The Last Sunrise

I know we cannot control the circumstances of life. We take the hand that we are dealt and we do the best that we can. You played your hand with fierceness...You repeatedly put on your armor and you fought an incredible fight for so many years. Within you was a strength that never ceased to amaze those around you. I saw you go through more near death moments than I can begin to count...I remember you smiling and waving at an empty hallway, and when I asked, "who are you waving at?" You told me it was a young boy and a young man in uniform waving at you...I watched as you squinted and saw your smile fade to confusion as you jerked back and said, "it's me." I rubbed your arm as you continued to gaze in to that hallway.

Hospice had told me so many times that everything signaled that it was your time and to keep talking you over and that I was doing great...I really wasn't. All the signs were there but so was your incredible fight. After the fourth day I told them that God and you clearly had other plans. Sure enough you rallied. They told me that they had seen people do that but not as many times as you. You had such a will to get in as many sunrises as you could.

Six months later no one could imagine how much things would change. Rehab facilities and basically everything shut down tight as this beast called Covid invaded our world. We would do duo chats they would set up and I could see each day how lockdown was wearing on you. We were four miles apart. Four miles. With each call there was decline and eventually you stopped talking for over two weeks. I prayed what came so swiftly would leave the same way and that things would open back up and you would rally like you always had...that's just what you did. The last chat call I received to my surprise you were smiling and said, "there's my beautiful wife." I was stunned. Grateful and stunned.

Early the next morning I was up preparing for a zoom meeting when I got the call...nothing prepares us for that call even when you have been told for years that it's just a matter of time. With that call comes finality. The words play over in your head as you try to comprehend what you are hearing. I am so sorry that I was not there to talk to you, to kiss your forehead, to rub your arm, and to tell you that it was ok to go and that I would see you again. I am so sorry that even though caring people were with you - that I wasn't there. I am so sorry from the bottom of my heart.

I remember later that day telling our favorite hospice nurse when she called that you had been smiling and talking. Through her tears she said, "he rallied one more time." It has been almost two years and I know we are not the keepers of time and that no one knows when or under what circumstances that our loved ones or one's self will draw that last precious breath...please know I am so sorry I wasn't there.