Losing your 'once in a lifetime'

I know my husband and I weren't young, but since we found each other later in life (45, 46) after enduring horrible marriages/relationships, we still almost felt like newlyweds. We had both been through so much, it was literally a miracle we both could open our heart and try one more time. I had never met anyone so intelligent but down to earth, so accomplished at fixing stuff (carpentry, plumbing, painting, gardening, motorcycles, cars), so kind, so affectionate. And sexy! He still made my heart race after 20 years together. He fixed all my broken pieces with his bear hugs and I think I did the same for him.
His health had begun to deteriorate as early as 2008, there were ominous signs. Diabetes is a horrible disease, it takes so much away from you, but not immediately. It's a gradual process which can leave you a shell of yourself. He developed kidney disease, cardiac issues, vision issues. COPD and emphysema was diagnosed as well, as if he hadn't had enough to deal with. Walking much was difficult, he had back injuries from workplace accidents and his heart was getting weaker too. He had balance issues due to lingering vertigo after a severe concussion from a fall on ice. In 2017 he had to enter dialysis. Soon after his working kidney developed cancer. It was non stop one thing after another, but still he kept his sense of humor and his stoic resolve to get through it all and feel better.
I could go on for pages detailing the indignities he suffered and the negligence from the medical community he trusted to help him in his battles. I'm not strong enough to write about that at this point. But when he died April 10, it was not expected, we both thought he'd be coming home soon. I lost the love of my life, and at 65, I can't imagine being without him for whatever time I have left. I get up in the morning to take care of the two German shepherds he loved so much, and we're grieving together. But they don't understand where Dad is and when I cry they get upset. He was my everything, my one and only, my once in a lifetime knight in shining armor. Now he's gone, I'm broken, and I don't know if I can ever put my pieces back together. Or if I even want to.

 

Thank you for sharing your story, I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband. I know telling, writing, sharing the trials you both gone through can be difficult but also cathartic. I lost my husband to a sudden heart attack. Never had any health issues, gone in 2 hours from our wonderful life. We ran a business together so we were together 24/7. Every single thing is different now. Your loss is so resent, your mind is in a fog, I imagine. Not eating or drinking water. I’m also guessing sleep is difficult. These things are all normal and to be expected. But very hard. My dachshund is my everything, why I get up each day. Helps me get fresh air and keeps me on a schedule. He saw Ron having issues and at one point was climbing on him when Ron was laying on the floor. He misses him terribly and at times puts his toys by Ron’s favorite chair.
It’s impossible right now to think of life after this huge loss, just think of today, or the next hour. Make yourself lists so you can take those things out of your mind, they’re written down. Try to take care of yourself, he would want you to. Except help offered, try to keep people in your life. Visit this site often, it is helpful. You’re not alone. ❤️

 

GONE (2021)

I wrote this song for the love of my life Janet, who died of brain cancer on October 18, 2019. We will create music for the song in the studio, starting on the 5th of May. I feel Janet's presence every day as real as can be. Our story is very similar to yours. We didn't meet until I was nearly 60, and she gave me the best 25 years of my life...by far...

GONE (2021)
Bill Lathrop

In the darkness, I feel your body pressed to mine, and as

the fragrance of your perfume wafts across my face and with the certainty of God’s Grace… for a time…

all… in my tiny world, is perfectly in line.

In my dream I cup your face with trembling hands, pledging eternal love as I hold our wedding bands but, your soft and pliable lips are not coming to grips, with tomorrow’s un-imagined truths and reality’s fateful proofs.

My heart hides an open wound and is certainly not festooned with a garland of roses that might belong…All I know is…

I love her but, she’s gone… except for now…She lives on in song.

She’s gone… but I still want her.

She’s gone… but I still need her.

She’s gone… but I still LOVE her…She’s gone…Yes…just for now… She’s gone…

For today and tonight, and maybe forever… she’s gone…she’s gone…

My Baby’s GONE…







Sent from Mail for Windows 10

 

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)