had to decide if we wanted a Thursday wake with a Friday funeral or a Friday wake with a Saturday funeral.  We had many people travelling from out of town, some as far away as Florida and Chicago so we opted for a Friday wake with a Saturday funeral.  We discussed the logistics of transporting his body from New York City back to Albany.   We discussed the transportation to the church, cemetery, and the bar that the reception would be held.  We chose the flowers.  We decided how many pallbearers to have.  We decided that obituary would be published in the local paper, The Times Union and his hometown paper, The Saratogian.  We couldn’t have Top Gun playing and a photo slideshow.  We decided that Top Gun was more important so we decided to have photo boards lining the room.  We picked out the sign in guest book and prayer cards. I poured over the binder, making my choices. I would stop and ask my friends for their input.  The three of us had a good idea on what Bryon would have liked.

Then it was time to pick out the casket. Funeral Nick showed all my options on a projector.  I felt like I had just been kicked in the stomach.  I was picking out the box that was going to hold Bryon’s bodily remains forever.  Bryon’s body was going to go into this box and this box was going to be buried underground forever.  This was and continues to be the most surreal moment of my life.

Bryon’s law partner (and close friend and Godfather to our daughter) showed up at the funeral home and it took the four of us, plus Funeral Nick to write his obituary.  I have spent many times looking at obituaries for my job and as part of my genealogy research.  I knew that these words were to sum up his life.  How we portrayed Bryon in the obituary would be set in stone for the rest of history.  This would be the document that our daughter and her children and grandchildren will read to try to learn about the person Bryon was.  We had the responsibility to choose these words carefully.  We spent at least an hour making sure everything was worded properly and that we include all aspects of his life.  We finally had a piece that we were satisfied with and it was immediately published on the funeral home’s website and sent it to the newspapers.

We left the funeral home in the middle of the afternoon.  We knew we had another important task the next day.  We would be picking out the cemetery plot.

 

The first few hours after

Published on by kerrymckim6 Comments

Sunday, August 21, 2016

8:35 am

My husband had just been declared dead.  I quietly sat in a chair on his right while the doctors were finishing up.  Our friend (and Godmother to our daughter and like a sister to me) was sitting on another chair in the corner of the room.  We were told to go to the waiting room so they could clean him up.  We could come back and see him before they take him to the morgue.  My friend and I went out to the waiting room where her significant other was waiting.  We knew we had to let people know about my husband’s death.  My husband worked in politics so my friends made sure that the proper people knew of his death.  I decided to make calls to my family and friends.  I wanted to make sure everyone close to us knew before the news of his death started to appear on Facebook.

My first call was to my father.  It was his birthday.  I had made sure to wish him a happy birthday on his Facebook wall at midnight because I knew my first call of the day to him was going to be telling him that Bryon was dead and I wanted to say happy birthday before he got that news.  I had asked my father to call our relatives so they knew.

I called our close friends.   Every call started the same, almost as if I was a robot.  “Hi, it’s me. I was calling to let you know that Bryon passed away this morning.”  Almost everyone, if not everyone, started to cry or seemed shocked.  Bryon came close to dying many times in those five months but always seemed to bounced back.  I think everyone wanted to believe that he was going to bounce back.  I know I did.  I continued to make each phone call in a robotic manner.

I was surprised at how easy it was to make phone calls but I know now that I was in some form of shock. Before my husband died, I always thought that being in shock was a mental state where one couldn’t function at all and that there was some level of not believing the current situation.  At the time, I did not think I was actually in shock.  I was functioning.  I fully understood that his body just couldn’t take it anymore.  It had been a long five months and I had been staring at all his numbers on the monitor.  I knew from the numbers he had over the previous three days that he wasn’t going to bounce back.  For five months, I knew that this was a possible outcome and I thought I was prepared for it, but you are never truly prepared for it.

After the nurse cleaned him up, I was allowed to go back to his room.  As I walked into his room, I was taken aback at how still and quiet it was.  The beeping machines that had been working and monitoring his vitals had been shut off.  They were no longer needed.  After 5 months, Bryon finally looked like he was at peace.  I sat to the left of him and just looked at him.

My friend and I decided to say a Hail Mary.  We cried through it.  Then the priest came by.  A member of the pastoral care staff had tried to contact him while he was saying morning Mass and the priest scolded me for the interruption.  I remember saying “I am sorry my husband didn’t die at a more convenient time.  I did not know you were saying Mass and I really could do without the attitude right about now.”  I have never snapped at a priest like that before.  Let’s hope my grandmother never finds out that I talked to a priest like that.

Earlier that morning when the nurse sent me out of the room to clean him up, I thought I wouldn’t need to come back. I had just spent the last 3 days sitting in his room as I watched him actively die.  The death felt so final.  I didn’t think I needed any extra time but when I went into the room, I found that I needed to just look at him.  I remember thinking about how I was never going to kiss him again or feel his embrace.  I was never going to hear him tell a funny story.  He had been a person that was so full of life and now he was gone.  I didn’t want to leave him.  The next time I would be seeing him, he would be in a casket.

His nurse was waiting for hospital transportation to come and take him to the morgue.  I began to feel anxious.  What if the transporters don’t arrive?  What if his body gets lost?  I felt like I needed to stay there to make sure he got moved to the morgue.  I had spent the past five months monitoring his care and needs.  Was his test done?  What were the results? Has the specialist seen him?  Did he get his medicine?  Does he want to change the channel on the TV?  For the past five months, I had to have my cell phone fully charged and by my side.  One time I dropped my daughter off at daycare and I had left my phone in car and had a panic attack when I got back to the car and I had realized that I had left my phone there.  What if something happened to Bryon and they were trying to get ahold of me?   I came to the realization that it was just his body. The life was gone from his body and he no longer needed me to monitor every move.  It was time for me to go back to Albany. It was time to go home and see my daughter.  It was time for me to go home and plan his funeral.

As I walked out of the ICU, I stopped by the team of his doctors who were rounding on another patient.  They all stopped when I approached and just looked at me sympathetically.  I thanked them for taking care of my husband and told them that I knew they did everything they could.

It was late morning when I walked out of the hospital like I had every day for the past 5 months.  The only difference was this time I was walking out of the hospital for the last time.  And it was without him.