Been in the hospital with Edd for over a week now. He had seizures and his cognitive skills have been greatly effected. Though I have not the strength or will to write all the details I would like to just write some thoughts and express the depth of my heartbreak, my numbness. I am somewhat on autopilot, just doing what needs to be done. I guess that's good for now.
I walked out of Edd's hospital room last night to get another blanket and unexpectedly encountered his nurse outside the door with tears in her eyes. The hall was quiet and we talked. Even she had personal pain. She told me her mom was dying too with a type of pulmonary disease. As I expressed compassion she apologized for showing that emotion knowing I already had enough of my own problems. I told her it was somewhat comforting to know I was not the only one with grief. She also said there was a woman in a nearby room, like me, going through the same type of hurt... And would I like to talk with her. She said she'd also ask the woman if she'd like to talk with me.... She did... So maybe we will meet at some point.
I don't know if this is permanent, but scrambled thoughts and confusion is now the norm. Somewhere between reality and random unrelated ideas in his mind. The heart is still gentle though. This conversation occurred this morning.
Him: That's so nice. You're here with the captain, your baby and your husband.
Me: Huh? Who is my baby?
Him: (smile) Kristen
Me: Who is my husband?
Him: (thinking) I don't know.
Me: Edd is my husband. I'm Kathi.
Him: (smiling ...and staring at me with tears in his eyes) He's a lucky man....
Me: She is a lucky woman too.
We smiled a long time staring into each others tear-filled eyes.
This love has changed, but it is still there.
“We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed