Love lost, read and found
A wish when you make one, whether you believe in it or not, is still something deep down in our hearts we hope over some time will eventually come true. But when time starts running out, there is a purposeful change in the hopes of the wisher and rather than wish to realise things personally, they wish for the ones their parting will soon leave behind. Make no mistake, there are complete contrasting aims and emotions from making a bucket list to having a list of dying wishes and when it comes down to the moment where death severs the two way link between the deceased and the living, the bucket list is the first thing that bites the mouthful of irrelevant dust. But where as quickly as a ‘to do’ list kicks the bucket, real ‘Dying wishes’ live on and on!
Dying wishes. Perhaps this has become a theme too far. I find myself recently at a crossroads in whatever journey it has been that I have been making alone and in a way having reached it, I have kind of come to a stop in my deciding which way to choose in how best to go on. Like so many things in my life, yet another looks set to remain unfinished and as I dither about what themes to write about next, it feels like I am running out of steam!
Where previously I would just start to write and let the words just pour out and then post, nowadays I find I am stuck and not sure if to go on. I have so many pieces of writing that I have started and left incomplete and so many bits of the story are in danger of never being told. Perhaps that’s what’s meant to happen; the fuel that drives us forward is not meant to be spent in always looking back and that being so, I have to invest just as much energy on where, in life, I go next.
I never set out to write specifically about Kath, her illness and demise or in fact any part of our lives but that is what happened and in filling the time between every explored grieving thought, my mind felt by writing I was keeping her alive. In a way the thought now of changing the subject is like admitting my absence of writing such words is like the fear in me of letting her die.
Letting her die – and I already did that once!
I think we go through life thinking we know for certain who we are and what we would be like, act like, or think like in any given situation that we might one day find ourselves in and then find we come up short of our own expectations. As Kath was slowly inching towards dying through the last hours of that Sunday night and into the early hours of Monday 5th November 2012 it had been hours since she had last opened her eyes and fixed them on mine. It had been even longer since she had said anything comprehensible or responded to my attempts at comforting words and my in vain efforts to reassure her my presence with her did not mean anything but hope. When it was exactly, that our last words were spoken together, I can’t really be sure, but I know that I did not realise there would be no others. Kath stopped being able to respond to me directly and instead of her words, escalating and pain fed groans took the place of any dialogue for hours on end.
For seven short long months Kath and I had only relied on only the other in how to handle the cascading news of the incoming avalanche about to snowball us all and still we were not ready. Now sat here beside Kath in her final diminishing hours she was lost in the agony of incoherent pain and I was sat holding her hand still just too far away to be able to reach her. The last few days had all been about her dying wishes and my promises to meet them and now here I was facing my own. In the deep hours of that night and long before any morning light, I knew I had failed to live up to my own expectations. I am sure I don’t have to convince anyone that I didn’t want Katherine to die, and yet that was exactly what I found myself wishing for. The end of our road was in such a dark hour and place and I just couldn’t bear Katherine’s pain any longer and long stripped of our dignity and any remaining hope, I just wanted it over.
Ever since then, life having granted my twist on a dying wish, I have long had to burn.
No one wants their loved ones to die so much as no one wants a loved one to suffer but there are times in a life where you can find yourself stuck at a crossroads where in order to see your loved ones suffer no more, you tell yourself you think you just want them to hurry up and die.
I hate the fact that buried deep inside my soul, for the second time in life and for whatever unknown reason fate burdened me with the conflict of such a loaded dying wish; a wish when granted that never finds resolve.
Kath and I did have lasting words and some of her own dying wishes are among them and those proved just as challenging to resolve. Now I find myself stuck thinking how to find resolve of how to write of them, but I don’t want to leave such things unfinished and I am writing about them because I don’t want to think or feel once more; I let her die.