December 23, 2008

  • In the Dallas Morning News there's a story about a hospice that "works to preserve patient memories...Patients are encouraged to record their life stories for posterity, which often provides peace of mind."

    How I wish Don had been able to write down or tell me everything he could remember about his first year in college at NTSU, and remind me again of the name of the ficitious band member he and some friends created at Arlington Heights and which became firmly fixed in the minds of students and teachers alike as being real, and oh, all manner of memories.

    When did he first realize - or at least suspect - that he loved me?

    What was his happiest childhood memory? Which from our marriage? Which trip did he enjoy most, and why?

    All those memories are gone now.

    A month ago today was the last time I heard his voice and got to actually talk with him. Unfortunately, he had that Bi-Vap thing strapped to his face so it was hard for him to speak, plus he was so exhausted, and when he did, it was grimly giving me instructions after I'd told him that he was going to be in the hospital for at least one to two weeks, and on a ventilator and sedated after the bronchioscopy. When the bronch team arrived about noon and I had to leave the room, I'm pretty sure we managed an "I love you."

    I hope so. It never once crossed my mind that would be the last time we spoke to each other.

Comments (4)

  • My mom says that when a person dies it's as though a library had burned down.

    Still praying for you daily.

  • There are oh so many things I long to ask so many of my relatives that are gone.

    My thoughts continue to be with you.

  • Since we all will die, wouldn't it be nice for each of us to write down such stories and memories.  Do you still have the newspaper?  I bet we can get it off the internet. 

  • I continue to think of you and pray for your family.

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