Silver Lining

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I made the mistake of going through mine and Seth’s old emails.

He was in school full time. I worked a desk job. So we both sat in front of a computer all day.. and emailed each other during slow times.

I have a million emails between us.

Which can be a good thing and a bad thing.

I came a crossed an email that reminded me of right before my husband died. It also reminded me of times I had forgotten.

A lil back story. Since 2001 I needed shoulder surgery to correct snapping shoulder. I had two different doctors tell “Put the surgery off as long as possible, some people don’t need surgery and can manage the pain.”

I reached my pain limit in May of 2010. I was putting off surgery until February 2011, which is when my vacation at work would renew. In February I would be able to take time off work and recover from surgery without taking a loss in pay.

Thanks to the emails, I remember surgery was originally scheduled for February 2011. Come July 2010 and I couldn't stand the pain anymore. I was in so much pain I could barely brush my teeth.

My surgeon rescheduled my surgery to July 22^nd, 2010.

I don’t remember any of this.

I remember all this now due to the emails Seth and I sent to each other about me reaching my pain max, my surgeon scheduling emergency surgery, and talk of how we would manage me taking time off work without pay.

I went through surgery just fine. The only downfall was I couldn't do anything myself. I couldn't move my right arm at all. I am very right handed, I’m not left handed at all. Seth had to do everything for me, even brush my teeth.

I would sit in the bathtub with the water up to my waist and he would bath me.. and shave my body. Careful to not get my incisions wet or cut me while shaving.

He would then change my bandages, dress me while I sat in a chair, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair, curl my hair, do my makeup, and drive me to work. He did every single thing for me. My mom was there to cook, clean and help me get around while Seth was at school or work.

Five days later on July 27^th, 2010.. my love ended his life. Five days after my shoulder surgery.

Now.. I don’t remember his death being that close to my surgery.

I remember (now) that I went to my surgeon alone on July 26^th, because my husband had gone missing that morning.

I (now) remember sitting on my surgeons table, getting my stitches removed, getting my shoulder pushed and pulled on, dealing with the pain.. alone. When my surgeon asked me how everything was going (meaning my shoulder) all I could come up with was “fine.”

Really.. my world was falling apart.

Now I usually don’t say suicide is selfish (see this post I wrote a couple weeks ago).

But my husband killing himself five days after my shoulder surgery, when I couldn't take care of myself, was selfish.

But was there ever a good or convenient time for my husband to die? Probably not.

When I read the emails, reminding me of my surgery, and reminding me of how close to surgery my husband’s suicide was.. I was angry. How dare him leave me right after I had surgery! How dare him leave me when I needed him most.

Now counting back the days and going over his toxicology report, I realized he stopped taking all his medication a day or two before my surgery. How could he stop taking his medication when he knew I needed him for my recovery?

I read these emails a couple of weeks ago and have been trying to process the anger and thoughts.

I have finally come to see the silver lining in this.

The last four days of our life together was spent TOGETHER. We spent very intimate moments together during that time. I’m not talking about sex.. I’m talking about my husband bathing me.. and shaving me in places I wouldn't let anyone get close to with a sharp object.

Taking care of me in ways I wouldn't let just anyone take care of.

These are my last memories of him. Watching him carefully wash my hair, carefully wash me head to toe, attempting to not cause me shoulder pain or get it wet. My last memories of him is not the bipolar stricken person I had come to know. It was my husband that loved me, took care of me when he obviously couldn't live one more day.

His last four days on this earth revolved around taking care of me.

While I have been angry with him for leaving me in such a way, I will forever be thankful for this time we had together. The time he took to take care of me.  The times I sat helpless in the bathtub and just trusted him to do everything for me.

Ironically if I hadn't reschedule my surgery, I would have had surgery seven months after my husbands death. I wouldn't have had this time with my husband. And my mom would have been taking care of me.. including bathing me.

Maybe there is a silver lining in everything after all. 

I can't remember if I remember

 

source

I had a horrifying experience this week:

I couldn't remember.

It started with a drive to meet my sister-in-law in Canada. The drive was a familiar one that I've taken with Jer hundreds of times through the years. Suddenly and unexpectedly, but like a familiar wave of grief, I was struck with tears realizing I would never take the drive again with him. Then I started to try and remember all the different drives I had taken with Jeremy over the years on that road. I remembered very little, which bothered me, but that wasn't the problem.

I then started trying to think about what it felt like to hold Jeremy's hand in the car like I had so many times before. But instead, all I could remember for that little while was holding my brother's hand in the hospital as he slipped away from us, and the second I noticed a change in his hands and knew that he was gone. And like the wave, I was covered in tears. Tears for my brother, who I've been missing so much the last few days (well, ever since I saw my nephew last weekend and his resemblence to my brother was so eery and heartbreaking for me) and tears for the fact that I couldn't get myself to remember was it was like to hold my husband's hand.

I started to go back to all those familiar moments that I think about often. Like the night before he died - him holding my hand on the way home, telling me how much he loved to hear me sing....I tried to remember past what I normally thought about, maybe some other details I missed before and I couldn't. Then I started to doubt the memory. It feels so distant - did that really happen? Do I actually remember it or is it just because I thought about it so many millions of times that it has become a habit instead of a memory? It was truly horrifying to feel like my memories were slipping further away from me just like Jeremy was.

Luckily, it was fleeting. Sometimes, all it takes is a picture of his jaw line or crooked smile to bring all those things back. Or a random hot day where the smell of sweat suddenly made me miss his salty kisses in the middle of the afternoon on a lunch break. Or sitting with Steve, playing with his ears, and remembering how different it felt to play with Jeremy's. I remember with such detail praying every day that I never forget.

But every once in awhile....I can't remember if I remember.
I hate those moments.