Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I was over on a friend's blog, reading about her wonder woman sister-in-law who is dying of cancer, thinking how wretchedly it brought to mind my own experience with a loved one dying, doped up against the intolerable pain, holding on for dear life to the arms of the recliner, hour in, hour out, refusing to give in until the last day of his life, when he said, "Oh, I want to die!"
Then it hit me. I've successfully blanked out the anniversary date of his dying. I would have to go look at his death certificate to get the exact date (I'm not going to do that) because I've been so good at putting that horrible day far out of my memory. Suffice it to say that we're within a four-day window--more or less--of the ninth year of his going away.
This accounts for the longing I've experienced in the last few days, the inexorable sense of loss. Now that I've discovered the source, I can give vent to my tears and the loneliness that flickers out there in the shadows, far beyond my day-to-day life. Tonight I will remember my dear one, my sweetheart, who supported my writing unceasingly. A horrible irony is that his tragic, early death makes possible my cushy merry-widow life. I'm sure the bitterness of not being able to share it with him will never quite go away.
The last thing he said to me was, "I'll love you forever." Rest in peace, my darling, my dearest Rob. I don't plan to join you for a long, long time.