In just a few short days, marks 9 months. Almost 272 days. Almost 6,528 hours. If you think about in 9 months, I've spent less then those 6,528 hours with my son, with my family, and with my friends. Doesn't really seem like enough time does it? But what I wouldn't give to just have 1 hour back with a healthy, living Jamison. 1 HOUR. 60 minutes. It would feel like a lifetime. 60 minutes to try and memorize ever line on his face, the depth of blue in his eyes. 60 minutes to try and remember what he smelled like and what his voice sounded like. I feel like the small details are already slipping through the cracks in my fingers, like water does. You try to cup your hand more and strain to keep your fingers together, but the water keeps seeping through the cracks, and eventually all the water is gone, despite how hard you tried to keep it there.
Guilt. If ya'll ever want to know what might be one of the hardest things to deal with as a widow of a sick husband, it is the guilt. The guilt that creeps in and tells you that you didn't do enough. That you got too impatient. Guilt because you were so tired and you just wanted more sleep, you started hating getting up in the middle of the night to help. Guilt because you were no longer a wife to the man you loved, but strictly a caregiver. Guilt because you protected yourself, and turned off all of your emotions in order to survive. Guilt for not having anything to say when your husband was crying in front of you because he knew, he just knew. The guilt you felt when you finally came to the realization that you just had to let go and BEG to God to please, take it all away, even if it meant He had to take your husband in the process.
Years. For years. I saw things that I can NEVER unsee. Scan after scan, drug after drug, surgery after surgery, doctor after doctor. Slowly watching my husband deteriorate in front of my eyes, while I had to sit back and let it happen. I watched him become a man I didn't even know anymore. The cancer and the meds made him sick, impatient, short, and quick to anger. None of these where attributes of the person I married. I watched him in pain, too many times and for too long. There is nothing more sickening then watching someone you love die, slowly, in front of you.
Almost 9 months. Almost 272 days. Almost 6,528 hours. I have woken up every day, despite how much I don't want to, and I have continued forward. Some days REALLY suck. Some days I feel like I got throat punched out of nowhere. But most days, most days I am ok. I am 100% confident as to where Jamison is and I know that I am going to be alright.
Did you see that J? I bought a whole damn house on my own and filled taxes this year! And I started school again, because I'm absolutely crazy. I'm making it and I'm going to keep making it, for you. I'm going to live my best damn life in honor of you.
