February 17, 2013
I've been sitting here for about an hour, trying to figure out what I want to write tonight. I have many different thoughts and memories floating around in my head, overwhelming me to the point of sadness. Grief is a weird emotion. It seems to have a mind of its own. Two hours ago I was laughing and cutting up with two good friends as we watched a movie. Now I am sitting on my bed feeling a bit empty. I still don't really know what I want to write. I think a lot about my last full day with Richard. I walked into his hospital room at 8 am on Thursday, January 10th, ready to spend the morning with him. Not ready for what I would face in those 24 hours.
On that day the white blood cells had reached a new high and had started clogging up things they didn't need to be clogging up. I sat back and watched my boyfriend hallucinate. I witnessed him falling asleep over and over again only to wake up and either not know where he was or wake up talking to someone that was not there. The whole time thinking that the drugs the hospital had been giving him were just making him loopy. And while I honestly thought that is what it was, I recall having a really sick feeling in my stomach. An empty, hollow feeling in the depths of my gut. I reluctantly left him at 2 pm, dragging my feet as I left the room. But before I did that, I sat on his bed, facing him with my head lying on his propped up knee. I uncontrollably cried, feeling so helpless and scared for him, and I prayed over him. I rubbed his leg and prayed that the Lord would be with him and comfort him and that we would figure out what was going on. I just cried and prayed. He was asleep the whole time, dreaming of who knows what.
Later that night I returned red faced, showing up by his side with the fresh knowledge of his diagnosis. He never really seemed to know what was going on. I think back to how his face looked as they rolled his bed out of his room on the cardiology and took him to the oncology unit. He never seemed to have a clue.
Finally at 10:30, after many times having to tell him where he was and that everything was fine, just to go back to sleep, I decided to head home. I would return first thing in the morning and his mom would be staying overnight. I stood over his bed, rubbed his arm and told him, hey babe - I'm gonna go, but I will be back in the morning, okay? I love you. I focused on his lips as I saw and heard him mumble the words, I love you, too, darling. His typical, normal response - and the last words he ever spoke to me.
It's been 5 weeks and 2 days since I lost my boyfriend. Sometimes it still feels like yesterday.