I weep with you and for you. There is nothing that can prepare you for this void in your soul. Keep reaching out.
When I watched you die, I found it was OK to cry but, I didn’t understand why I am here all alone, when it is you, and not me, who’s going home.
Am I singing the right notes?
Am I spending the right words?
Are you comforting me now….?
or… is this all just for the birds?
No matter what you believe in
When you know you are leavin’
There’s a whole different story to tell.
I know in my heart that you are real…that’s why I embrace your strength, like un-bending steel.
You are my source for breathing… you are my light at close of day…You are my reason for giving...You’re why I chose to stay. You are my soul’s completion, my cause for moving on, until we reach that point where all our fears are gone, and we’re waiting together when it’s our time to rest, and I revel in the fact, that I’m with forever’s best…But now I'm remembering when I watched you die, and I found that it was OK to cry, but I’m still wondering why, you would die, and not I… I’m still can’t believe why… you would die and not… I…
Our Story
Janet and Bill
My Beloved wife Janet lost her earthly battle against brain cancer on October 18th, 2019 at 8:40 in the morning. I was at her side, as I was every minute of every day for over a year. Janet was the bravest, and most caring human being that I have ever known. Despite all the pain and physical challenges she faced every day, she was always more concerned about how I was doing. Are you OK? was always the first thing out of her mouth every morning. She knew she was dying with no hope of recovery, but she always put my welfare first.
If, with your permission I can now turn back the clock to January of 2019, I will continue with OUR story.
Janet started having problems with her balance early in January and would fall on occasion. After several trips to the emergency room, she was finally examined by an on-duty brain surgeon who ordered an immediate CT-scan. They discovered a rapidly growing tumor near the area of the brain that controls sight. She had been having a lot of problems with her peripheral vision, and they had to be extra careful if any surgeries were planned, because of the risk for blindness. Despite the danger and because of the urgency, surgery was scheduled the next morning. They drilled a hole in the back of Janet’s skull and tried to carefully vacuum out the cancer. They failed to get it all, due to the close proximity of the vision area of the brain and the tumor. They then tried radiation treatments (5 days a week for 16 weeks). At this point we still had a glimmer of hope, which was soon dashed when, after the radiation treatments, we were told there were no other pathways to a successful result, and my beloved Soulmate Janet was going to die... There was nothing we could do now but to accept what they predicted.
We were then transferred to hospice care and I assumed the role of full-time caretaker, but she could, at least, stay at home. After a few weeks Doctors decided that Janet should go on 24-hour bedrest with a catheter and all (she hated that catheter) At that point, I had lost 50 pounds, and my clothes no longer fit, but Hospice still allowed me to move into Janet’s room and to sleep in a chair that folded out into a makeshift bed so I could continue to be close to her 24/7.
When I was caring for Janet at home, she slept in a recliner in our living room, and I crashed within arm’s length of her on the corner of the couch next to her chair, so I could be available to help her to the bathroom, or if she needed assistance for anything. I never left her side nor did I want to. Her nearness gave me strength. The Hospice volunteers and staff became our family. I will be forever grateful for their kindness. As time passed, it became more difficult for Janet to chew and swallow her food, so I had to cut up her food and spoon feed her, and eventually, she could only eat pudding or yogurt. I will never forget the grateful look in her eyes when I fed her. That look is one of my most cherished memories. Janet has contacted me since she passed, and I feel her presence often, and her reactions to unseen entities has inspired me to write several songs. She has mentored me from beyond this physical life every single day, and I know I will be with her again when my time on earth is over. The day I first met her was the luckiest day of my life.
We listened to music together all the time.” Adagio for Strings” by Samuel Barber and Donny Hathaway’s “A Song for You” played while she died. I love and miss her so much it’s impossible to describe. I have learned to exist without her, but I still grieve the loss of US/WE as a pair. I wouldn’t be writing this if not for music, and the written word which saved me. (Thank you Joanie)
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