Flooding Memories

Gary is dying.  I know that.  I've known it for a long time.  Not just since the Doctor told me in February that if he lived until August, he would call it a miracle.  I knew it long before but shrouded myself in unhealthy denial.  I am not in denial anymore. 


I have visited Gary more often in the last two weeks because I sense his end is near.  Today his vitals were perfectly normal.  I walked into his room a few minutes after they put him down to nap for the afternoon.  He was so soundly asleep that I checked his chest for breathing.  For a split second, I thought he might be dead.  I felt nothing.  Yep, I have my emotions buried so deep that in the moment of thinking he was dead....I felt nothing but relief.

He does not seem to be suffering.  Most days he still eats three meals per day.  He has no emotion and if he has eyes open, he only stares through people. Most of the time he sits with eyes closed.

This disease is so unfair. 


So, with all that said, I made an offer on a townhome this week.  It was accepted and we should close in 30 days.  I am very excited that I will have my own place that does not have haunting memories of Gary in it.  The memories will mostly be of the past during good times.  I am committed to it.


Today, I started packing.  I began with the bookshelf.  Memories flooded my mind of businesses, vacations, sailing, friends, and Gary's life before me.  So many books.  So many ideas.   I am taking them all with me since the new house has extensive shelving in the library.


Heather and I opened a bottle of Asti to share.  No particular reason.  I would feel weird celebrating.  I feel weird grieving. 


Life will be strange without Gary.  Life was strange with Gary.  For those of you when knew us, that last statement was FUNNY.


Thanks to all who support me and pray for Gary.  I somehow sense that he knows he is saved and loved by many.