Good-bye again . . .

I thought I knew where to start, but I'm clueless . . . a rare thing for me. Here's what it felt like: Tonight, at approximately 9:15pm MST, I lost my best friend/soulmate/husband again. I mentioned before that I felt a strong push to go to room 202 at the V.A. where Ben was one year ago tonight. At 8:30pm, I walked through the front doors one more time, to the elevator for the second floor, and walked that long hallway to the hospice area. The room that Ben had been in was occupied, so I stood in the hallway looking at photographs of other men who had passed away there over the years, and I thought 'why isn't Ben's here', I need to do that. A nurse came from "Ben's room" and asked if she could help. I explained to her what brought me there. She said the first anniversary seems to effect things like that, and I said, "I know." I asked about the man who was in 202. She told me that he didn't have long. I asked if he had family and she said he does but many don't. On impulse I asked if I could see him, so she went in to ask him if it would be okay. Apparently he said yes, so she took me in. I sat right down by his bed where I sat the night I lost Ben, and took his hand. He seemed comfortable with that, so we talked a little. I asked what branch of the service he was in and he replied 'Air Force', same as Ben. I asked about his family and he said there were 29 of them! And I said 'good'. I told him that my husband had passed away one year ago tonight and that I felt compelled to return to the room, and he was glad. I got up to leave, but felt a strong  pull to place my hand on his cheek and told him that God loves him. He looked me in the eyes and said, "Thank you for coming." 


I went out to my car and just sat there, looking at the window of room 202, thinking about the   long, hard road Ben and I negotiated together, and how I wish I could go back and change some things. But I know I can't. It's time to say good-bye and do what I need to do to take care of the living. 


Many of you have been concerned about me today, and I appreciate that more than I can say. Its been a mixed bag of emotions, but mostly I really am okay. I've conquered the "one year" hurdle and stared that aforementioned beast in the face. My heart is full to overflowing and I have to . . . no . . . I NEED to share whatever this is that I feel the need to give back. I told Ben's Sunday school class that you don't lose someone . . . you gain a legacy, a whole lifetime of lessons and memories, and it's up to you to use that or lose it. I choose to use it because I want to be okay. 

                                                       And that's the path to healing.