If You Knew The Ending, Would You Change The Beginning?

The last two months of my husband's life I slept next to the bed Hospice had set up in our living room. At night, I lay on the loveseat I'd come to hate and listen intently to his labored breathing. It was what I did when my kids were babies—listen intently for the next breath to make sure everything was okay. I managed to sleep in bits and pieces of time, fragments that made no sense to me. I was exhausted mentally, emotionally and physically. There was such uncertainty and the fear of what was going to happen to any of us. The last week of his life, as he gradually grew weaker, I reached a point where I knew there was no going back. This was it.

Many times, I would lie awake and stare into the dark, feeling an utter, unremitting aloneness. It was then I asked God to take him and take away his pain.

My husband mentioned a few times the last week of his life that he really needed a haircut, but I didn’t have the heart to call the barber. I wanted to spare my husband the possible shocked reaction from someone who had last seen him when he was healthy.

I wanted to shield my family from all pain, but many days I knew I couldn't even protect myself.
Elaine Williams ©2008n