Year #4 with it's rambling thoughts . . .

I made reference on Facebook that today marks 4 years without Ben. I used to second-guess myself quite often, but it gets easier as time goes on. I accept that there was nothing I could have done to stop his passing. But this morning I did think about that day in some detail, from the time we both woke up and looked at each other, and I recall how he looked so sad. And I thought, if there is a God, then take my Ben with dignity. He was on a mission, and he knew where he was going. I've said before how I so admired that and, frankly, I have less fear of death because of it. When they arrived to transport him to the V.A. hospice, it hit me that it would be the last time he left this house, and how fitting it was that he left through the front door. Dignity. As I followed to the V.A. I thought about what I'd be going home to when he was gone, but I had no idea. I was too intent on just staying with him, whether he knew I was there or not. I like to think he knew. When the nurses and CNA's got him settled, it was as if a great relief washed over both of us. It wasn't long before Ben transitioned into "the great beyond" and, excuse me for repeating from a previous post, but when they're gone, they are g o n e. It's overwhelming to grasp that, but one must. And hopefully, every day that you're alive you treat people as if you may never see them again. 

I thank my friend Lee for being my angel as I went through the paperwork hoops. I think when I got home that night, the whole thing hit me as hard as it ever would. The thoughts rumbled through . . . I'm a l o n e. This house and my life are now my total responsibility. I have much work to do, and I must get through it. If I was blessed with nothing else, I was blessed with perseverance. I know that, if Ben was watching my progress, he would be stunned and proud. All of us think, at one time or another, that we can't do it, just can't get through it, but I and so many others are living proof. The answer lies in remembering that you still have yourself to take care of, both physically and mentally. No one else can do that.

Some of my other thoughts are of how we so underestimate people and their kindness. It brought a lump to my throat so many times. Still does. I think you all know who you are. You're too numerous to name, but I hope you know that not a day goes by that I don't think of what you did, whether it was a card, inviting me to dinner, or just a call to check on me . . . thank you. And I still have what I call "The Box" . . . all of the cards sent to Ben, and later to me.

Ben was a kind and gentle soul.  One hard act to follow . . .